#more thoughts to come on the aftermath of the fight and the damage the twins sustain

[psychologicalwarclaire]

Hello. Anon from earlier.

Since you've already uncovered my plan (that I obviously tried very hard to hide), I figured I'd try to save myself some research (aka hours and hours of rereading).

And so, questions.

Of course, I do not want you to go to too much trouble, but I am wondering if you have a list or something of what injuries Donnie and Leo sustained at what points, and uh...bandages and other medical stuff, as well as the state of their masks and armour and stuff, that would be super helpful.

Oh! Also. I feel like my brain is making stuff up, because I felt like the part where Big Mama threw Leo in the cell with Viper was like, a full scene, but I can't find it, just the summary in the next chapter. But, that's just a little side tangent. Uh...Leo's other marking. What exactly did she do to them?

Continuing the little tangent, I absolutely loved the detail of Leo hearing Donnie calling out to him. When I read it, I was still kind of in denial, but at the same time, Donnie had been calling Leo's name when Viper hurt him the first time, so it makes sense that he'd imagine it. So I rationalized that in my mind, and then broke when it was revealed that Donnie was actually calling him. Very well played. The details like that are my favourite part of this fic~

Hello again, Anon! Absolutely wonderful timing on the ask, as getting to talk about Spiders Web always cheers me up.

I have been WAITING for this day! MONTHS ago I made a table of physical and emotional damage as well as treatments in order to attempt to keep track of the violence. FINALLY I GET TO USE IT!

Be prepared for kinda blurry pictures and long (medically inaccurate) rants below! HAHAHAHAAA!

Not proper grammar and not in chronological order, but the info should be there. I may have missed some stuff because sometimes I improvise, but I think that should be all.

I am also not a medical professional in any way, shape, or form, so I have no clue how accurate any of this stuff is.

ALSO, I know this whole list can be overwhelming so it's totally okay if you don't want to show every scratch and scrape. But if you want to, go right ahead!

Bandages/medical stuff - Just assume that in any point in time either of the twins have at least one red bandage on them at any given time from chapter seven to fourteen. I think. I think Big Mama just kinda stopped giving Astros bandages, and Tyrian didn't fight at all from when we died until the Labyrinth Lollapalooza.

Armor (what it looks like can be found HERE) - hooo boyyy.... I didn't keep track of the armor quite as much. Up until chapter fourteen, Donnie's battleshell kept getting more and more beat up. I think at some point some of the panels came out. Leo's blue scarf would get bloodstained and dirty after fights, but he'd rinse it out in the shower so it was relativly clean? Just torn and ragged as time went on. I think the kneepads would be scuffed up, but other than that their armor would look fine. I never found a place to mention it, but bellhops would come around and collect their armor for cleaning/replacing between fights. The fighters may have been damaged but Big Mama wanted their armor to be nice and shiny under the spotlights.

As for masks, Leo lost his to Viper. Donnie's was taken after Heinous Green bashed his head in (Big Mama thought it best that her champions matched. And also in case she needed some of Donnie's DNA for nefarious purposes). I am also now realizing that @drsmer and I never showed you guys what their masks for the final fight looked like... hmm....

Big Mama threw Leo in a cell with Viper near the end of chapter 16. I didn't actually describe the time in there with Viper, and only detailed the aftermath. I thought it best to let y'all's imagination take over for that one.

Leo's other markings (the ones on his arms and legs) just had the top part sliced into. I think.

OOO fun behind the scenes time! I decided that their cells were next to each other and that they could hear each other by complete accident. I was writing near two friends who read the fic but didn't know Donnie was alive (love ya dear, @rocky-again and @danger-noodle4 ), and one friend who has not watched Rise but DID know that Donnie was alive because I talk a lot.

This piece of writing below is a LIVE REACTION of me mapping out the chapter in a notes document and then realizing that in the layout of the Nexus, their cells would be next to each other and they could hear each other.

Because even I am not immune to angst, I started silently freaking out but couldn't tell the two turtle fan friends about it, so I had to write it out to Kate to make her UNDERSTAND how ANGSTY it was.

It must have been quite the scene. Sorry for the long story, but thought you should know the fun origins of the very angsty detail.

Alrighty, I hope I answered all of your questions! If you need anything else, don't hesitate to send me another ask. I wish you well on your endeavors, whatever they may be 👀

[brickellbabe]

Is it better to have loved and lost than have never loved at all? Let’s discuss.

Disclaimer - I have nothing to lose as I am speaking from the heart. My intention is to live my truth. I am telling it like it is without fear and judgment in hopes that my writing sheds light on life circumstances that we all face as some point.

Here we go...

First and foremost, heartbreak sucks. Getting emotionally hurt is painful. Feeling sadness and remorse can be downright crippling. If you don’t drown your sorrows with a bottle of champaign, binge watching crime documentaries, and having crying episodes throughout the day then you are superhuman or have completely lost the ability to feel (God bless). Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but probably not healthy as we are supposed to feel all the things - good and bad. Also, losing someone that you had a strong mental and physical connection with can be damaging which changes who you are if you allow it.

There’s a good reason why more and more people are not getting into full blown relationships these days and having meaningless hook ups instead. It’s so they don’t catch “FEELINGS”. Catching feelings can lead to obsession, toxic behaviors, confusion, and relationship sabotage (just to name a few negative side effects that I don’t know too much about). I think at this point, throughout my past experiences, I have come to realize that chances are, someone will get hurt when you fall in love. It’s inevitable, hence why I am still single at the age of 39… HOW FUN!

So, is keeping things casual the safe bet so that you don’t get hurt?

Sure, some of us do play it safe - knowing that everything is temporary and to not invest the time and effort to strengthen a potential life-long twin-flame experience because it doesn’t exist. OOOF, savage. Jumping from one “fun” pit stop along our journey to the next until we decide we can’t journey anymore. But is that really the play? To save yourself from feeling pain at the cost of giving yourself an immense feeling of joy, happiness, and pleasure?

Hmmm, makes me think (maybe I should stop doing that) …

How emotionally strong are those people that they can find someone they like, spend copious amount of time with them, but not get attached and just live in the moment? Talk about a powerful skill that I do not possess (womp womp). I mean, yeah, there have been times I met someone, had “fun”, and never wanted to see them again (bad vibes). Never was there a moment where I had an ongoing hookup with someone I really liked without getting into a relationship with them at some point. There was no “roster”, although the thought of that does sound cool but my mental and emotional capacity only limits me to have one love interest at a time (really living to the fullest here). Most of the time it’s head over heals followed by a catastrophic bomb leading to a quiet somber aftermath of guilt, shame, and devastation which I must say, is always caused by me.

As Taylor Swift recently sang…

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me”.

Now, if I am the problem, I am also my own solution. Yeah… I’ve identified that, thank you.

I have acknowledged that I have a fight or flight response and have difficulty communicating my emotions in a an effective (positive) way. That’s why all of my interactions with various chosen male characters continue to go in circles just with evolved patterns and cycles that lead to nowhere. OY VEY, all this internal work is exhausting, and I feel like I’m getting further away from the light. Beem me up Jesus, I’m waiving the white flag and ready to depart all the suffering that I continue to bestow upon thyself.

Anyway, enough of that and back to the question at hand…

Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?

YES - it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

True love is rare and having a deep emotional as well as physical connection with someone is a gift and RARE these days. Feeling secure, safe, comfortably vulnerable, and unapologetically yourself with someone is freeing. Enjoy it when you have it. And when you find it, don’t play it safe, go all in! Do your best to hold on to it as long as you can as it doesn’t happen often. Feel all the joy, happiness, and pleasure that comes with love and be prepared to lose it at any given moment.

Remember, nothing is permanent, and everything is temporary.

XOXO

Mariana

[outoutdamnspark]

Over here chewing on my phone because I keep thinking about the submas Pacific Rim au.

• Officially calling this au Echoes in the Deep

• I think it'd likely be set in the PR world, (so... the "real" world,) because it just seems easier to do it that way. At least for me. Which means no pokemon, probably. The Becket boys were stationed in Alaska, so I'm going to say the train twins (Trewyn? I like that surname for them a lot) are stationed somewhere in California, despite how much I wish I could set them in New York. But alas. Pacific Rim.

• (Do I need to stick to "logical" things in an au set in a post-kaiju-apocalypse world protected by giant mechs? No. Will I attempt to do so anyway? Yes.)

• Emmet and Ingo are the pilots of the Mark-3 Jaeger Spectre Arachne.

• They're still super famous in this - as Raleigh says, "jaeger pilots became rock stars." They're on par with the Becket brothers and, (because I adore them) the team from Cherno Alpha; just as drift compatable as the Beckets (though maybe not as showboat cocky) and just as brutally efficient as Cherno. Rather than taking delight in how tough a battle is, they take great pride in their ability to take a kaiju down swiftly and cleanly, with as little collateral damage as possible. They have a 0 Human Casualties streak, taking down breached kaiju long before they can ever make it to shore.

• Used a name generator for this, but the kaiju that finally manages to take them down is gonna be called 'Encroacher,' a Category III, same as Knifehead, the kaiju that took down Gipsy Danger. Neither of the boys die, and they manage to just baaaaarely defeat Encroacher, but their jaeger, Spectre Arachne, is fucked.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 16: JJBA

This is a Stardust Crusaders AU everyone lives ending, so enjoy ^_^

You can also find me on: Instagram or Ko-fi

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Day 16: On a Need to Know Basis

Prompts Used: recovery | scars | aftermath

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 3

Character: Kakyoin

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Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

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Kakyoin stared at himself in the small mirror above the sink in the hotel room.

He looked horrific.

It was a miracle he was even standing, he knew that, and the Speedwagon doctors had somehow managed to put his body back together. He was grateful to be alive, yes, and on top of that, more or less functioning. He should be grateful that he was finally discharged from the hospital and on his way home tomorrow, but he just couldn't seem to shake off everything.

He leaned forward in the mirror, a finger coming up to trace the twin scars across his eyes. When he'd originally gotten them, he hadn't even thought about the scars. He'd just been anxious to recover enough to rejoin his friends in their fight against Dio. Now…going back to his old life, these had no place. They would make him stand out and he couldn't even hide them.

The other scar though…that one was worse.

This was the one that had taken him out of the fight entirely, that had kept him from being with the others at the end. He shuddered as he slipped his hand down to his stomach, tracing the awful puckered skin, still pink and tender, knowing there was a spot just like it on his back, just barely to the right of his spine—the only thing that had kept him from being paralyzed. Even then, the doctors had warned him that he might never fully regain his muscle mass because of the damage and he probably wouldn't be able to do anything strenuous for years if not the rest of his life for fear it would be too much stress on his ruined body.

On top of that, he hadn't been able to manifest Hierophant since then either. He could still feel his Stand attached to him, but Hierophant had taken grievous injuries too and Kakyoin was sure he would need his own recovery time. Still, it just felt like one more blow. Taking away the only thing that had ever brought him comfort.

Kakyoin turned away from the mirror in disgust and quickly finished toweling his hair dry and dressing, even that taking way too much energy, leaving him slightly breathless. Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes, but he angrily blinked them away as he tugged his shirt down over the ugly scars and finally stepped out of the bathroom.

Jotaro was watching tv on the small set in the room, flipping idly through channels. He glanced up briefly at Kakyoin as he slunk past to his own bed.

He laid down, curling up and pressing a pillow to his chest, idly watching the television without really registering it, trying to find a comfortable position. He'd been slowly getting off the heavy pain reducers since leaving the hospital, but his body was in constant protest, aching and exhausted no matter what he did or didn't do.

His fists clenched in the pillow, anger building inside of him. Anger he probably didn't have the energy for, but he didn't care at this point.

"Hey, are you good?"

Kakyoin looked over to see Jotaro watching him. His face looked blank, but Kakyoin knew him well enough by now to read concern there.

"Fine," Kakyoin replied automatically.

Jotaro didn't believe him obviously especially since Kakyoin shifted again and was unable to stop the look of pain that crossed his face as something inside him pulled, causing agony to shoot through him.

Jotaro sat up straighter. "Do you need more pills?"

Kakyoin shook his head. "Already took one today."

"Well, how about an aspirin?" Jotaro asked as he stood and went over to the small kitchenette in the room, grabbing a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

Kakyoin sighed and sat up stiffly, accepting the water and swallowing the aspirin. Maybe it would do something for him, but he doubted it.

"How bad is it?" Jotaro finally asked.

Kakyoin sighed and slumped back against the head of the bed, still clutching his pillow against his chest. "Everything hurts," he admitted.

Jotaro sat down on the end of the bed, arms folded in his lap. Kakyoin could see his own scars, lighter pock-marks all over his arms and others too close to his neck. He'd said they were from knives Dio threw at him. Those had been bad enough but Kakyoin knew Jotaro was still favoring his broken ribs and shoulder. He'd only just gotten his arm out of a sling.

And yes, Kakyoin knew he wasn't the only one who had been injured, but Jotaro had defeated Dio on his own. No one else had been around to help him and it was a miracle he had figured out how to stop time with Star Platinum to survive and win the fight. If he hadn't…all of them would be dead right now, and Dio would be free to hurt only more people.

"Did the shower not help?" Jotaro asked. "I know sometimes the heat at least relaxes my muscles which takes some of the pain away."

Kakyoin shrugged. "A little. It's just hard to stand for too long right now. I have no muscle mass in my core anymore so it takes a lot of effort." He bit his lip.

"You should wear the brace the doctors gave you."

"If I do, I'll rely too much on it. I'll never regain my strength."

Jotaro sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, in the rare condition of not being covered by his hat. "Kakyoin, you have to let yourself heal first. You can't just expect everything to magically go back to normal—"

"I know that!" Kakyoin snapped. "What the hell do you think I'm trying to do?"

Jotaro narrowed his eyes. "I think you're trying to pretend you're okay when that obviously isn't the truth and it's not doing you any favors."

Kakyoin turned away, jaw tight, fingers clenching hard into the pillow he held.

"Look," Jotaro continued. "I get it. I'm not good with this either, but…we're alive. I'm grateful you survived."

"I wasn't there, though, I couldn't help you," Kakyoin said.

"You did though," Jotaro insisted. "You were the one who cracked Dio's Stand ability. Without you, we all would have died."

Kakyoin was silent again for a long time before he took a breath and said, "Are you ever…scared…to go back?"

"What do you mean?"

Kakyoin sighed, looking down at the bedcover. "I mean, how do you just go back to living normally after all this? What are we going to do, Jotaro? Sit in a classroom all day, pretend to be normal until we graduate and have to figure out what to do with our lives after that? When we've done these impossible things, nearly died multiple times, how do you go back too that? And my parents…they don't know about Stands, they still think I just ran away or something. And I'm going to come back like…like this with no explanation they can understand as to what happened. I'll have these scars for the rest of my life!"

Jotaro nodded slowly then shrugged. "I guess, maybe part of me is looking forward to some normal," he said slowly as if just realizing it himself. "And I get to see my mom again." He glanced over to Kakyoin. "I'm sure your parents are going to be glad to see you too."

Kakyoin curled up more. But Jotaro was right. And he really did want to see his family again. He had missed them horribly.

"I know," he finally admitted. "I just… it's going to be hard. What will they think when they see these scars? I don't want them to feel guilty. I just don't know if I can go back to my old life, you know? It was so…lonely."

"Kakyoin," Jotaro told him firmly. "You're not alone now. You have us. So…remember that."

Kakyoin felt something well in his throat and he swallowed hard. Jotaro was right. Despite everything, he did have friends now. Friends he could actually rely on, who understood what he had been through. There was something cathartic about that.

Jotaro stood up. "Here, let me help you get more comfortable."

He grabbed an extra pillow from his own bed and helped prop Kakyoin up with them until there was no strain put on his middle, leaving him pain free for the most part.

As Jotaro went back to crash on his own bed, Kakyoin looked over.

"Jotaro, thank you," he said sincerely.

Jotaro ducked his head, but he didn't have a hat brim to hide under this time. "Sure," he replied.

Kakyoin turned back to the tv and took a deep breath. Tomorrow they would go home. He decided he needed to make the most of it.

[rubisaurus98]

Total thoughts about the Inazuma Chapter+Ei’s Character Story:

All of the first two parts had very good premise with the Vision Hunt Decree situation leading to an all-out civil war and how Ei/the Shogun made it increasingly harder to enter and leave Inazuma, which made trade and citizens suffer. My biggest issue with that is still the Traveler's apparent unsympathetic initial stance and only wishing to meet with the Archon, thinking that despite everything they've been told, Ei/the Shogun would still have an audience with them.

I don't remember if Liyue and Mondstadt were like this, but the third part of the Inazuma Chapter was just one sucker punch after another after Yae saves the Traveler from Scaramouche. But, I suppose it was the next logical step in writing after learning that the Fatui had been orchestrating literally everything about this situation. From involving Sara in Yae's plan to confronting her family about their deal with the Fatui to line their pockets, to the duel with Signora and the Shogun then just straight up killing Signora already (man, I was not ready for Harbingers to start dying at this point...). And as we walked out, suddenly Inazuma was very orange and very fuzzy (BIG SUS) and we were getting headaches. Then the Resistance coming in, the Shogun nearly killing us had Kazuha, whose late friend's Vision triggered right at that moment, not blocked her sneak attack.

And in the Plan of Euthymia, well, I already figured out that we'd be summoning Yae while in there when the chips were down and everyone's skills were locked. But then going back to when the Traveler touched the statue of the Omnipresent God and amplifying all the voices of the Visions, and them empowering us? Holy shit.

But...I expected the war part to be at least a bit more drawn-out and detailed. We just...storm off after the Fatui once we learn that they've been supplying Delusions to ordinary folks and what damage they do to them (RIP Teppei...Also puts the Skirmishers we fight in another light), then it becomes one bombshell after another, with all the war folk getting shafted and forgotten, and Sara, too, after Signora knocks her out. And speaking of bombshells, everything that we talked about with Yae? The first Electro Archon being Ei's twin sister who died in the Khaenri'ah Disaster? It being a big reason why Ei was so against change and wanted to keep Inazuma a stagnant husk of a country and that she wasn’t really ruling Inazuma, the Shogun puppet was? And that she, as Ei, had been a shut-in for 500 years and is only now starting to get reacquainted with the real world? Everything about Scaramouche? Including Yae giving him the Gnosis? Can we talk about all of that more in the near future?

Speaking of Sara, I expected more plot relevance out of her as, you know, the No.2 of the Electro Archon herself. Someone that we’d be meeting several times throughout the war instead of once? Someone who’d go from enemy to worthy opponent to ally as the situation grates at her more and more until Yae’s plan gets put into motion. You’d think that we would’ve also at least seen her during the ceremony where the Shogun was about to take Thoma’s Vision? Kokomi and Gorou at least had more presence because the Traveler is now a part of the Resistance they lead, plus Gorou at the end with Kazuha. I feel as though if the Traveler wasn’t initially unsympathetic to the plights of the Inazumans despite everything they’ve been told up until then, there would’ve been room for more story developments. Or Part 2 could’ve been the “often encountering the Shogun Army General while on assignments from Kokomi” part. I also thought that we’d be seeing more of Kazuha and Beidou, too, now that they went and involved themselves in the war, and I would’ve liked to.

And about the aftermath of the country, well, of course, as things currently stand in-game, the factions that took part in orchestrating the VHD are still awaiting judgement, and don’t get me wrong, I do love this new character. She’s adorable as hell in the hangout portion of the quest chain. But, the fact that Ei and the Shogun puppet allowed the Fatui presence to slide until this point is something I would like addressed, even if Ei is now going to be on the path to making up for everything she’s done or hasn’t done or, well, you know already. But hey, the completion of the Inazuma Chapter is still young. We’re definitely not leaving for Sumeru just yet, and that means we’ll be getting some Aftermath content.

Hey, if Zhongli was given two Character Quests in a relatively short amount of time, could we get a second one for Ei, and Venti, too, while we’re at it?

[dirt-cup-draco]

George x Reader - I’ll Protect What’s Mine

Hi! Can I please request you getting into a mishap with Cormac (sleaze ball) McLaggen where he accidentally hurts you. You knowing it wasn’t intentional and saying it’s fine, but your very overprotective and loving boyfriend Fred Weasley only seeing the aftermath (ie you with a bruise) and going insane at McLaggen. Basically a big misunderstanding. Maybe a fight where George has to hold him back and McGonagall (absolute icon and queen) steps in? All with a dash of angst and a sprinkle of fluff?

Cormac was insistent, to say the least. He had been flirting with you for the past week despite you making sure you were taken and not interested in him that way, it was becoming a bit uncomfortable. You supposed that you could have told George and put an end to it all but you figured you could handle Cormac yourself, he was a prat but you thought he’d at least have enough sense to give up when you didn’t give him a shred of attention.

You were wrong it seemed as Cormac followed you out of the great hall after eating lunch. Of course he caught you on the day George had quidditch practice. “Wait up Y/N, I want to talk,” He called out but you just kept walking, pretending as if you hadn’t heard a thing. “Y/N!” He tried again when he realized you weren’t slowing down. 

You heard him pick up his pace and you increased yours but it wasn’t enough as you were yanked back suddenly, a hand tight on your wrist. You nearly winced, Cormac didn’t always know his strength. 

“Hey, what’s the deal?” He asked, grip still as strong as ever. “Didn’t you hear me?” 

“Um-” You were seemingly frozen on the spot, the anxiety of this encounter making your chest grow tight. “Yes, sorry, I’m just in quite a hurry you see,” You tried to explain but Cormac didn’t look convinced as you paused for longer than necessary. 

“Where to? I always feel like you’re avoiding me gorgeous,” He whined but thought he was being suave. 

“To see George, you know, my boyfriend,” You emphasized, tugging your wrist out of Cormac’s grasp but out of instinct he pulled harder and you yelped. “Cormac let go!” 

Immediately your wrist was freed and he looked a tad guilty. “Sorry bout that,” 

“It’s fine,” You said, rubbing your wrist as your heart pounded uncomfortably against your ribs. Your wrist ached and you could already see they early signs of bruising. 

“I-I didn’t mean to,” Cormac said in another apology, “Believe me?” 

You nodded and sighed. “I do believe you but please you’ve got to stop with this... We can be friends but we can’t be more. I don’t see you that way and I’m really happy with George,” 

Cormac clenched his teeth but nodded as he took the rejection for the first time all weak. “Fine. I can’t say I’m not a better choice but I see that I can’t convince you of that,”

You gave him a sad smile and made your way to the hospital wing to get your aching wrist wrapped up. She assured you the pain would subside in no more than two days even if the bruises remained for a bit longer after that. You thanked her for her help and left, headed to the gryffindor common room to see George when someone passed you in the hall, giggling and exclaiming about some fight that was going on. 

Rolling your eyes you ignored them until you heard, “That Weasley twin, not sure which one it is, clocked McLaggen when he walked out of class, can you believe it?” Your blood turned to slush in your veins.  

You followed after them at a steady pace, praying that your idiot boyfriend and that idiot Cormac were not in a fight. Yet here you were, shoving your way through a crowd of cheering students from every house as they encouraged the two boys in the center to continue. 

“Who gave you the right to fucking touch her?” George growled, lunging for Cormac as the boy dodged, circling around George. He was already sporting a split lip and a bruised jaw and you felt bad for him. 

“I didn’t mean any harm!” Cormac defended, hands in front of him as he defended himself. 

“George stop it!” You cried from the crowd as he swung at Cormac again. “He didn’t mean it!” 

George turned to you then, eyes soft and shoulders sagging but then his eyes connected with the wrap around your wrist and the fire was sparked all over again. No one would hurt his girl and get away with it, especially after Cormac had been trying to steal you away from him all week. You wouldn’t let him help you, you hadn’t even told him, but his friends had been more than willingly to share what they had seen while you and Cormac had talked in the hallway.

It was in an instant that the rowdy crowd went from deafening to silent as McGonagall pushed between them, her dress robes flying behind her a determined and dangerous look on her face. “Cease this behavior immediately!” She cried out as the teenagers paused where they stood. Cormac looked like a deer caught in the headlights while George stood moping and unable to meet his head of house’s eye. 

She grabbed their ears and looked down at them with stern, yet motherly disappointment. “I wish I could say I expect better from the two of you. Now for the rest of you students, get back to your studies!” She sighed, leading them away from the students that had been accumulated. 

It was an hour later when George came into your dorm, looking particularly grumpy. “I’ve got two weeks detention,” He grumbled as he fell beside you as you flipped through your book. You didn’t look at him. 

“Good, you shouldn’t have been fighting,” You huffed and George sat up on his elbows, looking at you with something akin to shock. 

“I was protecting you!” 

“You were being foolish, I can handle myself and Cormac!” 

George shook his head, standing up again to pace around the room as he did whenever he was particularly stumped. “I’m starting to think you like that Cormac kid!” 

You gaped at him, trying to not be offended by his comment. “I’ve been telling him all week long how happy I am with you George Weasley, don’t you dare challenge that my heart is anyone but yours,” 

He sighed and slumped back down next to you, taking your injured wrist in his hand and kissing the your knuckles that peaked out from the white cloth madam pomfrey had wrapped you up in to help. “I know that, I’m sorry.”

With a sympathetic smile you set your book down and cuddled up to him. “I know you meant well but I don’t want you getting in fights,” You squished his cheeks, turning his head from side to side, a cheeky grin playing at your lips, “I don’t want this gorgeous face damaged,” 

George barked out a laugh and you surged forward to kiss him again, hating that he had been in a fighting but feeling a bit of pride that he would stand up for you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Cormac had been messing with you?” George asked suddenly, a tad bit more solemn than before but not trying to come across as insecure. 

“It isn’t because I was interested, please know that,” You reassured first and foremost, “I just know Cormac can be an egomaniac and when he wants someone or something he’ll do all he can to get it because he thinks he’s entitled to it. I also know he doesn’t keep interest in anything for long, I knew I could handle him, because I knew if you got involved something like this would happen,” 

George nodded but stared at your hand. “Can I see?” He asked and you shrugged, removing the bandages easily. 

“It is just a bruise and a little sore but it’s nothing. He didn’t mean to hurt me sweetheart, he doesn’t know his strength and I don’t think he meant to hold on so tight,” You said as George stared at the purples and blues painting your wrist that had swelled just enough to notice. 

George took your hand in his, trailing his fingers feather light over the imprints Cormac had made. “I was just going to talk to him but Lee saw everything that happened between you two and mentioned you were alright but still had to go to the hospital wing and I just saw red Y/N.... I never want you hurt,” 

“If you’re seeing red my love it probably just means you need a haircut,” You teased but wrapped your wrist back up so he didn’t have to look at it any longer. He seemed more distressed than you. Admittedly you had been shaken up earlier but now you were relaxed beside your lovely boyfriend. “I appreciate all you do for me,” 

“I just want to protect what’s mine...” He muttered, cheeks turning pink as he avoided your gaze. George was feeling possessive, you were his and he didn’t want anyone touching you and it came from the little voice in the back of his head that you might leave him one day for a guy like Cormac. 

The words were sweet to your ears, not making you uncomfortable in the slightest. You were proud to be his as you knew he was proud to be yours. You knew he felt insecure sometimes, he felt like Fred was the better twin, he felt his friends were better jokesters, he thought you would find a better man, yet all you saw when you looked at the freckled boy beside you was perfection. 

“I love you George,” You nuzzled your nose against his. “And I do appreciate you, but promise me you won’t fight like this again. I love that you are willing to stand up for me and stand by me but I can stand for myself too,” 

George understood what you were saying you were independent and strong and lovely, of course you could handle yourself, he just wanted to be the one to handle you with the care and love you deserved, the respect you deserved. 

“I’m sorry,” He muttered again, face buried in your neck and your heart ached a bit. You knew he was worrying himself now over if he had upset you or not. 

“No need to be love,” You reassured, fingers carding through his hair at a leisurely pace. “It was sweet,” 

“Not as sweet as you,”

You laughed out loud, grabbing your book and opening it back up as George settled against your chest as he let your reassurances calm his nerves and your warmth ground him. “You sap,” You snorted but he just smiled. 

You might not need it, but George Weasley would always protect you. 

[snippychicke]

Aftermath--Two

Aftermath: An TUA fanfic

Chapter Two

Rating: Teen

Mentions of blood, slight gore, nightmares

Part One

Lorelei had to admit: Otto's pain tolerance was astonishingly high. Sure she had slipped him a couple of the stronger pain pills she had stored away, but Lorelei still expected screams and curses as she tended to the mess of his eye.

Once she realized how severe the damage was, she tried again to persuade him to let them take him to a hospital.

"No."  

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" She all but pleaded, pulling away her bloodied rag to focus on his good eye, wishing she could put her hands on her hips. "Your eye is severely damaged. I don't know what to do other than remove it, and I--"

"Remove it," he interrupted, closing his good eye as if that was the end of the conversation. Lorelei paled, and she was fairly sure Raymond, her unofficial helper, swore under his breath. 

"I've only watched that procedure a few times," she continued, stressing her words. "I am not a surgeon. I am a nurse. Do you really trust me to--"

"Yes."

The short answer floored her, making her stomach twist. Otto opened his grey-blue eye, meeting her's with absolute conviction. He didn't know her. He was about to lose his eye. And yet he seemed barely fazed. 

"Ok. Okay then. Ray, drag that chair closer. I think I have a surgical text upstairs..."

"Lei, you can't…" He protested as she stripped her gloves, muttering to herself about supplies.

"I've done worse," she admitted as she disappeared up the stairs. 

Less than an hour later, she had a surgical text propped on the coffee table to guide her through the procedure of removing the remains of his eye. She expected it not to go well considering her lack of sedatives, but the most he vocalized was a few pained grunts before catching himself and clenching his teeth. She was honestly more worried about Raymond passing out than she was her patient, seeing the dark man pale and waiver more than a few times when she spared him a glance. 

Raymond disappeared into the bathroom as soon as she admitted she didn't need his help anymore followed by the sounds of retching. Lorelei finished wrapping gauze to hold the bandaging in place, sighing once she was done. 

"I have some antibiotics I want you to take," she admitted, stripping off her gloves for the final time. "Do...do you have someone to look after you?" She paused, studying his rather expressionless face, and his blue-grey quickly looked away from her, confirming her fears. 

She offered her hand, slowly helping him sit up. "I have a spare room, so you can stay here until you get your strength back. I know my place isn't much, but it'll let me keep an eye on that too."

He nodded his head slightly, looking rather defeated. Feeling somewhat awkward, Lorelei continued as she tried to straighten up the mess. "And besides, it's like Nanna Chestnut used to say, it's not our place to judge. And, well, you already paid an eye for... whatever."

Raymond reappeared from the bathroom, and Lorelei excused herself as he waved her towards the kitchen. The kitchen was as small and worn as the rest of the house, dingy curtains covering the cracked windows. "Did I just hear you offering a bed to him?" He whispered harshly.

"Well considering I just removed the man's eye, and I'm hardly a surgeon, it seemed prudent."

"Lei, I know you’re trusting to a fault, but that man tried to kill us!"

"And yet you brought him here," she shot back. "What do you expect me to do? He already made it clear he won't go to a hospital. Do you want me to kick him out onto the street? Or do you want me to call the cops and explain that I went ahead and removed his eye and gave him meds I stole from the hospital?"

Raymond gritted his teeth, running a hand through his short hair. On the one hand, he knew she was right. Morally there was nothing else they could do. But on the other hand, he hated to leave the woman he had come to consider as a sister to fend for herself. 

She didn't have any special abilities like Allison, after all. Since childhood, he had known her, the two of them throwing a ball over the picket fence that separated her yard and his grandmother's. Knew she would rather give someone her purse than even think about fighting.

"I-I'll stay here then," he decided, stomach twisting at the thought. He didn't want to, but he had no choice.

"What? No! Go back home to Allie, I can handle myself."

"...Allie went home with her family." He admitted quietly. "I'd feel weird being there without her anyways." 

"Family? I thought she didn't have any around here?" 

"She doesn't. Look, I'd rather not talk about it right now." Not with that man--Otto--likely listening in. Raymond glanced out to the living room, only slightly relieved to see him still rather slumped on the couch. "I'm gonna run home and get a change of clothes. Then I'll be back." 

"Fine," she relented with a sigh. "If you insist."

Raymond left the kitchen, pausing at the front door to look at Otto reclining on the old couch, still unnaturally pale with sweat beading despite the chill of the late November night. "Don't you dare hurt her." He swore, though he highly doubted the man had the energy after everything. Especially when it seemed like an effort just for Otto to lift his head and open his good eye.

"Jag ska inte," he said, his words either slurred from just his accent or the pain meds Lorelei had given him. Granted, Raymond doubted it would have made any difference. He knew a little Spanish, and that was not it.

"One wrong move and I'll finish the job my wife started," Raymond continued anyways, even though he highly doubted he could be so….ruthless. 

Either Otto didn't care or didn't think he would either as he allowed his head to slump back on the back of the couch, not bothering to designate him with a response. Raymond swore under his breath, praying desperately that everything was in one piece when he returned.

                                                      --+--

Otto hadn't moved an inch when Lorelei finished washing her hands and putting things away. "Okay big man," she sighed, and Otto barely stirred in response. "Sleeping like that is not going to do you any good, so come on." She grabbed his lax hand and tugged slightly. 

With a protesting grunt, Otto shifted and did his best to stand, leaning heavily on Lorelei as the room spun. Her head barely came to his shoulder, which made it awkward, but she held on with a fair amount of strength. 

"You are not allowed to fall, understand?" She said as he wavered. "That would knock those clots loose, and I doubt you have much more blood to lose." 

He grunted in agreement (or she assumed) before taking a hesitant step. Then another, and slowly the paired shuffled towards the small bedroom adjacent to the living room. "Besides," she continued mainly to break the silence. "I doubt I'd be able to lift you up off the floor."

A small smile graced her lips as he gave a huff of what she took as laughter. Her smile remained as she helped him ease into the small twin-sized bed, kneeling down as soon as he was settled to pull off the thick leather boots, ignoring his blatant stare as she quickly undid the thin strings with practiced efficiency. 

Habits were hard to kill, after all. 

"Swing your legs over, and get some rest," she commanded as she stood. "I'll allow another dose of the stinger pills, but then it's plain old Tylenol for you."

He nodded as he collapsed back on the bed which looked even tinier with his more substantial frame laying on it. Lorelei didn't like how pale he was, or the sweat beading on his forehead. Out of habit she brushed the pale blonde hair checking for a temp and gave a sigh of relief when she found none.

Yet, at least.

                                                       --+--

Raymond half expected a blood bath to be waiting for him when he returned. Except there was only the small blood stains Lorelei was scrubbing on the splintered wood floor, Otto nowhere to be seen. 

"Did he leave?" He asked hopefully, but the dark look he received answered otherwise. 

"He's resting in my spare room," she still answered, gesturing to the partially closed door with the bristle brush. "So shush." 

Raymond groaned as he sat on the hardwood chair closest to the woman. "You brought him to me, I'm going to take care of him."

"I have a moral dilemma, okay?" He sighed. "I am allowed to have conflicted feelings about saving the life of the man who tried to kill me and my wife."

"Why didn't you call the cops, Ray?" She asked, giving up on the spot and resting on her heels to look at him. “Why didn’t you force him to a hospital or something? Why bring him here?” 

"Yes, Lei," he leaned forwards, arms resting on his knees. "I'm going to call the cops, and tell them what? That I have a vacuum salesman I thought was dead laying rolled up in my best rug with obvious bruises around his neck and missing an eye because my wife stabbed him? How is it going to look with a black man bringing a man like him into a hospital? Especially when that man is me?"

"Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?" She shifted to sit on the couch, and once he had her full attention, Raymond obliged. The craziness of seeing a cop just turn away after a simple whispered command from his wife. Learning of her secret power. Meeting Allison's rather startling brothers. Not just their personalities, but their ethnicities. 

Learning his wife, his perfect wife of an entire year, was from a lot farther than he could imagine. He could see the doubt and concern in Lorelei's face, but her lips stayed pressed together and she listened without a word as he continued his story. Even after he admitted the truly insane moment of yet another brother in law appearing in a flash of light, citing more time travel, and took his wife away. Forever.

"And that's when I brought him to your doorstep," he finished, leaning back in the chair and waited. 

Lorelei pressed her lips together in thought before giving in and asking the question pressing to the forefront: "Having you been dropping acid?"

"Lei!" He protested, jumping to his feet though mentally, he had tried to prepare for this kind of reaction. “Are you seriously asking me that?” 

"What else am I supposed to think?! Time travel? Superpowers? It sounds like science fiction!"

"This is exactly why I couldn't go to the police. Because if my own sister wouldn't believe me, there is no way they would. Lei," he walked over to the couch and sat next to her, drawing her hands into his. "You are the sister of my heart. Do you really think I could ever lie to you? Or take drugs? To ruin my people's reputation like that?"

She looked at where their hands met, her fair skin even paler in comparison with his. Nana Chestnut always called them siblings of heart, because they always understood each other. They nearly always agreed. She knew his motivations and passions as if they were her own, and vice versa.

And no, she couldn't see him lying to her. Or willingly do anything that could be used against the equal rights movement. 

She looked up and studied his face. The worst bit was: he didn't look like someone hallucinating or having any kind of psychotic break. He seemed somehow as calm and collected as always. 

"...shit."

                                                      --+--

Otto woke with a gasp, the fear from his nightmare chasing him as his hands shot to his neck, assuring he was free to gasp for air. He was already sitting on the edge of the bed before his mind fully woke up; the previous day’s events slowly untangling from the nightmare.

Not that there was much difference. 

His throat ached and burned, but it was nothing compared to his eye, or rather its remains. It was disorienting, having half of his sight gone as he studied the small room barely big enough for the bed and a chest of drawers. Early morning light streamed through threadbare curtains, allowing him to see the glass of water and the white pills sitting next to them. 

Part of him wanted to forgo medication. He had trained nearly his whole life to withstand pain. To push it down and compartmentalize it until it was merely an annoyance. 

But he also never had his eye removed either. And he had to admit whatever the woman gave him the night before had dulled his mind enough to temporarily forget feeling like his heart had been ripped from his chest. 

It wasn't Axel. He reminded himself as he carefully stood, the room spinning as he shakily took the few steps to the chest of drawers, leaning on it as he popped the medication into his mouth and drank the lukewarm water. 

They had known the woman had powers. That's why they had tried to neutralize her as quickly as possible. But they had failed. Again. Their near-perfect streak shattered by this family of oddities. 

But where did Axel go? Why had he woken up at the mercy of the woman's husband? Had his brother honestly thought him dead? And just left him? 

Axel was still alive, right? The thought made his stomach turn as much as the medications and the dizziness did as he clenched his fist.

 No, his brother had to be alive. Axel was the best of them. Their older brother (by five minutes to Otto, but even as an adult, Axel had lorded it over him). Axel had to have survived. 

He couldn't be the only one left. He had to find his brother. 

The thought gave him purpose as he pushed off from the dresser and forced his legs to work as he stumbled out of the small room into the living quarters of the house. His focus was on the front door and the light that was streaming through the small window panes. He had to leave. He had to find Axel. 

Why was the world swaying so much? 

"Woah! Hey, no!" He stumbled as his foot met a thick rug and nearly toppled over if it wasn't for the small woman from the night before, (Lori? Lee? Some odd English name) coming to help him regain his balance. "C'mon on buddy, you need to sit your ass down before you fall down."

It bruised his ego how easily she manipulated him to the nearest chair, helping him ease down into it before disappearing once more. He could only close his eyes, trying to will his heart to stop pounding and his to stop lungs burning from the short walk. 

He felt as weak as a newborn kitten. How was he supposed to do anything like this?

"Here, have some tea." A cold glass was placed in his hand, though her hand hesitated to release it until she was sure he wouldn't drop it. "You lost a lot of blood, my friend. I'm surprised you got this far without passing out." 

The drink was cold and sweet, oddly helping both his stomach as well as his head settle. "Thirsty, were we?" She teased as he finished the glass, still knelt by his side. Muddied green eyes smiled up at him softly, the same ones he remembered hazily staring into last night. 

Except then they hadn't been so cheerful. Just… determined. 

Her smile fell as he continued to stare down at her, and she reached up to brush his forehead with her wrist. "No fever, which is good," she muttered after a moment. "How are you feeling?" 

He wasn't even sure if there were words for how he was feeling, let alone what the English equivalent was. The ache of his throat. The burning pain of his eye. The infuriating absence of half his vision. 

The emotional pain in his chest that threatened to consume him.

"Well, I take it that it's not pleasant by the look on your face," she guessed as he stayed silent. "Did you take those pills I left you?"

He gave a slight nod to that, which seemed to appease her. "Good, though they could be hard on the stomach. How about I whip up a light breakfast? We can see how long it takes Mr. Overprotective there to wake up." 

He had to turn to look where she gestured, seeing Allison's husband asleep on the small cramped couch, an old quilt draped over him. 

She stood up and offered her hand, "You want to come with me to the kitchen? I have a fresh pot of coffee just made, if you're a coffee drinker. Also, not easy on the stomach, but the Lord smite me if I ever deny anyone coffee." 

He hesitated for a moment before accepting, and it was embarrassing to have help to stand and then need to lean on her smaller frame as she helped him across to the kitchen. By the time she helped him to the small kitchen table, he felt weak and shaky and all but collapsed into the chair. 

It wasn't long before she had a mug of steaming coffee set before him and a dish each of sugar and creamer. The woman continued to talk cheerfully as she busied herself with breakfast, he only partially paid attention. 

At least the coffee was strong. 

Part Three 

[demon-winchester]

Tremors Behind The Veil Chapter 8

-Chapter 8- Sylvia's POV: You need to pull yourself together I thought to myself as I was leaving my cover. "We meet again" I screamed at Abigor. He glanced at me and I could feel he was smiling. "Hahaha, the small girl survived... I still remember the splendid taste of your brother little vamp" Abigor replied. That broke something in me... Vengeance was calling my name. I started rushing towards the knight, he still had Aiden on his grasp and it was time to free him. I summoned my Twin Sickles and I started stabbing him. The attacks did nothing and I could see Aiden turning purple. I dashed back and I started rushing again. I jumped on some tables, I grasped my sickles tightly, I stretched the chain and I lept on Abigor. I tied the chain on his neck and I started hanging from him. He started sidestepping and I heard him choke, that's when I knew I needed to apply even more pressure. He threw Aiden on a wall, he grabbed my chains and he started gasping for air.

Aiden's POV: I started gasping and gasping trying to catch my breath. This fucker actually came close I thought to myself. I saw Sylvia hanging from him with her chains tied around his throat. "Oh so you finally decided to join the fun?" I sassed while getting up from the rubble. "Oh shit" I whispered. Abigor managed to free himself and he grabbed Sylvia pushing her to a wall. I picked up my gun and I started shooting him. The bullets were affecting him but he wouldn't stop. He kept hitting her while she was down. "You have no magic to help you this time little vamp" he growled. I kept shooting and shooting and after two magazines he screamed in pain. "Erebus...Drag your hand across its blade and let it cut you" Sylvia managed to say while Abigor started to push through the pain. I removed my gauntlet and I followed the instructions cutting myself. As the blood was touching the sword when I was dragging my hand, the blade started changing. It grew wider and somehow purple, it was shining and whatever was inside the blade it was moving around.

While the blade was getting transformed I started losing my armor and my wings, I was now a simple human with simple clothes holding a big shining purple sword. What the hell I thought to myself. I know I need to work fast. I rushed towards Abigor significantly slower than before and this time the sword was actually doing damage, it was really scratching his armor and it left an aftermath of energy after every attack. Red smoke was coming out of every scratch. He was in terrible pain... His screams would shake the ground but he would still not let her go. "You know what...You have taken a toll on all of us...I am ending you" I growled. He started laughing as I was letting the energy from the sword travel through me. I closed my eyes and I took a deep breath as I was trying to contain the energy. One breath, one movement, one moment and this torment would stop. I breathed out and a purple ray flew from the edge of the sword hitting Abigor on his chest. The blast left a hole on his body and red smoke was flowing out of it, he finally fell down helpess. I helped Sylvia up and we slowly approached him. I held the sword on top of his neck. "Sylvia, grab the handle along with me... It's closure for you too" I said to her and if she hadn't been through hell she would smile. "Any last words?" I asked Abigor. "Curse you, your children too. And their children, forever true." he answered as he was chocking. That made me smile. "So...Shall we?" I said to Sylvia. "May God have mercy upon your soul because I won't." I sighed and we pushed the blade through his neck. And with that, complete silence. He stopped moving and what was once the club was now a building in ruins. "Bastard" Sylvia said and she spit on him. "That's a great time for a drink" I said with joy and I headed to the few bottles that weren't destroyed with Sylvia right behind me. I jumped behind the bar. "Pick your poison love" I said.  We agreed on a bottle of red wine and we were ready to start drinking. "You know what, it's the perfect time for a toast." I exclaimed. "To putting an end to unfinished bussines." she said raising her glass. "To lady death and may she be on our side on the approaching fights." I continued and our glasses met. "Are you old enough to drink?" she asked. "We killed an executioner that had returned from the dead...Do you want to see my ID or does that cover you?" I sassed. She started laughing. "Calm down boy..let me jest" she answered and she kept laughing. "Anyways, with your club destroyed what are you going to do?" I asked. "Well, good question actually...I've always wanted to move to another country for a fresh start and I don't think I'm getting a better chance... I can't help but see hope throughout this mayhem and well, a fresh start is all I need...I hope. What about you?" she said. "Hm, now that I'm powered up again I need to find Circe though there's a talk I need to have with Lydia." I continued. "How so?" she asked. "Well, you see she doesn't have powers and she came all the way here in the middle of the night while we were fighting...She could've been killed, I told her to stay away from me" and as I was saying that a slap hit me. "She came here to help you, you fool and you're going to hold it against her? You know, you might know how to fight but you really need to learn to understand people more..." she said with anger in her voice. "So what do you think I should do?" I asked. "You should figure it out yourself" she said and she took a sip, "Also about Erebus" she continued. "Oh yeah what's up with that... My armor went away while I transformed it" I said. "Well that's the thing... The hunger this blade has while transformed is insatiable, it draws energy from whenever it can and your armor is a great source, you should remember though... Don't hold it in this form for more than a few minutes after your armor has gone away, it starts eating life force and that's not ideal." she continued. "Alright then, I'll have it in mind" I replied. We talked for a bit more, about her story and about mine too, the bottle had reached its bottom. She placed the glass on the table, she got up, she took a sealed one and she started walking away. "It's time to say goodbye Aiden and about Circe you should try searching in abandoned churches, those places are rotten grounds, perfect for Harbingers...Give her my regards." she sighed. "Bye then, I'll take your words to heart and I hope we meet again." I said with a smile. "You shouldn't hope." she said and she closed the door behind her. Time to head out I thought to myself so I grabbed a bottle of wine and I returned to the hideout..It was morning by now and people have started gathering around the ruins of the club. It took me some time but I reached the hideout and that pun in the entrance always makes me laugh. I jumped on the couch and I fell asleep almost instantly.... I hadn't slept that good in ages. I woke up and I checked my phone. A text from Lydia saying hello sent 10 hours ago....God how long have I been sleeping. "Hi there" I answered and she instantly started typing.

Hello                    Hi there                    What's up MY GOD YOU'RE ALIVE                    You're not getting rid of me that easily ...... Look we need to talk                    Okaaay, feel free to say what you want Not here... I mean talk in person                    What's going on? Look, can you be at the garden behind the hotel at 12?                    Like... Midnight? Yes                    Alright... I'll be there

And so time came to pass... I dressed up and I headed to the garden. The place was beautiful. Bushes with unique colours all around... A fountain in the middle frozen from the cold with patches of icebound flowers surrounding it, benches placed under old lamps and snowflakes longing to hug the frigid landscape. I saw her and I approached her, we nodded and we both started looking at the frozen fountain. "Look" I told her, "I know I haven't been the most supportive friend. I've been so caught up with the -whatever the fuck this shit is- and I never took a moment to think that I didn't act the way I should have". She raised her eyebrow. "No matter how difficult this thing is, I should have considered how nerve racking must be seeing a friend you've known all these years put himself on the grasp of death..." I continued. "Could you please tell me what you did that you think was wrong?" she asked. "Well, for starters, when I talked to you about this situation you wanted to help and I did my best to stop you from that, even if I wanted to protect you I should have been a bit more careful. Next when I lost my bluetooth I didn't even try to contact you another way which led you to coming to help me.. I should have escorted you out of harms way that very moment but instead I screamed at you and I returned to the shitshow... Lastly, I should have contacted you the moment I was safe..." I replied.  "Hm" she said, "Do you know why I called you here?". "No" I replied. "Look, I do want to apologise myself... I felt like a burden coming on the club, I shouldn't be something else you have to have your mind on".  "Wait" I said interrupting her, "I never got to tell you that but thank you... You weren't a burden... on the contrary, I don't know how that fight would have ended if you hadn't stepped in at that moment".  "Nevertheless, we had a deal and I broke it... The moment that I saw those pieces of rubble fly towards us I knew that I shouldn't have been there and the fact that I made you endure the hit really made me feel bad" she continued. "Please don't do this... You were the best support I could have asked for" I said. "This world isn't for me and I can't pretend that I am able to withstand the anxiety that comes with it... I don't know if I can help you anymore and that includes comms... It's hard for me to say that you know" she sighed. "I understand... The moment I saw him approaching you... I've never felt so much concern and so much hate, not towards him... Towards me for dragging you into all...that" I said. "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry and thank you.... You were a big help and I'd feel happy to have you on the comms if you're up to it..." I said with a small smile. "There's another thing... The trip ends in a couple of days and you'll be alone here which will make the situation even worse. I'm asking you... Leave this behind and come home with the rest of us" she continued. "I can't do that... I would love to return to how things were but now that's something I'm unable to do... My plan now is saving Circe, returning home and finding a way to get these stuff off of me" I sighed. "That sounds fair" she said, "So, all good?". "It seems like it..." I replied, "We still have a night to spare, what are you in the mood for?". "Okay, I have a great idea. We head to this great 24/7 diner, get a bite, a drink and then walk in the old city" she said excited. "You know what... I dig that, let's not waste a moment!" I replied. And so we begun. We headed to the diner and we bought some snacks and hot chocolate . We started walking around talking laughing and just enjoying this part of the city. The cold was stinging a bit but nothing we couldn't handle, I didn't really mind because it was just what was needed for the scenery to look like that. Roofs covered in snow all around, tall trees almost crystallised by the cold and snowflakes dancing in the breeze. The time was passing fast and after walking around for hours we concluded that we should return. We were moving in an alley to save time and we saw a person emerge from its end. I have a bad feeling I thought to myself, I looked behind us and I noticed someone was on our tail. "Give me your gloves" I said with a low voice and that's exactly what she did. I summoned my gauntlets and I covered them with the gloves. We had almost reached the end of the street but the man was still blocking, he now had his hand inside his jacket... We were getting closer and closer. "Look what we have here" the man said while drawing a knife , "such a great night to do a good deed and help my poor soul". We tried to step back but a woman was in the way with a knife on her hand as well . "I don't think they are really into charity love" she said to who I presume was her boyfriend. "Here's the thing kids, if you give us your stuff we'll let you go, it would be terrible to stain this street with blood wouldn't it" the man said to us, "I like your pink gloves dude, really... Manly" he continued and the couple started chucking. "Oh you have no idea" I said under my breath. "Don't" Lydia told me. "We don't have all night, start with your wallets" said the woman. "You heard the lady, now hurry... It would be a pity for something bad to happen to your lady friend... You get me dude, man to man, you know how that is, she looks like fun" the man said and I felt my heart pumping. "You done fucked up" said Lydia. "Stop talking girl" said the man while putting the knife closer to her throat. I grabbed the hand and I smashed his elbow, a loud crack echoed in the alley, the man fell down and he started screaming in pain and in disbelief. "You little shit!" screamed the woman and she tried to stab me but I blocked the knife with my gauntlets. "What the fuck" she muttered and I grabbed her head with my arm, I smiled and I smashed it on the wall letting her drop down unconscious. His screams were still going and I saw Lydia kicking him in the guts. "His stupid voice enrages me" I said to her and I approached him. "Nah I got it" she said, she took a few steps back and she kicked him in the head knocking him out. "Ouch, that's gonna hurt like a bitch when he wakes up" I chuckled. "Thank you... Exactly what I was going for" she replied and she started laughing. "I hope you won't kick me too but I may have stained your gloves with a tiny bit of blood" I said. "Nah they make them look less childish... You know, the blood really brings out a murderous intent the normal pink just can't" she replied smiling. "Cool point of view... Does that mean I should stain your pyjamas too?" I said with a grin. "Sheesh, I'm trying to make a joke here and you take it as a chance to hit more people" she laughed. "On my defense I read on a fashion magazine that scarlet red is gonna be worn a lot this year" I continued. "Admitting you're reading fashion magazines isn't a great defense per say but you do you" she replied with a laugh. "We should probably call the police shouldn't we?" I said and she pulled out her phone. "Already on it" she Said. She left an anonymous tip and we continued our wall back. Some time passed and we finally managed to reach the hotel. I followed her to the lobby "So I guess this is goodnight" I said. "Oh, you're not going to your room?" she asked. "We shouldn't give miss old hag the chance to ask questions should we" I replied. "Fair" she said, "That was fun... You know, up until the mugging part". "Attempted mugging you mean... But yeah, it was fun" I said. "The trip days are running out" she continued, "we should do something tomorrow". "I would love to but I have a lead for Circe that I need to follow... Can't wait for when I get back so we can hang out more" I said. "Likewise" she said and she yawned, "I guess it's goodnight then". "I guess it is" I replied with a smile, "Goodnight". "Night" she answered and she started going up the stairs. Time to go back to the hideout and be all alone I thought to myself and I sighed. I walked out of the hotel and the sun was rising.

[a-student-out-of-time]

April Fools Special Review: Part 5

Twisted Metal

Of course, Session 2 hasn’t ended but even this session had a lot of growth for Hibiki. While she has more or less accepted the true nature of her sister, and has decided to payback the kindness and support she got into helping others, there is still doubt and regret within her mind. Though Hibiki’s career is currently over, she still wants to get back into music eventually once things die down but now on her terms and not what Kanade decided, and there is still a part of Hibiki that loves Kanade like a sister. We also see that people who brush off music like a certain 11037, earn her ire as seeing him low key seeing music as a ‘easy route’ irritated her enough to confront the Future Ultimate Baseball Star himself on the matter. Despite the serious risk of exposure that she could have had, Hibiki might have been wearing a disguise at the time but there was already a scare in Session 1 when a date between her and Hajime was interrupted by a /r/niceguy fan, Leon wouldn’t have been into Hibiki’s genre of music so he didn’t realise he was actually talking to Hibiki Otonokoji. However, he was appreciative of Hibiki’s advice on the matter, and given that Sayaka would be in his class, someone who Hibiki has great respect for, she would be able to set him straight on the matter. When Hajime and co go back to school for their second semester, Hibiki, living alone in Hajime’s house decides to make an announcement on Twitter.com that she is still alive and is busy trying to sort her life out, but will go back into music eventually. The response she got was overwhelming positive as all her fans are pleased to see her alive, some apologising to her for any mean comments they might have made about her in the past, and others said they were worried that Kanade might have killed her. This brought Hibiki to tears as it’s not just the love she gets from her friends and lovers, she’s also got support from her fanbase. Her new emotional maturity is put to the test when Hajime loses his second life because a certain controversial Neurologist decides to test his time travel theory by killing him and Umeko, and of course the pain and trauma that comes from seeing a beloved friend’s dead body and himself getting stabbed. I don’t think the old Hibiki would have been able to comfort Hajime but this new and improved Hibiki was definitely able to comfort and calm him down. She’s not 100% mature yet as at one point she offers to lose her virginity to him, and despite certain lemony Anons wanting to see some spicy action, Hajime was like ‘No, just no’ and stated that no sexual matters will take place until they become 18, which in Japan is the legal age of sexual consent, and protection will be used.

Hibiki’s new fighting prowess had two intense trials throughout Session 2. The first is in Hide and Seek when she had to fight against Monaca’s robots. While she had the option of either joining Chiaki’s group in stopping Monaca from aging herself to death, or joining Hajime’s group in taking down Genocider Syo, she decided that she didn’t want to take on another serial killer, especially after being told that unlike her sister, Genocider Syo actually has some teeth to her and not just that one sprite of hers, and besides, Monaca is hellbent on making herself a adult and given her prowess in robotics, the likelihood of Team Monaca having to fend off robots are high and that group didn’t have a lot of fighters on them. She was able to seriously do a number on the robots, seeing as Chiaki and Emma get seriously injured at various points, Sora is more or less nullified due to the Anti A.I. Black boxes and Kyoji isn’t really a fighter, making her the main fighter on the team. Though like everyone, she is angry that they failed and Monaca is now a biological teenager, though thankfully not that deformed or dead, and that Emma’s and Chiaki’s injuries were for nothing. This again also showed how much she matured as while angry about it, especially about the fact that the aged-up Monaca is again taller than her, cursing her to always be the shortest female, she didn’t get too angry about it as Monaca clearly regrets her decisions and it’s a product of being in a very unhealthy environment and now that she is under Kyoji’s care, it’s not going to happen anymore.

But of course, the biggest test for her was in Twisted Sister, when Kanade was released from prison by Juu and via the aid of a mysterious person who might be a time traveller but one with darker goals then Hajime and co, was giving serious weaponry, technology and combat prowess. With this she was able to tear a bloody path through the Hope’s Peak halls and decimate any Hope’s Peak people who gets in her way. Upon finding out that her sister has broken free from prison and is on her way to ‘reclaim’ her, Hibiki’s first thoughts was to get some armour and then charge in to attack Kanade and just in time as she managed to incapacitate a grief stricken and enraged Nikei, and had just recharged herself with some Red Bull X. Not only is Kanade her own twin sister who she has zigzagged between being utterly terrified of to blaming herself for the monster she turned out to be, but thanks to the upgrades she became an equal match to Hibiki. In addition, this also says a lot about Hibiki herself because Kanade had advanced weaponry, dosed up on an addictive that could kill sleep for a week, advanced armour AND was able to defeat Sonia, Akane, Nekomaru AND Peko who all ganged on her with little to no effort, and yes she had been weakened by Nikei beforehand but said addictive rendered most of his attacks moot point, and despite ALL of that, Hibiki was able to equal with her and eventually with the help of Hajime, finally defeat her. And I didn’t mention the ‘puppet state’ because she never not even once regressed back into that, more or less confirming that is dead. Then again, the ‘puppet state’ may have not that hard to break as Kanade’s main motive for killing Setsuka in SDRA2 is that she could have reversed all the damage that Kanade had done to Hibiki and years of hard work, gone within a few weeks or so. And our lovely ronin sword-wielding vocalist had about 3 months to break the ‘puppet state’. While Kanade’s rampage was eradicated thanks to the third reset, the first one done on purpose, even in the current timeline when Kanade gets beaten deathless, Hibiki was able to knock a gun from Kanade’s hand, throw tear gas in to blind her and direct the rest of Class 77-B, and Juzo, into piling on Kanade and knocking her out, this being the last time we see old Kanade.

But despite all the carnage and pain that Kanade dealt her, there is still a part of Hibiki that cares for her like a sister and wishes for the Kanade she thought she knew back. And she got her chance when Yasuke offered to mindwipe Kanade and turn her into a gentlehearted girl. While the QC were deeply divided on the issue, when Hibiki was offered her input, she said that she was conflicted. Part of her wanted her sister back and Yasuke could quite literally grant her deepest desire at that point, but she is also aware that this is a form of execution, as while physically Kanade is still alive the Kanade that had existed prior to this is dead and never coming back, hopefully. As she isn’t a thinker like some of the QC members and understands the deep moral and ethical divides between them, she decides to hold a vote and whatever wins is the one they go for. Of course, the readers voted for Kanade to be mindwiped, and thus Yasuke got to work remaking Kanade while Hibiki helped to round up the other criminals that got out. I’m not dwelling too much on this as we’ve seen Hibiki’s greatest physical feat already and if she could take out swabs of armed headmen to some traffickers, escaped convicts shouldn’t be hard to deal with. Once the carnage dies down and we move into the Twisted Sister Aftermath Arc, Hibiki is hit with immense guilt. While she is grateful for that the sister she thought she had is back, she also knows what had to be done to ensure this occurs. But now that Kanade is back, she could make amendments as she was a rotten sister to Kanade beforehand and now she could try to reconnect with her, preventing her monstrous self from resurfacing itself. Of course, she has to juggle being with Kanade with also being a member of the Cuddle Puddle and general hero work, but life is never dull when you are with the Quantum Crew.

[katinthe-sortinghat]

Edge of the World - Draco x Reader

Summary - Draco finds you after the battle of Hogwarts and finally admits his feelings

Warnings - Very light swearing

~   ~   ~

Destruction, dejection... death.

The once warm and cheerful Great Hall was now in ruins, an aftermath of the horrid battle that had taken place here not mere hours before. All around the room sat injured students and teachers with pain and exhaustion etched into their faces. For some that pain was physical, but for most it was emotional. In different rooms throughout the castle one could find rows and rows of the loved ones that had been lost - Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, Fred Weasley, Lavender Brown, Collin Creevey. The list went on and on. You couldn't stop the images of their faces from flashing in your mind’s eye each time you noted their absence from the room. However, despite all the sadness, the air of relief and cheer was just as apparent. At long last the war was over, and Voldemort was truly dead.

You sat against a battered and crumbling wall. Many teachers and healers came up to you and offered to heal your wounds, but you continuously turned them away, insisting those with worse injuries be tended to first.

Across the room you spotted the Malfoys sitting close together and looking awkward and out of place. Your heart lurched as you studied a disheveled and broken Draco Malfoy. Your mind wandered to just a few months before.

~   ~   ~

Pain.

That was all you had come to know these long months at Hogwarts. You had just been dismissed from detention, which consisted of the Carrow twins having their fun torturing you. They were supposed to be interrogating you about Harry's plans and location, as well as the whereabouts of the escaped students. As a friend of Harry's and a known member of Dumbledore's Army, you were one of the more frequent targets of theirs for detentions such as these. Every so often they would find a ridiculous reason to send you to detention where they would cast the Imperius curse on you, hoping to extract information out of you. However, after a few minutes or so of fruitless results, they would switch to the Cruciatus curse and torture you for as long as they could without extensive damage to your mind. This way, should any news of Harry or the others reach you, you would be sane enough to have the information extracted from you.

You slowly and weakly walked back to your common room, which was sad and empty compared to how to use to be. Many of your friends in Y/H and their families had fled the country before school started back up again. A couple others had managed to escape when their time here got too unbearable. You had often thought about leaving in the dead of night yourself, but there was something - or perhaps more truthfully someone - that kept deterring you from doing so.

You were nearly to the common room when a figure came barreling around the corner, and accidentally knocked you over.

"Watch where you're-" the familiar voice cut off when they realized who they bumped into.

"Y/L/N," Draco said in surprise. He looked around to be sure no one else was around before offering his hand in assistance. With great effort, you raised your arm to grab his hand and groaned as he hoisted you back onto your feet.

"Thanks," you mumbled, but Draco didn't let go of your hand.

"You can let go now, Draco," you said as you looked up to meet his grey eyes. He was looking at you with a sad and worried expression. You knew you looked terrible. Over the months, you had gotten skinnier and your under eyes were a deep purple due to a lack of sleep. To your surprise, he lifted his hand to cup your cheek and his thumbs brushed your dark circles. His frown deepened. You couldn't help but close your eyes and lean into his touch, but as soon as it was there, it had gone again. You scolded yourself for giving in so easily, for not fighting to free yourself from his grasp. He was the one to push you away in the first place. Despite all odds you had fallen in love with him, and you had told him so during your sixth year. However, after you finally admitted it Draco cruelly belittled your confession.

"Leave," he croaked.

"What?"

Draco checked to assure you two were alone once again before grabbing your wrist harder and leading you down a smaller, empty hall. You were shocked as he firmly pressed you against the wall.

"I can help you get out of here," he whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

"I can help you escape. You can go find the others, hide with them. I know you know where they are, so you can join them until it's safe."

"Draco-"

"They'll keep hurting you." The pain in his voice was subtle, but you could still hear it.

"Draco," you started again. "You can't help me. If you do, and they find out, they'll do far worse to you than what they're doing to me."

Draco started to say something else, but you covered his mouth with your hand before he could speak. "Don't," you said. "Whatever it is you have to say, it won't help. Nothing you do will help."

His eyes flooded with pain at your words. It had hurt you to turn him away like this, but you had to. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you broke from his grasp and walked away.

"Y/N," he called.

Your feet stopped without your permission.

"Last year you told me you loved me. After everything I've done... is that still true?"

Tears began to well up in your eyes. Of course it's still true you bloody idiot, you thought. But you couldn't tell him that... not at that moment at least.

"Ask me again when the war is over," you said without turning. When he said nothing in response, you walked briskly back to your dorm, where you finally allowed the tears to cascade down your cheeks.

~   ~   ~

Since that day, you had thought about his question a million times. Was it in some way him admitting to his own feelings? And the pain in his eyes, in his voice... you could no longer remember whether they had really been there or if you had imagined it all.

There was too much going on around you to question it again, however. You decided to see if you could find Harry and make sure he was ok. Your reunion with him before the battle started was far too brief, and there was still so much to discuss with him.

You broke from your place against the wall and walked through the dismembered doors of the great hall. Making your way through the castle corridors, you felt like one of the many ghosts that had passed through these halls. Nothing around you felt truly real or tangible. There was nothing familiar about this reality you had found yourself in, and you couldn't help but feel detached from everyone and everything.

The deeper into the castle you went, the fewer people you came across. Along the west side of the castle on one of the upper floors you came across a wall that a spell had blown a hole through. Walking up to the immense opening, you stood on the edge with your hand resting on a column for support. The familiar skyline of mountains and forests beyond the castle grounds were a welcome sight. No matter how upside down the world seems to become, there's always something out there that stays the same. The crisp spring air smelt of rain. Here by yourself, at what felt like the edge of the world, you could almost forget all the pain.

You decided to give up your halfhearted search for Harry and leaned your head on the column. As you closed your eyes, you allowed yourself to enjoy the wisps of wind that tickled your face.

"Y/L/N."

No, not now. Leave me a few more seconds of peace.

"Y/L/N? Y/N!"

You jumped as a hand was placed on your shoulder. "Draco!" you exclaimed when you realized who it was. "You scared me."

"What the hell are you doing standing close to the edge?" Draco cried indignantly. "Come here, back away."

Before giving you a chance to step down on your own Draco pulled you away from the opening. "Alright, alright, calm down. You're gonna make me trip."

"Well, what sane person stands that close to an opening this high up?"

"I was just-"

"You're hurt," he interrupts as he spots the cuts on your cheek.

"It's nothing, really."

"If it's nothing then why aren't you healed? I thought there were healers down there."

"There are, but I told them to take care of those with worse injuries first."

"Geez, Y/N. The spell only takes a couple seconds. Here, come here."

"Wha- hey!" you protested as Draco took hold of your chin and turned your head so your injured cheek faced him.

"Episky."

There was a slight sting as your skin melded back together. It lasted only a moment, though. You brushed your fingers across your cheek and felt nothing.

"Thank you," you grumbled.

"You're welcome. Now take your shirt off."

"Excuse me?" You sputtered in an unnaturally high pitched tone.

"I just want to see if you're hurt anywhere else. If you wouldn't let them heal some damn cuts who knows what else-"

"Oh my god, Draco, you need to calm down. Like a lot," you laughed. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Draco started shifting uncomfortably and looking everywhere except at you. "I'm just... worried that's all."

You couldn't help the smile that creeped up your face. "Well, I appreciate that. But I'm fine, really." You grabbed his hand and gave it a small squeeze as extra reassurance.

Draco stopped shifting and stared down at your hands holding his. A serious and somewhat apprehensive look crossed his face. "Look, Y/N..." Draco sighed. "What you said- I mean, about that thing, you know a couple months ago, and what I asked..." he gripped you hand harder as his eyes finally met yours. "Can you ever forgive me?"

You heart fell. The ever so confident prince of Slytherin now stood in front of you full of shame and defeat, and you didn't want him to.

"Draco Malfoy, of course I forgive you."

His sad expression became firm and upset. "No," he said stepping back. "You're not suppose to forgive that easily, Y/L/N. I don't think you're remembering all the terrible things I did, not just during the war, but all the years before that too. You can't just forget all that.

"Draco, I'm not forgetting anything. Yeah, sure, you were a prick when we were younger, but that was the old you. You've grown so much since then. And that stuff during the war, all the terrible things you think are your fault... they aren't. You had no choice, Draco. You were doing what you had to do to protect the ones you love, and no one can blame you for that."

He stares at you with an unrecognizable expression. You thought you saw a bit of surprise in his eyes as well as confusion and maybe even a hint of disappointment. He shook his head, but then he smiled. It was unexpected, but also an extremely comforting sight.

"You're too good," he whispered, and before you could comprehend what was happening, Draco's lips were suddenly crashing into your own. The kiss was firm and full of desperation, his hands cupping both sides of your face. When your mind finally caught up with your lips, you allowed your body to relax. You let yourself lean into the kiss even further and placed one hand along the back of his neck, while the other found itself entangled in his hair. Oh, that hair. You always wondered what it would be like to run your fingers through it, and now that you were, you were not disappointed. It was slightly tangled and you could feel the dust from the wreckage that had settled into it, but it was still so soft.

When you both pulled away, it was like slipping out of a dream. Your mind was hazy and you could not tell how much time had passed. Was it 15 seconds? A minute? Your mind was racing too fast to tell.

Draco laughed as he noticed that you couldn't stop smiling. It was difficult to make eye contact with him as you found yourself suddenly very self conscious under his gaze.

"Well, that was-" you coughed to clear your throat. "Very pleasantly unexpected."

"I've been waiting to do that for years now."

You looked up in surprise. "You have? But last year when I admitted my feelings... why did you say all those terrible things?"

Draco's face fell again. "I was trying to protect you. By that time, I was already living in fear of my family and I's safety. I was afraid that if I admitted my feelings to you or to myself, he would find out somehow. And then you would be a target should he ever need another way to control me. I just couldn't let that happen."

Your heart lifted happily at his words. This happiness must have been reflected in your face, because Draco suddenly became very shy. Having no words to express your delight that your love was finally reciprocated, you simply wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your cheek on his chest. After a moment Draco placed arms around your frame as well and placed his chin on your head.

You sighed as you gazed through the opening. For the first time in such a long time, you finally felt at peace again. The war was over, and your heart was full. What your relationship with Draco would become, you weren't quite sure, but it didn't matter yet. In that moment there was nothing except you and him and the edge of the world.

[asiaberkeley]

Afghan is beautiful

I am a half Afghan woman. An Afghan-European American. An Afghan American.

Admittedly, it took me awhile to offer up this information in the aftermath of 9/11 when Afghanistan became synonymous with terrorism in the eyes of many Americans. Taking pride in my heritage suddenly and painfully became controversial.

People didn’t know about my Afghan-ness though because I had my mother’s surname and not my Pashtun father’s: Hotaki. Also, I didn’t wear any kind of head covering because I was raised Catholic. It was easy to hide and pass for completely White.

My late father, an aspiring doctor and med school student who spoke six languages, left Kabul with his family before the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan as a child. They were the lucky ones. He spent most of his life in Germany where many Afghans have sought refuge. One of my fondest memories is flying kites with him and my Irish-Swedish-French American mother in the Munich Public Gardens as a child. There was no wind that day and we dragged the kites in dizzy circles…laughing together...just as I imagine him now when he was a boy: kite flying in the streets of Kabul.

Since my father died when I was six, I returned to my mother’s hometown of Boston with her in 1996. I was later left to contemplate what it meant to be Afghan in a place with very few Afghans compared to Virginia, California, and New York. In college, as an Asian Studies major at Wellesley College and later at the University of California, Berkeley, I often corrected people who said that Afghanistan is in the Middle East and not in South-Central Asia. I wondered why it seemed that no one had received much education on this country’s history or people outside of reading the popular Khaled Hosseini novel, The Kite Runner, especially since we have been at war—fighting together with the Afghan forces against the Taliban in the longest war in American history.

Many Americans don’t realize that the attackers on 9/11 were not Afghan. The attackers did seek a hiding and meeting place in Afghanistan, however. But those facts shouldn’t matter. Because it doesn’t matter what ethnicity, race, or nationality someone is if they commit a crime and it doesn’t matter where they were hiding. The guilty party does not represent all people of their background or country just like Hitler does not represent all Germans or all of Germany and El Chapo does not represent Mexico or all Mexicans. Similarly, the latest mass shooter in El Paso doesn’t represent all white American men.

After former President Trump pondered out loud the mere possibility of a concocted plan to kill 10 million Afghans and wipe the country off the face of the earth – presumably through the use of nuclear weapons – I have thought more about what it means to be Afghan American today. And it’s not because of those unimaginably cruel musings which add insult to injury in the homes of all Afghans traumatized by decades of war. Indeed, nearly every person who is not a white man has been made to feel worthless, subhuman and criminal under the rhetoric of the former Trump administration...so Afghans are not alone.

But Afghans were alone in the discussion of their genocide in 2019. I have contemplated my identity even more because not one leader or politician in America of any background spoke out formally against those disturbing statements. (And it doesn’t matter if this was an actual plan of his or just an imaginary scenario dangling in the recesses of his mind.) What does the national silence mean?

After 9/11, Afghan American author of West of Kabul, East of New York and Destiny Disrupted, Tamim Ansary, went viral with an email he sent.  In it, he wrote:

“The Taliban and Bin Laden are not Afghanistan. They’re not even the government of Afghanistan. The Taliban are a cult of ignorant psychotics who captured Afghanistan in 1997 and have been holding the country in bondage ever since. Bin Laden is a political criminal with a master plan. When you think Taliban, think Nazis. When you think Bin Laden, think Hitler. And when you think “the people of Afghanistan” think “the Jews in the concentration camps.” It’s not only that the Afghan people had nothing to do with this atrocity, they were the first victims of the perpetrators. They would love for someone to eliminate the Taliban and clear out the rats nest of international thugs holed up in their country. I guarantee it…Some say, if that’s the case, why don’t the Afghans rise up and overthrow the Taliban themselves? The answer is, they’re starved, exhausted, damaged, and incapacitated.”

After 2001, my family warned me that just telling people I was Afghan may offend or anger them because they may have lost a loved one on 9/11 or they may have had a son or daughter deployed to Afghanistan. In middle school, a classmate told me I was from the land of the terrorists after I proudly showed her an autographed book I received from an Afghan British writer, Saira Shah, called "The Storyteller's Daughter." My American cousin, a veteran, was later deployed to Afghanistan and brought back a burqa which I showed to my classmates in high school to teach them about the Taliban’s oppression. Contrary to what they may have assumed, what they saw was not traditional Afghan clothing. Traditional Afghan clothing, banned under the Taliban, is colorful, intricate, deeply hued, bright and beautiful. Google it.

A year has passed since Trump discussed wiping Afghanistan off the face of the earth. After it happened, I regularly checked Twitter and the news to see if any of our nation’s leaders denounced those remarks. I called my Governor, Congresspeople, and many others asking if just one would put out a statement to support Afghans and Afghan Americans against talk of our annihilation. The Governor’s office simply said that he did not put out a statement. I still haven’t found any. However, some Americans did speak out on social media. Thank you.

We have studied the long-lasting horrors of the U.S. nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in our classrooms. I thought we concluded as a nation that something like that could never happen again. That not a single person in power thought it worth it to speak out against the possibility of the U.S. committing another nuclear genocide bewilders and frightens me. Is it controversial to say out loud that Afghans civilians do not deserve to die en masse? Are Afghans so vilified in our society that it’s a public risk to defend us?

If you still blame the Afghan people for 9/11 even if only on an subconscious level, think again. Many of the Afghan people are suffering in ways you can only imagine in your worst nightmares. They are not responsible and took no part in this. Like the poor souls who were killed in the Twin Towers, Afghans are survivors and casualties of terrorism as well. Afghan women have lost their entire families. They have been abused and pillaged. Men, women, and children have been bombed and maimed. Their history, including the rich Buddhist Silk Road history of Afghanistan, has been destroyed by the Taliban and others.

Discussing our nation's capability to conduct nuclear genocide of an entire people and country is an affront to all humans.

So I suggest to all of our nation’s leaders who have remained tight-lipped in the face of the unspeakable: Take time to learn something you don’t know about Afghanistan. Perhaps that could start with the story of progressive Afghan Queen and feminist Soraya Tarzi who asked, "Do you think, however, that our nation from the outset only needs men to serve it? Women should also take their part as women did in the early years of our nation..." Or it could be about the life and death of iconic Afghan singer Ahmad Zahir. You could learn about the courageous resistance of Afghan women and girls throughout history or visit that Afghan restaurant you were too timid to enter and try a sweet pumpkin kadoo dish.

As the war in Afghanistan, a war based on lies and deceit, may be coming to another tragic end with even graver implications for the women left behind who have fought so hard for equality,  maybe it’s finally time to read another book that is not the Kite Runner... and most importantly, time to look deep inside of ourselves and question the possible anger, hate and bias that has developed towards the Afghan people after the catastrophic and traumatizing events of September 11, 2001.

*See the Washington Post’s Afghanistan Papers which deemed that the American military did not know what it was doing there and that the war was based on lies and deceit. Government officials misled the American public about the war. The war has cost the lives of thousands of American soldiers with many more wounded as well as 100,000+ Afghan civilians killed or hurt. Many of the American troops have returned with PTSD. 30% of the Afghan casualties were children.

Sources

https://apnews.com/a2a8d7a4f89ec0515379dc4d4a38b56a

https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2019/investigations/afghanistan-papers/documents-database/

[bonesthebeloved]

Writing Master post

AN: Here is all mt Sanders Sides related fic and otherwise so it’s easier to find for all of you. Happy reading!

Non fics/ prompt/ headcanon posts:

Sad Roman headcanons Masterpost

Random Creativitwins headcanons

Fluffy Logince headcanons

Fanfics:

All of these link to AO3 for now, I will link the Tumblr versions soon aswell however that takes a bit more digging.

The absence of a necessity  Summary: When Thomas stops lying altogether, Deceit and the other dark sides are quick to notice the effects. But it’s only made clear what kind of effect it truly has when it’s already too late…-or- Deceit disappears and the dark sides all grief in different ways. None of them able to accept that he's really gone

Least favourite to myself  Summary: Based on this prompt by transformationloveb:Ok I thought of some extra sad Roman angst for you- Ok, what I’d there’s a video where Thomas has the sides shapeshift as their favorite of all the sides (or, currently revealed sides at least). And the situation goes like this: Thomas: “You all change to your favorite side…NOW!” None of the sides change, cause, their favorite side is themselves……Nobody but Roman. Who shapeshifts into a side of your choosing. Thomas is a bit confused at this, noticing what happened. And decides: “Ok, second favorite side.” Everyone changes this time. But roman doesn’t switch to himself, It’s a different side again. “Third favorite?” Different side. “Fourth favorite?!” Different side. “Fifth?!” Different side. “LEAST FAVORITE?!” And Roman goes back to himself. Enjoy.

Red and green makes royalty Summary: Remus and Roman are in the middle of an argument when suddenly, King creativity shows up. An odd thing. Seeing as the two sides needed for his creation were gawking at him from a few feet away.

4 days and 4 months  Summary: After a fight, Roman goes on another quest to the imagination. After four days, Patton goes after him. Just to find that the issues might lay deeper than a simple feud

Absolutely nothing Summary: Work based on the poem 'Absolutely nothing' which appears in 'the perks of being a wallflower'. A story about how somebody can lose their grip on happiness and how their friends don't notice

When showers are no longer helpful Summary:Remus and Patton are in a relationship. Not a happy one but that’s okay. Those only exist in fairytales right?

For even if I'm far away I'll hold you in my heart Summary: King creativity knows he doesn't have much time left and sings one final song for Deceit who's much too young to know what is going on.

You did to me what tsunamis do to homes Summary: Patton and Remus fuse for an experiment. Then they fuse again. Then they stay fused because Patton wants them to. When the others finally find out how bad the fusion is hurting Remus, the damage is already done and they have to deal with the aftermath.

I'll write you bloody murder - Intrulogical  Summary: "Did you kill him, Lo?" Remus would convince himself that he had been dreaming it. Starting on a new book and buying him and Logan a puppy for their anniversary. Throwing clothes with the tiniest of blood splatters in the washing machine while acting like he hadn't seen the red splash. Like his husband coming back from work a bit too late and a bit too happy while smelling of fresh blood as he kissed him hello was something normal. Like knowing exactly which veins to hit and how long it would take for the victim to bleed out was part of the job. "I killed all of them."

What I am to you- Platonic Dukeceit Summary: Remus and Dee have been friends for so long that becoming anything else seems absurd to them.

Edward Scissorhands - Platonic Dukexiety Summary: Virgil and Remus have never been close. Could barely be called friends even. Virge wished for them having nothing in common.But when he starts to miss their ranting sessions, he goes to Remus his room to find if they still had some shared interests that Remus hadn't ruined for him.He found out that a shared interest existed. Or, more like, shared coping mechanism. But even for all the times, he wished the other to be dead, he never meant to hope for the other to self-harm. And he never hoped for him to do it for the same reasons either.

The tv-stand - intrulogical Summary: Logan imitating Remus in the bloopers video but they're gay and in love.

Tipsy - Logince Summary: It had started out like all of their unofficial dates had up until now. But this ended up being so much better.-Or-Logan gets tipsy and clings to Roman like a koala bear.

Chasing squirrels and sunspots  Summary: Deceit has a sphynx cat. She's a queen and snek boy would die for her.

Sharp edges evened out  Summary: Remus gets bullied at school. But luckily he has a very caring brother and two rats to cheer him up.

The last bird flew towards the south - Roceit  Summary: Deceit is dead. And the last leaves fall off the trees as poison drips from his fangs and the wounds on his arm. And Roman just holds him. And watched the birds pass by as he weeps. And Deceit is dead.

Loud talking, mushy thoughts  Summary: Roman, after being wronged by his 'family' one too many times, goes to live with the dark sides. Que protective instincts firing in both Remus and Deceit.

Everything stays Summary: When Remus finds the weapon that belonged to the original creativity thought to be long lost, he asks his brother for help to retrieve it. Based on a lovely comic by chronophobica on Tumblr and the song everything stays from adventure time.

Loved- Roceit Summary: Roman and Dee are married, soft, and use the same pet names me and my partner use. Also, Dee really wants one of the puppies Remus rescued.

Humming and plush butterflies  Summary: Virgil does weird stuff and Deceit records itDeceit has endearing stuff and Virgil knows about it.Logan is very confused by both of these things.-OR-I was soft for the lads and felt like shit so have my very first crackfic.

Complicated- Creativitwins  Summary: The twins have a complicated relationship with their father and figure it out through the years. >Tumblr version<

The only member Summary: Roman thought Virgil was in the fuck-Janus club too but realises he is in fact the only member.

AN: I’ll try to keep this updated so my work is easier to find.  (Hey @lance-alt , It’s nearing 1:30 am BUT I made it cuz you asked. Hope this helps. :) Love ya bud)

[the-odd-job]

Ashes of Icarus chapter 20 - Black Heat of True Love

Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Optimus, Megatron, Ratchet, Ironhide Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2922

( Previous )

Time’s up.

Sixteen months. Sixteen months since Ratchet discovered the sparkling that was only a little older than that.

Sixteen months since Ratchet made his threat to do what he had to to uncover the little one’s sire.

And the sparkling itself… It was getting big enough for its signature to start to show. It was faint, so, so faint for now, but it was there. If you looked any closer, noticed the anomaly in Sunstreaker’s spark signature and focused on it… It was there. 

Megatron still hadn’t shown up, and Sunstreaker wondered if he was lying when he said he’d let the Autobots know—trying to cow Sunstreaker into doing it himself, into wrecking his whole goddamn life himself. Because now, it was Ratchet’s time that was up. Soon Megatron could do no more damage than what had already been one. 

Couldn’t bring his life into even greater ruins.

Not after the command learned about this.

But still… Sunstreaker hadn’t told Ratchet, and now, as the sparkling was becoming more obvious, he still refused to make the truth any easier to find. He sequestered himself in his and Sideswipe’s quarters whenever he wasn’t on duty, or left the Ark and all of its mecha behind entirely to spend time where there was no one to read spark signatures. He didn’t step a pede in the rec room; Sideswipe brought his ratios to him.

But he still had his duties. Primus, he was terrible company during them, to an extent that mecha started to actively swap their duties with Sideswipe—or with anyone else dumb enough—just so they wouldn’t have to deal with him. That worked in Sunstreaker’s favor when he didn’t have to quite as constantly worry that any moment someone could check the spark signatures around them, and notice there was one more than what there were mecha present—and that the additional one layered on top of Sunstreaker’s signature.

Sixteen months to the day and Ratchet called him into the medbay. Sunstreaker went, reluctantly, because he had a pretty good idea of what this was about… And that his hopes of escaping it were growing slimmer by the minute.

He still didn’t know what the frag would happen to him, or what the frag Ratchet would think once it was confirmed that the sire was Megatron after all. Sunstreaker wasn’t too eager to find out either, but what choice did he have? Just run away right about now? Desert?

Damn if the thought wasn’t starting to look a lot more tempting.

To that end… Him and Sideswipe gathered their few personal possessions and stored them in their subspaces—just in case they’d need to make a hasty exit for their own safety.

For the sparklet’s safety.

But first, Ratchet’s summons. As ever in recent times, it was a tense walk through the Ark, from their quarters to the medbay. The worry that someone would walk by and notice was his constant companion now. 

He’d brought this on himself.

He’d made some ill advised decisions, given in to lust and thrill… And now it was his time to pay for it.

Sideswipe said nothing, became nothing but his steady, constant companion as the medbay doors opened for them. Ratchet was waiting, arms crossed across his chassis, his expression infinitely serious.

Had he found out already?

No, he hadn’t. “Last chance, Sunstreaker,” he said instead, after the doors had closed behind them. “Please tell me who the sire is so that I don’t have to alert the whole command.”

“What does it matter?” Sunstreaker asked, frowning. Glaring. “Scan me,” he continued. “The sparkling’s already noticeable. Everyone’s gonna know soon enough.”

“That you’re carrying, yes,” Ratchet conceded, matching his frown. “But not the identity of the sire, necessarily. If you tell me who they are, I will not be within my rights to tell anyone.

“But if I need to access the spec ops records… I will have to share that information with the command.

“Sunstreaker, please think about this.”

He wanted to. Pits, what did he have to lose at this point? One way or another, Ratchet would learn—but here it was, the smallest of chances that no one but him would need to know the specifics. 

It wasn’t even a real gamble anymore. He could maintain his silence and lose, or he could tell the truth. Maybe it would change nothing—maybe Ratchet would have to disclose that information no matter what he said.

But maybe, just maybe, he could keep it to himself. Tell no one. Leave it between the two-three of them. 

Someone might find out anyway, at some point, but pits… Maybe no one would.

Or was it realistic to even hope for that much? Cliffjumper at least was already suspicious, and would no matter go out of his way to get a sample of Megatron’s spark signature to see if it was a match to the sparkling’s.

And even without that, what about Megatron himself? He wanted something to do with the sparkling—wanted to claim it. He’d already threatened to announce himself as the sire, as much as he hadn’t done it yet. Sunstreaker didn’t doubt that sooner or later the warlord would demand to get his hands on the sparklet, and invoke his rights as the sire to do so. 

But would all of that be easier to weather with Ratchet on their side?

What could he lose by telling the truth, anymore?

Sunstreaker worked his jaw and tried to will himself into saying what he’d kept silent about for nearly a year and a half by now. If anyone deserved to know, it was Ratchet.

If anyone might understand, it was Ratchet.

But before he could get the words out, the alarm sounded. Near everyone was called to the entrance of the Ark, them and Ratchet included. That was… Unusual, to say the least, but Sideswipe shrugged at him.

They’d just have to continue this afterwards, once they could actually talk about it, instead of just… Tossing it out there. He wanted to hear Ratchet’s thoughts and not have to wonder what they were because there was a fragging battle or something between the truth and the aftermath of telling it.

The brothers turned on their heels and set to run down the halls towards the entrance, Ratchet following them at a slightly reduced pace.

Most of the Autobots had already assembled there. Eager fighters as they were, the twins pushed to the front of the group, next to Ironhide–

–Before they actually looked at what the slag was going on.

Sunstreaker wasn’t sure what he was expecting after an alert such as this, but he still froze when he saw Megatron and his… Entourage.

That was all it could be called, because it was nowhere near enough to be any threat to the Autobot forces at their own damn doorstep. There was Astrotrain, Soundwave, a few Seekers. No one else.

It was almost like Megatron hadn’t come here to fight.

“What is the meaning of this, Megatron?” Optimus asked with a booming voice once most of the Autobots had made it to the scene. Ratchet pushed to the front too, standing on Ironhide’s other side. Sideswipe glanced at him.

Ratchet’s expression was… Tense.

But not surprised, confused, or distrustful, like most others’. 

Sunstreaker only had optics for Megatron. If looks could fragging kill, the warlord would be dead ten times over. 

“I came to collect Sunstreaker,” was Megatron’s answer. Frank.

Way too frank.

Murmurs rose among the Autobots and Sunstreaker could feel so many optics on just him, now. 

But he didn’t avert his gaze from Megatron, nor did it turn any less murderous.

So. This was it, now, wasn’t it? Megatron’s ultimatum was here. Neither Sunstreaker nor Ratchet had acted fast enough—if Megatron would have even been satisfied with anything more than a full publication of their affair.

By the end of this, he doubted there would be anyone who didn’t know what he’d done.

“On what grounds, Megatron?” Optimus asked, and pits but he sounded angry. Megatron, meanwhile, only had an air of confidence, the kind someone would wear when they knew they were in the right and would get what they wanted. 

Sunstreaker wasn’t sure Megatron was wrong with that presumption.

And Megatron’s answer to Optimus came like a wrecking ball through all the life Sunstreaker had ever had: “On the grounds that I am the sire of his sparkling.”

If there were optics that hadn’t turned to him yet, they did now.

“I slagging knew it!” Cliffjumper yelled, but most of the other sounds around them were nothing but exclamations of surprise or horror.

Sunstreaker’s armor trembled.

He didn’t avert his gaze from Megatron. The tyrant met it evenly.

Slagger knew exactly what he was doing.

“Is this true?” Optimus’ volume lowered enough that it was clear he was addressing Sunstreaker now…

But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t look away from Megatron, and the only sound he made was the revving of his engine.

Anger. A hell of a lot of it.

“Scan him,” Megatron said after a moment. There were a few seconds of hesitation before Sunstreaker felt many, many scanners sweep over him. He knew what they’d find, and indeed there were gasps, disbelief, as they made out the sparkling, his sparkling… And then other scans that reached past him, to Megatron.

Read his spark signature, compare it to the one existing next to Sunstreaker’s—find a match.  

“Kid…” Ironhide breathed next to him.

Sunstreaker wouldn’t look at him.

He wouldn’t look at any of them as his life crumbled around him, crashed down into rubble and ruins–

–All thanks to what he’d done.

All thanks to what Megatron was doing.

Who could he blame more, himself or the warlord?

“Did you force one of my soldiers?” Optimus asked, and pits, but he was almost growling. So fucking unlike him, so angry on Sunstreaker’s behalf—thinking of the bad option immediately.

And not of the even worse. Because surely Sunstreaker couldn’t have.

Not with Megatron.

But he had.

“Oh, but I didn’t force him, did I, Sunstreaker?” Megatron said, so smug. He was methodically destroying everything—until there would be nothing Sunstreaker could say.

Until he’d have no place to go.

His servos clenched into fists, his engine growled… But what could he do? Megatron only spoke the truth, because the truth was bad enough—worse than any lies could have been. Lies he could have proven long, lies would not have changed a thing.

But he couldn’t deny the truth that could be proven as such. One look into his head, just one look at his memories, and they’d see him spreading his legs and moaning for Megatron’s spike.

They’d see him betraying his side—sleeping with the one mech who was supposed to be his worst enemy. The one who’d brought ruin to Cybertron, ruin upon their species… And now, ruin on Sunstreaker’s life. 

“Sunstreaker,” Optimus said, and from the corner of his vision he could see the Prime look at him, concern, anger, and disbelief on his face. “Is this true?”

He ground his denta together hard enough that his jaw hurt from the tension, and his silence spoke for itself. He didn’t deny it, did he?

But neither did he confirm it, and to Optimus that wasn’t proof enough one way or another. He looked back at Megatron and took a step forward. “Even if that were true,” he started, his voice rising again so everyone could hear him, “you cannot force Sunstreaker to go with you if he doesn’t want to.”

Megatron didn’t have the decency to look so much as annoyed. “It is my sparkling. I have as much rights to it as its carrier.”

Somehow Optimus still managed to keep his voice from falling into a straight up growl. “The carrier should have control over their own life.”

The tyrant then bypassed Optimus entirely, his red, evil optics moving to Sunstreaker. “What do you want to do, Sunstreaker?” he asked, although not for one moment did Sunstreaker fool himself into thinking the bastard gave one flying fuck about what he wanted.

He was just playing games—tearing Sunstreaker’s past life to shreds he’d never be able to put back together.

“You could have gotten rid of it,” Megatron continued, tilting his helm like he was fragging inquisitive. “But you didn’t. You kept it, and told me about it.

“Why is that?”

He didn’t fragging know anymore! He’d known keeping it was a mistake from the beginning, but… Primus, he’d never known why he made that decision.

That decision now landed him here. The Autobots at his back, at his sides, murmured to each other in low voices, trying to make sense of the situation and condemning him and his actions—fragging the enemy, willingly, and keeping the end result when that left him ignited.

Keeping something that was part Megatron, the cruel despot whose actions were straight from a mech’s worst nightmares—that every Autobot was sworn to fight to prevent him from gaining full control over their species.

That Megatron had sired his sparkling, and he’d kept it. It was growing within his spark chamber even as they spoke, the evil seed of one of the most vile mechs in Cybertron’s history. 

How could he just stand there and let it live in him?

“Come here, Sunstreaker,” Megatron said then, his voice firm. Sunstreaker sneered. Slag Megatron if he thought he could just order him around!

But the tyrant continued, “You have no future among them, and you know it.”

And… He couldn’t really argue with that.

Optimus could, though. “Megatron! I cannot permit you to walk here and… Threaten one of my soldiers–”

“I’ve only spoken the truth, Prime–”

“–It is Sunstreaker’s decision to make, you cannot–”

Sunstreaker tuned their argument out. Was it his decision? 

Maybe on the surface. He’d be the one to make his own frame move.

But did he have options? That was a different question entirely. Could he stay with the Autobots? After this? His reputation and his name were branded for good, and no one would forget Sunstreaker had borne the bastard child of Megatron. He was an outcast to begin with, never quite fitting in—never even really trying to. He wasn’t like most other Autobots, not with his background, not with his upbringing. The rift was great to begin with, and this… This would only turn it into an impassable canyon.  

Megatron was right, he had no future among the Autobots.

What, then, could he do? Could he go his own way? Go Neutral?  

Wasn’t the answer to that a resounding no? What would make anyone think Megatron would let him while he was still carrying his sparkling? While Megatron was here, claiming the sparklet he was carrying, demanding that he go to his side?

What did that leave him with? 

He’d never been a victim, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Without a single glance back or off to the sides, with optics for no one but Megatron, Sunstreaker stepped from the Autobot ranks. One step. Ironhide made an alarmed sound. He could barely feel the weapons specialist’s digits brush against his arm.

Two steps, staring the tyrant in the fucking optic.

Three steps. Steady, steady steps. Not once did he falter, not once did he hesitate as Megatron’s face drew into a victorious smile. 

“See, Optimus?” Megatron yet antagonized his greatest enemy, gesturing at Sunstreaker. “He made the decision all on his own.”

What else could he do?

What kind of decision was this?

“Sunstreaker!” Optimus called after him, “You don’t need to do this.”

“Oh, but I do,” he hissed, just loud enough to carry to everyone’s audials.

Sunstreaker spun around on his heel, taking steps backwards—never once halting in his retreat from the Autobots. “I spread my legs to your nemesis, Optimus,” he said, loud and clear. “I let him ‘face me into the fragging dirt. I got ignited, although that much was an accident, but I didn’t tell anyone. I lied about it to everyone—I lied to your face. I lied to Ratchet.

“I lied to the bitter end, Prime.” He could feel Megatron’s field at his back, thick, oily, triumphant, welcoming. Sunstreaker spread his arms as he took that last step to his lover’s side. “Would you accept someone like me?”

“Sunstreaker–” Optimus tried.

Megatron’s heavy servo landed on his shoulder and Sunstreaker cut his former leader off. “I was never yours to save, Optimus.”

It was never more than a mistake.

Sideswipe hadn’t moved yet, but now he did—only to be stopped by Ironhide, grabbing a hold of his arm. “Sideswipe…”

There was only one way this could go.

They were twins.  

Sideswipe didn’t meet Ironhide’s optics when he yanked himself free from the old mech’s hold. “I can’t leave him.”

With that Sideswipe ran the distance between the two sides of the war, coming to a stop by Sunstreaker’s side. He stole a few glances at Megatron, but the tyrant was smiling at Optimus. “Now that I have what I came here for… Thank you for your hospitality, Optimus.”

He turned to the brothers and nodded towards Astrotrain, who transformed into a shuttle at the cue. “Get on Astrotrain. He’ll fly you.”

Sideswipe nodded and turned to leave, as did Sunstreaker—but not without one more fleeting glance towards his former faction. 

Oh, how many shocked faces and betrayed optics they were leaving behind.

But he walked out of there with his helm held high.

[dismas-dumbass]

Mom says that a house is like a body. And every house has eyes and bones and skin. A face. This room is like the heart of the house. No, not a heart, a stomach.

-The Haunting of Hill House

Hackett Siblings wanted for some absolutely chaotic drama!

CW: suicide, ptsd, mental trauma, death, substance abuse

henlo, welcome to the ad where i lose my shit cause i’ve lost control of my life. anyway! i have the idea for a rather messed up group of siblings slightly based off the Haunting of Hill House show. The basics are that there’s a large house, there’s a large family, something reaaaallyy rreeaally bad happens to the family when the kids are young that have fucked them up for the rest of their lives, fun stuff like that! obviously the situation is more subtle/personal rather than what goes on in the show [i’ll try to be vague due to spoilers] but i think it’s still something that can be rather creepy~ pretty much 95% of the info presented in this version of the ad is rather flexible and flimsy and i definitely don’t mind working with y’all to make it something amazing!! also, no knowledge of the show is needed whatsoever but just be a tiny bit careful if you do wanna see it/don’t like being spoiled mostly just due to the fact that with the themes that will be in the ad the show will probably be discussed as well!

a loooootttt of the details aren’t set in stone btw! i’m pretty much outlining my thoughts and the general concept but things may/will change and things will be added/subtracted as more people contribute to the idea!

if you have any questions or even if this strikes your fancy you can contact me on discord [mine’s dismas#9766]! if there’s more than one of ya then we can get a group chat going so that way we can see what ideas we all have for this! i can’t wait to write with y’all! <3

Backstory

alright, so the gist is that the Hackett family used to live in a rather big and fancy house. why they were there is up in the air so here’s a few suggestions: A. like the show, their parents were fixing it up. now, whether that means they’re going to sell it right after or live in it is open since both angles are rather interesting! B. they inherited it. from who? who knows! could be a relative that one of the parents knew, could have been random. it’s just a harmless house right? it might be good for the family! C. they just moved there. weird house for a good price? why not! it might be fun! 

whatever the reason, the siblings were in the house for some time. whether they’re natives to Dyrne or outsiders is open since all of the concepts can cover those possibilities easily! there’s no strict timeline yet as to how old they were when they were in that house but more than likely the youngest [twin] siblings were no younger than 6 so make of that what you will with the age ranges~ i would say that they were in that house for about a year or so? technically not too long in their lives but enough to cause lifelong damage?

their parents were good people. they had their flaws obviously and raising literally seven kids was an undertaking but they managed fine enough. mostly through the power of having the older siblings taking care of the younger. but even then they were loving parents. their father was a bit of a mess but well-meaning [think: one of the little siblings learned a swear word from an older one and their father tries to track them down, shouting throughout the house ‘get your ass in here now or else you’re grounded!’] and their mother was more organized yet didn’t hesitate to create a tiny bit of harmless chaos every once in a while. they loved each other, they loved their kids.

now, obviously, there’s the subject of the house itself. what’s the history behind it? that’s definitely left open due to the very reason why they’re there. but there’s probably something wrong with the house. physically? spiritually? mentally? whoever walks those halls won’t exactly be coming back out the same, that’s for sure. And that’s sort of what happened. the official story was that the Hackett family lived in the house for year, doing whatever, and then a fire broke out which caused the death of their mother. the rest of the family was able to escape and the father gave the testimony that it was an electrical fire -when investigated, he was proven innocent of any wrongdoing.

so what’s the actual story? It’s a bit of a mish mash of weird memories, mostly. it’s not really known whether the house is actually alive alive or if its history is just a horrible set of coincidences of bad stuff happening to people. the actual night was a blur to the siblings, all of them being ushered out of the house by their frantic father and herded into the car. when they asked where their mother was their father didn’t answer so they were just left crying after their missing mother. they didn’t even know that there was a fire even though maybe one of them said that they smelled smoke. they didn’t find out until one of the officers at the scene talked about it. for whatever reason, each and every one of them were silent on why they were brought out of the house by their father.

it’s still something they don’t know about.

to be fair, it was almost a partial relief to be out of the house. as i mentioned with the family they were held together well enough and were loving but things started to change when they moved to that house. slowly, surely, they started to encounter strange happenings, feel strange things, and started to view each other differently. what exactly happened to each family member is left open since they mostly don’t speak of their experiences except for the youngest. even their father, who may have experienced quite a lot, was tight-lipped about what happened to him, especially on the night of the fire. the experiences changed them, messed with them, and caused them to splinter and falter and break. after the death of their mother there was obviously quite a few years before everyone split up but they eventually did, going off to do their own things with their own scars hidden beneath their lies. some moved away, some stayed, but they still stayed in touch in some fashion. just not enough to be considered personal anymore.

what brought them all back together was the death of their father not too long ago. The poor man must have been consumed by guilt of some sort and took his own life, leaving his children behind to deal with the aftermath. they still never got any secrets from him nor any answers so all that’s there are feelings of confusion and loss. where the story begins is the revealed news that all the siblings are going to be living under one roof -in that house. the youngest daughter, for whatever reason, decided to purchase their childhood home back and has been in the process of restoring it. the reason why each sibling decides to go along with this is up in the air but the end result is the same: all seven siblings, plus any other family they may have, are now living in that house again.

Siblings

all the siblings except the one i’ll be playing are not set in stone! i’m going for a redheaded family sort of feel so the face claims i’ve put for each of them are something that i prefer but! tbh i’m super flexible and and at the end of the day it’s not a dealbreaker to choose someone else~ since i don’t wanna restrict folk’s fun over a fc choice! overall the sibling's interactions between each other are not that amicable -some may try to cooperate but old wounds come up and oftentimes a fight arises. they still have their weird traditions such as drawing straws if they need to do something and nobody wants to or they all fall silent at the same time [not often, obv., since they're mostly shouting over each other] that cause people on the outside to look at them strangely. at the end of the day, they can't escape the fact that they are siblings and are from the same disturbed family.

beliefs as well are varied and open! none say that they believe their youngest brother whenever he tries to convince them of what happened at the house though whether or not they believe that inside their heads is another matter entirely~

also! don’t feel as though you have to base your characters off any from the show! it’s just a nice start-off point and if you’re inspired but it’s definitely not a requirement whatsoever!

tbh a lot of the siblings aren’t fleshed out a lot & what happened to them in the house is also open so feel free to go wild!! i mean it; you can add as much as you want so that you can create a character that you’ll love to write for!

Eldest Son- 51. Toby Stephens.

being the eldest, he was the one to usually look after the younger children if their parents needed to do something. he built up a sort of protector complex where he has to make sure that he knows where all the other siblings are at all times. he fails constantly, of course, since he can’t even manage to have one of them listen to him. still, he feels responsible for all of his other siblings and takes it personally when he can’t get something done for them. he has his flaws, obviously, in that he tries to say that his way is the right way and can be as stubborn as an ox so despite his best intentions he clashes with some of the other siblings. this may be why none of them tend to listen to him.

Second Son- 50. Tony Curran.

He is one of the quieter siblings, preferring to be by himself when not needed. It isn’t that he dislikes his siblings; he just likes to be alone rather than among them. he’s kind and thoughtful so whenever one of the others needs help he’ll try to be there but besides that don’t count on him being somewhere on his own. Actually, it may be difficult to count on him in general because he loses track of time often and before he knows it he’s two hours late to moving some furniture for someone. this is probably the reason why he tends to be by himself -he doesn’t seem to grasp the passage of time as others have.

Eldest Daughter- 47. Sarah Rafferty.

she’s cruel. not absolutely cruel but cruel enough. she likes to poke and prod her siblings and see what sets them off. she thinks it’s funny and likes to observe the aftermath of her machinations. she likes to claim that she’s just bored but in reality she’s absolutely insecure herself and wants to bring others down to feel better about herself. don’t tell this to her face because she will absolutely try to turn it back on you and make you out to be the bad guy while she is the victim. also, don’t try to get revenge -she’ll just be more inclined to do something worse to you.

Second Daughter- 46. Amy Adams.

she’s neutral towards, well, everything. she kind of just exists and she doesn’t like that. not a lot of passion, not a lot of purpose. maybe she tries something daring once in a while to feel something but comes up short. it’s difficult for her to emotionally connect with others in a deep way and oftentimes she finds herself alone. she doesn’t like being alone, though, since being alone means she’ll be alone with her thoughts and she hates that. If she can even feel that properly, anyway. she’s not emotionless in the sense that she is sociopathic but her difficulty feeling things has caused her to have a sarcastic and thorny exterior towards anyone she meets, fueling her involuntary self-isolation.

Third Daughter- 43. Jessica Chastain. Reserved for spooky spice

she's the face of the family. the most energetic. the most chaotic. the one to threaten to break someone's kneecaps if they dare harm her siblings. she'll give a show-stopping smile and then tell you to eat shit afterwards. due to the minimal age difference she always had to watch the twins and therefore she is close to them, especially Thomas. some joke that she's actually Thomas' twin -she can sort of just sense whenever the youngest Hackett is in trouble. she's not happy about anything seeming messy, of course, so she spares no second to chastise anyone [including Thomas] about what they have done wrong. her status among stardom cannot afford any blemishes so catch her changing the subject whenever an interviewer brings up the fact that her younger brother is a drug addict. trust her, she knows. she knows all too well. and maybe her motivation for buying up the Hackett siblings' childhood house was to try to get Thomas some actual help after he failed out of rehab for the umpteenth time. their father's suicide may have just reinforced her decision to go forward with this.

Twin One- 42. Michael Fassbender.

maybe he’s one of the most normal. maybe’s he’s the most normal. maybe he has to be -his twin is an absolute trainwreck of a human being and his family is an equal amount of mess. maybe he’s just good at saving face and hiding the damage caused by the house [and maybe by his siblings]. some days, he sort of forgets that he’s a twin and that said twin is a drug addict. when they were young they were close though he would often play kind of cruel tricks on his younger twin such as locking the door to the basement after daring Thomas to go down the stairs, leaving him in a room alone with the lights off, and things like that. he grew out of it, matured, and tries to ignore the fact that he may or may not have been part of the reason why Thomas is the way he is now. he's too focused on being a professor at the college to fully see the cries of help his younger twin is showing.

Twin Two Thomas Hackett- 42. Michael Fassbender. Taken by Dismas.

so you’re asking me if i have a problem. i probably do. the youngest of the Hackett family; he’s probably one of the most heavily affected by the events at the house. for those familiar with the show think a combination of inspiration between Luke and Eleanor Crain, but also with even more issues maybe as well as none of the siblings being on his side whatsoever on anything. he had quite a few strange encounters ranging anywhere from encountering something in the basement when he was locked in one time by his twin to being trapped in a room with so much noise that he passed out for hours. now, figure, he’s a young kid when all of this happened [probably around 6 or so, could be a tiny bit older] so he doesn’t know how to deal with any of this. this really fucks him up. on top of that, whenever he told his family, none of them ever believed, further fueling the feeling of being unwanted. he was probably the closest one to their mother, being the youngest and the most vulnerable of the children, so he was absolutely devastated when she perished in the fire that fateful night. he blamed his father, thinking that he did something to her and tried to hide it with said fire. he never stopped believing in that, nor in the experiences he had in the house, and it pretty much ate at his soul. not only that but nobody still believed him so he always felt useless. he developed a bitter and angry attitude to try to hide this but the wounds were never able to be covered for long and so he eventually turned to drugs to soothe his pain. obviously, it never fully did so he just fell deeper into the rabbit hole. he dropped out of high school and started to do all sorts of jobs and favors in order to get his next fix, oftentimes winding up being arrested for petty crimes. he earned a bad reputation around town and the only reason why he didn’t face too much jail time is due to one of his siblings always bailing him out. wash, rinse, and repeat.

nowadays he goes between being sort of okay and having his own place to being absolutely drugged out of his mind and having to crash at a sibling’s place if they’re local -mostly his twin or the youngest daughter of the family. he’s failed out of rehab recently which may have been one of the reasons why the youngest daughter decided to purchase and fix up their childhood home; so that he can have a stable over his head for once and maybe recover from his habits. little does she know, or maybe care, that the house was the reason for his down spiral in the first place so he is not thrilled whatsoever to be stuck in the same building with all the same people who did not believe him. he hates it here.

Other Ideas

this is pretty much going to be only the possible family of the siblings woops but with the house being rather large there’s a ton of room for more than just the siblings themselves and more than likely some of the other siblings are going to be in some sort of relationship unlike Thomas. now, of course, maybe not all of the spouses/partners/children live in the house after all but then again they might! i have a few small ideas:

the loyal partner- this partner is loyal to the sibling they’re married to/with, always making sure they’re alright and making sure the sibling is well taken care of. maybe even spoil/indulge a little too much the whims of the sibling. they may seem a little more oblivious to the chaotic dynamics of the siblings and the strangeness of the house. they just think that everyone needs to get along and everything will be okay! except it’s never that easy and they probably just look foolish for suggesting that.

the angry partner- they hate it in the house. all the fighting and the tension and the drama; they think it’s a bunch of bullshit. they especially think all the spooky~ stuff that apparently happened in the house is all bullshit too and won’t hesitate to call anyone out if the supernatural is even entertained. they just want to live their life in relative peace with the sibling they’re with 

the mediator partner- they may not necessarily believe in the unbelievable -in fact, their career hinges on finding out why people process stuff the way they do [ex. a therapist or psychologist]- but they still try to see all angles. they’re typically the one trying to quell the arguments between siblings and trying to see why the siblings feel the way they do about things (and about each other). they’re curious, however, about the house itself and may start poking around in the wrong places to try to discover the truth.

[one tiny suggestion! perhaps the mediator partner is married to Thomas’ twin brother and they have a kid with the face claim of Reece King? ;^; he has slightly similar facial features to Michael Fassbender + i think it’d be sweet if the partner tries to see why Thomas is fucked up the way he is and maybe even begins to sympathize/believe him after they start to figure stuff out?]

Plots

alright! so the obvious plots are going to be the interactions between siblings~ their personalities may give a hint to who they do or don’t get along with but in all honesty they all have bad enough blood with each other to have issues one way or another. so! drama! one of those ‘if you leave them in a room for long enough they’ll find something to fight about’ type of things! they do love each other -really, they do- but their experiences in the house changed them forever and there’s no gaining that back. they can only move forward.

they’re already living in the house for a short period of time [maaaybbe a month? a few weeks?] so they’re all settled in and dealing with the presence of each other and it’s not going exactly swimmingly for obvious reasons. maybe some try to cooperate with each other? others not so much. there’s plenty of fighting and slamming doors and shouting and leaving the area/the house to cool off. on more than one occasion Thomas has already stated that he’s leaving for good and going out on his own. he never follows through with the threat -he can’t. he’s as tied to the house as everyone else is and now he can’t escape. but you get the gist. it’s going to take a while for them to see eye to eye with each other. if they ever do, anyway.

future plots to explore are, of course, up in the air but they can deal with the siblings learning more about each other, learning more about their parents, and learning more about the house. and, of course, learning more about their town as well! Whether things start to get better or if they down spiral even further is going to be rather interesting to see~

for initial threads it could be fun [in a morbid sense] to do a past one where they’re attending their father’s funeral since that was kind of actually a shitshow. imagine all the siblings, with their awful traits, having to deal with the death of their parent and just in terrible pain. so, what else to do than to cause issues with each other and create quite a few commotions? obv. when the sibling’s personalities are solidified we can discuss this further! overall the first types of posts will be their interactions with the site plots, the town itself, and between them when they’re at the house so there’s plenty of room for drama!

[officialleehadan]

Fine Wood Shavings

Hello darlings! Continuing Patron Prompt Month, we have Emily, who requested a story about humans needing to fidget, and left the rest up to me. I hope you like it darling! Thank you for your support!

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“It’s not a weapon,” Human-Marsha said when Vree asked about the tiny knife she carried pretty much everywhere. They were sitting outside his family’s residence, watching the twin sins set. Much of the planet was harsh desert, but there was water in the rocks, and vast mineral resources. Vree’s own people had evolved from tiny burrowing creatures. The inclination to live underground was instinctual, but also remarkably reasonable considering the planet’s harsh exterior. “It’s.. I need something to do with my hands. If I don’t have something, I’ll start taking things apart, or worse, I get destructive. I need a fidget.”

“And a knife is that thing?” Vree asked. It was a pleasant evening, but the house was loud, and he had noticed that Human-Marsha was starting to smell frantic. The most reasonable solution as to herd her outside into the cool evening air, where it was quiet. “I understand the need for something to toy with, but a knife?”

“Well no,” Human-Marsha said, and dug in one of her many pockets. When she found what she was looking for, she presented it to Vree. It turned out to be a scrap of wood, big enough to about fill his palm. Most of it was still rough, but a few centimeters of it were carved into a perfect, tiny chain made of interlocking wooden links. When Vree looked closer, he realized that the chain had been carved of the wood, not assembled after. “Bears, like Matti and me, we like to make things. Matti’s got their paints up in the ship, and I like this. Plus, a chain is perfect to play with, before and after it’s finished.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard  of this particular pastime,” Vree commented, charmed and surprised. Human-Amir was not particularly artistic, and Human-Nerea, of course, liked to sing. He had never met a human who had a physical art medium before. “Do you sell them after?”

“Mostly I give them away,” Human-Marsha admitted as she unclipped the tiny knife from her necklace and began working on the chain, shaving off nearly-invisible slivers as she worked to free another link form the wood. “I’m not very good, you know? And it’s a hobby. I make a good living as ship security. I don’t need to turn my hobbies into money. Besides, artists usually don’t get to punch people, and I like punching people.”

Vree hummed. He had noticed that both of the werebears responded well to the same subvocal communication as his own people, and figured that Human-Marsha would find it more soothing than proper words while she was, as she had explained, a little ‘spun up’ from all the new people.

It didn’t help that the residence was filled to the brim with Vree’s family. It wasn’t a small residence, but more than a dozen adult Ha’reeti, ten cubs, and five humans, made for cramped quarters even in a large room.

“I keep forgetting you’re a scientist,” Human-Marsha continued after a while, when the first sun was gone below the horizon and the second was following quickly. “A lot of humans, we struggle with the same mental conditions of most other races. Different kinds of fear and stress make them worse. One of the things we realized early on is how badly we handle being bored.”

That, Vree could definitely attest to. Human-Amir and Human-Nerea got into all sorts of trouble when they were bored, and now that he had a chance to observe more humans up close, he was thinking they were all just like that.

“And so you came up with things to keep yourselves occupied?” Vree queried, eyes mostly on Human-Marsha’s hands. There were plenty of Ha’reeti who carved stone, but there was very little wood on their planet, and the working of wood was, in general, new to him. “These… fidgets?”

“Mm. I’ve got anxiety. Pretty bad, sometimes, especially on a long voyage,” Human-Marsha told him, quiet and a little shy about the admission. “So this, it keeps me from spinning. Gives me an outlet so that I don’t go pick a fight, or destroy things. In my Grizzly-form, I’m big, and powerful. If I have a meltdown, I can be dangerous. SO it’s better for everyone if I don’t do that.”

“Meltdown?” Vree knew the term, but as it referred to engines, not people.

“An overload reaction to stimulation, particularly sensory and emotional. Everybody responds differently, but me, I get loud and I get aggressive.”

Vree thought about that, thought about the damage a not-a-bear human could do, thought of the damage that Human-Amir did do, and considered what, precisely, loud and aggressive might mean on a human who could turn into three meters of large, angry predator.

His wince made Human-Marsha laugh quietly. “Exactly.”

“Alright,” Vree decided, as the second sun vanished below the rolling dunes of the desert. “Tell me how to help, and perhaps we can figure out ways to keep you from reaching that point.”

“I see why Amir and Nerea like you so much. Yeah, okay. Let’s work through it and see what we can come up with.”

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HGE - UNconventional:

Vree really doesn’t know how  he ended up being one of the premiere human specialists of the Galactic  Alliance, but now everyone wants him to do presentations. Amir thinks  the whole thing is hilarious, and insists on ‘helping’ whenever he can.

Firebursts (Subscriber Only!)

Hot and Cold

Splish Splash (Free on Patreon!)

Furnace Rumble (Subscriber Only!)

Aftermath (Subscriber Only!)

Much Better, Much Worse (Free on Patreon!)

Four More

Family Home (Free on Patreon!)

Ancient Pine

Match Unlit (Free on Patreon!)

Attack of Savages

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More Stories!

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[creative-type]

wake from death and return to life vi

AO3 First Previous Summary:  Zoro had always been told that Kuina died falling down the stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

AN: buckle up, kiddos. This is a long one

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“It goes like this.”

Danny and Kuina exited the canteen line each with a bowl of rice and limp vegetables. They’d had to wait nearly an hour for even that, the Revolution carefully rationing the stores they’d raided from Tolouse’s granaries in the short time they were in control of the city. Danny claimed they had enough for at least a week of fighting, longer, perhaps, if the situation grew truly dire. Kuina couldn’t help but wonder how many of the men and women of Tolouse were allied with the Revolution simply because they filled their bellies, and how many would turn against them as their supplies dwindled.

Together, Kuina and Danny found a quiet corner and crouched down in the shadows to eat. It felt criminal, but Kuina was hungry, and she didn’t want the others to hear that she was grilling the one member of de Gris’s crew she could trust to be honest with her.

“Aria came from some Grand Line island or other known for its fencers,” Danny said in a low tone. She was just as eager to be left alone as Kuina, and perfectly happy to share the information she knew. “I heard her mother ran one of the more successful ones before she was killed in a pirate attack. It was after that Aria joined the marines.”

“I knew it!” Kuina said triumphantly. That damn coat never lied.

Danny looked at her askance, before chuckling wrly to herself. “She’s not the only one. Lyudmila was a marine, too, though not near as distinguished. When Aria left she took her ship with her, the Lady Valor. It made quite the stir at the time, I remember my parents reading about it in the paper. Of course, that was before I joined the Revolution,” she added, somewhat bitterly.

They paused as a Revolutionary wearing a tiger mask walked past. Kuina ate a few spoonfuls in silence, unwilling to admit she didn’t trust the Government-controlled news, nor care enough about world events, to bother with the paper. But before Danny had a chance to continue, the question burning at the end of her tongue spilled out. “Lady Valor…That’s something I don’t understand. Why are all her subordinates women? Doesn’t that make you conspicuous when you go from port to port? It’s not like there are that many lady sailors in the world.”

Kuina was half-afraid the other woman would laugh, or at least chastise her, but Danny simply took another bite of rice. “If I understand correctly—and mind you I heard all this second-hand; Boss gets real persnickety when asked—Aria sailed for a time under Vice Admiral Tsuru. She’s pretty famous for having an all female squadron on the Grand Line, so I guess that’s where she picked it up. But her whole crew isn’t women.”

“Just the important ones,” Kuina said, not sure if she was making a statement or asking a question.

“More or less,” Danny agreed.

Kuina scowled down in the general direction of her shoes. “That is so weird.”

“Aria has an eye for finding talent, no matter where that talent comes from,” Danny said. “There are a lot of men out there who wouldn’t even see people like us, let alone think to recruit us for the Revolution, no matter how talented we are. I mean, Dara was a street thief before Aria picked her up, and now she’s one of our best spooks, Elizabeth was on the run after accidentally causing an explosion at a marine garrison...”

“What?” Kuina interjected. “How?”

“Dust explosion with their flour supply,” Danny said. Seeing Kuina’s bug-eyed look of shock, she added hastily, “I mean, not all recruitments are that dramatic—I was only a naive apprentice stuck working under a jackass of a master when I first met her—but the point stands.” She finished the rest of her food and leaned her head back against the wall with a contented sigh. “She’s a bitch to work under sometimes, but at the time I was thankful to be free.”

“And now?”

Danny shrugged. “The Revolution isn’t for everyone. I think the next time we stop off at a base I’ll request to stay behind. Just build and fix ships, without having to worry about all this.” She gestured broadly to the streets of Tolouse.

“You can do that?” Kuina asked, surprised. “Just...ask not to fight any more?”

“Oh, sure. The Revolution is nothing about giving people the freedom of choice,” Danny said. “In fact, Aria’s crew rotates pretty frequently depending on what job she’s working on. Before you came along, Elizabeth was newest. She’s still pretty hopeless when it comes to fighting and sailcraft, so I think she’ll transfer to HQ one of these days to work on making weapons full time. Lyudmila is pretty much the only constant, but then again they left the marines together, so that’s not that a big of a surprise.”

Kuina squinted at her suspiciously. “Do you know everything about everyone?”

Danny laughed. “Well, I haven’t heard much about you. What’s your story? No, wait, let me guess—You’re a failed kabuki actor who accidentally swapped a prop sword for the real deal and killed the trope’s best actor, forcing you to go on the lam.”

Kuina couldn’t help it. She laughed. There was something about Danny’s flippant tone mixed with the ridiculousness of what she’d said that broke something within her. The tension that had been building within her since Loguetown eased from Kuina’s shoulders, and despite the smoky air, she could actually breathe.

The weak attempt at a joke wasn’t even funny. If anything, the truth that she’d revealed her face to a marine who might as well be her twin was even more ridiculous. But Kuina laughed until she cried, not caring if the people who walked past thought she was crazy, or that she’d spent her morning witnessing the aftermath of a massacre and her afternoon trying to comfort the hurt and dying.

It was infectious. Danny held back as long as she could, but soon her shoulders were shaking as she tried unsuccessfully to suppress giggles of her own. Each errant snort or cackle made the cycle start anew, each feeding into the other until their energy was spent and they were sprawled out in the street like a pair of drunks.

“That’s good. No matter what happens, you can’t forget how to laugh,” Danny said as she tried to catch her breath.

“What are you now, a sage?” Kuina asked.

“Maybe,” she said mysteriously, before falling into another fit of giggles. When she finally got herself under control, she pushed herself upright. “You never did answer the question, by the way. What are you doing here if you’re not a part of the Revolution?”

“I’m…”

“There you are.”

The shadow of Aria de Gris fell over them. The sun was sinking fast, the last rays of light skimming over the top of the barricades to shroud her in a celestial glow. Kuina suddenly felt very small and very foolish, and chided herself for being caught off guard. Hastily she got to her feet, settling her mask back over her face.

“Come on,” de Gris said, seemingly unaware of how her very presence sucked what little joy and happiness Kuina had found since leaving Loguetown. “I’ve got a job for the both of you.”

They were led inside a tiny seamstress’s shop. What little space that was available was crowded by shelves full of vibrant bolts of fabric, while spools of thread organized by color hung on racks next to mannequins draped with half-finished dresses. At the back of the shop a table had been swept away of cutting boards, material, sewing machines, and needles, dominated instead by a large map of the city.

Spooled bobbins, blue thread indicating the position of the Revolutionaries and red the Tolouse army, had been set down marking their respective positions. Kuina was no master strategist, but it seemed to her that there was a lot more red than blue. She squeezed in a small space between Danny and Dara, who had beaten them to the meeting, glad to be next to the two members of de Gris’s crew she was most familiar with.

“Alright, ladies. I know it’s been a hell of a day already, but we’ve received new orders,” de Gris said once everyone was settled. She rested her hands against the table, staring down at the bobbins as if a glare was enough to wipe them off the face of the map. “To start with some good news, earlier today Betty was able to capture a couple ships without damaging them—one military, one merchant. Incorporating them into our plans going forward will be vital to our mission’s success.”

“I’ve seen those ships, Captain,” Camille interrupted. “They’re small, and the merchant vessel isn’t outfitted for battle. I’m not sure they’ll be of much help in a fight.”

Heads around the table nodded in unison. Of de Gris’s crewmembers Kuina had already met, only Lyudmila was missing, replaced by an old woman she had never seen before. The old woman had a stoop in her back that made her even shorter than Elizabeth and wore a pair of glasses so tiny that it was a wonder she could even see through them. She appeared to only half-listen to what de Gris was saying, concentrating more on a line of snail phones laying at the edge of the map.

The communications expert, then. Danny had said something of her earlier, but Kuina couldn’t recall her name. Ignoring her for the moment, she turned her attention back to de Gris.

“The surprise attack on the square and fires have cut deeply into our numbers,” Camille said. “Even with Betty’s tropes, I don’t know how we can undo the damage that’s been done. Perhaps if Dragon had stayed…”

“Dragon had his own business to attend to,” de Gris said sharply. “And we aren’t going to use those ships to attack. Betty has decided—-and I agree—-that it’s time for our squad to pull out. Reinforcements should be arriving from the Venn Islands within the week, and we’re needed elsewhere.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room, and de Gris continued, “Betty’s people are gathering those who wish to escape the island, and we are to help escort them to safety with a coordinated rearguard action. Those who wish to continue the liberation effort will flee from the city to an underground cave system to the north and hopefully live to fight another day.”

“You can’t just leave them.”

Aria de Gris looked up even as Kuina regretted the words that came out of her mouth, but to her immense surprise a few heads around the table bobbed in agreement.

“We stopped them once, we can do it again,” Dara said, putting a hand on Kuina’s shoulder. Her facepaint was worse for wear, smeared in some places and scraped off entirely in others, but that didn’t put a damper on her determination. “I was out there all day, and they’re no stronger than before. They caught us by surprise. That doesn’t mean they won.”

“This isn’t about winning,” de Gris said. Her voice was cold and her eyes shifted into the same ugly look they had upon arriving at Tolouse. Elizabeth, who happened to be nearest to her, took a small step to the side, until she was touching elbows with Clara Cross.

“This isn’t about winning,” she repeated after taking a deep, cleansing breath. “Our current position is indefensible. Military reinforcements will soon arrive from outside the city, and with them is a civilian army that thinks we killed their king in cold blood. The ones Betty had been grooming to take over once we secured control were murdered when the authorities purged the unions. Even here, half the men on our side believe we set the fires that destroyed their homes and killed their loved ones. If Betty were to use her ability now, there’s a fifty-fifty chance the riots would turn on the Revolution.

“There are powers at play trying very hard to ensure that we do not claim this island. For God’s sake, use your brain,” de Gris said harshly. “Why do you think Dragon came to the East Blue? Hell, why do you think he brought us to the East Blue, if he didn’t expect some sort of foul play?”

“Then why didn’t he stick around?” Elizabeth demanded.

“Because he thought we won,” Camille said slowly, comprehension dawning as she put together what de Gris was saying. “Because we all thought we won.”

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted them blowing up their king,” Clara said.

De Gris nodded. “We’ve been had. It’s dangerous for Dragon to stay in any one place for an extended period of time, and I think our enemy realized that when planning their counterattack. If the World Government knew he was in the East Blue for weeks on end they wouldn’t hesitate to send forces after him.”

“As if the marines could defeat Dragon,” Dara snorted.

“The collateral damage would be enormous. Would any of you like to face off against a Buster Call?” She paused for effect as the faces around the table paled. “I thought not.”

Tapping a finger against the map, de Gris continued, “In any case, the Revolution doesn’t overthrow islands with the intention of taking control for ourselves. We follow the will of the people, and, unfortunately, with the stories that have been circulated island-wide, we have lost the war of public opinion. The best thing is to cut our losses and regroup for a prolonged fight elsewhere. And that fight doesn’t include us.”

She fell silent, unease settling over the crew like a lead blanket. Kuina looked down at her sword. For the most part she agreed with de Gris’s logic, but the idea of de Gris abandoning the island didn’t sit well with her. Dara and Camille’s efforts getting Betty’s people ashore safely proved that a handful of skilled fighters could turn the tide of battle. Surely the rebellion on Tolouse needed doctors, and bomb makers, and...and…

God above, she was taking their side. Kuina didn’t even have proof that their war was justified, and she wanted to stay and help them fight it. What was wrong with her? They had promised her passage to the Grand Line, she couldn’t stay here and follow her ambition at the same time.

She wondered how disappointed Zoro would be if he could see her now.

“When’s the retreat?” Danny asked, propping her head up on her chin as she looked down at the map thoughtfully.

“Tonight. I take it the Valor is ready to sail?” de Gris said.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t,” Danny said.

“And our snails? Trini?”

The old woman blinked as she looked up. “I have attempted several frequencies across the natural spectrum den-den mushi are capable of, and each have been jammed. That means there are a large number of horned den-den mushi active, likely spread out across the city.”

“Horned den-den mushi?” Elizabeth asked.

“A new breed of snail, dear, just developed in the last several years. Instead of sending and receiving transmissions, the horn-like protrusions on their bodies instead send bursts of white noise that overload the wavelengths the snails use to communicate. They seem to be quite contrary little creatures.”

“Seem?” de Gris said. “You’ve never handled them?”

“Until today, no.”

Trini pulled a snail from the pocket of her apron and set it on the table. It was smaller than the snail typically used for making calls, but larger than a baby den-den mushi. Two small protrusions stuck out on either side, just below the head. Twin eyestalks glared balefully up Trini, as if showing how little it appreciated being stuffed in an old woman’s pocket.

“One of the lads found him on a windowsill. Bless his heart, he brought it here not even thirty minutes ago thinking it was one of mine that had run away. As if any snail of mine would be so ornery,” Trini said. She looked back up at de Gris regretfully.  “My dear, someone brought it here, likely after the barricades were placed.”

“Dear god, that means…” Danny breathed. She suddenly cut herself, unable to bring herself to say aloud what the presence of enemy snails in the heart of the Revolutionary’s stronghold meant.  

“If possible, Aria, I would like more,” Trini said. “They would be invaluable to the Revolution going forward.”

“That would necessitate finding the little beasts,” de Gris said, but even then a thoughtful look crossed over her face.”

“All the literature I’ve read suggests their range is limited. And, if I might add, they block all signals, not just ours. Considering the dearth of homing pigeons of late, I can only assume that Tolouse’s network is working without difficulty,” Trini said. “The one time I was able to contact you while at sea, I happened to be outside the barricades. I believe that if the Revolution leaves the city entirely, communications should be restored without need for further intervention.”

“Assuming no one brings the little bastards along with them,” de Gris said, her eyes narrowed into slits. Her crew didn’t say a word as she silently fumed.

Suddenly de Gris slammed a fist against the table, throwing bobbins into the air and making the wood crack under the blow. “They’ve had us outplayed from the very beginning,” she said darkly. “Trini, go to Betty with what you’ve found. I want this hellhole scoured for any more of those snails before we move. Clara, get back to the wounded. Make it so that those who are healthy enough to travel can travel. Camille, Danny, get to the Valor and make sure she’s ready for a hasty exit. Dara, there should be some scouts ensuring our path of retreat is clear, I want you to help them. Elizabeth, I want anyone who comes after the Revolution’s retreat to run into some surprises along the way. Understood?”

There were a few snapped salutes, a few more, yes ma’ams, and de Gris’s crew gathered their belongings and started for the exit. Kuina alone stayed in place, closing her eyes as the Revolutionary women brushed past her to leave. Someone clasped their hand on her shoulder, but her thoughts were too jumbled to try and figure out who.

In seconds she was alone with de Gris. Slowly Kuina opened her eyes, but de Gris didn’t seem to realize that she was still there. She was still staring down at the map as if had the answers that she sought.

“Uhh...” Kuina forced herself to keep her face neutral as de Gris’s head snapped up.

De Gris’s eyes bored into her, but Kuina got the feeling that it was looking without really seeing. Her mind was too busy elsewhere. “”What do you want?”

“Am I supposed to just go with Danny?” Kuina asked. You said this was an army. What are my orders?

De Gris let out a heavy breath, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. Her eyebrows knit together in an unhappy line. “No…” she said slowly. “We need strong swords to help escort the ones who are fleeing. They’re just ordinary people. Most don’t know how to hold themselves in a fight, and I can’t trust the few who do to keep a clear head in a sticky situation.”

She paused then. So long that Kuina wondered if she’d been dismissed, but before she could take her leave, de Gris said in a low voice, “I can’t promise I can get you to the Grand Line after this.”

Kuina froze in place.

“There’s too much here that doesn’t make sense. Too many resources being used to ensure we don’t win this island. I’m not going to be satisfied with running away with my tail tucked between my legs without bloodying their nose first. My pride won’t allow it. Do you understand, Swordsman?”

“You promised,” Kuina said, the buzz in her ears making her voice sound faint and very far away. “Dragon promised!”

“I know,” de Gris said. “That’s why I’m telling you I want you on that boat with the rest of the refugees. It’s headed for a Revolutionary stronghold at the entrance of the Grand Line. From there, you’re free to do as you please.”

At first Kuina didn’t hear the words that came out of her mouth. But when they pierced through her defensive walls of anger she deflated like a punctured balloon. “You’re going to just...let me go? Even after seeing one of your bases?”

De Gris showed what she thought about Kuina selling the Revolution out with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You said it yourself—the marines don’t like people who beat up their officers, even if the information’s good. I don’t know if that shot would have hit Elizabeth earlier today, but you saved me from having to find out. The Revolution saved your ass at Loguetown, but you’ve paid that debt. A life for a life.” She chuckled darkly to herself. “Hell, if you wanted to go out there and fight for the Tolouse army I wouldn’t stop you. But I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?”

“No, of course not.” Getting to the Grand Line was all that mattered.

“Then get out of my sight. God willing, we’ll never have to see one another again.”

Kuina’s frown deepened. It would take hours to organize the retreat. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t cross paths before then.

Unless…

“You told everyone else what their jobs were,” Kuina said carefully, “but you never said what you’re planning to do in all this mess.”

A wolfish grin spread across de Gris’s face. “You need to get your ears checked, kid. I told you already—there are some people out there who deserve to get their noses bloody, and I’m going to make sure they get what’s coming to them.”

She turned back to the table and carefully rolled up the map. Recognizing the dismissal when she saw it, Kuina left the shop, not sure if she should be apprehensive or jealous.

Elizabeth was just outside the doorway, talking with a Revolutionary in a fox helmet. Kuina stopped, a feeling that was strangely familiar to regret washing over her. It would have been so much easier if these were bad people, but they weren't. Making a snap decision, Kuina slung her bag from her shoulder and rummaged through its contents until she found a

her few remaining bills that had survived falling into the sea.

She counted out five hundred berries and shoved them into Elizabeth’s hand, ignoring the girl’s indignant, and then confused look as she stalked away.

After all, a swordsman always paid their debts.

Xxx

The Revolutionary Kuina was partnered with described sewers as the arteries of a city. Smelly, dirty arteries that were barely passable for a healthy, able-bodied person, and the majority of the men, women, and children that fleeing Tolouse couldn’t rightly be called either.

Kuina was glad that she didn’t have the thankless task of choosing between who had the opportunity to flee and the ones forced to stay. The Revolution didn’t have nearly enough ships to accommodate those whose homes had been destroyed, and even if they did, they had to be cautious who they allowed into their secret bases scattered throughout the world.

Instead she and a man called Azem shuffled small clusters of people through the city’s underground. They were one of several teams, each taking different routes to the various boats hidden up and down the coast. The hope was that the Revolutionaries above would provide enough of a distraction to the army for them to get away safely, but the depleted numbers of the Revolution meant they had to move quickly or risk being overrun.

That was a task easier said than done. Many of the people Kuina guided were in shock, some refusing to acknowledge that they may never return to their homes. Some screamed when they were forced to leave behind treasured belongings too heavy or awkward to carry. Kuina heard enough ungrateful grumbling to last a thousand lifetimes, and those who didn’t complain wept, an overwhelming sense of fear exuding from them that was more pungent than the foulness they were forced to travel through.

It was exhausting in a way her training had never prepared her for. Kuina made the last trip with a boy strapped across her back, his little arms like vice grips around her neck. Even though she could scarcely breathe, Kuina didn’t chastise him. Strangulation was better than him crying, which seemed inevitable by his hitched, haggard breathing every time she adjusted his weight on her back.

Clasped around her hand, equally tight, was the boy’s older sister. Kuina didn’t like having only one hand free for her sword, but the girl had refused to move unless she had someone to hold on to, and no one else volunteered for the task. The clothes of both children were well cared for and they lacked the thin-limbed, gaunt look of hunger, which meant that they had had someone to watch over them at one point in time, but who that person was Kuina had no idea. Asking had made fat tears fall down the girl’s face, and she eventually decided she was better off not knowing.

Every few minutes the walls of the sewer would shake and rumble from an explosion above ground, each one dislodging bits of mortar and grime overhead and sending a jolt of increased urgency and anxiety through their small group. It was in those tensest moments that Kuina was most grateful for Azem. He was a jovial, middle aged man who chose to go without a mask, going from person to person encouraging them onward, helping stragglers, and generally keeping this last group from panicking.

It was miserable, thankless work, but finally they reached the metal rungs that would lead them to safety. Azem climbed first, pausing to listen at the cover of the manhole before lifting it aside.

“Hurry,” he urged. “There’s not much time—”

A blinding flash of light flashed in the sky above, followed immediately by a roar of fire. Those trying to flee screamed, and Kuina had to catch one who tried to run back through the tunnels even as the girl at her side tried to bury her head in Kuina’s shirt.

Azem was knocked from the ladder and landed awkwardly on the walkway below. He cried out in pain, immediately clutching at his leg.

“We’re dead! They’ve found us and now we’re dead!” a woman screamed shrilly.

“No one’s dying!” Kuina snapped. She threw the attempted runaway back into the group and pried the children off of her body, handing them off to the nearest person who seemed willing to take them before rushing to Azem.

His right leg was obviously broken, but the bone hadn’t cut through the skin. Breathing a prayer for small mercies, Kuina looked up at the uncovered manhole. The moon was bright enough to break through the haze of smoke and ash. No further sounds of fighting filtered down below, and Kuina took a deep breath.

“It looks like it was an unlucky shot,” she said, keeping her voice calm and firm. She felt dozens of eyes boring into her back as she tried to think. “I’m going up to double check. Everyone stay put—running now probably will get you killed.”

She crouched down to Azem and asked quietly, “Did you hurt anything other than the leg?”

“No,” he gasped. “I don’t think so.”

Remembering one of the tricks the doctors used back at the Oldtown hospital, Kuina checked for the pulse by his ankle and found it was still strong. He was getting blood to his foot. With nothing here to help brace it, the best thing to do was probably get him to the ships to be looked after by someone who knew what they were doing.

That meant exiting the sewers.

Taking a deep breath, Kuina began to climb, straining her ears to hear anything that might have been amiss. When she reached the surface she lifted her head out carefully. She could hear the sound of fighting, but it was still in the distance. Chewing on her bottom lip, Kuina thought hard. The Tolouse Army was never supposed to get this close. Another misfired rocket could kill her whole group, but she didn’t know any other way to the ships.

They would have to be fast, but she couldn’t let them panic. Kuina lowered herself back into the tunnel.

“Definitely an unlucky shot,” she hissed. “Come on, we’re close now.”

The people looked at one another, naked fear in their expressions, but after a few tense seconds the man who’d tried to run stepped to the rungs. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not staying here.”

After that, they started fighting one another to escape. With her partner unable to organize the chaos below, it was all Kuina could do to pull them out of the hole as fast as they could climb. With her sword sheathed and her back to any potential enemy, the minutes passed with agonizing slowness, but Kuina was able to at least get them all out of the sewers.

All except Azem.

The sound of the battle grew louder. In her gut, Kuina knew that they only had before their position would be exposed. Her eyes flickered from the refugees to Azem and back again, while the people waited anxiously for her to tell them what to do.

“Do you remember where you’re going?” Kuina asked. A few nodded their heads hesitantly. “Then run. When you reach the ship tell the Revolutionaries to prepare ready to sail; I’ll be right behind you.”

Without waiting for their response, Kuina went down to the tunnel. Azem’s eyes bulged at the sight of her. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed. “The mission—”

“Do you want to die?” Kuina said sharply. “Because if I leave you here, that’s what’s going to happen.”

Kuina glanced up, but the shadows of the refugees were already gone. She hoped the little boy had found someone to carry him.

“My life isn’t what’s important here,” Azem said. “Besides, how the hell do you expect to get me out of here? You’ve condemned us both.”

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Kuina threw Azem over her shoulder. He bit back a groan, and without waiting for him to argue, Kuina began to climb.

It was neither elegant nor easy, but Kuina managed to get Azem out of the sewers. The fighting was even closer now. Kuina hadn’t managed more than a few steps before she heard someone yell, followed closely by the rapport of a rifle.

Kuina had no choice. She ran, the sound of her feet pounding against the ground in rhythm with the thundering of her heart. She smelt blood, but didn’t know where it was coming from. She ignored it. She ignored everything but the urge to run.

A bullet passed by overhead. Cursing, Kuina ducked down and forced herself faster. She could see the ocean now, and the silhouette of the Revolutionary’s ship against the backdrop of the rising moon. She was so close she could taste it…

A shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness and raised a gun. Kuina tried to stop, but she was going too fast, Azem’s weight making her clumsy. The flash of the muzzle blinded her vision, bullet missing her by inches.

When Kuina finally stopped, she recognized Danny’s terrified face. The shipwright fired twice more, and behind her, Kuina heard someone scream. A broken laugh bubbled through the terror.

“What are you doing?” Kuina screamed. “You’re supposed to be at the ship!”

“I...I couldn’t do it,” Danny said. “I can’t keep living like this. Weren’t you listening earlier? There a traitor leaking information to the marines. I know how Aria is. She won’t stop until she gets everyone under her command killed trying to figure out who.”

Danny fired twice more, and would have kept firing, except she’d run out of bullets. She had the wide-eyed look of a spooked horse and obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Kuina risked a glance behind her and swore. The battle was coming to them, and there was no time left to argue.

“Hold on Azem, almost there,” Kuina whispered, and once again she ran, grabbing Danny as she passed.

“I knew you’d understand,” she gasped. “That’s why I waited, I was so scared when you didn’t come with the rest, I thought you’d gone back to fight…”

“Less talking, more running,” Kuina growled. “I can’t carry the both of you—”

Sudden pain exploded in the back of her head. She barely felt the jolt as she collapsed to her knees, Azem sliding out of her arms, and was unconscious before ever hitting the ground

Xxx

Kuina woke in a dark, dingy room that smelled of shit and sweat. Clumsily she brought a hand to the back of her head, only to have it come back wet and sticky with blood. Even in the darkness she could feel the press of humanity around her, too many bodies in too close a space.

Someone had taken her sword.

“Wha...what happened?” she groaned. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she felt the gentle rock of water. A ship. She was on a ship.

Beams of moonlight came in from a hatch above, where bars of iron locked them away from their freedom. So not just a ship, she was in a brig. Groggily, Kuina got to her feet and looked around her, lurching forward without having any real idea where she was going.  

Someone tugged on her shirt. Kuina looked down to see the girl she’d helped guide through the sewers. De Gris said the Revolution had commandeered a military vessel, but there was no reason to force the refugees into a literal prison. Unless that was their way of hiding them until they reached their base on the Grand Line? It was the only explanation that made sense. Kuina couldn’t think. It hurt too much.

“Danny?” she groaned. “Azem?”

“They brought you in alone,” a man said hoarsely. Kuina recognized him, too. He’d tried to run away when Azem fell. The shadows of the night made the hollows of his cheeks seem deeper, his eyes more hopeless.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Kuina said.

“They captured us. Now they’re going to take us with all the rest.”

The words made someone else burst into a sob. Kuina looked all around, but only grew more confused. None of them were bound, yet they weren’t trying to escape. Nor was anyone in hysterics, or screaming for help. All around her Kuina saw faces drawn in weary resignation, as if they weren’t surprised by this turn of events.

“Take us with all the rest...where?” Kuina asked.

The man laughed a thin, reedy laugh. “They didn’t tell you? All criminals on Tolouse get shipped to Tequila Wolf. Damn you and your revolution, at least back home we could have died like men. You people have—” He cut himself off suddenly and turned his back on Kuina. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. Because of you, we’re all going to die.”

Kuina felt as if she’d been plunged in a bucket of ice water, but anger fueled by pain and confusion quickly burned through the shock. “No one forced you to come. You could have stayed and fought for your home, but you chose to flee. That’s not my fault.”

“I saw my wife burn!” the man screamed. “What was I supposed to do? I was a bricklayer, for god’s sake. I don’t know how to hold a sword or fire a gun. I didn’t ask for you to come, I didn’t want to fight!”

He came so close that Kuina began to see double, and for a moment it looked as if he might try to hit her. Kuina didn’t flinch as he grabbed a fist full of her jacket. Didn’t look away from the anguish burning in his eyes.

The only sound was of his labored breathing, his breath hot on her face. Still Kuina did not move. Then, all at once, his lip quivered, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Kuina could do nothing as the man in front of her broke. Her jacket slid through his fingers as he slumped to his knees, face crumpled in abject misery before he buried it in his arms and wept.

“I remember when they took my uncle,” a woman said. “They stole him right from his bed, and we never saw him again.”

“The bastards got my best friend. Said he’d been stirring up sedition, whatever that means,” another said bitterly. “Found out later it was someone else handing out those fliers, but when we went to the judge asking them to bring him back he said there was nothing he could do.”

Others murmured in agreement, telling stories of other people They had gotten in the samed hushed tones children used for ghost stories, and with the same bone-chilling effect. Unease setting her teeth on edge, Kuina kneeled down to the man in front of her. Body-wracking sobs had overtaken him, and no matter what she did, Kuina couldn’t get him to even look at her.

The little girl pressed closer to her side, eyes wide as saucers. Kuina looked down at her and asked, “I don’t suppose you can tell me what Tequila Wolf is?”

When she spoke, the words came out in a little puff of air that scarcely bridged the distance between them. “It’s a place where bad people go until they learn how to be good.”

If the stories swirling around them were any indication, being good was a feat few managed to achieve. Head pounding, Kuina got to her feet and tried to think. The ship wasn’t sailing yet, but likely would be soon. She had to strain, but she could still hear the sounds of battle. Which she supposed was a good thing as it meant the Revolution hadn’t been overrun, but the plan had only been for short, distracting skirmishes to pull the Tolouse army’s attention away from the various retreats. They weren’t prepared to get dragged into a headon clash tonight.

There’s a traitor. Danny’s words rang in Kuina’s mind. That must have been how they knew to target the transport ships. Kuina didn’t know if any of the other ship’s locations had been compromised, but had to assume the worst. The Revolution’s closest reinforcements were still on the Venn Islands. No one was coming to rescue them once they got out to sea.

“Where’s your brother?” Kuina asked.

The girl shrugged. “They said he was too little and took him away. Can you find him? Please?”

Boots marched on the decks overhead. Over the murmuring of the captives Kuina heard the orders to raise anchor. Her eyes darted around looking for some escape, but it was a brig. Even if she stood on someone’s shoulders she didn’t think she’d be tall enough to reach the metal bars separating her from freedom.

If only I had my sword. But no. They’d taken it from her, along with her backpack and mask, and with her time and options dwindling to nothing, Kuina didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

It quickly became apparent that she couldn’t escape on her own, and the people around her were too busy wallowing in their own misery to be of much help. If she were somehow able to convince the sailors above she wasn’t a Revolutionary then maybe they might let her go, but based on the stories she was hearing even that seemed doubtful.

Kuina’s thought up and discarded several ideas in rapid succession, each more unlikely than the last, until she stumbled upon an idea that was insane enough to be worth trying. Not giving herself a chance to second guess her own stupidity, Kuina pushed through the crowd of people until she was directly under the hatch and bellowed at the top of her lungs,

“My name is Master Chief Petty Officer Tashigi of the 223rd Division, and I demand to speak with the captain of this ship!”

Ignoring the gasps of surprise from the Tolouse refugees, she cupped her hands against her face and repeated her demand. Her heart sank as she got no immediate answer, but she had never been one to let something as trifling as disappointment stop her before. Kuina bellowed her doppleganger’s name and rank again and again and again, until her voice cracked and her throat burned. Even if they did not believe her, Kuina hoped to at least annoy them enough to send someone to shut her up.

It took a few minutes of arduous effort, but eventually a head leaned over the iron bars, casting a shadow over Kuina. “Quit your hollering,” the sailor snapped. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, but I know for a fact there ain’t no marines in Tolouse.”

“I’m not from Tolouse you imbecile,” Kuina retorted. She tried to ape the same haughty manner she saw in the officers that came through Loguetown. It took a certain level of imperiousness that the real Tashigi had never managed to grasp, but this idiot wouldn’t know the difference. “Under the orders of Captain Smoker, I infiltrated a Revolutionary ship docked at Loguetown pretending to be a sympathizer. We had hoped to find out what the Revolutionary leader Dragon was doing stinking up our waters and would have notified local authorities through the proper channels if someone hadn’t decided to put horned snails all over the city.”

“The marines know better than to—”

“Do you think Captain Smoker has ever let anyone tell him what to do?” Kuina said, somehow managing to keep her voice cool and collected even as she scrambled for excuses. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased as punch when I tell him you assholes forced me to blow my cover. Or would you rather wait until I get to Tequila Wolf to deliver that bit of news?”

The sailor gulped. It seemed that Smoker’s reputation traveled farther than expected.

“I’m waiting,” Kuina said after giving the implications sink in properly.

“I, uh...I need to run this by my captain,” the sailor said. “If you don’t mind, can I have your identification number, just to be safe?”

Kuina gave it, having memorized Tashigi’s military ID through sheer repetition after years of filling paperwork verifying bounties. Between that and all the times Tashigi used Ipponmatsu’s shop to clean her sword, Kuina knew enough of her personal information to satisfy any interrogator, but if they actually contacted the base in Loguetown she was done for.

She held her breath as the sailor disappeared. Kuina hardly paid attention when one of the Tolouse refugees approached, an old woman that Kuina remembered having to carry through parts of the journey through the sewers.

“What is it?” Kuina asked impatiently.

“How dare you,” the woman said, her voice barely contained fury. “How dare the marines show their face here, after all you’ve done.”

She slapped Kuina across the face, hard, and spit at her feet. Kuina brought a hand to her now-burning cheek in shock, saying nothing as a wave of vitriol spilled from the old woman’s mouth. It was only when the woman raised her hand again Kuina moved, effortlessly catching her wrist.

“I let you hit me once, in deference to your age and obvious distress,” Kuina said in a low, dangerous voice, “but I will not suffer that indignity twice. You know nothing about me or my purpose for coming here, so shut up and leave me alone.” She shoved the hand away, causing the old woman to stumble back.  

Kuina eyed the rest warily, but they were too afraid to challenge her. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, mixing with the blood from the blow to the back of her skull. Her head pounded, making it hard to think much past the fear.

If I just had my sword…

It felt like an eternity past, but in all likelihood it had only been minutes before the sailor came back, this time with friends. He unlocked the hatch, swinging it open before lowering down a ladder. Kuina climbed her way to freedom, while the sailors used the butts of their rifles to keep any of the other prisoners from doing the same.

Kuina wasn’t sure she had ever been more glad for the fresh sea air, but one look at the sailors showed she wasn’t out of the woods yet. One sailor with a no-nonsense buzz cut and a muscular frame so compact it was nearly square snapped a salute, acting as the leader for the rest. “Our apologies for the inconvenience, Petty Officer, but the captain would like to speak with you.”

“I want my sword,” Kuina said.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but—”

“Someone knocked me unconscious this evening, sailor, and I don’t think it was the Revolution,” Kuina said. “Give me my sword or put me back in the brig and wait for Tequila Wolf. Your choice.”

“I...er, yes, ma’am. What I was trying to say was that your belongings have already been taken to the captain’s quarters.”

“...Oh.” Kuina almost apologized, but managed to stop herself in time. She’d never met a marine who would admit fault if they could help it, Tashigi being the exception that proved that rule. Instead she nodded curtly, and Buzz Cut snapped an order that was hastily obeyed by a pudgy-faced boy who didn’t look old enough to shave.

Kuina glanced out at Tolouse before letting them take her into the captain’s quarters. Explosions burst through the sky like fireworks in a New Year celebration, lighting up a skyline that flickered red and orange. The fires the Revolution had worked so hard to put out were back in full force, and under the light of the moon, Tolouse had transformed to hell on earth. And with the fighting still going in earnest, there wasn’t any way to stop it.

“There was a boy with this group of prisoners, couldn’t have been much older than five,” Kuina said. “Where is he?”

Buzz Cut’s poker face was excellent, his subordinates’, less so. Shame-faced, the pudgy boy opened the door to the captain’s quarters and bid her to enter. Frowning, Kuina squared her shoulders and tried to make herself as intimidating as a person who smelled like a sewer possibly could.

Buzz Cut didn’t even wait for Kuina to fully enter before he began shouting orders. “Prepare to sail. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

“No.”

Buzz Cut turned to Kuina in shock. “Petty Officer, with all due respect—”

“I said no,” Kuina said coldly. “And until I get in contact with Captain Smoker, I’m the voice of the World Government for this entire damn island. Right now you’d have better luck arguing with god than getting me to change my mind.”

Laughter rumbled deep within the captain’s quarters that made a chill crawl up Kuina’s spine. “My, my, my, look how assertive you’ve gotten since we’ve last met. I’ll admit, I didn’t think you had it in you, Petty Officer.”

Sitting behind an ornately carved desk was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing the long coat and epaulettes of a captain. His face might have been handsome once, but his features had the squashed, lumpy look of a brawler who’d lost more fights than they won. A saber hung at his hip.

“Close the door,” the captain said.

“But sir,” Buzz Cut protested, “our orders…”

“Our orders can wait the few minutes it will take to put our marine friend at ease. Now, shut the door. Please.”

While framed as a request, the order was anything but. Buzz Cut swallowed loudly and did as he was told. When they were alone, the captain reached behind his desk and retrieved Kuina’s sword. “I see you’re as obsessed as ever ‘bout your steel, Petty Officer. Always thought it were a shame you got leashed that wild dog Smoker, and it seems he’s baying just as loud as ever. You deserve a better sort of man than him.”

He laughed again, the sound like a rusty knife drug over stone. Confused and more than a little suspicious, Kuina quickly inspected its blade. When she was satisfied it hadn’t been damaged or tampered with, Kuina hung it at her hip.

“Do I know you?” she asked. The words had hardly escaped her lips before she regretted them, but the man snorted.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already, Petty Officer. It’ll wound me manly pride.” His grin widened, revealing a mouth full of blackened, rotting teeth. “Or are you really that blind without your glasses?”

“I’d like to think I purposefully forgot to save myself the pain of remembering that ugly mug of yours,” Kuina said. “Now identify yourself! What in the world is going on here? Why do you have children in your brig?”

“Is that what this is about?” the man said, sounding disappointed. “Smoker was the same way when I spoke to him last year. You soft-hearted types are why the world’s going to shit. You know as well as I do that age doesn’t matter when it comes to criminals. We have legal justification for every one of those rebels we locked up. Excusing your pretty face, o’ course. Or did you somehow miss the fucking war right outside these doors?”

Kuina balled her hands into fists and didn’t answer.

A look of satisfaction spread across the captain’s face. He bowed slightly, with a little, mocking flourish that made Kuina want to punch him in his ugly, leering face. “Captain Jack O’Neil at your service, of the Callihan Trading Company. It’s a pleasure to remake your acquaintance, Petty Officer. To be honest, it’s been far too long since a lady of your caliber graced these planks, and I’m sorry one of my men had to crack your skull to do it. Once we get this sorted I’ll have my men do everything in our power to ensure your stay on my ship is a comfortable one.”

Kuina’s frown deepened. She’d heard of the CTC—they were forever hanging advertisements near the docks of Loguetown in search of sailors and hired swords to protect their wares from pirates.There’d been a time when she’d been tempted to sign up for a voyage, but when she went to inquire about the post she was laughed out of the room by a pair of burly men with more muscles than sense.

The company dabbled in everything from the spice trade to arms transport and weren’t particularly picky about who they worked for. There were even rumors that pirates and crime lords used them as a front for their smuggling operations, but Kuina had always dismissed them as overblown talk from jealous competitors.

She was beginning to think now that there was some truth behind those allegations.  

Jack O’Neil cleared his throat when the silence stretched a beat too long to remain comfortable. “You and I both know that all this destruction could have been avoided if not for these rebels. You agree that the perpetrators need to be punished, doncha, Petty Officer?”

Kuina's eyes hardened. “The boy. Where is he?”

“Expedited sentence,” O’Neil said with a shrug. “Couldn’t be helped, ones that little are no good for hard labor. It’s the same with the known Revolutionaries, they’re too much of a risk to imprison, and the money on their heads is good even if we turn ‘em in cold. It’s just good business. You understand how it is.”

He’d killed him. The monster in front of her had killed a child in cold blood. He’d killed Azem. He’d killed Danny, who regretted joining the Revolution and had been trying to escape a life of violence and death.

Kuina’s world went red.

“No, Captain. I’m afraid I don’t.”

It was now O’Neil’s turn for silence. He squinted down at Kuina, perplexed and exasperated. “Did that blow to the head knock your common sense loose, Petty Officer? I don’t you recall you bein’ half this mouthy before, or didja spend enough time with the menfolk that you finally grew a pair of—”

Kuina struck before he could even think to move. A gurgled scream tore from his lips as O’Neil grasped the wound at the base of his throat. His eyes bulged in terror and pain, one hand trying to stem the bleeding while the other reached for the sword at his side.

Kuina didn’t give him the chance.

Stepping over O’Neil’s rapidly-cooling body. Behind his desk she found her bag, which had obviously been searched through and hastily repacked, and her mask. She put the latter in her bag after wrapping it in a shirt to keep it from breaking and slung it over her shoulder.

She wanted them to see her face before they died.

A den-den mushi at the corner of O’Neil’s desk caught her eye. It was attached to a machine that allowed faxes, and Kuina laughed when she saw that it hadn’t been used. The idiot captain hadn’t bothered to verify her story, trusting that he’d be able to recognize Tashigi on sight.

There were papers, too. Logs and ledgers and a map of the area. Kuina was in the process of stuffing them in her backpack when the door to the office opened, revealing the face of the pudgy boy.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mo wanted to know if we had permission to set sail yet. He says it’s getting bad…”

His voice trailed off into a whisper as his eyes followed the path of blood from O’Neil to Kuina. He stood, slack jawed and wide-eyed, swaying gently on his feet as if he were about to faint.

“Whu...what happened?”

Kuina leveled her sword at the boy. “Get off this ship, or I will kill you.”

The boy flinched. Kuina didn’t know if it was an attempt to draw his weapon or a visceral response to fear, but she took no chances. The boy screamed as she darted forward, but remained firmly rooted in place. He quickly joined his captain in death.

The advantage of stealth was gone with the cry of alarm. If nothing else, the men waiting on deck were professionals and quickly recovered from their initial shock. Kuina dodged the blow from a cutlass, her counter catching him on the wrist. The sailor screamed, clutching the bloody stump where his hand used to be.

“Call the alarm!” Buzz Cut bellowed, deflecting Kuina’s katana as she rushed toward him. “Bring reinforcements!”

Kuina ducked to avoid another slash, and was forced to roll to avoid being shot. She cursed as more men crawled out of the bowels of the ship like ants from an overturned hill. She disentangled herself from a block and cut down two more, managing to hamstrung a third before crossing blades with Buzz Cut once more.

“What are you doing?” he screamed. “We’re on the same side!”

“I don’t think we are,” Kuina said coldly. With a twist of her wrist she batted his sword aside and ran him through.

That was a mistake. Buzz Cut coughed bloody foam as he slumped to the ground, and it took Kuina too long to dislodge her sword from his body. She was forced to twist awkwardly to avoid the crushing blow of a weighted club, and doing so put her right in the path of another sailor’s saber.

Pure reflex saved Kuina from decapitation. She danced away from the saber, trying to keep herself in the middle of a crowd, using the threat of friendly fire to dissuade them from shooting. She was quickly surrounded, and a feral grin spread across her face. A distress flare shot into the night sky, burning boldly over the stolen ship.

This was it. This was where she belonged, with a blade in hand and nothing but her skill and fickle fortune between her from death. All the worry and anxiety of the last week melted away, replaced with pure bloodlust fueled by her fury.

“Gods above, she’s gone mad,” one of the sailors whispered, and the mixture of fear and awe like music to her ears.

It was the last thing she heard for a long time.

Xxx

Kuina came to her senses covered in blood that was not her own. She found herself standing over the Buzz Cut sailor, who was miraculously still alive, gasping erratically and frantically for air. Under the light of the moon the blood that bubbled out of the cut in his chest looked black. Pausing to flick the excess blood off her katana, Kuina kneeled beside him. He couldn’t die yet. Not when there was so much she didn’t know.

“Who hired you?” she asked calmly. “It’s not marines, or else they would have messaged Loguetown. Who’s paining you to murder little children.”

“You’re too late, bitch. Help is coming. Gemini will cut you down.” He looked weakly to the side and laughed. “They’re here already.”

Kuina followed his gaze. Soldiers were marching towards the ship, too many for any one person to deal with. Getting back to her feet, Kuina hurried to the brig. She had to shove aside a body before she could open it and lower the ladder.

“Do any of you know how to sail a ship?” Kuina called. To her surprise, the Tolouse refugees huddled in the corners, packed as close to one another as they could manage and refusing to move. Belatedly she realized they had no idea what happened other than what they’d overheard above. Drops of blood continued to drop down below.

“You’re safe,” she said. “None of them can hurt you, but you need to leave now.”

“And go where?” one asked. “I don’t know who you are, but the Revolutionaries who promised to get us to safety are dead.”

“And you’re about to join them if you don’t hurry up!” Kuina snapped. She looked over her shoulder. The soldiers were even closer now, and her energy was spent. A dozen shallow wounds slowed her movements, the blood loss making her vision hazy. And on top of it all, she had a pounding headache that would not stop.

“Look,” Kuina said to the terrified men and women below, “I can’t tell you where to go. No one, not even the Revolutionary Army, has the right to do that. But what I can do is buy you time to make that decision. For your sake, I hope it’s a quick one.”

She walked to the ship’s railing. The dying sailor laughed as she passed, and in a weak, sneering voice said, “What do you hope to accomplish, brat? They’ll be recaptured within the day. All you’ve done is prolong their execution.”

Kuina paused, looking down at the oncoming army, rage building once more as all the atrocities that she’d seen since arriving to Tolouse flashed through her mind: The bombing of the square, the fires, the desecration of the dead.

She remembered Danny and Azem, and the small, strong hands of the little boy grasping her neck. She remembered, and she felt the weight of unbalanced scales.

A life for a life. It was a saying that went both ways, and for the first time she thought she understood Aria de Gris’s desire to bloody some noses.

Kuina jumped down from the ship and landed in a summersault on the docks. Her arms trembled with fatigue and exhilaration as she raised her sword. She felt the heat and the smoke mix with the mists rolling off of the sea, obscuring the mass of bodies wearing the uniforms of the Tolouse army coming toward her.

Her blood hummed with anticipation. This was what she was made for. This was her purpose. Kuina couldn’t sail a ship. She couldn’t heal wounds or cook food or build ships or inspire others. But she could fight. She loved to fight, loved the synergy between body and blade. There was something beautiful testing her strength against another, her life hanging in the balance.

In the haze Kuina was almost invincible, striking down enemies before they knew she was there. Unlike the frenzied battle of the ship, this cat and mouse style suited the skills she’d honed over her years of bounty hunting.

The difference was she now had nowhere to retreat. Until the ship behind her set sail she couldn’t give up a single inch of ground. For the first time in her life, Kuina could not run.

And for the first time since she was eleven years old, Kuina felt alive.

It didn’t take long for the Tolouse army to retreat from the docks. Kuina couldn’t help but laugh as she caught her breath, allowing herself to believe for a brief moment that she’d won.

Then she heard orders being barked into snail phones, and in the distance saw the flash of matches being lit.

They had cannons.

Kuina jumped in the air in time to intercept the first shot with no thought other than to protect the ship behind her. She screamed as she slashed downward, cutting the iron cannonball neatly in two. The halves exploded on either side of her, momentarily filling the air with brilliant light.

She landed in a predator’s crouch, gasping for air. There was no time to process what she’d just done, because more shots followed the first, punctuated with the sharper fire of rifles.

Kuina cut a second cannonball just as easily as the first, but as she landed a third slammed into the docks behind her. Wood exploded, and the concussive blast of air threw Kuina onto the shore. The air was forced from her lungs, her katana thrown from her grasp. Kuina clasped her hands against her ears to stop the ringing, curled helplessly in a ball.

Get up!

She couldn’t. It hurt too much, and her body was too weak. Kuina dug her fingers into the sand and pushed, but there was nothing left for her to give.

You promised!

She’d promised a lot of things. She’d promised her father that she’d stay safe, and the refugees that she would buy them time, and herself that she would avenge the dead of Tolouse. Kuina had proven herself a liar time and time again. What chance did she have of fulfilling her promise to Zoro if she couldn’t manage something as simple as that?

So get up. Keep fighting.

Kuina groaned, a low, keening noise drawn directly from her soul. She rested her arms against the beach as the last of her strength bled from her limbs. Something brushed against her hand, and instinctively Kuina reached for it.

Her sword.

Kuina’s fingers wrapped around the wrapped leather handle. Was this how she wanted to die, like a dog beaten one too many times? Or would she fight with pride? With honor?

I’m going to be the greatest swordsman in the world, or die trying. Slowly Kuina rose to her feet. Decision made, there was nothing else to worry about. Nothing that required her to think. Bruised and bloody, Kuina raised her sword one last time just as the first rays of dawn spilled over the horizon.

The enemy came, and Kuina defeated them all. She didn’t care if they shot or stabbed at her. She didn’t care about anything at all.

The earlier bloodlust was gone, replaced with the mechanical, instinctive movements of a woman who’d spent her life learning to kill. The sun rose and the bodies multiplied, but Kuina didn’t stop. Cut by cut, slash by slash, the only thing that kept her moving was the strength of her ambition.

She didn’t know how long she lasted before she missed a parry, her opponent’s sword gliding against her arm. She stumbled back into the rising tide, her back hitting one of the few remaining posts of the splintered dock. It was the only thing that kept her upright as she ducked under the following slash. Blackness ate at the edge of her vision, her lungs burning for want of air.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to raise her sword in time.

Her opponent looked just like all the rest, just another young man wearing the grey uniform of the Tolouse army. There was nothing to differentiate him from the hundreds of others she’d seen since the night began. And yet, he would be the one to kill her.

Kuina laughed at the absurdity of it all.

The man yelled as he swung his sword. Kuina closed her eyes and waited, smile still spread across her face. But instead of death there was only a choked scream and the sound of a full grown man falling into the water.

Kuina blinked her eyes open. A figure in full armor, helmet shaped like a roaring lion, pulled a thin blade from the young soldier’s back. Kuina blinked again as the rising sun glinted off the polished steel, seeing but not understanding.

Then she felt it, a presence like wind swirling around the eye of a hurricane. Whoever this person was, was the real deal. A true swordsman.

“Wanna fight?” Kuina gasped, drawing enough energy to spit a mouth full of blood into the sea before raising her sword.

“It’s over, kid. You did good.”

“Did...good?” Kuina tried to take a step forward, but her vision went sideways. The armored swordsman caught her before she hit the ground. When Kuina looked up again the helmet was gone, and she stared into the dark eyes of Aria de Gris.

“C’mon. Let’s get you home.”