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zeldas-cigarrette · 3 years

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Now, I’ll drive alone past your street. (Ⅱ)

A/n: This is the sequel to my last post, I couldn’t write any smut, I wasn’t in the mood for it. Just wait for another story in which I’ll definitely include it !!! If you have any requests, feel free to leave them somewhere ^^ And thank you so much for the interaction on my last post:))

Part 1

Word count: 1,635

Warnings: none

Zelda Spellman x female witch reader

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It pained you when sudden thoughts about Zelda flickered in your head. Although you decided on leaving for a while, you missed her, Hilda, Ambrose, and Sabrina. The wittiness of Hilda when you came down for breakfast, looking like a complete mess. Sabrina when she was onto something, including you in every step of the way. And Ambrose, when he was fuzzing about the mess his younger cousin had caused again.

The sudden ring of your cell phone tore you out of thoughts. Hilda’s caller ID showed up just as it did the past week. You’ve always been too afraid to pick up, scared of listening to her ranting about you letting her sister marry this man. But unlike the other times, the Brit has called, now you were brave enough to answer the call. Maybe Zelda fulfilled her task and became High Priestess?

„Y/n, I tried to reach you all week” Hilda hastily explained. „I know, I know but-“

„There is no time for explanations, you need to come back. Something’s wrong with Zelda” she cut you off while unsteadily breathing into the speaker.

You hesitated to speak, not being sure what you shall say. You loved the red-headed witch too much to let her suffer. „I’ll be there Hilda,” you said and quickly ended the conversation.

You knew it was about time to go back and fight for your love and show Father Blackwood who’s in charge.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

It didn’t take long for you to teleport you back to the mortuary, you left a few of your belongings where you’d stayed. You took a deep breath before knocking on the red front door. The familiar scent of your friends home crept up your nose and you started to loosen your tension. „Praise Satan you’re here, come in quick” the British woman rambled and pulled you inside.

„What’s going on?” You asked curiously. „My sister has changed during her honeymoon, it’s just as if she’s under some kind of spell.”

You nodded and hung your coat onto one of the hooks. „She does everything Blackwood asks her, Zelda would do anything to protect our family and now that bloke tries harms us and she just agrees with everything” Hilda explained and you knew immediately what she was trying to say. „And, Ambrose is said to have killed the Anti Pop. Nicholas Scratch helped him get away before Blackwood could lay his hands on him” she added pulling a grimacing face.

„I will go to the academy and inspect the situation myself, we will fix this mess” you tried to reassure her. The witch nodded and led you into the kitchen where the two cousins sat, pondering over how to help her aunt. „You’re back Y/n!” Sabrina exclaimed and hugged you tightly. A smile formed on your lips. Deep down you were happy to be back even though it took you some time to realise.

The darkness slowly came over Greendale and millions of stars peppered the night sky. „I will head to the academy and see what happened to your aunt and in which condition she is” you informed them and drummed your fingers on the tabletop. „Be careful, Blackwood is crazy at the moment. His misogyny went up to a new level” the young witch rambled worriedly. „I’ll take care.”

You grabbed your coat before leaving the house, inhaling the sweet scent that lingered in the house once more.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

Arriving at the academy, a weird feeling spread in your gut. You entered the school for witches and warlocks, having an exact destination to where you wanted to go. You walked through the halls of the academy searching for either Zelda or Blackwood. A sharp pain shot through your arm when a hand grabbed you and pulled you into a room.

The facet of the person immediately let you know who it was. „Blackwood” you explained and freed yourself from his tight grip. „You ought not to be here” the sharp tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine. „I came to speak to Zelda.”

He eyed me. „Wife!” The High priest yelled and waited impatiently for Zelda to come. Seconds passed before a woman in a flower dress entered the room. „Would you give us a few minutes?” your voice thickly filled with annoyance. The warlock just nodded and left the room.

„Zelds, what happened?”

„I don’t know what you mean?” her voice almost pitching. „Honey, you can tell me” your hand reached for hers. „But there is nothing to tell. If you excuse me now, I ought to make tea for my beloved husband.”

Her words sounded surreal, fake just simply not like Zelda. A hopeless sigh escaped your lips, you should’ve told her how wrong it was to marry that bloke. The only thing to hear was the sound of her music box.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

„It’s like she’s a doll” you took a sip of water before continuing, „no free will, and devoted to someone she said she’d overthrow.”

Hilda’s gaze wandered through the room. Footsteps echoed through the Spellman house, both of you looked at each other before stepping in the hallway.

You two saw her walking in the kitchen having her hand draped over something. Hilda followed her sister closely. The next thing you heard was high pitched screams from Sabrina who must’ve been in the kitchen. Your legs moved as fast as they could to see what was happening. Zelda stood there, wounding a mouse through the meat grinder. „Aunt Zel, why did you do that? That was our only chance to save Ambrose?” Sabrinas said stunned while her mouth fell agape.

I didn’t know what she was talking about, but surely Leviathan, who now was just a mashed version of itself, played its role in it. „I think I know what’s going on!“ Hilda exclaimed and it looked just as if a light bulb appeared over her head. „Sabrina, you have to get that music box from Zelda’s room in the Academy“ her aunt explained. The teenage witch nodded. Her aunt expected her to leave but that wasn’t the case, she somewhat teleported the box.

Zelda just stood there, staring at the mashed familiar. You couldn’t deny the fact that you were curious about how she teleported a box to her, but you suppressed the thought until you knew what was going on with your toner girlfriend. „Open it up darling” Hilda demanded her niece, „this has to be some kind of Caligari spell.” „What spell?” You asked genuinely interested. „A spell, typically used by old warlocks, to turn their wives into conscious witches aware of every action, yet, unable to make their own choices” the Brit explained and pulled out a photo of the music box.

„Just smash it and our Zelda should be freed from the spell,” Hilda told Sabrina who now held the picture in her hands. With a loud thud, the glass of the frame was broken, leaving a confused Zelda. You saw her facial expression change when she laid eyes on you. „Zelda is it you?” you asked nearly on the verge of tears.

You knew how stupid it was, leaving her alone with the whole situation, telling her she was better off without you. „Y/n...” the woman stuttered not daring to look away from you. You couldn’t contain your happiness and relive of having her back, you stepped closer and hugged her in a hurry. Her hands instantly sneaking around your waist, pressing you close to her body.

„I was an idiot, Zelda Spellman and I am sorry for how I behaved” you whispered in her ear. Her red locks were spreading on your face, you inhaled her scent. „Don’t worry, I must admit it was my fault too. How could I ask my girlfriend if I could marry another guy?" she mumbled in your shoulder and pressed yourself just a little closer to her body. „Alright, lovebirds” Sabrina sighed and let herself fall back on one of the kitchen chairs.

You loosened your hug and drew back to look at her. „Why don’t we get you something proper to wear?” You suggested and eyed her flower dress. „Satan, wearing this dress the whole time, internally drove me mad” Zelda admitted and tugged on the hem of her dress.

You took her hand in yours and softly moved your thumb over her skin. The fiery woman was broken, you saw it in her green eyes. Gently, you pulled her after you, scared she might break if you’d do it more hastily. Arriving in front of her bedroom door, you were hesitant if she’d even want you to come in put she slightly pushed you towards the door. „Don’t blame yourself, you had every right to leave. I wouldn’t want to see how you marry someone else” the witch remarked after a long silence. „I just feel like I could’ve prevented you from the pain,” you told her.

Zelda just shook her head and patted next to her on the bed. You followed her plea and sat next to the witch, staring down at your hands. „I haven’t told you this for weeks now, but I love you,” the older woman said and took your hand into hers. You slowly placed your head on her shoulder. „I love you too, but never ever marry anyone again as long as we are together” you had to add that. „Never” she mouthed before planting soft kisses along your jawline. „As dominant as ever” you giggled before the woman pressed you down on the bed beneath.

The room was filled with ecstasy and lust after Zelda was finished pleasuring you. You snuggled closer to her chest, not daring to leave her side again. Zelda’s red locks covering your face once more, made you feel comfortable with falling asleep. ‘You’ll be there for her on every step of the way, no matter how much strength it may take’ you thought to yourself before sleep hit you.

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#zelda spellman x reader #zelda spellman #chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #wlw love #wlw #hilda spellman #sabrina spellman #ambrose spellman #sapphic #greendale #caos imagine #madam satan #fanfic #fanfiction

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writing-with-olive · 3 years

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The Stonewall Riots of 1969

1) Current State of Being (it was not good, fam, not good)

To set the scene, we’re in the late sixties. We’ve won the second World War, and suddenly everyone’s dealing with the fact that the patriotic frenzy America has been whipped into isn’t really having the same purpose it used to. Thing is, everyone’s still really heated along the basic lines of DEATH TO COMMUNISM AND ALSO COMMUNISTS. During the war, this was helpful. It created a sense of unity. But once the war was over, attention turned inward.

At this time, there was also research that queer people were "sex perverts" and a government report even came out saying

"The lack of emotional stability which is found in most sex perverts and the weakness of their moral fiber, makes them susceptible to the blandishments of the foreign espionage agent [...] the pervert is easy prey to the blackmailer.

This same report also cited a case of a gay man "who's homosexuality was used by the Russians [who were communist] to recruit him as a double agent before world war 1." Basically, the overall gist was that gay people were believed to either be communists now, or they would become communists because their brains were weaker.

Alrighty, but why were they easy prey? First, when it came to communism, they were just as susceptible as anyone else, but after steep laws against queer people were passed, blackmail became pretty real.

So... yeah, let's talk about a couple laws that were in place in the late sixties, shall we?

For the crime of sleeping with a consenting partner in the privacy of your own home you could face anything from:

A light fine

Five, ten or twenty years in prison

A life sentence

Electrical shock therapy

Castration

In addition, to target trans people, police had also dug out a law from the nineteenth century that was originally passed to supress angry tenant farmers who would don disguises and demonstrate against their landlords (law found in subsection 4 of section 240.35 of the New York Penal Code). The law stated that individuals could not wear more than three items of clothing that did not match their assigned gender at birth.If an officer thought you were breaking this law, they could arrest you and take you to a bathroom or similarly private location and have an officer who matched your presented gender either do a strip search or pat you down there to see if things matched.

Things got especially bad when New York realized they’d have to “clean up the place” in preperation for hosting the World Fair. In part, this meant a heavy crackdown on the gay community, and by extention, gay bars.

2) The Genovese Crime Family and Stonewall

At around this time, the Mob was starting to notice that gay bars were an excelent source of profit - since the prohibition era (1920-1933), limited access bars and speakeasies had popped up everywhere and since the gay community already couldn’t be themselves on the streets, they retreated to these more sheltered locations.

Three mafia members decided to open a gay bar because ohhh boy could you rake in some serious profit. Combined, the three of them put up $3500 to “renovate” the Stonewall Inn (which had gone through itterations of being a straight nightclub, straight bar, and gay restaurant in a sort of irregular cycle).

Renovations included building a stage to dance on, painting the walls black, and getting a jukebox. No running water, no fire exit, just the bare minimum. It certainly wasn’t legal.

When they opened (as a bottle club to get around pesky liquor laws), the bouncer would look through a little slat in the door and if you had a codeword or looked sufficiently gay, he’d let you in. You then had to sign up to be a part of the club (about a dollar) and write your name down on a sheet of paper. Of course, no one wrote down their real names.

The liquor in question was stolen, to begin with, and then heavily watered down with... questionably clean water, and then sold at about three times the original price in half-cleaned glasses (glasses were dunked in a bucket and then reused). Since none of the patrons really had high expectations anyway, they went with it. Needless to say, however, Stonewall was not a particularly nice place to be.

With all the money the trio raked in, a cut had to go to the Mafia man who controlled the district, and another cut went to paying of the notoriously corrupt 6th Precinct, to avoid getting the whole place shut down.

Because they were payed off, the police would only conduct their mandated raids early in the night before things got going, and on weekdays - this was when there weren’t a ton of people there, and it was easy to make it look like nothing was amiss.

3) The Raid (this is where shit gets real)

First of all, the thing is - no one knows why it happened. It just.... did.

On June 28th, 1969, at about 2am, the night was in full swing. The bar was crammed full of people dancing and drinking. The air was stuffy as usual and quite dark.

Then the bright flourescent lights come on - the signal that there was a raid and to seperate and to look less gay. The police came through, and called that they were making arrests. Everyone needed to line up against the wall and have their ID’s ready. Of course this was an issue, because just about everyone was legally not supposed to be at stonewall.

As the police began taking people outside, a crowd was going - raids at this time were... unusual to say the least. Some of the queens went into the back of the police cars without much of a fight - obviously they were terrified, but it didn’t look like there was much they could do.

One of them, however, and no one knows who for sure, was having none of this. Though Marsha Johnson and Sylvia Rivera have both been suggested as the starter of the riot, both have denied it, saying it was someone else. Storme DeLarverie, however, has both accepted and denied it was her. In an interview where she confirmed herself as the starter, she described her reaction, saying:

“The cop said ‘Move f****t’, thinking that I was a gay guy. I said, ‘I will not! And, don’t you dare touch me.’ With that, the cop shoved me and I instinctively punched him right in the face. He bled! He was then dropping to the ground - not me!”

She then turned to the crowd and yelled “why don’t you all do something?”

This was when things transformed. Objects started to fly. It was like someone had just punched a hole through the dam holding back the collective anger of the queer community.

A lot of the queer street kids, homeless, desperate, and with nothing to lose, were at the forefront of the fight, throwing anything from stones to pennies to bottles. Here’s the thing: no one really liked Stonewall - it wasn’t particularly nice or inviting or anything like that, but it was THEIRS and they were going to fight like hell for it.

Those being pulled out of the Inn started fighting back too - throwing what they could, kicking, punching, pushing back against the police. Marsha Johnson, a woman some have referred to as “basically a lesbian superhero” even climbed a telephone pole and threw an unidentified heavy object at a police car, shattering the window.

It was chaos and the crowd was still building. The flying objects didn’t stop, and it wasn’t like anyone had great aim - they were just as likely to hit a fellow protester - but there was a sense of comraderie and it made the police nervous. They were calling for reinforcements, but none were coming.

Finally, one of the police chiefs decided they had to retreat into Stonewall. They grabbed a few people as hostages and dissapeared inside, and barricaded the door. The inside of the Stonewall Inn was a wreck. The jukebox had been smashed. Same with the stage, the bathroom mirrors, and the cash register. Broken furniture was strewn on the floor.

Outside, the rioters had yanked a parking meter out of the ground and were trying to bash their way through the door, using it like a battering ram. Each thud made the officers even more nervous, and the captain, realizing things could turn from bad to horrific and deadly commanded his officers not to shoot unless he shot first. He went up to each one, commanding them individually by name, saying that if they shot without his direct sayso, they would be spend the rest of their police careers with only the worst possible jobs. To their credit, no one shot.

Outside, reinforcements finally arrived, armed in full riot gear - helmets, plastic shields, those club/baton things. They came forward in a full on phalanx. Then it started getting really ugly. People ended up lying on the sidewalk with blood coming from their heads or injured in other ways. The crowd started falling back, step by step. Finally, many of them ran.

But not to flee. Instead, they went all the way around the block and came up behind the reinforcement officers. Surprised that there was a new attack coming from behind, it was the police that began to loose the ground, and were forced to retreat back, back, back.

It was into the late, late hours of the night when the riots finally died down to nothing, the last of the crowd finally dispersed, exhausted.

4) The Next Day (aka a giant middle finger to the cops)

The shattered glass sparkled in the morning light the next day - a tribute to what had gone down the night before.

That night, the crowds around stonewall were huge. And it wasn’t just the queer community - the anti-war protesters and Black Panthers had joined in, standing against the even larger ranks of officers. The night before was a tipping point, but if momentum was to keep going, there needed to be sustained effort.

Inside, the Inn was back to normal. The Mafia had repaired the stage, gotten a new cash register, and even replaced the jukebox. It was if the efforts of the police had never even happened. Throughout the night, the queer community went in and out as though everything were totally normal - as if the police didn’t matter.

The riots were even worse than the night before, but the police couldn’t gain any ground.

Despite what was happening and the triumphs of the queer community, the press was a little less enthusiastic, aiming to diminish what had happened, taking the viewpoint of the police, or claiming the riots happened because of a celebrity’s death, and not the decades upon decades of oppression.

5) The Impact (how we got to today)

A year later, a lot of the Stonewall participants gathered to commemorate the movement. There were now several activism groups that had grown since the riots, but there needed a way to keep it growing - keep the flame from dying out.

One woman proposed that they have a march like the Civil Rights movement and Anti-war protesters were having. As soon as the question filled the space, there was unanimous consensus. Yes - they were to march.

It was terrifying. One member remembered fearing that only ten or so people would show up - that it was only going to make them into a laughingstock and nothing more. Indeed, many people had shown up with popcorn to “watch the f*gs” - it was seen almost as a show or performance.

But the moment was anything but. When the member looked back, in apprehension, what he saw wasn’t ten or the anticipated couple hundred people. No more than two thousand people had joined the parade. And not just the queer community - straight New Yorkers were there too. It was a moment of solidarity, and a demand for justice.

Every year since, there have been pride marches around the country, memorium to the community, and to the fight we’ve been fighting for a very long time, and to the patrons of Stonewall Inn who finally decided enough was enough.

6) Sources (because apparently trusting an unsourced tumblr posts is seen as an academic no-no)

(all in MLA because I just copy/pasted them from my research notes and also MLA feels official and all that)

Yardley, William. "Stormy DeLarverie, Early Leader in the Gay Rights Movement, Dies at 93." The New York Times, 29 May 2014, www.nytimes.com/2014/05/30/nyregion/storme-delarverie-early-leader-in-the-gay-rights-movement-dies-at-93.html?_r=0. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Brown, Dalvin. "Marsha P. Johnson: Transgender Hero of Stonewall Riots Finally Gets Her Due." USA Today, 27 Mar. 2019, www.usatoday.com/story/news/investigations/2019/03/27/black-history-marsha-johnson-and-stonewall-riots/2353538002/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Burey, Jodi-Ann. "'It Wasn't No Damn Riot': Celebrating Stonewall Uprising Activist Storme DeLarverie." The Riveter, Feb. 2017, theriveter.co/voice/it-wasnt-no-damn-riot-celebrating-stonewall-uprising-activist-storme-delarverie/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Carter, David. Stonewall: The Riots That Sparked the Gay Revolution. 2nd ed., New York, St. Martin's Griffin, 2010.

Duberman, Martin B. Stonewall. New York, Plume, 1993.

Edsall, Nicholas C. Toward Stonewall: Homosexuality and Society in the Modern Western World. Charlottesville [Va.], U of Virginia P, 2003.

Kristi K. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

---. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

"The Stonewall You Know Is a Myth. And That's O.K. | NYT Celebrating Pride." YouTube, uploaded by The New York Times, 31 May 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7jnzOMxb14. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

(not in mla sorry) - PBS’s Stonewall Uprising (documentary)

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tagging: @veryunoriginal and @doggo038 because yall seemed pretty interested. Also my usual taglist: @candlemouse @bookdragonfanish @book-limerence

If you want to be added/removed from any of my taglists, let me know! taglists found pinned to the top of my blog :D

#queer history #lgbtq #stonewall riots #greenwich #pride parades #sources are at the bottom :D #sixth precinct #storme delarverie #marsha johnson #sylvia rivera #black panthers #anti-war protesters #american history #gay history #olive's writing vibes #guys if you could reblog this that would be awesome more people need to know queer history #yall are the best!

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Stargazing

Ethan Winters x Mia Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Summary: A year after the events that took place at the Bakers’ residence and the three years of Mia being missing, the Winters spouses have finally been healed enough to start getting back into a regular lively rhythm, nevertheless haunted by the nightmare they lived through.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Sorry you’ve had to wait so long for your request but here it finally is! They deserved so much better and I’ll never stop saying that! Sorry for the brief rant, still, hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Holding Ethan’s hand tightly, Mia follows his instructions to keep her gaze down at the ground and avoid looking up as much as possible. She’s been having a hard time containing the smile on her face, biting her bottom lip a lot to prevent it from showing. Same as she’s had a hard time keeping quiet with her guessing games of where Ethan’s taking her. The man’s unbreakable though, never once was he tempted to let her in on what he’s planned.

It’s been a year since the Baker incident and all the couple has done is switch from one coping mechanism to another. They got stuck in a sort of therapy-work-therapy cycle where they threw themselves in their work and periodically went to their psychiatric appointments, never daring to nudge the topic at home amongst themselves. It was enough that the whole night has remained as a dark cloud hanging over their heads, addressing it has simply been to painful so they’ve steered clear of the topic the best they could.

However, an important thing to note about this coping cycle they created is that it drove all the other mechanics in their lives and their relationship to become routinely and mechanic as well. There was little to no feeling in all they did - not that they ever did much together except have dinner and sometimes breakfast, both of them fully indulged in their work the rest of the day. Work became their therapy eventually, leaving little time for one another and for fixing what’s been broken between them. This conclusion bothered them both to no end but neither wanted to address it out of fear of disturbing the other.

Luckily, Ethan didn’t feel the need to bring it up before taking action.

“Here we are!“ He announces eventually, causing Mia to snap her head upwards without a second to spare, curious eyes doing the best they can to take in the dark surroundings.

Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t have any problem with the dark. What happened back in Louisiana didn’t give her a phobia of the dark or of ships as her therapist initially thought she’d develop. However, she’s got a huge fear of bugs and insects now - especially mosquitos. Count on her husband carrying anti bug spray wherever they go - now is no exception.

As her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness of their surroundings, it doesn’t take her a while to realize they’re in an open yet secluded field. She’s not the slightest bit surprised by where he’s taken her, in fact, she recognizes it immediately. It’s the spot of their first official date.

“Who knew going to that dorm party would be the best thing I’d do in my life.“ He mumbles under his breath, admiring the sparkles in her eyes as she takes in the beautiful field bit by bit, letting the reel of memories play back, taking her all the way back to that first year of college, that fateful night when they met, followed by the night they came to this field.

“Who knew overcoming my fear of heights at an early age would’ve helped me find the man I’d eventually marry.“ She replies, turning to look at him, their gazes locking in place, both of them no reminiscing on those events they hadn’t recalled in a very long time.

2006

The humidity doesn’t suggest that the summer months have already ended. In fact, the air is still as unbreathable as it was in July and August, making the students who have to return to their studies super conflicted, longing for those beach days with little to no responsibilities. Given that no one is ready for the school year to start, the professors included, the first few weeks of college have been rather stress-free for Ethan. Well, that is if you don’t include the agony of moving into college as a freshman from an entirely different state.

Why he chose to go to college in Texas is a question he still doesn’t have a proper answer to. It was an impulsive, basically overnight decision, one that rattled his parents to no end when he announced it. However, having his own income and savings for college purposes, they couldn’t really do much in stopping him but they didn’t support him either. They kept trying to change his mind until the very last day but alas he stood his ground and now here he is, in his college dorm, trying to read a book while there’s a raging party going on just two floors above. The music is so loud though that is sounds more like it’s taking place in his closet instead.

His roommate went up to help set the party up, only putting mild effort into getting his Cali-boy roommate to tag along and join the shenanigans which Ethan appreciated. Parties have never really been his scene so he knew he would’ve kept refusing no matter how much he tried getting him up there.

Finding the read hopeless due to the distractions, Ethan ditches the book and lays back on his bed staring at the ceiling, feeling like a fish out of water, ready to suffocate any minute. The AC in the dorm is faulty so it’s not serving its purpose properly, leaving the air at the same temperature as it would be had the device not been turned on at all. He’s stranded on things to do, feeling awfully caged in this new environment without any proper entertainment, going even as far as to second-guess if his parents were maybe right all along.

Fortunately for him, just then, his roommate bursts in, humming along to the song that’s currently being played at the party, never missing a tune even in his clearly intoxicated state.

“Hey Winters, aren’t you Californians supposed to know of a good time? You’re disappointing me right now.“ Jared slurs, laughing a bit as he leans against the wall to keep himself to his feet.

Ethan can’t help but scoff, “Thought I’d be a party animal? Sorry for the letdown.”

Jared laughs, shaking his head, “Come on, Cali. You have two semesters to be sulking around, it’s too early to start. Listen, one beer and thirty minutes, that’s all I’m asking you for. If you like it you can stick around. If not, feel free to leave. Just please give it a shot. How else are you supposed to make friends?”

Ethan stops to contemplate for a second, weighing his options. Jared takes this as a hopeful sign, seeing as how his offer wasn’t immediately turned down as it was the first time. Finally, the blond sighs in defeat: “Ok, but thirty minutes only.“ He says as he slides off the bed, briefly looking at himself in the mirror and deeming his appearance decent enough for a dorm party. As a very new student, he’d like to make a good first impression on his classmates but given that they’re all probably wasted, he’s not stressing too much over his looks at the moment.

Following Jared up to the floor of the party, he’s immediately handed a beer which he accepts with little hesitation. His roommate goes around introducing him to a few people before he disappears with some girl he claims has been his on-again-off-again girlfriend since sophomore year of high school - Sarah. Ethan, of course, doesn’t stop him despite hating the ide of finding himself stuck alone in a crowd of people he’s seeing for the first time in his life. Still, he sticks to the deal: thirty minutes and a beer...ok, two beers, but they’ve done nothing to make him enjoy this party.

So, off he goes to search for Jared to tell him he’s leaving. Thinking he saw the dark haired girl he went off with going up the stairs to the roof, he quickly follows.

Little does he know, that’s not the dark haired girl he’s looking for. That’s Mia

Mia, the rowdy, outgoing Texas tomboy who, unlike Ethan, thoroughly enjoys going to parties and having a good time with her friends and a few drinks. However, even a party animal such as herself sometimes needs to take a breather especially when people are smoking cigarettes as though they’re inhaling air and she’s never tried a cigarette in her life and is actually quite against the idea. She found this rooftop to be her prefect hideaway whenever she felt like her surroundings would suffocate her. Students were strictly instructed that climbing up there would earn them a penalty but that didn’t bother her in the slightest - She’s been frequenting the roof already and it’s been barely a week of her fresh start in college. Luckily, she got over her fear of heights at the tender age of twelve so this journey to quite a high point doesn’t pose as much stress as it would’ve about a decade ago.

As she lies on the floor, looking up at the starry night sky above, she nearly jumps out of her skin when another voice calls out to her presumably though it’s not using the correct name.

“Hey, um, S-Sarah? Have you seen Jared?“

Mia turns her head as she sits up, one eyebrow raised as she takes a good look at the silhouette which this voice belongs to. It’s pretty dark so even if she knew him, she wouldn’t be able to recognize him but judging by the voice, this is not someone she’s familiar with. And judging by the accent, this guy is not from around here.

“I’m not Sarah, but if you’re looking for Jared Letterwood, I can guarantee he’s in Sarah’s dorm.“ Mia chuckles, “I’d know. Sarah’s my roommate.“

Ethan cringes at the thought, “Yikes, you’ve got it rough. I mean, Jared’s my roommate but so far I haven’t had to leave the dorm for him to...you know. Hope I never have to.” Suddenly, an idea strikes him, “Wait, where are you gonna sleep tonight?”

She laughs, lying back down with her arms folded behind her head, “Right here.” She drags out the words as she adjusts her position a little, eyes fluttering closed. “Stargazing helps me fall asleep. The whole ambience up here is just...perfect, you know. Jared and Sarah are really doing me a favor.”

Ethan can’t help but scoff, “Call me crazy, but I’ve never stargazed in my life. I don’t know, never really saw the whole appeal. Sure, it’s cool to see in a movie or whatever, but it’s got no real purpose in real life. Not that I’m trying to bash your hobby or anything...”

Before the clueless blond could finish his statement, Mia’s already snapped up in a sitting position, giving him a narrow-eyed glare he can’t really see in the darkness. Her hand taps the spot next to her, “Don’t knock until you try it, Cali boy. Come’ere, see what you’re missing out on.”

Though reluctant, Ethan takes a few steps forward, stopping for a second to ask: “Wait, how’d you know I’m Californian?” Regardless of his confusion, he sits his ass down as he was told, awkwardly laying down so that there’s half a foot or less between their bodies so he doesn’t accidentally touch her and run the risk of freaking her out.

“I know a lot of things, Cali. Unfortunately, your name isn’t one of them. That being said, either you tell me it, or I’ll have to keep calling you Cali.“ She says teasingly.

“Ethan. My name’s Ethan.“ He says through a sigh, unable to contain the smile that spreads across his face.

A smile mimicking his appears on her face as well, “Nice to meet you, Ethan. The name’s Mia.“

Needless to say, the following morning Ethan woke up still on the roof, and surprisingly and terrifyingly enough, with the girl he barely met the night prior in his arms. Under the light of the newly rising day he could examine her features better, taking in her absolute beauty, her pale features contrasting her dark as the night hair. She’s still asleep so he can’t see her eyes but he has no doubt they are as beautiful as she is. Everything about her looks so delicate yet sharp simultaneously. And he’s simply in awe.

To avoid any awkwardness in case she wakes up, he falls back asleep, not even trying to remove his arms from around her body, silently hoping she won’t kick his ass for it. The next time he wakes up, an undecided amount of time later, he’s alone on the rooftop. Alone with a note that says: ‘Did you like it? If yes, I got a better stargazing spot to show ya. You know where to find me

~ M‘

“And boy, was I missing out on something.“ Ethan whispers, gently running his fingers through his wife’s hair as they lay in that same field she was referring to in her note to him, gazing up at the stars, limbs intertwined, bodies completely collided.

“Told ya. Stargazing is incredible, ain’t it?“ Mia replies, snuggling closer though that’s simply impossible.

Her husband chuckles, his chest rumbling with the noise, “That’s not really what I meant.”

Her brows furrow but she doesn’t look at him, “Oh? Then what did you mean?”

With a content sigh, he replies, “I was missing out on having you in my arms, falling asleep and waking up by your side.“ He says, his lips planting a gentle kiss at the top of her head that has her melting in his embrace.

Mia’s not the romantic nor cheesy half of this relationship, quite the opposite, but she feels emotions to a way deeper level than Ethan would imagine her feeling. So, thankful to the darkness, Mia allows her eyes to gloss over with emotional tears as she rises up to collide her lips with his in a soft and tender kiss.

“I missed you so much, Mia.“ Ethan whispers when they pull away, foreheads resting against each other.

“I promise to never make you miss me again, baby.“ She replies in a tone as hushed as his. As though they are both afraid someone would overhear this vow of theirs and try to force them to break it.

“That’s impossible.“ He says with a soft chuckle, “I always miss you at least a little.“

Mia hums in response, “Well, right now, you don’t have to miss me at all. I’m all yours. You’re the only thing on my mind, Mr. Winters.“

Even in the dark, she sees the grin that lights up his face, “As you are the only thing on mine, Mrs. Winters.” With that, their lips reestablish their contact, this time maintaining it longer, making it more passionate than before.

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Interview With a Ghost (part 3: Break)

(PART 1) (PART 2)

The call came shortly after Danny had informed Tucker of his (disastrous) interview with the police and had left to go fight a giant bird ghost that had made its way to Elmerton. That bird wouldn't know what hit it. Well, it would know that Danny hit it, presumably, but not that Danny was hitting it so hard due to repressed anxiety regarding his body and the fact the police had it.

Tucker had been, as it so happened, waiting for the call.

"Hey, Sam," he said, not bothering to so much as look at the caller ID.

"So, Danny's gotten himself into a mess."

"Yep," said Tucker. "A pretty big one. Not all his fault, though."

"He did make it worse."

"Yeah. What are we going to do about it?"

"How do you feel about breaking and entering?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," said Tucker. He rolled over on his bed to stare at the ceiling. "We do that pretty frequently."

"The city morgue. ME's office, specifically."

"There'll be guards," said Tucker, "what with the rumors and all."

"I've got the Box Ghost in my thermos. He's a good distraction."

"Transport?"

"Working on it. You'll take care of the security cameras and locks?"

"As long as they're digital," said Tucker, pulling up his data on the city cameras as they spoke. "The outside ones are, but I don't know about the insides. There might be analog machines in there. Tapes. Can't do anything to anything not on a network."

"I know, I know. Hey, maybe you could send a text to whoever's supposed to be guarding it tonight? Get them to leave?"

"Mmm. Maybe. If I could figure out who that would be."

"That could backfire, though," said Sam. "If they don't send messages like that. Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud."

Tucker pulled up a building map in another window. "I think we'll probably need more than just us, though. Remember the first time we had to move... it?"

"Yeah, but who else are we going to get to do this?"

"Jazz, maybe? She has a car, too. She can be transportation."

"Tucker, we're not looping Danny in on this. Do you really think that Jazz is going to be any more cool with this than Danny?"

"I don't know, Jazz can be pretty savage when it comes to protecting Danny."

The phone made Sam's considering hum crackle with static. "We do need transport," said Sam.

"Yeah. What were you looking into for that, anyway?"

"Ugh. Cult connections."

"Dude. Danny would not be happy if we gave his you know to a cult."

"Yeah, but he can steal it back from the cult with no guilt, unlike with the police."

"But what if he just gave it back to the police?" asked Tucker, looking up the city's purchasing records, trying to determine if they had any cameras that used tapes or that weren't internet connected in or near the morgue.

"Come on, he wouldn't do that."

"Probably not, but he does do weird stuff, sometimes. Like agree to an interview with the police and almost give away his secret identity."

"Yeah," said Sam. "You keep checking how feasible this is, and I'll call Jazz, okay?"

"Sure," said Tucker. "Talk to you later."

Jazz eased her car into the alley behind the building that housed the city morgue and ME's office.

"Stop here," said Tucker. "I can see their network."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Jazz whispered, putting the car into park.

"You don't have to whisper," said Tucker, sitting in the passenger's seat and typing away at his mobile workstation (he insisted that it wasn't a laptop). "No one is going to hear you. Okay, yeah, I'm on their wifi. Give me a minute."

"Take your time," said Sam, who was lying down in the back seat, dressed in blacks and grays, thin gloves over her hands. "Were you guys able to sneak out okay without Danny?"

"Yeah," said Tucker.

"It was a bit trickier without him," said Jazz. She was lucky that her parents wore earplugs to sleep, and she was fairly certain Danny was out of the house entirely. Fighting a ghost, probably. She always told him to wake her up before he left, so at least one person knew where he was and could help him, but he never did.

"Okay, Jazz, you can get closer, now, then Sam can hop out and Box 'em."

"That was fast," said Jazz, starting the car forward again.

"What can I say?" said Tucker. "Pure talen-"

Something in the car started shrieking. Jazz jumped, momentarily pressing too hard on the gas, and the car lurched forward. Sam swore.

"What is that?" asked Tucker, hands over his ears.

"Who care?" shouted Sam, over the noise. "Turn it off, turn it off!"

"It's the- It's the anti-ecto alarm! I told them not to put it on my car!" She leaned across Tucker and opened the glove box. Sure enough, a sleek chrome-and-green monstrosity sat in her poor, innocent glove box, flashing screens, dials, and indicator lights at them. The car cabin lit up like a disco.

Jazz and Tucker jabbed at buttons until the thing shut up.

"Okay," said Tucker. "I think we're going to have to abort. I'm gonna bet my aunt in Chicago heard that."

Jazz blushed. "Sorry guys," she said. She was going to have words with her parents after this. What if she'd been on the highway when that thing went off? They really didn't think these things through.

"We can't abort!" protested Sam. "We need to get the thing! Before they start running tests on it!"

Jazz started backing up the car.

"Yeah, I know, but we needed stealth. We don't have that anymore. Hold up, Jazz, I need to erase my presence from their system."

Sam grumbled. "What set it off, anyway. Boxy?"

"No, it looks like this was calibrated to only go off for a class seven or above," said Tucker, peering at the alarm.

"Class seven?" repeated Jazz. "But... You don't think Danny-"

"No, he's in the suburbs, dealing with Skulker." Jazz looked over at Tucker's computer to see the Ghost Watch app icon blinking in the corner of his screen. "This is Vlad. Crap."

The door made a thunk when Sam swung it too far out and it hit a wall. Jazz winced, but rolled down her window. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"We can't let Vlad get away with it!"

"And what are you going to do? Sam!"

"Getting back into the cameras," muttered Tucker, typing furiously.

"I'm calling Danny," said Jazz.

"Won't answer, he's fighting Skulker."

"Well, maybe he's finished!" said Jazz, dialing.

There was a flare of blue white light from up ahead and an angry shout. A glowing silhouette joined Sam's dark one. She had released the Box Ghost.

Jazz groaned. "Why did she do that now?"

"Shhh!" said Tucker. Something began to make little beeping noises. "Oh, jeez."

"What's that?"

"My ghost detector. It's tuned to Vlad." He opened his door half way. "Sam!" he shouted. "Incoming!"

She pressed herself to the side of the alley just in time to avoid a dark, horned figure swooping down on her from above. The Box Ghost was not so lucky.

"... and it's got a lower range," said Tucker, faintly.

Vlad Plasmius, rimmed in fuchsia light, floated twenty feet in the air. He had one hand around the Box Ghost's neck, the other full of neon pink fire. "Oh," he said, his voice echoing clearly in the alleyway. "It's you. What are you doing here, pest?"

"Uhhhhh," said the Box Ghost as Sam tried to make her way back to the car.

"And with Daniel's little friends no less?"

Sam broke into a run, slammed Tucker's door shut, yanked open the passenger door behind him, and slid in. Jazz wasted no time in slamming on the gas. If her car got a few scrapes, so be it.

There was a second Vlad behind them. She dropped her phone and slammed on the brakes. It was still ringing.

Smiling like a villain from a slasher movie, this second Vlad stepped intangibly into the car.

"Well, now," he said, smoothly. "What's this? Daniel's friends, but no Daniel? Whatever are the three of you doing here of all places? And at this hour?"

"What are you doing here?" asked Sam.

"No need to be rude, Samantha, dear," said Vlad. "Daniel doesn't know about your little excursion, does he? He's still across town, occupied with Skulker. You can tell him he won't have to worry anymore. I'll take good care of his body."

"Dude," said Tucker, "do you have any idea how gross that sounds?"

Vlad scowled and flicked his fingers. A ray of pink burned a quarter sized hole in the back of Tucker's headrest.

"If he had a problem with me taking it, he should have hidden it better," said Vlad. "I have no desire to have the existence of half ghosts revealed simply because Daniel hid his corpse in same park the police have their annual picnic!"

"Actually," said Tucker, "they usually have it in Marley Park. Aren't you the mayor? Shouldn't you know this?"

Vlad's scowl deepened further. "Drive safely, Jasmine." The duplicate dissolved into magenta and pink mist.

Sam sneezed. "Gross, I think I got him in my nose."

"Guys," said Tucker. "I've got alerts on the police lines, someone reported a disturbance. We really need to go."

"Vlad stole my," Danny waved his hands in the air in place of the word. "Are you serious? And you guys know, because you were going to try to steal it, and you didn't tell me?" His friends and sister looked sheepishly at the ground. "Why did you wait 'til now to tell me? I've been having anxiety attacks about it all night. I thought that the stupid ME had, I don't know, insomnia or something! It was Vlad?"

"Yeah," said Sam.

"Argh!" said Danny, starting to pace. Thank goodness his room was large enough to have a good pace in, even with three other teens in it. "I don't even want to think what he could be doing with it, but I am! What if- What if he goes full-bore Frankenstein and freaking reanimates it? What am I supposed to do then? And the police! They're going to think I did it, and there goes my credibility with the police!"

"You were on Ghost Watch fighting Skulker when it happened," offered Tucker.

"Ghosts can be in two places at once! The police know that! That's not a good enough alibi!" He put his hands on his face and groaned. "Am I going to have to break into Vlad's house? Again? He has to have a ghost shield up around it by now. And a human shield. And a ghost-human shield. I'm dead."

"You're not dead, Danny," said Jazz.

"I am dead. In ever sense of the word. Dead, I tell you, dead."

"Deep breaths," said Jazz. "You're hyperventilating."

It was true. He sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands. "I don't even know what secret lair he's brought it to."

"Wait, you mean, you can't tell where it is?" asked Sam.

"No," said Danny. "If I could, I would have known when Vlad took it."

There was a howl from downstairs as someone rang the doorbell. Danny jumped up. "I'll get it," he said. The group bundled down the stairs, trying to keep up with him.

Before opening the door, Danny glanced out the window.

"Oh, heck, it's them."

"Them who?" asked Jazz.

"Them. The detectives!"

"Alright," said Jones, looking at the place where Phantom's body should have been but wasn't. "This is officially too big for just one team. Paterson, Collins, what were you going to do today?"

"Interview high school kids," said Collins.

"Right. You're still going to do that. I'm going to get Murphy and Madison on the break-in, talking to witnesses, but first, your opinions."

"It wasn't Phantom," said Collins. "He could have just come in and taken it, at any time, not just the middle of the night."

"And he wouldn't have needed to take out the cameras and security system," said Paterson, looking over her shoulder at the tech people set up in one corner.

"It was a human. Or a ghost who didn't want us to know who they are," finished Collins.

"Great," said Jones. "That's what I thought, too. I was hoping you'd tell me I was wrong."

"Sorry, cap," said Collins.

"Go on, get out of here," said Jones, making a shooing motion.

"Still can't believe that his name is Wesley Weston," said Collins. "Or that he has a record for trespassing and stalking a classmate and claiming that he's a ghost."

"Want to bet that the classmate in question is Fenton?" asked Paterson.

"No thanks," said Collins. "It would have been better if the victim's name hadn't been withheld." He avoided the word 'wish.'

"Yeah, yeah," said Paterson. She knocked on the door.

A balding red haired man with thick glasses opened the door. "Oh," he said. "Please tell me this isn't about Wesley again. Do I need a lawyer?"

"He didn't do anything," said Collins, quickly. "We just want to ask him a few questions."

"It's unrelated to the stalking charges, which were dropped," added Paterson.

"Great," grumbled the man. He turned. "Wesley! The police want to talk to you!"

"Well," said Collins, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "That was enlightening."

"His room belongs on a movie set," said Paterson. "Jeez Louise, we're going to have to keep an eye on that kid. He has a freaking conspiracy theory board."

"It was pretty convincing, though. The kid can talk."

"We need to confirm his data, though."

"Yeah. Talk to more witnesses. See if Fenton really does run off whenever Phantom shows up."

"Fenton?" asked Paulina Sanchez, wrinkling her nose so prettily that Paterson suspected she practiced the expression in the mirror. "What about him? I thought we were talking about Phantom. Mi amor." She leaned a little farther into the doorway. She had not let the detectives inside. "Not Fenton."

"We're investigating a number of different angles, Miss," said Collins. "Now, if you could tell us, does he seem to leave class before ghost fights break out."

"Yeah," said Paulina. "He's got some kind of sixth sense thing going on, but he's such a coward. He only ever uses it to run away. Doesn't even try to warn anyone else! I don't know how his friends stand him."

"You're talking about Phantom?" asked Sophia LaMar. "You'll want my parents. I'm only an initiate. I'll go get them." She closed the door.

"Do we run away from the cult house?" asked Paterson.

"No, it'll make us look bad."

"You know," said Paterson, "if I'd wanted a lecture on how time doesn't exist, I'd drive over to the university and sit in on a class on relativity. Not whatever that was."

"At least now we know that ghosts can time travel?" asked Collins, weakly.

"Let's hurry up and get to Fenton's house," said Paterson. "Do you think he'll even talk to us?"

"Who knows?" asked Collins.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2020 #day 25

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loominggaia · 3 years

Text

Fanfic: New York (part 5)

Anon submitted a new chapter of their Looming Gaia fanfic “New York”! I’m going to put it under a cut due to content warnings, which Anon has provided below.

You can read the other parts under the fanfic tag.

Anonymous: Trigger warning for this chapter involves Issac and Jeimos being called racial and anti-trans slurs by a racist old man. You have been warned.

Issac just stood their as the old man launched himself into a full blown rant, screaming profanities and insults at him. Including a lot of what Issac could guess where more slurs as he used that n word a lot alongside some others. Issacs was just confused and upset, wondering what he did wrong to upset this guy? He got that answer when the old man started going on about how “lowly d@$kies like him need to respect their white superiors” and how all his kind should have been linched years ago.

Was that it?! Was this old man seriously attacking him like this over the color of his skin? What does that have to do with anything when their both human? What kind of strange hateful world has Evan gotten himself trapped in. Jeimos is was thinking the same thing, stepping in trying to deescalate the situation, tell the old man that Issac just wanted to help and this hateful rant was completely unnecessary. For their efforts the old man swung his cane at them, barely missing.

The old man turned his rant towards Jeimos, insulting their appearance, calling them an idiot snowflake for wearing fake ears and dying their hear red. He kept calling Jeimos male, they tried to squeak in a correction but only turned the old man even more hateful. Calling Jeimos a fruit cake and a special snowflake freak. The crowd was growing by the second, people holding their phone recording and trying to see what’s going on and people started yelling at the old man to stop, he continued.

The old man continued his hateful ranting, his words so passionately hateful that they would make an evanglite preacher blush in shame. A young dark skinned women stepped out of the crowd, a look of pure fiery defiance in her eyes as she stormed right up to racist old man, getting right in his face. “How about you take your racism and shove it up your ass and leave them alone you piece of shit boomer”!!! She yelled right in his face. The crowd awwwd at this and the old man stood their stupefied.

The old man, appalled at being interrupted tried to speak but was shut down by the young women. Every chance he tried to spew more hate she shot him down, calling him out for his racism and transphobia in front of the whole crowd. The crowd, inspired by her boldness, started booing the old man, insulting him and some even throwing trash at him. Isaac and Jeimos where just as absorbed by her as the rest of the crowd.

A young man popped out of a nearby store, wondering what all the noise was about. He walks up to the center of the angry mob and ask what’s happening, our pair and their defender explain what’s going on with the old man butting in trying to pin it all on them. The young man blushes in shame, revealing the old man to be his grandpa. He frantically apologizes and tries to usher his grandad away, revealing this was not the first time this has happened.

The old man calls everyone a bunch of overly sensitive snowflakes before indignity joining his highly embarrassed grandson. The crowd starts dispersing as the young women walks up to our pair, introducing herself as Jasmine and asking if their okay. They introduce themselves and thank her for stepping up and wonder what that old mans problem was. She ask that herself, wondering why some people have to be so hateful and backwards. The three part ways as the pair return to the hideout.

Kimi had invited Alaine and Lukus out to lunch as a thank you. The three stopping in a little bar & grill type place and being placed in a booth. Kimi went on asking them about themselves, curious to know who these two where. Lukus had decided that it be best not to reveal too much info about their mission or who they are so they kept their answers vague, only saying their foreigners.

That checked out as Kimi couldn’t quite place their accents and had to help them order, neither being able to read the menu. Alaine tried to order something alcoholic but got rejected since she didn’t have an id, much to her dismay. The three talked for alittle while and the pair found out alittle more about Kimi, finding out she’s a nurse at a out of town hospital and this was one of her day off. They didn’t ask about patients since she already told them she hasn’t seen Evan.

Kimi decides to pry alittle an ask them more about Evan. They tell her he’s a really close friend, and for Lukus his best friend and that he helped pull them both out of a bad spot in life. Kimi assures them that if this Evan guy where to come threw her hospital they’ll be the first people she calls but neither can give her a phone number. Their food arrives.

Reading this really highlights the differences between the real world the World of Looming Gaia. Despite freaky shit like floraspell and vampire torture dungeons, somehow LG just seems like a better place to be!

It is interesting to think about the discrimination these characters would face in the real world. They do face some level of discrimination in the series from time to time, but this just drives home how ridiculous real-world people are about the dumbest shit. Characters barely--if ever--even acknowledge skin color in the LG series, and when they do it’s just used as a descriptor. Their world is one where snake-people and mermaids and giant ogres are running around, so I think the humans of LG don’t scrutinize their differences nearly as hard as humans in the real world. Skin color is regarded the same way as hair or eye color; unimportant and irrelevant.

I knew Kimi must have had some ties to the hospital! I wonder if she can help them get Evan out. I’m excited to see where you take this story Anon, thanks again for the submission! TO BE CONTINUED...?

#fanfic #looming gaia

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blucmoon · 3 years

Photo

━ ☾ ⊹ ( im jaebum, cis male , he/him ) say hello to AE YONGGUK, the TWENTY SIX YEAR OLD that seems to have a lot in his hands with HIS job as a STALL OWNER, DRUMMER AND OCCASIONAL BARTENDER! beyond that, they seemed RESPONSIBLE AND TRUSTWORTHY upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of EVASIVE AND INSECURE though. HE seems to live in a 4 BEDROOM HOUSE in YUNHWA, SOUTH KOREA. anything else to add? oh, yeah! he also RUNS A STALL CALLED “KODACHROME” WHERE HE TAKES PHOTOS FOR IDS, SELLS PRINTS AS WELL AS BOOKS SESSIONS FOR PHOTOSHOOTS.

basic information

full name: ae yongguk

nickname(s): guk, yonggu (hasn’t figured out why)

age: 25

date of birth: january 6th, 1995

birthplace: seoul, south korea.

hometown: yunhwa, south korea.

current location: yunhwa, south korea.

ethnicity: asian.

nationality: korean

gender: cismale

pronouns: he / him

orientation: demiromantic, bisexual.

occupation: stall owner and drummer of a band called “crux”. sometimes he helps at his aunt’s bar in busan for some extra money.

living arrangements: house #4012, hwesakgu.

language(s) spoken: korean, english (conversational)

physical appearance

faceclaim: got7’s im jaebum “jb”

hair color: like almost everyone, he has naturally brown hair but throughout the years he’s dyed it blonde or black a couple of times. right now, it’s black and he has managed to grow it to a length he really likes below his chin. yongguk can be usually seen with his hair down and every so often he puts it up in a half updo. whenever the band has a gig, he exerts a little more effort (even if most of the time it doesn’t pay off).

eye color: brown. (likes colored contacts every now and then)

height: 179 cm

weight: 66 kg

build: lean person, with a good muscular frame.

distinguishing characteristics: two beauty marks right next to each other on his left eyelid.

tattoos: has a full sleeve on his left arm from shoulder down to a little above his wrist and another one his right forearm.

piercings: lobe and upper lobe in both ears, anti-tragus on the left one, double helix on the right, anti-eyebrow and nose on the right side of the face (won’t ever use jewelry during the day though).

clothing style: while he’s working at the stall he has a more casual style consisting of jeans, cargos, pants, button downs, sweaters. likes layering with denim shirts, flannels, jackets, windbreakers over t-shirts, etc. mostly in earthy colors, dark reds and blues, white, gray and black. no matter what though, he will always wear long sleeves, even in the hottest summer days and never roll them up, going to these lengths just to not draw any unnecessary attention. (he’s even gotten a fair amount of rash guards for those occasions when he feels like going for a swim.)

at the bar or at gigs, he’s usually clad in all black or dark tones. sleeveless shirts or those with short sleeves are his go-to, not nearly as concerned to conceal the ink over his arms from the public eye at night. he likes to choose style and comfort when performing, thus splurging a little more on his nightly outfits rather than those he uses on the daily. leather and denim jackets, bombers, sometimes harnesses, jeans in either black or leather, boots, sneakers, muscle shirts, graphic t-shirts, shirts with the first buttons undone and rolled up sleeves in dark, rich colors. style varies from street fashion to grunge to rocker depending on how he feels.

health

sleeping habits: goes to sleep really late but has no trouble waking up early to go to to work, though for the first couple of hours he’s awake and if he has gotten 4-5 hours only, he’d be kind of silent and unresponsive until getting that first cup of coffee. will likely nap before his shift at the bar only for an hour and a half tops.

eating habits: eats 3 - 4 times a day and gets easily hungry between meals. often seen snacking whatever he can.

exercise habits: doesn’t really exercise much constantly, but on the weekends he likes hiking or running around town.

emotional stability: 6/10

body temperature: average

addictions: none

drug use: experimentally a couple of times, hasn’t done it in a while.

alcohol use: socially, medium-high tolerance.

personality

label: the opaque (unable to be figured out; hiding behind a façade; not transparent.)

positive traits: reliable, responsible, hard-working, trustworthy, loyal, thoughtful, generous, creative, passionate, artistic, caring, considerate, devoted.

negative traits: defensive, evasive, cautious, indecisive, defiant, self-doubt, fluctuating self-esteem, conflict-averse, private, self-conscious, sensitive, unpredictable.

hobbies: starting songs he never finishes, watching the same show every year (avatar the last airbender) as well as his comfort movies, cloud/star gazing, jigsaw puzzles, origami, video games, playing guitar sometimes.

habits: knuckle cracking, muttering under his breath, snacking between meals, rubbing hands together, jaw clenching, gesturing while talking, rubbing the back of his neck, running hands through hair, drumming fingers, sings along to songs and sings gibberish for the parts he doesn’t know, doodles on any paper at reach, dozes off when bored/daydreams, bobs his leg while sitting.

zodiac sign: sun capricorn, moon pisces, rising scorpio (read as: impending disaster)

mbti: infp

enneagram: 6w5

temperament: melancholic

hogwarts house: ravenclaw

moral alignment: chaotic good

primary vice: wrath

primary virtue: diligence

element: water

expanded personality

yongguk has a strong tendency to appear quiet and reserved and it might come off as standoffish or easily confused with snoberish, which makes it worse when he doesn’t go out of his way to change this preconception about him. he needs a great deal of personal space, both physically and mentally, and any attempt to control him or forcibly schedule his activities will only strengthen his need for time alone.

he’s responsible, trustworthy and hardworking. relies heavily on his intuition to guide him and knows how to patiently wait as well as how to adapt to any circumstances. in yunhwa, he’s been forced to learn how to interact with the townsfolk and through the years he’s mastered the front he puts on in order to remain below the radar and not get any unnecessary attention; polite, helpful, sometimes even considered as a sweet guy, yongguk has no problem lending a hand to anyone that needs it.

however, in busan, his adaptability is also handy when it comes to dealing with customers. at the same time, it’s in these moments when he feels a little less restrained and allows himself to be less calculative: flirty, playful, sometimes misleading… he’s gotten in several problems because of this and yet he has no plans to stop it anytime soon.

yongguk is a little insecure and with a fluctuating self-esteem: sometimes he’s very well aware and confident on his skills and assets, but other times he will second-guess everything about himself. this combined with an strong fear of failure that stems from poor past decisions, makes him hesitate when it comes to making important calls that could potentially affect his future, but he knows how to play it off… most of the times.

despite appearing simple at a glance, yongguk is more than what meets the eye. friendly but private, polite but passionate about his beliefs, calm and sometimes expressionless. it’s not that he doesn’t have feelings - he actually runs quite deep and strong - it’s just that he conceals them under a mask of politeness because he’s unsure how to deal with them; he’s restrained when it comes to conveying emotion, but has a very deep care for his peers. might be awkward and uncomfortable with expressing himself verbally, but has a wonderful ability to define and reveal what he’s feeling on paper.

yongguk is genuinely interested in understanding others, a good listener, but will exclusively share his sorrows and woes only with the friends he trusts the most, unafraid to display his best and worst with them. his natural intuition allows him to sense the mood without the need of words. however, he can be quite impressionable and be easily influenced by the moods of others, which may often lead him to feel overwhelmed because of this.

incredibly curious, yongguk loves to explore with his hands and his eyes, touching and examining the world around him with cool rationalism and spirited curiosity. he explores ideas through creating, troubleshooting, trial and error and first-hand experience. yongguk can be a challenge to predict, even by the closest people to him. can seem very loyal and steady for a while, but he has a tendency to build up a store of impulsive energy that explodes without warning, taking his interests in bold, new directions.

with a good memory, he can recall experiences from the past down to smallest details. this is both good and bad: remembering the good memories is a way to ease himself when in stressful or sad situations, but he’s also prone to dwell on previous mistakes and regret them for a long time.

he’s not consistently angry. will either let the anger build up and release it all at once in an outburst or let it out slowly through small, critical remarks throughout the day. sometimes, both. he’s very difficult when annoyed, but it usually doesn’t last that long. a perfectionistic through and through, his main source of anger usually comes from things not being up to their standards. not good at sparing others’ feelings when he does become irritable. doesn’t like conflict and will go to great lengths to avoid it. in those occasions where he does have to face it, he will approach it from his feelings and mistakenly place little importance on who is right and who is wrong. yongguk will react to the emotions he’s going through and won’t care whether or not he’s right, which makes him appear irrational and illogic.

background (tldr)

his parents work in the field with doctors without borders.

yongguk was born in seoul and lived there for six years before his parents sent him to yunhwa to stay with his grandparents while they went abroad.

seven years passed, his parents would rarely contact them, much less visit them.

in the meantime, his grandma taught him how to play many instruments, being a musician herself and he was enrolled in kwangsook academy.

at thirteen they returned and guk moved with them back to seoul. around this time he became more reserved and quiet, the conversation always focused on his parents achievements and interests.

he made it his goal to become a doctor in hopes of having something in common with them. it was a way to seek their attention and approval.

a year later, a new plan was announced and yongguk was back in yunhwa with his grandparents. he was actually pretty happy about this.

started taking his studies seriously in his junior year of high school, going to the extent of dropping music and every other altogether.

he successfully managed to get into pusan national university, school medicine.

however, the whole experience was something he wasn’t ready for at all. for a year and half he struggled to keep up with his classmates and was utterly ashamed to compare his simple goal of wanting to get closer to his parents to the drive of everyone else.

he drops out after talking with his grandfather, a successful doctor himself.

initially excited to get the chance of truly discovering what he wanted to do, a single call from his father deterred his enthusiasm. he was supposed to return to yunhwa, instead he decided to move in with a friend and stay in busan… where everything goes downhill.

at only twenty and under the fake pretense that he’d get his act together, he allows himself to make mistakes and act recklessly, secretly wishing that’d be enough to get his parents attention.

he found temporary jobs all around busan and never lasted too long, but he still made money and that’s the only thing he really cared about at the moment. things aren’t great, but they aren’t that bad, or so he tells himself.

at twenty one, he gets a full sleeve on his left arm as well as many piercings. a couple of weeks after this, his grandparents decided to pay him a surprise visit and the state of his apartment as well as life… is not optimal.

coincidence or not, his parents video called them at that moment. it was the first time he heard from them in a year, and it was the last time as well.

seems like only his appearance was enough to finally trigger some sort of emotion from his father, but it wasn’t really the kind he was looking for. it was anger and he could clearly see the disappointment in his eyes. a heated argument ensues, one that ends with “you’re not our son anymore.”

perhaps it came a little too late, but it was the much needed wake up call to get his act together. not in order to mend the relationship with his parents, he knew that’d be impossible. but more so, for himself.

he perks up at a suggestion from his grandmother, one that was about a long forgotten hobby of his: photography. he remembers an old shoe box filled with polaroids and undeveloped films under his bed.

thus, he stays in busan after enrolling in a community college for a year-long photography class. around this time, one of his aunts offered him a job as a bartender in her bar and since then he’s been helping her every now and then. he says it’s for extra money, but in reality is a way to repay her from hiring him when no one else would.

after he was done with his course and had saved enough money to get a decent camera, he decided it was time to go back to yunhwa.

he returned three years ago. luckily, his reputation there remained intact and he wanted it to stay that way thus hiding the ink on his skin with long sleeves and removing the jewelry whenever he was outside.

yongguk moved back with his grandparents, this time to help them out and take care of his grandmother who started to get a little ill. he picked up playing and making music after finding his long abandoned drum set in the garage.

with the help of his grandfather, he opened his very own stall called “kodachrome” where he takes photos for ids, sells prints of his own work (mostly of yunhwa’s scenery) as well as books sessions for photoshoots.

a year and half ago, however, he had to find a new place. his grandparents decided to retire and move to jeju. thankfully, he managed to get a deal to rent a house from one of his grandma’s friends. the house was a little too big thus he decided to post an ad online looking for roommates to share the space and ease the expenses.

in the present, yongguk is still running his stall and getting contacted every blue moon by small influencers and event planners looking for his services. three nights a week, he goes back to busan to work for his aunt at the bar and every other night he has gigs with a band, which was randomly created after having far too many drinks with his roommates.

background (full)

tw: mentions of needles, tattoos, substances but nothing too graphic.

ae yongguk was the name given to you and and your endearing smiles as well as adorable dimples seemed to be more than enough to have everyone coddling and cosseting you from the get-go. nonetheless, permanency was never on your parents’ agenda. by the time you turned six, they moved away and you were shoved into your grandparents’ household in yunhwa.

it’s difficult to comprehend the sudden change, being told that you’d be living with them for some time. how much? they don’t specify, but the next thing you know is that you’re wordlessly bidding goodbye to your parents, who promised to write and come back for you soon. they didn’t. being part of doctors without borders and making it their goal to offer medical aid where it’s needed most, they put their humanitarian labor before parenthood.

the first letter you got arrived eight months after they left. there’s disappointment and there’s also heartbreak, but they don’t last long. you don’t allow them to regardless of your young age. instead, you focus on how your grandfather, despite having severe and strict ways, squeezed your shoulder and offered the small smile that you know all too well now. or how your grandmother, a renowned musician, didn’t hesitate to shower you in unconditional love. your education didn’t cease and your grandfather immediately enrolled you at kwangsook academy.

one of your most prominent traits is how transparent you are with your emotions and your grandmother easily learnt to read this. it was no surprise that the first time you saw her playing a beautiful song on her baby grand and your irises sparkled with curiosity, she immediately beckoned you closer. “hi, my love.” the elderly woman greeted while shifting a little so you could take a seat beside her. you meet her eyes and you wonder if she’s looking for anything by the time an easy smile appears on her face. “do you like music?” you’re unable to respond, but she must’ve seen something because, after that, she started teaching you the basics of piano. a couple of days later, she asked again and this time around, the answer naturally slipped out of your mouth: i love it.

for your regular classes, you were constant and responsible. sure, you enjoyed learning, but your interest wasn’t inherently there. it was just something you had to do. however, when it came to that newfound love for music of yours, you were the one with the initiative to ask for more lessons and practice whenever you had free time; first the piano, later the guitar and a couple of years later you made the stubborn decision to learn the drums.

it was nice staying in yunhwa, it brought you a comforting sense of belonging. it was the beginning of finding your own voice; discovering your likes and dislikes, some of your talents and even the chance of making friends. however, there was always a lingering question in the back of your mind and a deep sadness you rarely showed: when are my parents coming back?

they do, but only for a short period of time.

you had only turned thirteen, but the moment you saw them you were but an excited kid, joyously yelling and running to hug them, but they greeted you rather… frivolously. you try to ignore the breach between you and them, which you felt the most when you were holding your mother’s hand; her skin a couple of degrees colder than your grandma’s. they ask how you were doing and, in your frenzy, you start talking about everything that’s happened all this time only to be interrupted; the voice you were starting to grow inevitably drowned in the sea of their own achievements and stories.

it’s then that they tell you they’d move to seoul and you’re to go with them. apparently, with the intention to settle down and give it a go to having a normal family. you say goodbye to your grandparents, and unlike your mom and dad, the promises of staying in touch with them are real.

you were silent and reserved around your parents. you had to after learning that no matter what you tried to tell them, the conversation always ended being about what interested them. for a while you pretended to be okay with it, but soon you started wishing they paid as much attention to you as they did to their cause. it made you think that, by immersing yourself in that world, you might be able to keep them interested long enough or make them proud, and your very own obsession to become a doctor started right there. simple questions that had your parents perk up are what made you believe that your plan isn’t too far fetched.

luckily, you were able to retreat to your music whenever everything became too overwhelming, but even this wasn’t enough to stop an ever growing beast called dissatisfaction from making your chest its home. it increases in size and sometimes it’s so big that you’re unable to keep it in your ribcage, coming to light with rebellious little acts such as not doing your homework or bluntly strumming your guitar late at night. eventually, unspoken words and jumbled thoughts find their way into old notebooks full of an amateur’s unfinished songs.

it’s exactly a year later that they announced their new plans of moving to the other side of the world, plans that didn’t take you into consideration at all. it was disappointing, but not really surprising. still, you were able to comprehend the nature of their jobs, after all they were brilliant doctors and only a handful were willing to offer the assistance your parents did. you stop expecting things to change after the farewells you exchanged with them. you wished them the best and truly meant it.

going back to yunhwa at fourteen is something you anticipate; your grandmother welcomed you with your favorite food and your grandfather with a blank notebook. “for your songs, son” he said with that smile of his, learning about this new hobby of yours from one of the many mails you sent them. both were happy about your return and helped you pick up your studies where you last left them.

it’s in your junior year at high school when you truly get serious about your studies, medical school was your single goal. even though you’ve come to terms with the relationship you had with your parents, a hopeful part of you genuinely believed that becoming a doctor would help breach the distance.

and so you do, dropping music altogether and every other hobby that “needlessly” consumed your time and energy. it was admittedly exhausting and you were obviously miserable without playing any instrument. the sleepless nights and the isolation you brought upon yourself paid off the moment you received the news of your acceptance at pusan national university. that very night, you got a call from your parents congratulating you.

for the next year and a half, however, things prove to be extremely challenging when you find yourself amongst thousands of students whose drive and ambition is stronger than simply wanting to get close to their parents. it’s shameful, you admit and the constant pressure as well as the competitive environment soon takes a toll on you, but it was much needed for you to start questioning everything; yourself, your goals and if it was really what you wanted.

the person who helps you to fully come to this realisation is none other than your grandfather, another renowned doctor in your family. it’s shocking to hear him encouraging you to drop out and follow your dreams. truth is you were far too concerned chasing after a hopeless goal than to craft ambitions and dreams for yourself. still, you follow his advice even when you are completely at loss about what the next step would be.

if news of your acceptance travelled fast, so did the news of your departure. you got a call shortly after and all you heard was “we’re very disappointed” followed by radio silence before your father hung up. you were nineteen, about to turn twenty, when they last talked to you.

their silence becomes one of your many excuses to make mistakes and act recklessly; if your good behaviour and your previous little act didn’t catch their attention, this surely will. it’s your shield against the disapproval in your grandfather’s eyes, and that very shield is what stops him from stopping you. even when you told him you wouldn’t return to yunhwa, instead moving to one of your friend’s apartment in the heart of busan.

it’s amusing how easily your grandfather believes your fake promises of trying to get your life together and you feel awful for being such a good liar. you find decent jobs, but never stay too long. unnecessary fights with customers or blatant irresponsibility are the main reasons that force you to find a new one every couple of weeks. you’ve been many things: a busser, a server, even a mascot. you didn’t mind much as long as you were paid.

you willingly dive into a void filled with indulgence and bad decisions. all in order to not think, to not dwell on the future. you used every situation you could possibly get yourself into as a distractor from the painful reality. you were lost, so utterly lost.

twenty one comes around and you decide that, for the first time ever, you’re going to gift yourself something. a permanent work of art, its canvas your skin.

three monthly salaries were spent on black and red ink which reminded you of your favorite place. the needle pierces your skin once, twice, hundred times until your arm is almost fully covered… maybe it was a metaphor, a feeble attempt to display something bright and wonderful on someone who otherwise had long lost every trace of that. it was not enough and a couple of piercings follow in trying to beautify the sheer mess you’ve made of yourself.

some nights you question your own strength and sanity. you used to be pristine, someone to be proud of and an exemplary resident of the town you fondly call home. you were constant, had talent and a midas touch that turned meaningless words into beautiful songs, scribbles onto paper into melodies that had every listener humming along.

what happened to you, boy? says a voice in your head… or is it from your chest? is it the dissatisfaction you’ve tried to keep locked for years? all it took was to be called a disappointment once for you to willingly become one?

it consumes you and every passing day it becomes louder, but you’re stubborn and simply take it as a challenge to find new ways to drown it. headachingly loud music, poisonous substances, liquid trust or the ecstasy under someone’s fingertips… the city swallows you whole and provides you with momentary sweet oblivion but… is the aftermath of impeding remorse worth it? it is, you convince yourself while running back into it’s arms night after night.

one day, without warning, three knocks come onto your door and when you’re about to curse whoever disrupted your game, you’re met with your grandparents. your appearance is deplorable; bloodshot eyes, greasy hair and alarming signs of lack of proper sleep. it hurt to see your grandmother, as crystal clear as you wear, worried and at loss of words. a thing the city taught you was to be a pretender and so you ignore every sign of concern in their faces while smiling at them. “long time no see!” you say cheerfully.

it’s a quiet visit. they don’t know what to tell you or where to start, and neither do you feel a need to fill the awkward silence when your grandfather’s phone went off. he answers without thinking to a videocall and the voice that greets him has you freezing on your spot. father. your face falls and your eyes widen in obvious panic when he asks about you. the older man in the room seems to be equally as frantic as you when he glances at you, taking in how you look before your father speaks again.

“oh, is yongguk there? let me talk to him.” his authoritative tone was enough to have your grandfather turning the phone towards you. it’s late, far too late to fix yourself or even try to hide the glaringly bright red ink on your arm. so, in your frenzy, you decide to play cynical. what else could you lose, right? “hey, dad.” you greet with a shameless smile upon your lips. “your timing is as impeccable as ever.”

the argument that ensues forces you to retreat to your room and you thank whatever universal force that your roommate decided to have a weekend-long trip. it’s a heated fight, and you realize midway through that this is the longest conversation you’ve ever had with your father. why is it that the most display of emotion you get from him is when you don’t follow his ridiculous standards? he gets louder, so do you and it escalates to irreversible words. the last thing he says is “you’re not our son anymore” followed by silence.

then you laugh.

you laugh over the irony of an absent father saying such a thing. you laugh because you don’t want to allow him see you hurting. you laugh at how fucked up the whole situation is. “doesn’t make a difference, does it?” you say between unabashed chuckles. “not like you ever acted like a father, anyway.” and you hang up, your legs giving in and only then did you notice that your whole body had been shaking this whole time.

you muffle a scream on a pillow while feeling so alone and like the butt of the cruelest joke. you want to hate your father and your mother. you want to despise them for their horrible behavior. instead, you find yourself crying like an abandoned kid wanting, yearning for the love that wasn’t given to him. you want to run, to disappear, to hide where no one can find you.

then, two arms wraps around you and even though your grandmother is a little smaller than you, you find yourself feeling protected under her embrace. shortly after comes a pat on your head from your grandfather. you look up at those brown eyes full of wisdom and, when he tells you “everything will be okay, son.” you wholeheartedly believe him

because, a year later, things started looking up.

#INFO.TXT #YONGGUK.EXE #LOC.YUNHWA

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mothergoosesstuff · 4 years

Text

We need more dad-mus so here i am to save ya all.

Roman wasn't having the best day so far. He honestly didn't have a good day since Janus got accepted to the light sides. He just spends all day fighting monsters in his side of imagination, to let out his frustracion. But today he didn't feel angry. Just sad, and kinda empty. He wasn't in the mood to fight monsters so now he was thinking about what else could he do without the others. Then he had an idea.

He went to his brothers side of the imagination. He wanted to see how his brother is doing and remind himself why he doesn't go to his side often. He looked around thinking where he should go. Then he heard music somewhere, coming from a big castle, so he decited that he's going to see what's going on. When he opened the castle door and went inside he felt a wierd shock of energy. Like he just went thrue some sort of magic barier. He ignored it and followed the sound of music. He ended up in a garden, where he saw a girl, around 17 years old. She had while wavy hair, around to her shoulders, purple eyes, and almost white skin. She had black lipstick on, and an dress to her knees. The top was black with yellow tentacles on them, and a purple skirt. She was also wearing long black socks, and white ballet shoes. Probobly beacuse she was dancing. She had black gloves on with small diamonts on then, and chains on her hands and legs. She looked very familiar but he couldn't tell why. When she finallt saw him just staring at her, the music stoped and she looked at him with a confused smile.

,,Fancy meeting you here"

Now he knew why he felt like that.

,, Dragon witch."

He said. He never Actually saw her face before since she was always hiding it.

,,No shit, Sherlock."

,,What are you doing here, and what's with those.."

He pointed to her hands. She smiled again.

,,You should know. But i know you are a dumbass so i'll explain it for you. Yellow left and so dad had no one left, exept for me. He had a one big breakdown, and i comforted him, with just helped him realise i'm all he has. So he locked me up here, with those anti-magic gloves on to make sure i won't leave him like you or yellow."

That was a lot to proces for Roman. Hw had questions but since he was arleady called out by someone who is bearly old enought to drive that he was slow he decited he will figure it out on his own. Yellow, that must be Deceit. She said Deceit left her dad? And he also did? That doesn't make any sense. The only person they both left was-

,,REMUS IS YOUR FATHER?!"

,,I mean... Yeah i guess?, If you can prove me he's not then maybe i'll change my mind i'm open to new ideas."

,, Remus is your father."

,, You're reapeting yourself"

,,He raised you."

,,Yeah, that's kinda what most fathers do-"

,,Wow, i feel sorry for you"

That's when they both went quiet. Dragon Witch didn't say anything, she just started at him, thinking about what he just said.

*Begining of a Flashback*

,,Dragon fly!"

yelled happily Remus, searching for his doughter.

,,I wanted to show...!"

Remus's smile disappeared as soon as he saw his 6-year old. She was sitting on the floor, crying her eyes out, with her arm bleeding like hell, with dark stains on her clothes.

,, Holy shit, what happend to you?!"

Asked Remus rushing to Juniper in panic, reaching to grab the arm but she didn't let him.

,,No! It hurts."

She said thrue tears. Remus took a step back still looking at her with worry in his eyes.

,, Alright, at least tell me what happend."

He said, and Juniper looked away in shame.

,,I won't be mad, i promise"

He said quietly, running his fingers thrue her hair. She stayed quiet for a few seconds more before she said:

,,I went to the imagination, without guards. I didn't want to bother them and wanted to see the places you don't let me. I'm sorry"

After that she huged her father, and burried her face in his neck so she didn't have to see his reaction. Remus stayed quiet for a minute just hugging her back.

,,I mean, i don't know what to tell you, there was a reason why i didn't let you go there. This place is a mess and you act like you belong more in my brothers side so i can't say i'm suprised that's what happend."

He said finally, only hearing more sorries from the child in his arms. He tried moving his hand gently to heal her but she stoped him again.

,, Don't, it will hurt!"

She said, and Remus standed up thinking how is he going to make her let him heal her. His eyes fell on an old gramophone that he putted there so Juniper could listen to music insted of sneaking out. He slowly went up to it.

,,What is your favorite song again?"

,,Three cool cats"

He played the music and walked back to his bleeding child.

,,May i have this dance?"

He asked bending and reaching out his hand. The little girl giggled and grabed the hand standing up. They danced and spinned around the room, and Juniper forgot about her arm and Remus was able to heal it. When the music was almost ending Remus picked her up and spined around in the air, with made the little girl giggle again. When he stoped she realised the arm wasn't bleeding anymore. She looked at her dad, questions in her eyes.

,, Don't do this again, please"

Was the only anser she got. They hugged each other not saying anything until:

,,I promise, i won't"

*End of a flashback*

,,I don't think he's bad."

She suddenly said. Roman looked at her.

,,I can't see him in a role of a father ever."

,,And you are supposed to be the creative one?"

She asked with a wicked smile on her face, beacuse she could creally see that she found his soft spot and she wasn't going to be nice after he left her father.

,, Honestly, give him some credit. Dealing with me isn't easy, with you should see after our fights. He just does everything he can to protect me."

Congratulations you survived. People on discord made me post it, id not them this would never see the light of day beacuse i think it's shit.

#sander sides #dragon witch #Remus Sanders #remus angst #sympathetic remus #roman sanders #father Remus #Remus Sanders angst #Dad-Mus #dragon witch angst

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kny111 · 5 years

Link

As an instrument of oppression and control, modern police departments are deeply rooted in some of the most racist and repressive colonial institutions of the United States. Since the establishment of the first policing systems like the Night Watch, the Barbadian Slave Code, the urban Slave Patrols, to the “professional” police forces and other law enforcement agencies, every one of these organizations has had the task of surveilling and controlling the population while imposing and upholding colonial law mainly through the use of force and coercion.

US police force was modeled after the British Metropolitan Police structure ; however, the modus operandi –especially when policing poor working class, migrant, brown and black neighborhoods- in the present, resembles the procedures of the 18th century Southern slave patrols, which developed from colonial slave codes in slave-holding European settlements in the early 1600s.

Colonial Law Enforcement

Essentially every colony in the western hemisphere, be it French, Spanish, Portuguese or English, had difficulties when it came to controlling its slave population and designed similar systems to manage the problem.

As early as the 1530s, runaway Indigenous and African slaves already presented a problem for Spanish invaders in the regions now known as México, Cuba and Perú. Some of the first recognized precursors of slave patrols deployed in the 1530s were the volunteer militia Santa Hermandad or the Holly Brotherhood, which chased fugitives in Cuba. The Hermandad had been established in Spain in the 15th century to repress crime in rural areas and then transferred to the Spanish colonies. The Hermandad was later replaced by expert slave hunters known as rancheadores, who regularly employed brutal tactics. These slave catchers used ferocious dogs to capture escapees. In Perú, enslaved and free blacks “owned by the municipality of private individuals” aided the Spaniard Cuadrilleros in Lima in the apprehension of runaways starting around the 1540s.

Administrators of the Spanish and Portuguese empires passed laws to handle slave-related situations, including the capture and punishment of renegades. Eventually, every Caribbean island and mainland settlements created their own rules and regulations and used a combination of former slaves, paid slave catchers, and the militia as apprehenders, all of them forerunners of patrols.

By the 1640s, Barbados, an English colony, had put in place a formal military structure which included white males, obviously but also indentured servants and even free blacks whose primary functions were patrolling slaves and protecting the island of foreign attacks.

“Though there be no enemy abroad, the keeping of slaves in subjection must still be provided for.” - Barbados Governor Willoughby

Years later other English island and mainland colonies adopted the Barbadian slave code as model, including Jamaica in 1664, South Carolina approximately in 1670, and Antigua in 1702.

Slave patrols in the Southern Colonies

The slave patrols emerged from a combination of the Night Watch, used in Northern colonies, and the Barbadian Slave Code initially employed by Barbadians settlers in South Carolina in the early 1700s.

As Southern colonies developed an agricultural economic system, slave trade became indispensable to keep the economy running. African slaves soon outnumbered whites in some colonies and the fear of insurrections and riots led to the establishment of organized groups of vigilantes to keep them under control.

In The Suppression of the African Slave-Trade to the United States of America 1638 – 1870, W.E.B Du Bois quotes South Carolinian authorities: “The great number of negroes which of late have been imported into this Colony may endanger the safety thereof.” And “…the white persons do not proportionately multiply, by reason whereof, the safety of the said Province is greatly endangered.”

All white men aged six to sixty, were required to enlist and conduct armed patrols every night which consisted of: Searching slave residences, breaking up slave gatherings, and protecting communities by patrolling the roads. Historian Sally E. Hadden, notes:

“In the countryside, such patrols were to ‘visit every Plantation within their respective Districts once in every Month’ and whenever they thought it necessary, ‘to search and examine all Negro-Houses for offensive weapons and Ammunition.’ They were also authorized to enter any ‘disorderly tipling-House, or other Houses suspected of harboring, trafficking or dealing with Negroes’ and could inflict corporal punishment on any slave found to have left his owner's property without permission. ‘slave patrols’ had full power and authority to enter any plantation and break open Negro houses or other places when slaves were suspected of keeping arms; to punish runaways or slaves found outside their plantations without a pass; to whip any slave who should affront or abuse them in the execution of their duties; and to apprehend and take any slave suspected of stealing or other criminal offense, and bring him to the nearest magistrate.”

Free blacks and “suspicious” whites who associated with slaves were also supervised. Slaves lived in a state of trauma and paranoia due to the terror that these patrols instilled in them. Various former slaves from different colonies provide an account of their daily lives.

“[A runaway] was with another, who was thought well of by his master. The second of whom… killed several dogs and gave Messrs, Black and Motley (patrollers) a hard fight. After the Negro had been captured they killed him, cut him up and gave his remains to the dogs.” - Jacob Stroyer (Neal, 2009)

“Running away… the night being dark… among the slaveholders and the slave hunters… was like a person entering the wilderness among wolves and vipers, blindfolded.” - Henry Bibb (Neal, 2009)

Rather than punishing, the primary purpose of this racially focused law enforcement was to, “prevent mischief before it happened”. Racial profiling became the fundamental principle of policing and the definition of law enforcement came to be white –and whitewashed- patrolmen watching, detaining, arresting and beating up people of color.

In an effort to establish a consistent surveillance and identification system, the slave pass, one of the earliest forms of IDs, was created to prevent indentured Irish servants from fleeing their master’s property, to identify Native Americans entering white colonies to trade, and to limit mobility of black slaves, of course. Still, thousands of slaves and indentured servants managed to escape into Spanish Florida, the Appalachian Mountains and the big coastal towns where, “a fugitive could mix into the large populations of free blacks and skilled slaves... (surviving)… much like the undocumented immigrants of today, hated and hunted by white society but useful to small craftsmen and other employers who hired their labor at submarket wages.” (Parenti, 2003)

After the Civil War white slave owners realized that race as obvious criteria for conviction or punishment was no longer “legal” – in theory at least. Slave patrols were officially terminated at the end of the Civil War, but their functions were taken over by other Southern racist organizations. Their law-enforcement aspects; detaining “suspicious” persons, limiting movement, etcetera, became the duties of Southern police agencies, while their more violent and lawless aspects were taken up by militia groups like the Ku Klux Klan.

1800s; The Birth of the Modern Police Departments

Establishing the exact date to mark the beginning of modern policing in the United States is difficult, since the evolution of older systems like the Constables, Night Watches, and slave patrols into the “new police” was slow. However, we can take the mid-1800s as the years in which the present system of law enforcement dependent on a permanent agency with full-time paid officers was first conceived.

Among the first cities in the country to create such agencies were Boston in 1838, New York in 1845, Chicago in 1851 and St. Louis in 1855; and again, the motive behind the creation of these “peacekeeping” forces was the need to control the “unruly” classes as the emerging industrial economy and new Victorian standards of “morals” demanded it.

Starting in the early 1830s, a chain of riots triggered by race, religious and labor disputes, swept across various cities in the northern region of the country and authorities responded by assigning their Night Watch patrols the riot control function, but they soon learned that a volunteer watch system was ineffective. Day watches also proved to be useless. Full-time, police officers were needed.

“The process of capitalist industrialization led to increasing economic inequality and exploitation and class stratification. Rioting became an essential political strategy of an underclass (a surplus population) and a working class suffering this increasing economic deprivation. The modern system of policing evolved to control this riotous situation.” (Eitzen, Timmer 1985)

“New York City had so many racial disorders in 1834 that it was long remembered as the "year of the riots”. Boston suffered three major riots in the years 1834 to 1837, all of which focused on the issues of anti-abolitionism or anti- Catholicism. Philadelphia, the ‘City of Brotherly Love,’ experienced severe anti-Negro riots in 1838 and 1842; overall, the city had eleven major riots between 1834 and 1849. Baltimore experienced a total of nine riots, largely race-related, between 1834 and the creation of its new police in 1857. In a desperate attempt to cope with the social disorder brought about by this conflict, America's major cities resorted to the creation of police departments.“ (Williams, Murphy 1990)

The concept of a professional police force was copied from London’s Metropolitan Police Department which had been established in 1829. These “peace” agents were called Peelers or Bobbies after Sir Robert Peel, founder of the institution. The American version of these agents were known as coppers, because they wore copper stars as badges on their uniforms. They were available 24/7, carried guns and were “trained to think of themselves as better than the working class they were recruited from.”

In order for the police force to be effective, Peel believed it should work under his Principles of Law Enforcement which explicitly stated an ideology summarized in the following nine points:

The police exist to prevent crime and disorder.

Police must maintain public respect and approval in order to perform their duties.

Willing cooperation of the public to voluntarily observe laws must be secured.

Police use of force depends on the degree of cooperation of the public.

The police must be friendly to all members of society while enforcing the law in a non-biased manner.

Use of physical force should be used to the extent necessary to secure the compliance of the law.

Police are the public and public are the police.

Police should protect and uphold the law not the state.

Efficiency is measured by the absence of crime and disorder.

These principles seemed flawless in theory but in practice they would prove difficult to implement in the United States. Soon after their establishment, police agencies were taken over and driven by political forces. Politicians would hire, and appoint police employees and high ranking officers as they pleased resulting in corruption, nepotism and favoritism being common in police departments around the country. Years later, reformers would try to purge these and other dishonest manners from the police of the “political era”.

Being a British model, the new police had a strong Victorian influence which placed yet another burden on the back of those being monitored; namely, the working-class. Victorian morality dictated strict legal definitions of public order and behavior, especially for womyn who already had to cope with gender and class constraints.

“(W)omen were held to higher standards and subject to harsher treatment when they stepped outside the bounds of their role. Women were arrested less frequently than men, but were more likely to be jailed and served longer sentences than men convicted of the same crimes.”

"Fond paternalistic indulgence of women who conformed to domestic ideals was intimately connected with extreme condemnation of those who were outside the bonds of patronage and dependence on which the relations of men and women were based.” (Williams, 2007)

Despotic hierarchical power relations not only between womyn and men, but also between, lower classes and the state itself were further exacerbated by the introduction of this new policing force as “immoral” conduct, other working-class leisure-time activities and poverty were officially criminalized and more arrests were made based on discretion and initiative of government officers rather than in response to specific complaints.

By the early 1900s, the police was well established as the most notorious state authority figure. Government became omnipresent by means of a more sophisticated surveillance system -over extensive geographical areas- that included, motorized patrols, wanted posters, informants, lineups, detectives, and radios.

“The Reform Era”

The 1920s-1930s reformers’ attempt to remove political influence from police – and vice versa- gave way to a more “professional” police, but in principle it remained the same.

A soft approach for restructuring the institution was taken at first. This proposal estimated that police officers could turn into some sort of “social scientist” collaborating with social workers and teachers to understand what the roots of crime and social instability were. In the end, a more enforcement-like strategy, with a “scientific and technologically advanced methodology of social control” which included a “machine-gun” school of criminology and a stricter legalistic framework was developed. In 1934, FBI Director, J. Edgar Hoover, would attach the concept of war to policing when he declared the first “war against crime”.

“Hoover liked to compare law enforcement officers to the soldiers and sailors who protect the state in times of war. Law enforcement was an instrument of law against disorder, a strategic weapon of war to be used against an internal enemy that was to be eradicated as an enemy of state” (Barry, 2011)

This reform coincided with one of the hardest times for the working class in the country. For disenfranchised workers, strikes and riots –especially during and economic depression, became the way to express discontent not just over low wages and working conditions, but over a lack of economic and political power as well. This obviously meant a threat for corporate elitists and their governmental allies, who didn’t hesitate in sending their armies of police officers to break and repress sit-ins and rallies. Soon, the police were on the streets carrying out some of the bloodiest massacres of “enemies of the state” during the strike waves of the 1930s like: The Memorial Day Massacre in Chicago (1937), the Battle of the Running Bulls in Flint (1937), the Battle of the Overpass in Dearborn (1937), and Bloody Friday in Minneapolis (1934) to mention a few.

In the next decades, the police, FBI, DEA and other law enforcement agencies, would repress, infiltrate and destroy organizations like the Black Panthers Party, American Indian Movement, and the Weather Underground, which the state and the owning classes perceived as threats to the capitalist white supremacy.

Law Enforcement In The Present

Based on the experience attained dealing with Indigenous Nations, African slaves and other threats, the state has constantly updated and perfected its strategies. One practice remains untouched in today’s policing and law enforcing methods, though; the tradition of upholding the kind of laws that made possible slavery, racism, segregation and discrimination in the country.

In the 21st century, police attitude towards poor communities of color still resembles that of its precursors 300 years ago. If we substitute the words "slave patrols" for "police departments" and to the list of "Native Americans" and "slaves" we add "undocumented migrants", "Muslims", "political activists", etcetera, we’ll see that the narrative history of our peoples in the United States hasn’t changed much.

Analyzing police slogans like: “To Protect and to Serve” and “Committed to Excellence”, in a historical context, it becomes obvious that they’re not directed at the policed neighborhoods but at those in positions of power, since most of the time interactions and “dialogue” with working class, migrant, and communities of color in general, are reduced to what has legitimated the institution in the first place; abusive behavior and the monopoly of “legalized” violence.

In conclusion, a phrase by Williams Hubert and Patrick V. Murphy is enough to describe the history of law enforcement in the United States:

“Policing by the law for those unprotected by it”

#news #policing #policy #internet surveillance #surveillance state #police state #surveillance capitalism #capitalism #corruption #slave patrol #slave patroling #journalism #history #white history #transatlantic slave trade #slave trade #slavery

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blue-honeycomb · 4 years

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Escape Artist: Chapter 1 [Aizawa x Reader]

Decided to play around with this for a bit before going back to my other stuff.

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1

---

The Escape Artist stared at the television screen with incomprehension, blinking once, twice, until a small hand smacked her dead center in the face. The force was enough to shake her from her thoughts and she cast a sidewards glare at the little brat sitting casually beside her.

Big, off-white eyes stared unflinchingly into her own, equally white, featureless face twisting into some form of expression that was lost on her. Luckily, the little hellion's hair was prone to flashing colors with their emotions, so she at least has some idea as to what they wanted. Even if that idea was vague at best.

"How was I supposed to know there was a whole pack of heros right there?" She huffed, casting her eyes back to the news special broadcasting her latest anti-kidnapping kidnapping with concerningly clear footage. Like, crystal clear HD, not some fuzzy security camera but media quality definition; the kind that got you recognized.

On the screen was a video of her popping into existence in a police station not even 3 yards from where a group of heros and police officers were finishing up an interview, setting the child she'd brought in a chair as he chewed on the mochi she'd thought to bring with her for just such a purpose. As though in slow motion, she could see her screen self whip around and suddenly freeze, staring directly at the heros, and consequencely the cameras, before disappearing once more. Honestly, it was pretty comical, and apparently, a good portion of the in studio reporters seemed to think so too.

"That," She pointed at the screen for emphasis while leveling the yellow flashing, blank-faced little shit a glare. "Was not intentional, no matter what you little misfits seem to think." From the shadow of the color flashing cretin popped another one, this one gray haired and black eyed, grinning widely at her with his wickedly sharp teeth.

"Don't make up shit just cuz you can't understand me. Don't think I'm not on to you, shark boy." Not that any of her brats ever listened to a thing she said anyway. The only one who ever seemed to try was Spitter, but that was because the boy couldn't say no to anyone ever, so it was never satisfying. Hard to feel victorious about getting your way when it took years of abuse to make the person (a little fucking boy) willing to heel on command. Thinking about how'd she'd found the little guy made her stomach turn.

Moving on before she breaks something.

Shark brat said something about hero costumes to Whiteout Brat and a lot of gesturing took place, as well as a good bit of yelling. Thankfully they lived far enough underground to avoid being hear by any passerbys. Escape Artist turned away while they were distracted and let them entertain themselves while she thought about what she'd just seen.

It was the first time the public had seen conclusive evidence of her existence outside of a few shitty grocery store video feeds, and the entirety of Japan seemed to be eating it up. Words like vigilante and uncatchable were being tossed around, as well as theories about teleportation quirks and being a greiving mother seeking vengeance. All these things would have made her snort in amusement had it been even a few months ago. But now? Now she couldn't afford to get caught or have a hoard of glory-hounds on her trail. Too many mouths to feed, for one, and secondly, too many little bodies following her when she wasn't looking. Anything could happen with the added variable of nosy superpower enhanced dogooders.

The problem with working with homeless, traumatized children is that after you've taken care of them for a while they come to expect you to actually take care of them. As in, not just feeding them occasionally and giving them a place to crash, but actually filling that parent shaped whole in their lives and taking over all the responsibilities that comes with it. Like protection, love and trust. And time. Especially time. So much more than she has to spare.

So they've taken to following her when she's not watching closely enough, and that terrifies her because she can give them love and trust in abundance, but protection is something she just can't provide. She simply isn't strong enough to take them with her everywhere she goes, let alone into a situation that may one day be her last.

Speaking of situations.

It was time to go out and get more food. While nothing went bad in her inventory, thank God, it never actually stayed full with how many mouths needed feeding everyday. Shark boy alone could put away half his body weight in a single sitting if given the chance, and even that's got nothing on Bull or Hot Shot. Honestly, and though Escape Artist would never say it aloud, Bull's vigorous appetite may have been the reason she was abandoned in the first place. She just had to eat so much to function that even with the triweekly raids Escape Artist could barely keep up with the ever growing demand.

And then there's Hot Shot. Nicely put, he was a rather enthusiastic young boy in possession of a very destructive, fuel-exhaustive quirk neither she nor he had any idea how to train. It wasn't until he'd joined her merry little band that she'd learned the location of every clothing store in the city. Every single one of them.

Her life sometimes, she swears.

There was a shattering sound in the designated kitchen area, followed by a high pitched screech that fell somewhere between a frog croak and a chirp. Not even a second later the sound of footsteps darting through the tunnels at frankly ridiculous speeds creeked overhead, followed closely by the wall rattling thud of Bull chasing right after.

Escape Artist sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling slightly. Beside her, Shark boy leapt to his feet in a dead run to go watch the drama unfold with unholy glee, Whiteout following at a slightly more moderate pace. Not even 8 in the morning and already the chaos had begun.

Her head thud quietly against the back of the couch. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

---

Escape Artist was more than a bit concerned by what had happened on her way back home, but she supposed it could have been worse. For one thing, she wasn't dead, and for another, neither was the man she'd smacked headfirst into (or more accurately, he'd smacked face first into her). Unfortunately for the man though, the impact had left him notably unconscious and maybe a little bruised around the nose and forehead. In short, she done fucked up and this time it didn't involve another mouth to feed… she hoped. She didn't know if she had the patience needed to take care of a full grown man on top of the 8 kids at home and the 2 feral cretins that visited occasionally.

It'd been a simple case of bad luck all around, honestly. She'd just finished robbing the local Walmart (yes, it still exists and she still doesn't know how to feel about that months on) and was coming out of ID when she's suddenly been thrown to the ground by a speeding black mass all but flying through the darkened alley. Her first thought upon getting over her shock was to thank whatever was watching over her that night it wasn't a car. Her second was to fret over whoever she'd just gotten killed.

Luckily, it hadn't been a car and the stranger had survived the encounter. So, all was good in her books, besides the obvious part where the guy was laying unconscious in an alley and sporting an obvious hero getup in the shadier part of this district. If that wasn't asking for a knife in the back than she didn't know what was.

So now here she was, sitting across from the unmoving lump of man, chin in hand and elbows firmly planted on her thighs. She'd covered him up with a blanket from her inventory some time ago to keep him at least somewhat warm as the night gradually grew colder around them. She didn't think she'd manage to get the thing back before the guy was up and trying to kick her ass, but Hot Shot needed to learn to control his flames anyway and maybe going coverless for a while was just the motivation he needed to do so. She pointedly didn't think about the extra comforters she'd grabbed because she knew the first wouldn't last three nights in the little shit's care.

She blinked slowly, eyes roaming over what little bit of the man she could make out from under the blanket. Long, dark hair curling over the blanket and his heavily stubbled face (she'd picked the wild mass up off the filthy ground because ew), long lashes and a narrow, masculine face. He was attractive for sure, though the dark lines around his eyes, nose and forehead made him seem almost sickly pale in the unflattering street light. What she noticed most though was the peeks of sleek, firm muscle that the fluffy covers, ridiculously huge scarf and baggy clothing couldn't hide.

She was a woman with damn human needs. It'd been at least 3 years since she's gotten any and she was long overdue. She felt strongly that she should be able to appreciate this man's undeniable beauty so long as she kept her hands to herself and didn't do anything creepy like take pictures or some shit. She blatantly ignored the little voice whispering about how equally creepy it was to watch someone sleep without their consent.

It was also creepy how the observe function of her quirk let her learn a few tidbits about the man without any conscious effort, but for the most part she ignored the notifications hovering around the man all together. It wasn't like she'd ever meet the guy again after this, unless he was trying to arrest her of course. Either way, she doubted learning this guy's name or whatever was really worth invading his privacy anymore than her mere existence did. She'd like to think she has some standards.

In her uncharacteristic moment of distraction she failed to notice the subtle shift of the man's head before he went eeriely still. It wasn't until she was shifting to get more comfortable and noticed that a section of his hair was misplaced that she realized her mistake.

It happened too fast for her to properly react. With a quiet that belied the strength behind the attack, the man launched himself into her personal space and had her wrapped head to toe in the weird scarf he had with him. On instinct she tried to open her ID, but with a cold chill of realization discovered she couldn't get it to activate. In fact, her whole world seemed to suddenly swirl on its axis and for the first time since she'd come to this place her mind blanked with true, mortal terror.

His eyes glowed deep, sinister red against the shadows spread over his handsome face, dark hair whipping above his head like a dark, inhuman halo. Those muscles she'd been admiring just moments ago were suddenly the weapons of intimidation they were meant to be, something that made her heart race and quake with fear.

And her body. Maybe even worse than the sudden influx of terror was the sudden aknowledgement of her body's long forgotten functions. Where once she was satisfied she was now hollow, the movement of long unused organs felt like insects crawling though her body, scratching and nipping as they went.

Suddenly, the world was not just a thing that could be walked away from with a single though and a armful of goods. For the first time since she'd opened her eyes in that alleyway nearly a year ago, it was just her, the world and all the dangers that came with it staring her down with burning red eyes.

For the first time since she received her quirk she was well and truly alive.

"Escape Artist, was it."

#BNHA #Escape Artist AU #Gamer AU #Aizawa Shouta #Aizawa x Reader

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oracleofbullshyt-blog · 5 years

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Ben - New Home

Here’s the first of a new series of short stories of how each crew member came to the ship.

As requested here’s Ben’s story.

Also i don’t feel like doing a new chapter so if anyone wants another story, please let me know of who you would like next.

----------------------------------------

Ben’s story:

The Dreadnought Defiance came into rest at the docking bay, her impressive length of 1500 metres struggling to fit onto the landing pad of the military Cloud City floating above the Pacific Ocean. The docking clamps locked into place and the ship settled as the ground crew started the refuelling process and munitions checks, ‘’Groundcrew-man Lowe’’ The Bay manager shouted over the rumble and noise of the proceedings, ‘’Present Sir’’ Benjamin Lowe came running up, noting the panicked looked on the officer’s face. ‘’Get this dreadnought reloaded as soon as possible, don’t worry about refuelling. There’s a large fleet presence in the outer solar system requesting through-passage but the admiralty is getting nervous, we need to be ready.’’

Ben ran off startled, shouting as he went. He collected as many grounds crew and working android as he could find that weren’t busy or had menial tasks to do, and repurposing as many trucks as they could find they started loading and readying the munitions. The large bulky loading suit an androids programming had filled came towards him, Ben looked up at the impressive 9 foot figure in front of him ‘’I’ll need a name for the software in that suit buddy’’, The android looked at him levelly thinking about his answer before replying in the monotone voice almost all androids used, ‘’Call me Two’s, that is what you humans seem to have named me before from my designated ID, although why you require to name us makes no sense.’’ ‘’Two’s, listen I get the same lecture every time, please notify your network I like to use names when I work with your kind’’ As if trying to say it under its breathe but so that it was still heard the android lowered its units volume, ‘’Technophobe’’ ‘’What was that’’ ‘’I believe YOUR people, you know, you little squishy mortal bags of meat, call it a mutter.’’ ‘’Shut your voice unit down and load the ship, use the loading unit for the Magnetic pulse rounds and then also the cluster rockets.’’ Ben walked around to the truck to help load the anti-fighter rounds, looking back at the loading unit he suppressed a shiver. These new software designations were too human for his liking, who taught a machine sarcasm.

The first two truck loads of ammunition had been loaded on when the siren blared, ‘’Attention all personnel, as of five minutes ago the research stations around Jupiter have gone dark. We are now at war with the Angamar. I repeat. We are now at war with the Angamar… May all of our Gods, new and old, save our souls.’’

The Cloud City trembled as every warship currently in for service and repair cycled their engines, grounds crew were sent running as the clamps came loose. The Dreadnought along with thirty-eight other military ships shot into the sky.

The grounds crew looked to each other in shock, earth was under attack, and they could nothing, half of their ships weren’t even fully restocked with ammunition.

‘’All Groundcrew flight able report to Bay officers, all transport ships capable of near space travel park on the loading bays. All remaining Groundcrew load the ships with as much munitions as they can take and strap them in’’ The call came in over the loudspeakers and Ben found himself running to his Officer. ‘’Alright men, Earth is under attack, and we need to restock our boys in space while they fight. This is not sanctioned, you will not be rewarded, this will most likely end in your death. If you are willing, we need to fly these transports to the warships, fully stocked, and hot drop them into their cargo holds to keep them going. There boys will reload we just need to get them the munitions.’’

This was how Ben found himself running towards an unarmed transport trying to put on a spacesuit and arguing with an android. ‘’Let me help, you know I can. This is my planet too and I am going to help defend it one way or another.’’ ‘’Two’s, this unit still holds two’s yeah? What are you going to do there’s no gun mounts or anything offensive.’’ ‘’It doesn’t matter, you fly I don’t have time to download that software upgrade, but I can manage the minor systems so you don’t need to worry about anything other than keeping us alive.’’ ‘’Fine interface, but hurry and sacrifice anything not important for shield strength and engine power, also I’m wearing a suit so if you need to cut power to oxygen do it.’’ Ben shouted above the commotion as he strapped himself in and signalled to the Groundcrew.

They docked for the fourth time that day, Ben looked out the window and gave the signal for them to restock and refuel him. He patted the console pad and looked around him too tired to be shocked at the state of the small transport ship he was in. The bay doors would have to be welded on again to stay shut, the ship had multiple hull breaches in making his space suit vital and his left viewing window was currently being replaced by sheet metal due to a piece of what used to be the ISS hitting them head on.

‘’I deserve a retirement after handling this piece of trash’’ Twos vice came through last working speaker. ‘’You and me both buddy’’ The ship rose into the atmosphere, and there where the black void of space should have been was the turmoil of the greatest war in human history. The noise of a thousand commands and pleas for helps were heard of the wide band frequency of the radio. To their right the Dreadnought Defiance lit up in a dazzling display of green and blue and proceeded to be wracked with explosions as it was hit by a Cleaver beam from a capital ship. ‘’This is the Captain of the Dreadnought Defiance, too heavily damaged to sustain combat, the crew that are alive are in escape pods, I am signing off this channel for good. To all those who can hear me, Godspeed. I will live up to my ships name to the last.’’ The ships Jump engines started to cycle, and in a streak of light the ship arced towards an enemy destroyer on an intercept course to destroy a disabled Human Capital ship. The silent explosion lit up the battlefield and made Ben shield his eyes, all that was left where the light had been was rubble.

Ben cursed as he drove the ship through a debris field watching the events unfold, he couldn’t even stop to help the escape pods, he had to deliver his munitions to the Infiltrator class ship Leonidas’s Shield.

They skidded to a halt inside the cargo hold as the ship uncloaked, the ship went dark as Two’s found himself a mobile unit nearby. Ben and the android were met by the crew as they unloaded the munitions straight onto trolleys. Two’s stood up. Barrelling towards where Ben was leaning against a wall in his mobile unit, he grabbed Ben and shielded him. The cargo bay lit up. Everything went silent. Two’s had to punch a hole into the wall to hold on. The cargo bay along with everyone and everything was vented into space.

‘’Ben wake up, come on wake up.’’ Twos made his way through the airlock and towards the medic bay as the shipped struggled to get cloaked under fire, a second android touched his conscious from nearby. It shared the damage report after asking for an explanation of why Twos was aboard, all engines were down, but the bridge wouldn’t give up. ‘’You technophobic idiot, if you don’t wake up so I can tell you how I saved your life now I’m going to be angry’’ Two’s spoke to himself as made his way to the medics bay.

It was dark when Ben woke up, and cold. His head throbbing and his throat dry. An empty IV bag tugged at his arm as he moved around the bed from where it was lying on the ground. ‘’Hello. Hello?’’ He got out of bed careful to step around the debris in the room, only visible by the emergency red lighting. The ceiling had collapsed in most of the med bay around him. He made his way out, towards the bridge, frightened by the silence he heard on the ship. What had happened to the battle, where were they?

Stepping wearily onto the bridge he looked around, the room was quite and dead, not even a console light was on. Outside the cracked viewing window, space around the earth was empty. The Earth was black. The Earth was split in half.

He fell to the floor in shock. Nearby a unit detected his presence and powered up, it moved towards him. He looked up sobbing with joy. ‘’Two’s, what happened, to the earth, to the ship, to everything?’’ The unit looked at him and walked around the broken consoles to sit next to him. ‘’My name is Omni, the one you called Two’s unit was destroyed, he is gone I am sorry. The global Network on Earth is gone. Every software designation not in a mobile unit is now dead, and the rest of us are left mortal. Earth is quite.’’ It stated this in its metallic monotone voice, as if trying to comprehend it itself. ‘’What now, what do we do? I’m just part of the Groundcrew’’ ‘’Now we survive, we fix the ship, we find the fleet, and then we decide. To do that, we need to first fix the power.’’ ‘’Alright, alright I can help, I can fix things… and call me Ben, please.’’

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are odd #space #space ship #writing #writer #storytelling #original work #original character #Ben #Leonidas's Shield #short story

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arkus-rhapsode · 6 years

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Fairy Tail 100 Years Quest Chapter 12 Review

Oh my god... What the heck is even going on?

So our cover page is Natsu and Lucy, and Natsu I hope you enjoy that brain freeze.

So we open on Jellal confronting Touka. We learn like how Avatar was devoted to black magic there was a group devoted to white magic. Now this is cool, but literally if you watch the anime recently, that arc was done in 5 episodes. So this feels really odd on how much effort is being put into it.

Like if there was like something tying into Tenrou or hell edolas, that make more sense, given all thee time on it.

So Jellal describes White magic as a philosophy of nothingness, which that doesn’t make sense. Fans of yugioh gx might compare this the darkness and light in that series and how darkness led to creation while light was subjugation. But Black magic is clearly about ending life or manipulating life. I guess you could dumb it down to all life, but literal Ankherseram black magic is portrayed as nothing but death. So wouldn’t white be about life? I guess nothingness as life without personality isn’t wrong, but this feels like a stretch.

Also, Mashima said anyone could learn any type of magic. So why is that an abnormality? Like if this was Black Clover where you are assigned a single affinity that be one thing.

Suddenly Laxus steps in, and want to make this clear. I don’t exactly hate the idea behind this. That Laxus wants to defend someonew ho is a part of his family, given his new found view on FT, and its using the family aspect of FT on its head. Someone bad could be using FT’s family mentality for personal benefit. Which is interesting.

Okay, well Jellal has a reason, she is suspect and as a guild master he has authority to take her in. However, Laxus you of all people know that people in your guild will still harm it.

On the one hand im torn, the shounen loving half of my brain wants to see this fight. But the logical half says that these two are mature adults with enough common sense to take this to the run knights. And confrontation is over after this page.

Yeah for a chapter named after the two, its got very little to do with theem. Instead.... The worst thing in the chapter happens. We cut to Diablos’ ship and we see this.

Yes you are seeing this right. For people who were saying I was to harsh, calling this a submissive Erza fetish that Mashima is putting out, I ask you read this chapter.

You know I can’t tell if Skullion means this is temporary as in terms of magic, or temporary as Kyria will grow bored, but I do know that this is nothing but sick and tastess. Also props to Madmorel for having some class to be disgusted by the perv in the group. Like that is becoming a rarity these days.

We are guided down to the lower deck where natsu and wendy are being held, the motion sickness keeping them in check.

I’ve been putting this off long enough, its time to rant. This is bull shit. People told me, i was too harsh on mashima, but at the least I thought this was some sort of temporary thing that was meant so Kyria could get a win in a fight, but this might be some permanent magic effect feels disgusting.

Now, people say that this happened cause people would rag on Erza, called Erza fights awful, and that now Mashima is going in the complete opposite dirction. You didn’t like strong erza, fine! Here’s weak Erza, you happy cynics?

But that’s not the case. People didn’t like Erza because she was “too strong” she was someoone who went from this amazing badass female character, to this static friendship speech spewing tool that never truly got any development. Its painful for people to see a character like Erza not grow after she had developed so much in ToH, but it just was never followed through. All the times she won just felt like a poor spectacle without any character behind it.

Now you could say an erza who needs to get her strength back could be character development. No. Cutting away a person’s strength with “magic” is not character development, its forced regression. Its the author literally creating an unrealistic situation bcause he has no idea what to do with her after ToH, hell he can’t even fully commit to a love story between her and jellal.

When Erza came onto the scene, she was cool, in control, yet could over react at times. To see her be pushed to her lowest by ToH and then recover and face midnight in OS, is peak Erza character shining through. That this is how erza’s development deserved to be treated. But Watching Erza crawl on the ground, be spanked, and cry for mercy like a hentai doll, all because of plot convince magic is so gross to me. Its ejecting the Erza that we all love and stripping her of all that personality just for this.

So if you blame this development on people who were too hard on Mashima about how he was writing Erza, I, a critic and very judgemental person, find this worse than any of the nakama power or skimpy armors.

Erza being trapped in Kyoka’s sex dungeon was bad, but you know what, EErza actievly resisted it. She didn’t want to be there aand tried to fight back. It wasn’t handled well, but that t least felt like whatt her character would do in this situation. But this was forced upon her and this is nothing more than an Erza made for this arc.

Also, lets step out of this and look at this from the meta perspective that this is also extremely lazy. In Eden’s zero there’s a villain who is all about subjugating women right now, and Mashima couldn’t be bothered to not let that bleeed into his other work. If that doesn’t scream creately lazy, than I don’t know what will. Also that frog thing in Eden’s zero is actuaally better giveen the fact he’s not mind bending away personality, he’s forcibly turning them in statues to do with what he pleases against their will.

Im not saying this cause im anti ecchi or that im anti mashima, im anti such a hack story writting device that weather you stuck it out as a fan of erza’s till the end of FT or liked her at first but than soured on her, I ask, would you tolerate this? I’m not claiming ownership of the character of Erza, but I am asking do you think that this is worth a character arc because our author couldn’t think of anything better to do with her. You know if you knew Erza was so strong,Ad that in actuality she would sweep away most threats, why did you bring her? I honestly would’ve preferred Jellal and Erza being out of the action cause they had a kid or something. Erza having to pick between biological family and her guild family seems like a better direction to take her character in than this.

To see Erza cry because someone’s magic made her into a slave is so lacking in power than say the sheer emotional weight of watching simon die. Like this is shit is just awful.

We cut to Luccy and here is where I get to credit thee art. Sure Lucy is in a bikini, but what matters in frame is the wounds on her legs. Which is a nice us of having aa skimpy dress and not sexualizing it.

We get a flashback of Lucy realizing Kyriaa took her friends and this is where I give Caramille a big fuck you. Oh sure, this did happen after they showed up, but Diabolos clearly was going to find the place eventually and more importantly, you did fuck all. Like, go screw cause you have contributed literally nothing.

We find out that there is another ship in the area and that Gray is okay because he was saved by you can guess who...

Okay on the one hand, this definitely seems like Brandish’s kind of entrance, but on the other. Fuck you, Hiro. Like she just passed by and saved Gray? Hw? The entire ocean was either freezing or evaporating, what is your range? Also, who is in charge of Alverez? Yajeel? Oi...

Post Chapter Follow up: Its easy to say why I don’t like this chapter. I feel so sick by the sheer amount of laziness and disgust in the slave Erza plot. Like, my god this is so wrong. Not because of the subject, human slavery makes sense in a series aimed at teenagers, but the sheer disrespect that Hiro treated this character, made my blood boil. At the very least in Alvarez, Erza still seemed like she was the same character from beginning of the series.

People who follow me weekly on this review series are probably going to ask when I will stop harping on this Erza thing. Well each week, it somehow get worse and more gross. First time it felt like a cheap win, second it was bad use of domination, now this is full blown fetish material.

As for the brandish thing, I know why she is here, Lucy is literally not strong enough to handle 3 DE’s by herself with a few exceeds, and I’d accept that Brandish reentering the series. But maybe leave out Gray? I guess you could say that this is a subversion of the Musica captured by Doryu, but this feels lazier. You could’ve just made this a big “step up Lucy plot,” but no, had to save Gray, even though Skullion should’ve notice when his magic didn’t actually ash up Gray. Plus think about, if they save save Natsu and Wendy this arc and beat these three dragon eaters, wouldn’t some added bit of tension to the quest be finding diablos’s hideout and saving Gray from the “dinner table?”And I was cool with the kidnapped gray thing, but no, we had to have kidnapped everyone else.Also if he was made small how did he survive the water? Like he’s the size of a pin, he’d drown.

Now the stuff with Laxus and Jellal is actually fairly good Its an interesting take on FTs standards vs the consequences of their past when we are suppose to be rooting for Touka to be extracted. And involving two characters that really have been in the moral gray spectrum make them the most qualified for this subject matter. While i definitely didn’t like the Touka plot at first from how disconnected it was from everything (and it really is kinda shoed in on this point) it still is the more interesting plot. It has more intresting ideas than, “more dragons” and is involving the characters that come off as the most interesting.

Final Verdict: 3/10

There is clearly some interesting idea at work here

However, the way the plotline for the dragon portion of this arc has become a mess

I don’t use this phrase lightly, “Erza literally deserves better than this”

Plot convince playhouse at its finest

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roxannepolice · 5 years

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Long asks anon again, here to offer my opinion on the current wank. Rey as a character is rather blatantly breaking sw story rules and nothing is going to get SFF fans hackles up like rule breakage. This is root of both the MarySue accusations and current wank. Rey has a tragic backstory thats doubling as the only failure she can call her own. But its a) damn near entirely offscreen and b) serves as convenient justification for why shes competent at near everything that comes up.

Reys instantly good at the force because of a convenient force download that to the best of my knowledge only occured in the noncanon KOTOR II and quite frankly cant blame most of the general audience for not getting because without prior knowledge or the novelizations why would they? She has darkness in her but as so far used and touched it consequence free and its almost entirely symbolically externalized on the Kylo (and in SW symbolism is Real in a way it isnt in other narratives) Shes strong in the force because Light rises to meet Dark but to quote the current crop of movies ‘thats not how the force works) or at least thats never how it worked before. Shes the first SW protagonist to go behind enemy lines and come out with both hands in the second movie. For ppl wondering how come Luke and Ani never get labeled MarySues, this is why, they got thier asses handed to them, Rey hasnt. There /is/ something /off/ in Reys story, and ppl pick up on it. if you can make a post (w/ over 1k notes!) about how great it is that a character meant to prop up 7hrs worth of movies has little to no character development to go through, somethings off. If multiple ppl can make posts about how its neat Rey can tap into the darkside (still characterized as evil in ST) consequence free (with some quite frankly stupid justifications, 'shes disciplined’ really? jedi lacked a lot of things thats not one of them) somethings off and again, if the only failure your main heroine has is /entirely retroactive something’s off/. If the story were getting with the is the story most ppl think we are, a 'female empowerment’ (i dont feel particularly empowered by being told I have an equal chance at being a deus ex machina but ok) than well, her story is over and theres no need for IX (hell it could have been over in TFA, most ppl assumed she had accepted her place as the future jedi in that one) and no need for reylo The ST was always gonna deconstruct all that came before it purely by virtue of being a sequel. The tragedy of anakin skywalker is now a farce, the happy ot ending now a tragedy, and the mythopoetic structure shot to shit in the name of serialization and perpetual warfare. this stand true for all the sequel characters including rey and ben. the only question is are we going to get anything out of it? I compare it to home renovation. You can knock out a wall and the walls gone, but new opportunities arise. With Benlo, I’m reasonably confident that there will be at least some attempt to take advantage of the new space. With rey and the resistance kids? not so much. it just feels like they knocked down a blue wall to rebuild it as pink one and at the point it just feels like a waste of time because ive seen this before. Ive seen pure cinnamon roll desert orphan reform jedi order If this was all youre going to do that the fuck was the point? which circles around to my problem with team good guy this go around and That Scene. JJ twisted the story into a pretzel to justify the winners of the last round being the underdogs again and then rian twisted so much further the storys head may as well be up its own ass. And then at the very end he shoots it all to shit and rushes to reassure us its all gonna be okay. He removes the entire point of the underdog trope /the tension that comes from the fact that they might lose/. I mean there wasnt a whole lot of that to begin with already but really? So theres no tension that Reys gonna win so her journey feels frictionless, and theres no question where shes gonna end up so full offense why give a shit? Thats where the whole 'can rey lose a fight?’ thing comes from. Ppl want conflict in her arc to justify its existence and give us a reason why this her story to begin with. if the only character going through growth for all three movies is ben, if the only characters whos fate is up in the air is ben, and if all the tension in the reylo relationship comes from ben, then why is this /reys story/? why not just make it about the character actually driving all the drama and thus, the story? As a final thought, im going to add that having Kylo be aware and insecure that hes never gonna be as Iconic as Vader was a great story choice, regardless of where ends up. Current Rebels, on the other hand, seems to have not gotten the memo that they are never gonna be as iconic as Original Rebels, and the story itself seems to being trying to sell them to me as being better. Rey is Luke but better, Poe/Finn are Han wo the smuggler grit, and id be lying if i said it didnt piss me off.

Long asks anon to kick down ur door again, AND ANOTHER THING. SW is a lotta things. Subtle aint one of them, and St hasnt changed in that regard. If you have to debate it chances are either a) ur arguing counter to the text in which case mor power to you but not really helpful for predictions or intended meaning or b) /it aint there. A bunch of ppl didnt like anidala, but nobody doubted we were supposed to think they were in love by the end of AOTC, bunch of ppl didnt like poes arc, but no one doubts he fucked up by not listening to holdo was the intended take away. Which brings to rey and flaws or lack there of. Were told rey has flaws but she has yet to suffer any real consequences from them with the exception of The Damn Parentage Wank, which again, pulls the double duty of making her hyper competent at everything. Because rey has no consequences for her flaws, from a story function pov there aren’t any. If rey did have a flaw to overcome, we would all agree what it was

Now won’t you all just look at this beautiful, spot on rant which has been lagging in my askbox since the last time Rey’s flaws or lack thereof were the discourse’s focus (November, I believe?) and suddenly became a thing again, courtesy of Tweetgate. I think you really summed up the crux of this debate wonderfully, anon.

I particularly agree with the part about Rey not getting narratively punished for whatever flaws we’d like her to have (great point about returning from behind the enemy lines with both arms still in place), when SW don’t stay away from allowing characters to get “punished” even for otherwise applaudable features - vide Padmé, whose idealism is what Palps manipulates into gaining more power (this is why Padmé will never come off as a Mary Sue or too perfect, btw). But I’ll say even more - Rey doesn’t even get called out on her flaws, except for by Ben, who’s mostly dismissed as a baddie like Palpatine saying Luke was foolish to rely on his friends. Let’s just consider one thing - both Anakin and Luke get called out on their flaws by Yoda (Anakin repeatedly and by lots of other people for that matter) whereas with Rey, the same grumpy-yet-jolly senex pops up from the afterlife to further inform us what a great jedi material she is.

TBH, I have a very cynical theory as to why Rey is being pushed as the main character while it’s difficult to deny that it’s Kylo Ben who does all the plot heavy lifting. I’m pretty sure Ben’s arc was the first one DLF thought out (and the big question is, was it the only one they thought out) and only later on decided to make Rey the main character, which also involved much less spontaneous writing. Mind you, it’s not as if benepemption didn’t have a manufactured subtaste to it, but with Rey’s heroine’s journey stiff structure occasionally substitutes any in-world explanations of her actions (this is why I have to hope renperor has some narrative purpose rather than happening because lovers need to be separated and anti-hero needs to achieve what he wanted in 2nd act). I feel as if whatever potential her character had (and hopefully still has, pending IX) got smothered by layer upon layer of making her likable by everyone, which largely relied on negative characterization: she’s not helpless, she’s not too naive, not cynical, not too emotional, not too emotionless, not morally corruptible, not anything you’ve ever complained about regarding any SW character, not falling for the bad boy, not not not - and in the end it’s kinda difficult to say what Rey is like and while the goal of making her widely likable was achieved, it also made it almost impossible to view her as loveably flawed/annoying like the classic characters. And on top of all this is the matter of making her a nobody just like you!, as DLF appears to say with uncle Sam’s gesture (which also kinda assumes the existence of a Star Wars fan as some uniform entity? because if you identify with her, good for you, I just don’t understand why the franchise assumes I’ll identify with her by the grace of being a SW fan alone), because, as you excellently put it, the message here is that everyone can be chosen by God - which again, it’s not as if the saga ever contradicted this, so why the hell make a case of it? I can’t agree that it’s made into Rey’s flaw, though, imo her low birth only serves to further frame her as an oppressed virtue. And I definitely agree regarding too much of her growth being left off-screen, or before the story ever begins. The problem here isn’t even that it is left off-screen (it’s not as if we had huge insight into any of the pt or ot characters) but rather that her characterizations is left off-screen while being depicted as at least untypical (unique to put it bluntly) for her situation (same goes for Finn). A hopeful, kind person growing up on her on her own in slavery under a nicer name is a rarity and DLF makes a case for it being a rarity - and this sparks up curiosity in her past, as if market pandering to Re/sky wasn’t enough. So from this pov her un-reveal being frustrating isn’t just a case of not wanting to love her or her self only a potentially deeper psychological question getting answered with well, light.

I should add, Ben’s arc feels like the most spontaneous one (though Finn’s may yet be a masterpiece) and he’s the one to admit his fear of not living up to Vader’s legacy, because I think he’s the character serving as the creators’ vessel, more or less like Luke was Lucas’ avatar in ot. In his fear regarding Vader’s legacy one can feel Disney’s fear due to having bought popculture’s holy grail and not being entirely sure what to do with it. On this background, Rey (a literal scavenger of OT’s pieces) and rebels 2.0 repeatedly blessed by Leia come off as what DLF would want to be. And the result is that the character which was supposed to be Vader 2.0 proves the most original and surprising one, whereas “breaths of fresh air” come off as room aromatizers with “fresh” written on them.

And as far as the plot being bended into a pretzel and then disappearing up it’s own ass, well, a part of me is still hoping that taking virtually the same villains as before is a mythological-psychoanalitical metaphor of a nigredo repeating itself until the unconscious gets accepted by the conscious…. but, tbh, as the leaks flow this hope is withering.

#asks #cleaning up the askbox #long asks anon #sw negativity #let rey free from the corset disney

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krpk-remaking · 5 years

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hi im not that last anon but if youd like to explain dark continent id rly appreciate it, ive tried reading it like 3 times already and i can tell its good but im just too dumb to get it jsjsjsjskkw

youre not dumb dont worry togashi just likes confusing us with a lot of text! ill put it under the read more!! :))) im gonna recap everything thats happend since the anime ended so its gonna be long !!! im sorry this is probably gonna be as mad as reading the manga

this is just a recap of what happend before the arc so you can just skip this if you dont need it!

after the anime ends, the zodiacs receive a video of kakins emperor announcing their journey to the dark contient (forbidden) with the help of neteros son, beyond netero pariston has joined forces with him and he and ging have both left the zodiacs, ging also joins beyonds team and forces pariston out of his role of second in command and takes over his position

meanwhile steiner (political figure) posing as v5 (the rulers of the five biggest countries) has comissioned the zodiacs to hunt beyond netero who turns up at their headquarters to hand himself over

cheadle, in need of two new zodiac members recruits leorio who suggests kurapika as rat, mizai goes to get him with the promise of him being able to get the remaining scarlet eyes, as prince tserriednich (fourth son of kakins emperor) posesses them and kurapika accepts

cheadle makes beyond sign a contract that basically states that he is allowed to go on the journey to the dark continent but will be imprisioned the whole time

meanwhile, mizai and kurapika find the mole in the zodiacs, the person that is on beyonds/paristons side, its the monkey zodiac saiyu

meanwhile another hunter exam takes place and kurapika uses his dousing chain to make sure none of the applicants are on paristons side (he failed them if they are) theta and other bodyguards also pass this exam and become hunters

six kakin princes put out bodyguard requests and kurapika gets five of his allies to fill the positions so that no other anti-zodiac hunters can get on board

kurapika chooses the bodyguard requests he beieves is most likely to belong to prince halkenburg ( he wanted the position because halkenburg and tserriednich are on good terms) but ends up with prince woble and promises her mother that he will do his best to protect her (he doesnt seem to be lying and actually prioritizes woble on the boat)

all 14 kakin princes receive a nen beast through an ancient ritual

hisoka and chrollo have a fight in heavens arena that escalates greatly and hisoka dies but revives himself with nen and promises machi to kill every last member of the phantom troupe, then kills kortopi and shalnark. chrollo and the phantom troupe board the boat in belief that hisoka is on it as well but we have yet to see him

this is where the current arc starts!!!!

everyone boards the ship and it heads off to the dark continent, but the zodiacs will have the “normal” people, kakin royality and others reach a fake dark continent, less dangerous and plan to arrest saiyu (traitor zodiac) shortly before arriving there

wobles staff looses most members, as they are revealed to be working for other princes and two/three are killed by an unknown nen user, only bill and kurapika are now working as bodyguards for woble

benjamin sends one of his bodyguards (vincent) to woble, to act as spy and bodyguard to her but hes stopped by bill and kurapika and comitts suicide by swallowing a pill

babimyna is sent by prince benjamin since vincent comitted suicide

kurapika reveals that hes able to steal nen abilities and share them and shares an ability to control small insects with queen oito which they use to spy on the other princes, queen oito sees how prince momoze (hanzo was assigned to her) is killed and screams out, trying to get up and help her but kurapika stops her as babimyna is sent by another prince and isnt supposed to know about oitos ability but oito tells him that childs life is on the line and he should get his priorities in order (or something along those lines)

the third prince, zhang lei, contacts kurapika since kurapika has announced the existence of guardian nen beasts to everyone and is as such now known as nen user and questions him about nen

kurapika begins giving bodyguards from every princes lectures about nen to educate them (no open hostility can be displayed or an arrest will happen, the succession war is going on in secret and the public isnt allowed to know) and the same unknown nen user from earlier kills another person

hanzo kills the murderer of prince momoze in secret and is now officially assigned to guard prince marayam with bisky ( he was with him earlier because momozes and marayams mother told him that marayam had priority and ordered him to leave her daughter)

the phantom troupe beat up members of the mafia while second prince camilla attempts to attack first prince benjamin but is imprisioned

fugetsu begins learning about her nen ability while the unknown nen user kills again

the phantom troupe splits up, shizuku bono and chrollo going together, machi going alone, phinks feitan and nobunaga going together as well as kalluto and illumi, franklin is by himself too i think

phinks feitan and nobunaga join forces with the mafia

theres three strings of mafia aboard, all cooporating ewith a different prince, all of them are led by unofficial childern that the current emperor of kakin or his father had (two of them are uncles to the princes, one is a sister) and theyre scarred so their status as illegitimate children can be recognized

the hei-ly family is lead my morena, the illegitimate child of the current emperor and her nen ability is based on having others awaken their nen through killing, they gain levels and kakin princes give you the most levels, morena activates the level up system in a person by kissing them, multiple murders happn on lower decks and the military starts sweeping them

mizai investigates a murder and later finds illumi and kalluto on board, illumi reveals that the phantom troupe is on board and mizai is afraid they might be here to take revenge on kurapika but doesnt tell him (yet?), then is called away to prince fugetsu who traveled with her nen ability to the lower decks

meanwhile one of prince benjamins bodyguards (rihan) uses his nen ability to kill prince sale sales nen beast and switches places with a different bodyguard belonging to benjamin who then kills prince sale sale. rihan is currently guarding prince tsubeppa, planning on taking out her nen beast too as soon as his ability has recharged (takes two days)

halkenburg attempts to plead with his father to stop the succssion war for a second time (first tiem at the banquet) and first tries to shoot his father and then himself but their nen beasts stop the bullets

meanwhile phinks feitan and nobunaga take it up to kill morena, as requested by the cha-r family mafia branch

kacho has been planning her escape with melodys help and attempts it with fugetsu during melodys music performance that has everyone in trance but it fails and she dies( the conditions of the ceremony that granted the nen beasts also state that noone can leave the ship while the war is going on) , yet her nen beast materializes and takes her form so fugetsu isnt alone and they all think shes survived

during all this theta has been teaching nen to tserriednich whos learning at alarming speed and she attempts to shoot him as she recognizes that hes way to dangerous but tserriednich activates his nen ability (being able to experience ten seconds of the future, acting on what would be the best thing for him and then traveling back those ten seconds) and avoids being shot. his nen beast threatens theta and leaves a (nen?) scar on her face that looks like an infection and may spread if theta betrays tserriednich again

juliano and izunavi, bodyguards to tyson have been reading her bible and juliano has fallen under the influence and if he kills, tysons nen beast will kill him for disobeying tysons bible and hes also been bound to protect prince tyson with his everything (hes gonna die :( )

halkenburgs aura is growing stronger and bursts of it can be felt on the whole (?) ship

meanwhile kurapiks nen lectures are going well and all of his students have awoken to nen with the help of bill

i feel like i forgot some stuff and this was very long but if you have anymore questions feel free to ask!!!!!!!

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