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johannas-motivational-insults · 3 years

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Jo’s Top 10 of 2020

I see lots of artists doing that thing where they post a piece from each month of the year... unfortunately my content creation isn’t necessarily consistent and it’s hard to track what month individual fic chapters were posted in, but I figured I’d do something similar and post my Top 10 pieces of content I created in 2020, what they’re about and why I love them. I actually did get a fair amount done this year thanks to the lockdown, but I’ve narrowed it down to these ten that I’d like to reflect on. (To be fair, I’m probably forgetting something huge. Feel free to leave comments if you think I passed over something important lol.)

10. Friendship in the Horde (meta): This is something I’d wanted to write for a while but finally got around to finishing in February. It’s basically a sociology paper lmao, an analysis of the social hierarchies and systems of the Horde. It was also a convenient excuse for me to gush about Catralonnie, an underrated (friend)ship. But honestly this was an important piece for me because I have always identified with the Horde characters way more than any of the rebels (other than Adora, who grew up in the Horde) and part of why is how they are in an unsafe environment and end up forming relationships that are helpful for survival but hinder them psychologically. And I think to understand the Horde characters and really evaluate their motives and choices you need to understand this first.

9. The Sting in My Eyes: On the surface this is just a run of the mill hurt/comfort oneshot, but it was a really important post-canon processing fic for me. I had a lot of feelings about Catra’s relationships with Shadow Weaver and Melog in season 5, particularly about how Catra must have felt really conflicted after Shadow Weaver told her what she wanted to hear all those years but in a way that felt unearned and out of the blue. It was really cathartic for me to write a scene where she struggles with those mixed feelings but has Adora and Melog to help her process them. And I had long associated the song the title is from with Catra and Shadow Weaver’s relationship, and the way she died trying to redeem herself really solidified that connection.

8. Hail Mary, chapter 6: This was supposed to be a short chapter mostly about the backstory between Catra and Scorpia in this au, with some Catradora yearning thrown in. It evolved into a massive, sprawling thing that is very atmospheric in terms of how the setting and vibes are described and how in the moment it feels. Hail Mary is like that sometimes but that type of narration is usually about football games rather than parties, so this chapter was a fun change of pace in many ways. It was really nostaglic for me to write too, the nerves of being a teenager at a party with your crush and how intense everything feels. And the Scorptra stuff really is delicious, it was nice seeing them have that conversation they never got to have in canon and truly make up, and the tiny sliver I added of Catra’s earlier history was heartbreaking in the best way. So this was not what I intended to write, but it turned out way better for it.

7. A Better Son or Daughter (AMV): I’ve done other Adora AMVs, but this one is really my iconic piece. The song is perfect for Adora, so perfect it’s on Noelle’s Adora playlist. The vid itself is a character study about Adora’s mental health struggles and the way she represses them, as well as a tribute to her resiliency and her eventual triumph of getting to a better place in her life. This is a song that gives me a lot of feelings and once I was making it about Adora it gave me even more, so this was a very satisfying piece to complete. I wish Noelle had gotten a chance to see it but oh well, maybe down the line.

6. Hail Mary, chapter 12: This is the chapter that much of the fic had been building to, Catra and Adora in conflict because Catra finally got the chance to be Adora’s hero and Adora shot her down. It’s painfully analogous to canon, both in terms of how (I suspect) Catra felt in Thaymor and Adora’s tendency to victim blame because she’s so pragmatic. There’s definitely some tones of Taking Control in there but Lonnie does a much better job of examining Catra’s psychology and needs than Glimmer did in canon (a writing error imo, Glimmer should have had more insight). Adora just wants to help but sometimes in her quest to do so she disenfranchises others, and this was a much needed look at that aspect of her character. It’s also an excellent illustration of what it’s like to play a peacekeeping role in an abusive household and how stressful it is trying to protect others while also protecting yourself.

5. Unstoppable (AMV): This is not my favorite Catra AMV I’ve ever done, but it might be the cleverest. The soundtrack is a song about mental illness masquerading as a song about being a bad bitch, which is basically Catra in a nutshell. The lyrics are incredibly fitting for her and her arc as it develops over seasons 1-4. The vid itself takes a hard turn in the interpretation of the lyrics, going from talking about how no one can stop Catra to how she can’t stop herself because she’s in such a terrible sunk cost fallacy spiral, and I think I got several death threats over that twist lmao. As someone who primarily deals in angst, there’s hardly a better compliment to be paid.

4. Demons, chapter 31: This one got real dark on me. The concept of this chapter was originally an examination of how comparing abuse can get really dicey but you also have to respect that other people have had different experiences from you and you have to be careful not to equate things or make it sound like you’re talking over someone else. I guess it’s also a bit of a look at how autistic people (like myself) will often explain why they can empathize so others know they understand rather than saying empty platitudes, but that can come off as insensitive or like they’re making things about them. I mean, in this case Adora kinda was making things about her, but she was provoked into it by a parade of comments insinuating she didn’t suffer at all, which was also unfair. Anyway it’s one of the more important Catradora fights in Demons and something I’d written bits of over a year prior, it was that important to the plot, but it also took a turn I was not originally planning. I finished the chapter when I was in a really bad depressive and self-loathing spiral and that bled onto the page, but it worked perfectly for Catra in this scenario... that push and pull of feeling like the world has hurt and victimized you mixed with knowing you’ve done some bad things yourself and feeling like you don’t have a leg to stand on when mourning the ways you’ve been hurt. It’s intense as all fuck but it’s excellent.

3. Hail Mary, chapter 11: Speaking of dark Catra content, this chapter... whew. It was really something else, to read and to write. I have written flashbacks in Demons that are more detailed and even include explicit violence but because those scenes are always in flashback form I never really got the chance to sit in the head of an abuse victim waiting for the other shoe to drop for an entire chapter like I did here. It’s quite different from the rest of Hail Mary stylistically and is both highly sensory and extremely internalized. It took me back to some terrifying moments in my own life so it was difficult but also extremely cathartic to write. It’s important too because it really sets up where Catra was at mentally heading into her big fight with Adora, and that chapter is in Adora POV. This chapter is ranked so high simply because it’s... polished, as @malachi-walker put it. It almost is its own story within the story and really noteworthy as a piece all its own.

2. Demons, chapter 26: This chapter is very similar thematically to Hail Mary 12, just based in the canonverse. It deals with one of the core (but highly neglected by fandom) conflicts between Catra and Adora, where they both need to feel like they can take care of and protect the other but also detest feeling weak or vulnerable themselves. It leads to Adora’s ego making Catra feel disrespected and Catra’s behavior confusing Adora and making her think she’s an ungrateful brat rather than someone who needs so badly to be needed, just like her. There’s definitely some power struggles in this chapter but finally they’re able to get to the heart of it and seeing them talk it out is so satisfying. Getting this chapter published was also important to me on a personal level because, like I said, this aspect of their conflict and relationship is rarely acknowleged for how important it is when really it’s one of the deepest conflicts between them in the series. It’s a scene I started writing pretty much as soon I knew I was extending the fic into something longer because I just needed them to have this conversation, so finishing it was so satisfying.

1. Satisfaction, chapter 3: This chapter took me a really long time to write, both in terms of time to get it published and time I actually spent working on it. It’s the crown jewel of a fic that’s really important to me and I had to get it just right, so I spent more time agonizing over every detail and rewriting things to get them absolutely perfect than I usually do (I’m a perfectionist anyway, but this took it to a whole other level). But in the end it was worth it, because this chapter is damn fine. It’s really hot, as you’d expect from a smut fic, but it’s also an excellent character study of how both Catra and Adora were affected by their abuse and trauma and the issues it raises for them in terms of sex and intimacy. Also, come on, we need more BDSM fics out there that focus on the actual point of it all (the trust involved) and promote communication and do the character work to explain why they might be into it in the first place.

BONUS (from December 31, 2019): One of my favorite pieces of 2020 technically came out in 2019, but I posted it on New Years Eve so most people first saw it in 2020. It’s an absolute banger of an AMV called I’m Not Jesus that’s all about Catra and Adora’s anger towards Shadow Weaver and their refusal to forgive their abuser. Funny enough this came out before Adora’s iconic “I will never forgive you” line, and Shadow Weaver definitely made things more complicated with how she went out, but I think the sentiment still applies.

#2020 recap #happy new year #writing #vidding #fanfic #spop #catradora #demons #hail mary #satisfaction #the sting in my eyes #a better son/daughter #unstoppable #i’m not jesus

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off-color-darkrai · 3 years

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So I wrote a Urban Fantasy/Self-Help Fiction Novel

A while ago I posted about finishing my Novel, which I had been working on for several years. Recently I thought, “Maybe I can post the first couple or so chapters here, see if anyone likes it” So, here’s the first chapter, please let me know what you think!

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Summary:

A story about inner strength, mental health, and finding the reasons behind even the worst circumstances. Kriss only wanted to stop the rumors, the lies that followed him into high school; he didn’t expect and innocent action to leave him twisting, falling, changing. Ima just wanted to do her duty, to live up to her family’s legacy, to keep everyone safe; she should have expected it all to slip through her fingers, to fail, for it all to go so horrifically wrong. Their worlds are shattered under the weight of something ancient, something dark, something inhuman, and neither of them know how to pick up the pieces. All they can ask is “why”? There has to be a reason; for the pain, for the suffering, for every broken shard of thought and memory, there has to be. But reasons aren’t always easy to accept, and even then the hurt doesn’t always fade away. It is a long path to fixing your mistakes, and a longer one toward acceptance, but they find that they don’t have to take it alone. Sometimes a curse can be a gift. Sometimes tears can be a blessing. Sometimes to win the day, to fix everything, salvation can be found in the strangest places.

Chapter I:

The thirteen-year-old had bought a ticket for the bus.

When the bus driver first saw her, she was sitting all alone at the bus stop, a small backpack beside her, and a thick, heavy-looking book resting in her lap. She had short black hair and her clothes looked a little mussed, but overall she just looked like a regular, if harried, thirteen-year-old.

The driver pulled the bus up beside her, a little unsure if she was really alone, or just waiting for someone to arrive. As he slowed to a complete stop the girl’s head came up to glance at the bus. She examined it for a second, probably checking to see if it was the correct one, before she slid off the bench, shouldered her backpack and walked toward the bus’s open doors, her large book clasped in her arms. The bus driver felt slightly awkward, shifting a little in his seat as she came up.

“Erm, miss? Do you have… um... are you waiting for someone?” he asked. The girl didn’t really look at him as she shook her head.

“No. I’m not waiting for anyone, I’m alone.” Her voice was flat, almost monotone, and there was a small frown on her features. As she spoke her hand dipped into the pocket of her pants, pulling out a bus ticket and extending it toward the driver.

“I bought a ticket.”

The driver wasn’t sure what to do. He was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to let an unaccompanied minor ride the one bus that went out of the city on its route, but when he checked the ticket the girl held out to him he saw it was for a round trip, no extra stops.

“My grandma knows I’m here.” The girl said as if trying to ease the driver’s wariness. “She gave me the money for the ticket.” Here the girl’s monotone began to crack a little, letting through the slightly strangled voice of someone who had just been crying. “My… my parents are fighting, again, so my grandma told me to take a ride until they calm down.”

The driver looked at the ticket, then at the girl, and then back at the ticket, considering the girl’s story. The ticket office wouldn’t sell a minor a ticket without good reason, right? After a couple of seconds, he sighed and took the ticket, motioning for the girl to move on back. The girl seemed to nod a thank you as she passed, her head going down again, hiding the new tears that were springing up. The driver watched her in his mirror until she took a seat. She seemed normal, not the runaway type, the bag she was carrying couldn’t possibly hold enough essentials if that was the case, but even so, he decided to keep an eye on her for the duration of the trip.

The next stop the bus came to, the driver glanced at his mirror, and after making sure the girl wasn’t about to get up, he opened the doors to let in the sole occupant of the stop. ‘Slow day’, the driver thought, as he took the man’s ticket and watched as the man took the empty seat closest to the front and across the aisle from him. The driver checked on the girl again as he pulled out; she was still there, staring blankly out the window.

“Hi.”

The driver started a little at the sudden noise, before realizing it was his newest passenger who was looking over at him and smiling.

“Uh, hi.” He replied. He was not used to talking to passengers, at least on slow days; usually, everyone tried to keep to themselves until they could exit the vehicle.

“Name’s Jerry.” The man said, extending his hand. The driver kept his eyes on the road as he shook it quickly, before returning both hands to the steering wheel. The man, Jerry, leaned back in his seat, shifting the briefcase beside him into a better position, before sitting back up and leaning forward so that he could see the driver’s face. The driver noted the man seemed slightly hyper in his movements, and almost unnervingly alert for this time of day.

“Hey did you hear about the explosion?” Jerry asked.

The driver shook his head.

Jerry was quiet as they pulled into another stop, empty this time, but the driver opened the doors anyway, as was bus policy. After a second he closed them, checked the girl in the mirror—still there—and pulled out. Jerry was still quiet, but fidgeting in his seat, so the driver decided to prompt him.

“So, an explosion?”

As if waking from a trance Jerry suddenly roared back to life.

“Oh, yeah. There was an explosion at Willow estates, you know the place?”

Willow estates, wasn’t that along route five?

“Yeah, I know the place.” The driver nodded.

“Well, apparently there was a big explosion in one of the houses, some gas pipe ruptured or something. Destroyed the whole building. BOOM! Gone! Just like that!” Jerry flung his arms out to demonstrate while he spoke, his eyes glinting as he told the story.

The driver shook his head again as he pulled into another stop. Four people got on.

“That’s a shame. The person who lived there must feel awful to have lost everything in one go like that.”

Jerry shrugged as they moved through the city, his mood quieting.

“Not as much as you think.”

The driver almost turned around in his seat.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that, at this point, the owners are a little past caring. They were caught in the heart of the blast.”

The driver flinched.

“That’s awful.” He murmured. Jerry nodded in agreement, his face somber. “Who were they?”

Jerry shrugged again.

“A married couple and another woman, but that’s just about all anyone knows about them, their bodies were burned too badly to be properly recognized.”

Another stop, another couple of passengers.

“That must be a horrible way to go, you know?” Jerry muttered.

The driver sighed, nodding a little. The driver wasn’t sure if it was the topic or the air conditioner, but a sharp chill suddenly ran down his spine.

“Did they have any other family; do you know?” The driver asked, pulling into the airport shuttle bus stop.

Jerry shook his head.

“Don’t know, but if they do I feel bad for them. It’s never nice hearing about the sudden death of a family member, even if you don’t know them that well.”

They were briefly interrupted by a massive flow of boarding passengers, completely disrupting the somber air and forcing the driver to turn all his attention to checking tickets. Honestly, when the people in City Hall had decided that the easiest way to increase cash flow for the bus system was to instate a ticket system they should have probably asked the drivers if they wanted to deal with the complications of having to check and remember everyone’s ticket. This was an ordeal he could do without daily, let alone every time he stopped the bus.

The driver was filled with relief when he checked the last person’s ticket and was finally able to pull out.

“Sorry about that.” He apologized.

Jerry waved him off.

“It’s alright. My stop is next anyway, so we would have had to cut the chatter sooner or later. Thanks for the talk; it’s nice to know something like that still manages to garner a reaction.”

“Yeah.” Was all the driver could think of to say and they lapsed into silence.

After they’d reached Jerry’s stop, and he’d disembarked with a casual nod, the driver couldn’t help thinking back to the explosion the man had mentioned. It was as amazing as it was terrible, you never thought about things like that when they happened elsewhere. Willow estates, of all places! Now that he thought of it, it was such a nice, unassuming neighborhood, and it was right along his main route. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard about something that big; he’d driven right through there, stopped at the ticket center. That was where he’d picked up the girl, the thirteen-year-old. She was most likely from Willow estates herself, probably witnessed the explosion first hand...

The driver almost slammed on the brakes as his thoughts finally caught up with him. The girl! He had forgotten to check on her! He glanced in his mirror and groaned inwardly when he saw her seat empty. She must have gotten off at one of the stops while he was talking to Jerry, probably slipped out the bus’s side doors. The driver felt like smacking himself for getting so distracted. He’d let an unsupervised minor, probably a runaway, slip off to who knows where— he’d be so fired if anyone found out. Silently he hoped that she hadn’t gotten off at the airport.

o0o

The thirteen-year-old had a ticket for the plane.

o0o

The sound of fist hitting flesh shouldn’t have been audible across the expanse of the recreational area, seeing as it was just one sound among many, and yet, even before the noise had a chance to fade, the entire area seemed to fall quiet. All eyes turned toward where two teens stood, one large and brick-like, holding part of his jaw while the other, thinner, lither, stood in front of him with his fists raised. The big one snarled something, his own hands twisting into fists as his friends behind him began to sneer. The smaller teen spat something back, causing all of their faces to drop into scowls. The bigger teen lunged forward, grabbing the other by his shirt before starting to drag him away, toward the back of the school.

The entire recreational area began to follow, watching as the smaller teen was hauled into the walled-in area that held the school’s dumpsters and brutally thrown to the ground, eliciting an excited response from the onlookers. The fight had barely started but already a thick half-ring of students had formed, most of them jumping up and down, trying to see over, or around their peers, their noses pinched to keep out the smell of the three-day-old garbage. Some people had started making bets, mainly the tiny freshmen that made up the outer edges of the ring, while some of the older students had begun chanting, just loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to carry out of the enclosure that futilely attempted to keep the smell from reaching out into the school’s recreational area. A couple of students were designated to keep watch from the edges of the ring; if any of the teachers watching the outdoor area came close, they would shout and everyone would scatter—no one wanted to be caught watching two kids beat the crap out of each other.

Some of the watchers turned their heads back toward the escalating scuffle as the noisier part of the crowd let out a sharp “Ahhh!”. One of the fighters, the small one, had been sent to the ground with a punch to the jaw, obviously payback for earlier. He was still on the ground as the big one approached. The teen on the floor grimaced as he wiped the blood from the side of his mouth, glaring up at the one who punched him. The walking brick glared back. His name was Gerald, or Greg, or something like that, but he had everyone call him G, he thought it made him sound cooler that way; it didn't really. He truly was shaped like a brick, all muscle, and sinew, almost as wide as he was tall. Behind him, on the very innermost edge of the watching ring, stood his little throng of friends, all of them cheering enthusiastically, and if it wasn’t for their calling for their friend to punch the other teen even harder, then one might have been impressed by their dedication.

The teen on the ground held G's glare as he got back to his feet, his blue eyes locked on the other’s as he stood tall. He took a moment to check himself over, out of the corner of his eyes. His white shirt was dirty and dusty from being flung to the ground, and there was a small tear in his jeans from hitting it at the wrong angle, his knee was skinned, his jaw hurt, and his lip was cut and bleeding. Great, that wouldn’t be easy to explain away. It hurt, a lot, but he ignored it grinning up at G. Don’t let them know you’re hurt, don’t let them know they hurt you, repeating over and over in his head.

“That hurt.” He said, trying to sound as sarcastic as possible, still grinning as he flicked his messy blond hair out of his eyes.

G glared at him more intensely, which only made the teen grin wider. Looks like it worked, better keep it up. He darted forward, ducking one of G’s punches and landing a good kick to his knee. G grunted and dropped, his arms making a mad sweep, but the teen dodged and landed a punch to G’s gut. He was pretty sure G didn’t actually feel the amount of damage the blow was supposed to inflict. He obviously felt something, though, because his arm came up in a wild flailing movement and caught the teen upside the head. He grunted and was sufficiently knocked back as G struggled to his feet, running at the other as soon as he was able.

The teen barely managed to dodge, his arms and legs snaking out to land two more punches and a sneaky kick to the shin before he was forced to retreat. The plan was to try and wear G down little by little, because, obviously, taking him head-on was not working. G, however, was all about the head-on approach and came charging at him like an angry bull. The teen tried to sidestep, but G was faster than he looked and slammed the other back at speed. The teen couldn’t help but yell a little as he flew through the air. He hit the ground and rolled, scraping up more of his skin and making his shirt sufficiently dirtier.

Yep, no way he was avoiding an explanation now.

“Ugh.” He groaned, spitting out some dirt that had gotten in his mouth. “That it?” he asked, half-serious, half just wanting to egg G on.

G snarled and took a step forward, ready for another round, when one of the outer ring watchmen suddenly shouted.

“Teacher!”

The chanting and other noise rapidly cut out as people scrambled to get away. G stopped snarling and turned, not even giving the teen on the ground a second glance as he moved off at speed. The teen was about to shout at him to come back and finish it, because even he could admit he didn’t know when to keep his stupid mouth shut when there was a light hand on his shoulder.

“Kriss, give it up; we don’t want to be caught. Everyone's leaving anyway, so there’s no point.”

Kriss looked up, a grimace on his face as his friend, Mark, helped him to his feet. Mark had been with him earlier when he’d punched G, off enough to the side that he himself wouldn’t get into trouble, and as soon as the fight started he’d ducked back into the crowd. Kriss didn’t really blame him—Kriss knew he had a nasty habit of making none too bright decisions when his temper flared, it was safer for people not to associate with him when it inevitably happened. Still, Mark did stay and support him like he had all the other times Kriss had gotten himself in over his head. Just, you know, from a safe distance.

Kriss turned away from Mark and glanced over at where G had joined his friends and started walking back to where he’d been before. He glared at their backs, unexhausted rage still bubbling under the surface, before letting Mark pull him up all the way. Mark dusted him off a little and handed him a napkin for his lip.

“That was possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen you do, and I’ve seen you do a lot.”

Kriss shrugged a little, letting a bit of humor into his expression. He wasn’t angry at Mark, after all.

“More than that time I climbed up on the…”

“Yes!” Mark cut him off. “A hundred times stupider than that! I can’t believe you picked a fight with G! What are you nuts?”

“You’ve been friends with me for how long?” Kriss kept trying for humor, maybe it would delay this conversation.

“Long enough to know the answer already.” Mark crossed his arms.

Kriss huffed, checking the napkin before placing it back on his lip.

“I am not 'nuts', I just was tired of G acting like he’s some big deal. Everyone acts like he’s dangerous, and he believes them. I just wanted to knock him down a peg.”

Mark rolled his eyes.

“That excuse was awful, two out of ten. I know you, I know that’s not the real reason, no matter how much you want me to believe it is.” His eyes were narrowed, boring into Kriss’ blue ones with sharp intensity.

Kriss tried to crush down the panic that was starting to worm its way into his chest.

“What do you mean?” He tried.

Mark just glared harder.

“You can’t lie to me; I was there, remember?” He was not talking about this, he was not talking about this. “I know what he said, about your dad ...”

Kriss froze on the spot, a sharp spike of rage writhing in his chest. no, no, no, no, no, he stamped on it hard, gripping Mark’s arm.

“You don’t know. You think you do, but you don’t, ok?” Kriss tried to come across as steadier than he felt. “He said something about my dad, yes, but it didn't mean anything. He just wanted to get me angry, and you know me, I make it too easy. As far as anyone else is concerned, I only did that because he got on my nerves, that was it.”

Mark had a certain look on his face, a look Kriss had always despised. Pity and sadness, for him, for what they assumed he had to live with—through. It was the kind that said, ‘I get it’, and 'you poor naive boy’ at the same time. He’d been getting that look from parents, teachers, other kids, since he was six, and every time the whole thing somehow came back up he got an entirely new round of ‘sympathy’.

When he’d reached high school he tried to bury it, all of it, his feelings, the misplaced pity, all of it gone. However, that topic always seemed to come back around, and, well, that area was still rather raw, and his anger tended to get the best of him. With the number of fights he’d gotten in over it, he was surprised that people hadn’t gotten the message, or that he hadn’t been caught out. It did mean he didn’t have many friends outside of Mark—no one wanted to get too involved in his life, or they wanted it too much—but that wasn’t so bad. Mark seemed to understand this better than most people; he’d known Kriss the longest. He didn’t quite get it, which tended to make Kriss rather frustrated with him, but hey, at least he tried.

One of Mark’s other good points was that he knew when to drop the subject.

“Okay, if that’s what you want everyone to think, fine, but, did you have to punch first?” Mark asked, and Kriss was relieved to see the pity gone from his face.

Kriss rolled his eyes.

“You know, everyone knows, he had that coming. If not me, someone else would have done it.”

Mark shook his head, his own humor blending with a small bit of worry.

“No, no they really wouldn’t have.” Mark looked… actually Kriss couldn’t tell if he looked bemused or constipated. “You’re the only one stupid enough to pick a fight with him and expect to come out alive. Everyone else, rather wisely, has decided they aren’t ready to die before they get out of high school.”

Oh please, that was overly dramatic.

“He’s not that tough.”

Wow, Kriss didn’t know eyes could roll that far back.

“No? Your busted lip says differently.” Mark handed Kriss another napkin, which he took gladly. “You’re lucky someone alerted the teachers or you would have gotten worse than that.”

Kriss looked at Mark out of the corner of his eyes, dabbing his lip.

“That wouldn’t have happened,” He tried to sound reassuring, even if he was still a little irritated. “I’m not the hopeless fighter everyone makes me out to be.”

“So you keep telling me.”

It appeared two could play the sarcasm game, good for Mark.

“It’s true.” Kriss huffed “I want to let them think they’re winning, wear them down a little before I actually start fighting, except before I get to that part someone always alerts the teachers.”

Mark shrugged, not quite believing him, which, ok, fair...

“Well, then you just end up looking stupid. Your problem is you wait too long before you act, try to speed up your ‘plan’ there a little next time.”

That would imply there actually was a plan.

Kriss shrugged instead, finally removing the napkins from his lip, checking to be sure the bleeding had stopped and then shoving both them and his hands into his pockets. Mark pretended not to notice as he continued speaking.

“Besides, that isn’t even your real problem.”

Now he had Kriss’ attention. He turned to Mark and gave him a questioning look.

“And what would that be?”

Mark’s eyes almost bugged out of his head.

“Are you serious? Really? You started a fight with G! People like him and his friends hold grudges only long enough to make your life miserable, and they savor every minute of it. And you don’t think you have a problem?”

Kriss shook his head, sighing a little.

“No, not really, because, as you so kindly pointed out, through that whole fight I looked like I was getting my backside handed to me, so from G’s perspective I’ve already paid most of my dues.”

“I don’t think that’s how it…” Mark started, then suddenly stopped walking, forcing Kriss to pull up next to him. “…wait, who’s that?”

Kriss glanced at him.

“Nice change of subject there.” He noted.

Mark blinked at him in surprise.

“What?” Then he shook his head. “No, I’m serious. Look, G’s talking to someone, and I don’t recognize them.”

Mark pointed away from them, while Kriss bit back a question about why Mark thought it was strange he wouldn’t recognize someone talking to G; like Kriss, Mark didn’t exactly have a wide circle of people he knew. Instead of saying that, however, he followed Mark’s line of sight until he spotted what he was talking about.

After leaving the fight G looked to have been heading for his customary spot in the recreational area, a bench just under one of the only trees on the property. That was where he’d been when Kriss had made the admittedly rash decision to put him in his place. Usually, people left the area alone—G was foul-tempered, and people had better things to do—but today it appeared someone hadn’t gotten the message, because G was now standing there, glaring and yelling at a small figure that had firmly planted itself in his favorite spot. The yelling was having no effect at all on whomever he was directing it at, and even from back where he stood, Kriss could see G’s face turning bright red with anger. Kriss grinned at G's obvious embarrassment; this was better than the look he’d had when Kriss hit him.

“Come on, let’s get closer.” He grabbed Mark’s arm, pulling him toward the overly verbal altercation despite his friend’s protests.

As they got closer the shouting became easier to understand and both G and the figure on the bench came into clearer focus. G’s face looked even redder up close, and Kriss was happy to see the large purple bruise forming on G’s jaw. ‘Served him right’, Kriss thought, turning his attention to the figure that had caught G’s ire.

It was a girl, fourteen, possibly fifteen, years old. She was small, her hair a raven black color, cut short, creating a frame around her heart-shaped face. The effect of this was, in Kriss’ opinion, kind of pretty. Her clothes were in dark colors, blues, and greys, though they looked a bit old and faded. The contrast against her skin, already pale, made it seem even paler. She had a dim green backpack perched next to her on the seat and, on her lap, there was a large, dark, leather-bound book. There was no doubt she was either a new student, really brave, or really stupid. Kriss would put his money on the first two, judging by the look in the girl’s eyes as she peered up at the much larger teen standing above her. G was apparently trying to intimidate her, not catching the look, and failing to get the idea across to the girl, spitting out a few choice swear words and throwing several threatening hand-gestures her way. The girl was clearly not taking his threats seriously, though, as she watched him rant, a small smile playing across her face.

It was in Kriss’ honest opinion her smile was scarier than anything G was doing, and G, finally catching on that what he was doing wasn’t working, seemed to be thinking this too. His face reached an entirely new level of red, almost matching his bruise, as he switched from relatively passive to all-out aggressive, making a move toward the girl. She watched him, and, for the first time since he’d seen her, Kriss saw the girl's smile fall, and her brow furrow. The temperature around the group almost felt like it dropped several degrees, or maybe it was just the chill that ran down everyone’s spines. Mark, standing beside Kriss, actually took a step back, along with all of G’s friends. Kriss stayed where he was, as did G, who stopped long enough to shake off the eerie feeling before stepping forward again.

G came at the girl, but instead of moving she silently held up her hand, palm out, in the near-universal sign for stop. Out of total surprise, G ceased moving, his breaths still coming out hot and angry, blowing a few small strands of hair across the girl’s forehead. She completely ignored it, continuing to hold up her hand, only a foot or so from G’s chest, as she reached down and slid her free arm through one of the straps of her bag. Then she scooped her book into her arms and stood up gracefully. Standing next to G she somehow looked even smaller than before, but still, she held up her hand, and still, G didn’t make a move. Her frown grew deeper as she stared at him, locking gazes with a look far more intense than anything G was giving her.

“I don’t have time for you.” She said, her voice a bored monotone.

Slowly she lowered her hand, turned, and walked away, leaving G and his cronies with surprised and slightly mortified looks on their faces. They all watched as she strolled off, probably to find somewhere else to sit before the recreation period ended, and during that whole time no one made to move, silence settling around their dumbfounded expressions.

That, that was just too funny!

Kriss couldn’t help it, he started to laugh.

Everyone jumped at the sudden sound, even Mark, who glanced over at Kriss with a scared look on his face. Kriss was practically doubled over with mirth, trying to hold himself upright, only to look at the small congregation in front of him and collapse back down. This was just priceless. G seemed the most startled, and for a second he just stood there turning around, searching for the source of the laughter, before his eyes settled on Kriss. His surprised expression went away instantly, replaced with pure rage as he began to move toward where Kriss and Mark were standing. They both saw him coming, but while Mark began to move away, Kriss held his ground and continued to laugh, even when G was close enough to tower over him.

“Haha! Nice G. Heh heh. No, really, she seemed terrified.”

G looked about ready to kill him.

“You find that funny?”

Kriss managed to get his laughter under control, kind of, but he couldn’t contain his smile. He was about to say something really stupid; Mark knew it too and was shaking his head back and forth in an attempt to stop him, but Kriss couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, I find that very funny, though not as funny as that bruise on your jaw.”

G lunged forward and grabbed Kriss by the shirt. Kriss continued to smile, even as the grip tightened, making it kind of hard to breathe.

“Careful G,” He coughed. “The teachers can see us here, and, if the way you ran from our fight is any example, I’d assume you really don’t want them to catch you.”

That was a total bluff; there was a very high chance G just wouldn’t care and would try to inflict as much damage as possible until someone dragged him away, but some part of Kriss was still angry, and that part just would not be quiet.

G hesitated, considering Kriss’ words, before reluctantly letting him go.

Kriss fought the urge to suck in a large gulp of air, silently glad his ploy had worked. A busted lip he could hide from his parents, but having his face completely rearranged by G’s fists? Mark walked back to stand beside where Kriss was rubbing his neck, and they watched G stalk away, closely followed by his companions. They were shooting the two of them very dirty looks that did not sit well with Mark.

“Did you have to do that?” he asked, “Do you realize how much trouble you’ve gotten yourself into?”

“You were there too you know.”

“Yes, but I stood over there and was smart enough not to start laughing like a crazy person!”

Kriss shrugged.

“Why are you so worried? As you said, you didn’t do anything to aggravate them. If anything happens then it will happen to me…”

“That’s why I’m worried!”

“Again, I am not as hopeless as you assume me to be.

Mark scoffed, crossing his arms. Kriss peeked over at him from the corners of his eyes but did not look at him directly.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What was it?”

“It was ‘do you realize how much trouble you’ve gotten yourself into?’”

Kriss shrugged again.

“No, probably not.”

Mark groaned.

“What?” Kriss asked.

“Oh no. I know that tone of voice. What are you going to do now?” Mark practically glared at him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kriss answered, sounding confused.

“I know you; you don’t know how to quit while you’re ahead. You’re still mad at G, so you’re going to do something stupid again because the only person who holds a grudge as long as he does is you! I told you earlier you can’t lie to me; I know you’re planning something.”

Kriss blinked as Mark slowly worked himself into a frenzy. Better cut him off before he became too worked up.

“Alright, fine. Yes, I’m still angry, and yes, I believe G should get what’s coming to him.”

Mark crossed his arms with an I-told-you-so kind of look on his face.

“Right, so what are you planning, so I can avoid it?”

Kriss ignored Mark’s blunt impatience.

“Not completely sure, but that girl did give me an idea.”

o0o0o

Second Chapter will be out... soon.

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jahaanofmenaphos · 4 years

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Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

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QUEST 08: MARK OF ZEMOUREGAL

QUEST SUMMARY:

Because of Jahaan’s betrayal of Zamorak during their heist of the Stone of Jas, Zemouregal takes the matter of revenge into his own hands. When Jahaan looks to get even, he enlists the help of his Mahjarrat allies to take the fight to Zemouregal…

CHAPTER 5: UNAVOIDABLE CONFLICT

Jahaan landed back at the temple delicately, thanks to Wahisietel basically carrying him during the teleport. Removing his armour, Jahaan sat back against the oak frame of his bed’s headrest while Azzanadra fetched something to ease the pain. The potion was bitter; sweet with a twinge of burnt apples was the only way he could describe it. Despite that, it served its purpose, helping to numb the aching of his ribs.

“That armour is the only reason you’re still breathing, World Guardian,” Wahisietel noted, motioning to the dented elder rune platebody resting against the wall. “It is somewhat fortunate Zemouregal destroyed your first set, is it not?”

There was a twinge of a smile of the Mahjarrat’s face, and Jahaan caught the meaning. Despite the pain of it, Jahaan couldn't help but laugh at the irony. By trying to kill Jahaan, Zemouregal destroyed his armour. Jahaan’s new set of armour saved his life against Zemouregal.

How bitterly poetic.

Closing his eyes, Jahaan let the drowsy side effects of the potion consume him, mumbling before he fell under, “I’ll buff that out in the morning…”

It wasn’t for quite a few mornings that Jahaan had the upper body strength to even raise his arms above his head, let alone take his armour to an anvil. Damaged ribs were a time-taker to heal - there was nothing he could do to speed up the process, just rest in the quarters of his Mahjarrat ally. As promised, he told Wahisietel of the troubling encounter with Sliske, and in return learned a whole new set of Freneskaen curse words.

But at least in the comfort of the temple, Jahaan felt safe. His mind, however, would never let him rest.

Just like after Lucien’s death, Jahaan expected a miracle that didn’t come to pass. He expected to feel relief, joy, anything. He expected the weight off his chest to be lifted, but the pain was still there, predominantly in the form of a cracked rib.

He didn’t expect to still feel so hollow.

The rage had subsided at least, but that had ebbed away in the battle - a miracle in its own right, for Jahaan couldn’t remember the last time he’d effectively controlled his temper like that. The mental image of the sword slicing into Zemouregal’s throat put Jahaan to sleep every night, but he never slumbered for long, awoken either by the aching of his ribs or one of the many delightful recurring nightmares he’d been suffering from since the fire.

They were all there, friends and enemies alike. Ozan, Zamorak, Icthlarin, Zemouregal, Sir Tiffy, Cyrisus… their corpses cold and decaying, only to be dragged into reanimation by wires on their limbs, twisting and contorting their lifeless bodies against their will. Dancing marionettes, puppets on strings, shuffling to the rhythm of a haunting cackle, a gloved hand, a masked face.

Jahaan knew that voice all too well; he could only watch in horror as the familiar puppeteer orchestrated his plays, the world at his mercy.

After just under a week had passed, Jahaan felt like he’d graduated from bedrest and decided to leave Azzanadra in peace, still feeling bad that the Mahjarrat had acted as host and carer to a broken guest for far too long. Now that he was well enough to travel, albeit with the assistance of a cane, Jahaan wanted to check up on Ozan’s progress in the Wizards’ Tower. In one last favour he asked Azzanadra to teleport him to Draynor. There, Jahaan first utilised the bank to transport his armour to safe storage. His ribs still couldn’t quite take the brunt of any constricting armour, despite how light and nimble the elder rune set was.

Then, it was just a short walk across the bridge to the Wizards’ Tower, somewhere Jahaan was glad to be back at under less dire circumstances than before.

The Wizards’ Tower is a Saradominist institute for magic and runecrafting in Misthalin, housed in an immense structure located on a small island south of Draynor. It is one of the tallest buildings on Gielinor, rivalling the greatest cities’ castles, but coming short of the Tower of Voices in Prifddinas. It is connected to the mainland by an exquisite bridge, and the tower’s elaborate architecture and ornaments make it a beacon of human accomplishment in the Fifth Age. The tower has many facilities, including two libraries, an armillary, a telescope, offices and workrooms. In addition, the tower houses several secrets, such as the teleportation spell to the Rune Essence mine, which Zamorakian organisations such as the Zamorakian Magical Institute were attempting to steal. The Wizards' Tower was also known for having created most spells currently used today, as well as many magical theses and theorems. The tower was run by Archmage Sedridor, a very enthusiastic and bubbly old chap who happily welcomed visitors into the tower and would chat their ears off about its history.

As he searched for a certain textbook on the floating shelves, the archmage saw Jahaan in his peripheral vision, who was being signed in by Valina, the entrance clerk.

“Jahaan, Jahaan come in!” Archmage Sedridor greeted him, ushering him inside. “We were beginning to worry about you, you seemed so frantic last time, son. It was quite troubling.”

“It was a stressful time,” Jahaan replied, an understatement that Archmage Sedridor accepted with a deepening frown.

“Yes, yes poor Ozan… we’ve done all we can for him, I assure you. We treated his burns and prevented infection, but there’s still some lasting damage, you see. I’m afraid his skin will never truly heal.”

Jahaan winced. He knew Ozan’s narcissism well, reflected in his reply, “Let me guess, he’s taking the damage to his face the worst, right?”

Sniffing a humourless laugh, Sedridor confirmed, “He does mention it often.”

The two made it to the medical bay in good time; the door was ajar. Inside, Jahaan could hear the pleasant chattering between Ozan and Ariane, and he held back for a while. Archmage Sedridor left to attend to other business, leaving Jahaan to rest against a neighbouring pillar. He couldn’t make out too much from what was said, but noted how Ozan’s usual full-bodied laugh was weaker now, punctuated by tight coughs. The sound made Jahaan’s throat close up.

Finally, he realised he couldn’t hold it off any longer and gently pushed the door open, its ear-piercing creak signalling his arrival.

Once the two locked eyes, Ariane’s face grew dark, her expression cold. She feigned a reassuring smile to Ozan, muttered a few words - seemingly making her excuses to leave - and gathered up Coal, who was chewing on the bed linen. She edged past Jahaan at the door without sending him another glance. Even Ozan couldn’t spin it, offering nothing but a sympathetic smile and a light shrug. He was propped up against the head of the bed, still in nightwear, with bandages taping his arms and half of his face. He looked like an incomplete mummy, something which Jahaan didn’t decide to voice, just in case Ozan’s sense of humour wasn’t fully recovered.

Luckily, Ozan broke the tension, pointing to his own face and saying, “Fenkenstrain’s suing me for ripping off his creation.”

It wasn’t that funny, but Jahaan laughed. Like, properly laughed, doubling over with tears in his eyes. He was just so… relieved. The relief was such that it felt as if a phantom had left his soul in a jolt, similar to how he felt after Zaros disembarked his body, though without the unwelcomed loss of consciousness that followed.

Awkwardly, Jahaan sat down on the edge of Ozan’s bed. He really didn’t know where to start - an apology, a check on his health, on his spirits, an explanation… there was too much he needed to cover. So, he allowed Ozan to make the first move.

“I haven’t seen you for a while,” Ozan mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. He was clearly sensing the awkwardness too. “Was getting worried, y’know… Ariane told me what happened.”

Meeting Jahaan’s eyes, he finally asked, “Did you get him? That Mahjarrat guy?”

“Zemouregal? Yeah, he’s dead,” Jahaan replied with a shaky breath.

“You shouldn’t have gone after him. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

With a humourless chuckle, Jahaan said, “Ozan, have you ever known me to let anything go? I had to. I had to… to try and make it right. Ozan, I’m so sorry. I’m so-”

“Let me stop you right there,” Ozan interejected, a calming hand reaching out to Jahaan. “You have nothing to apologise for, okay? You never could have guessed what was gonna happen.”

Laughing softly, Ozan added, “Heck, with all the enemies I’ve made over the years, our roles could have easily been reversed.”

“But can you honestly tell me that, if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t feel guilty?”

Ozan remained quiet, accepting this.

After a long pause, Ozan lightly nudged Jahaan on the arm, tried to raise his voice a tad as he said, “Damn, man. It’s like a morgue in here. I haven’t died or anything!”

Unfortunately, the act preceded a bout of coughs, Ozan shrugging Jahaan off as he reached over to pat his back. “I’m fine, Jahaan. The coughing thing’s gonna go in time they say. It doesn’t hurt that much. My skin, on the other hand…” Ozan’s frown deepened into a comical pout. “The fire’s done a number on my pretty-boy good looks…”

Motioning to his own fire-scarred face, Jahaan dryly remarked, “Well, at least we match now.”

Sniffing a chuckle, Ozan said, “We could start a double act called ‘How Not To Play With Fire’. I’m sure Ariane would lend us some runes.”

Jahaan winced. “Ah yes, Ariane.”

“She’s taking it a lot worse than I am. I think it’s best if you stay out of her eye-line for a while,” Ozan winked, his face contorting slightly from what used to be such a simple action.

Trying to hide the sorrow in his features, Jahaan forced himself to smirk as he replied, “Good idea.”

Noticing how Ozan’s eyes were starting to close, Jahaan realised this little catch-up had probably exhausted the poor fellow who should be conserving what little energy he had at this point. So, Jahaan helped him lie back down on the bed, saying he’d visit again soon. Knowing Ariane’s stance on things, Jahaan wasn’t sure when that would be.

“Bring booze next time,” Ozan drearily called out before turning over and burying himself in the comfy pillow.

His heart heavy, Jahaan watched Ozan’s steady breathing for a few moments. It was serene - just the simple action of seeing his best friend in a peaceful sleep after all he’d been through was reassuring.

Quietly, he made his way out of the chamber, careful not to move the door for fear the creaking would startle Ozan awake.

When he turned around, Ariane was greeting him with a stern face, her arms folded over her chest. Seeing her seemingly manifest out of nowhere surprised Jahaan, causing him to jump slightly.

“How long have you been there?” Jahaan hissed, catching his breath.

Ariane didn’t answer, instead motioning for Jahaan to follow. Leading him into a small study, Ariane closed the door behind them, and from the look on her face, Jahaan knew he was in for a rough time.

“So you killed him, then? This Mahjarrat?” it sounded more like an accusation than a mere question.

Raising his chin, Jahaan confirmed, “Yes, I did.”

Ariane did not seem impressed, her eyes boring holes through the man.

“Look, what is your problem with me?” Jahaan hissed, advancing on Ariane, who didn’t step back. “I know you think I’m a bad influence on Ozan, but the man’s no monk. What matters is that we both care deeply for him, you and I. I’d rather die than let anything happen to him, and I’m pretty sure you know that already. So tell me, please, what have I done to piss you off so greatly?”

“Other than nearly letting Ozan get burned alive?”

“You hated me before that,” Jahaan countered. “So come on. Did Ozan tell you about how I grew up? Is it the people I’ve killed? What?”

“You really want to know?” Ariane snapped, storming forward with such force it made Jahaan back up on instinct. “It’s your attitude, Jahaan. Your callousness, your naivety, your self-centred view on everything. Ever since you became the Word Guardian it’s only gotten worse. The world is falling apart and I don’t think you know, let alone care. Do you ever read the newspapers, Jahaan?”

Wary of where this was going, Jahaan hesitantly answered, “I hear bits and pieces…”

It became apparent rather quickly that Jahaan did not hear enough; Ariane filled him in on all the delightful things he'd missed on his travels, such as the dangerous antics of the Godless.

The Godless are a faction of those opposed to deities being on Gielinor, similar in many ways to the Guthixian views, but with one key difference.

They were violent.

Guthixians would preach about how Guthix banished the gods from Gielinor to protect the world from them. They relied on churches, emissaries and sermons to convey their message to the general populous. The Godless, on the other hand, took it upon themselves to wage war against every god and their followers. They believed no-one should worship a deity, that we were the masters of our own destiny and do not need to follow behind a divine being in order to have worth in our lives.

Before the gods returned to Gielinor and the Sixth Age commenced, the Godless were an incredibly small faction, for almost everyone on Gielinor stood behind a banner of some sort. Now that the gods had returned and they were starting to cause a ruckus, more people were becoming sympathetic to their cause.

The Battle of Lumbridge was their single greatest recruiting tool since their inception.

The Godless would attack and deface shrines during the night, would tear apart churches and harass emissaries. They were lawless, worked underground and distributed propaganda wherever they could.

However, their petty destruction was nothing compared to what the former Bandosians had caused.

After Bandos’ defeat, the vast majority of his followers had defected to the avian deity, erecting shrines and even taking to books and studying the ways of Armadyl. They were helped with the whole ‘learning-to-read-thing’ by emissaries of Armadyl, who set up roaming caravans to teach the former Bandosian loyalists the preachings of their new god.

Sounds great, doesn’t it? Well, old habits die hard, and it would take a lot more than a few commandments and pretty shrines to undo centuries of Bandosian indoctrination. Thus, instead of gradually trying to convert the remaining Bandoanian loyalists - as the emissaries said they should - they went out and systematically hunted them all down.

It was convert or die; any hesitation on the former signed your death sentence.

Goblin and ogre settlements especially were bloodbaths, sometimes even spilling into nearby human settlements, and people often got caught in the crossfire.

The Dorgeshuun, a peaceful tribe of hunter-gatherer goblins that had existed beneath the surface of southern Misthalin, were brought to the brink of extinction. The Dorgeshuun, largely non-religious, did not partake in the battle against Armadyl, and had defied Bandos for years by refusing to submit to his warlike ways. Bandos had planned to wipe them out as soon as he defeated Armadyl, and resolved to make such a day a national holiday. After Bandos’ death, the remaining Bandosian loyalists looked for a scapegoat, someone to blame for their god’s demise, and they settled upon the Dorgeshuun.

They were exterminated before the ex-Bandosian Armadyleans could arrive, who had similar plans for their slaughter.

It wasn’t just converted Bandosians that Armadyl had amassed into his following; more and more humans, particularly Saradominists, were growing increasingly interested in the avian deity’s philosophy. Saradominism and Armadylean beliefs overlapped quite a lot, making the two religions close allies back in the God Wars of old. Now though, more people were getting exposed to Armadylean teachings, and after the way Saradomin helped to tear apart Lumbridge, those same people were becoming open to the idea of supporting a new deity.

This did not go down well with Saradomin; tensions were rising between the two factions, but it had yet to come to a head.

And then came the Zamorakian invasion of Ardougne.

Hazeel and Khazard, along with Zamorakian armies, had marched into Ardougne only last week, taking control of the territory and pushing the warring gnomes - who were already locked in battle with the Khazard troops - out within days. The combined might of the Mahjarrat and their forces was too much for the gnomes alone to handle. Fortunately, Saradominist soldiers had come to the aid of the city, and now a joint Saradominist-Guthixian alliance was fighting to take back Ardougne.

If the Battle of Lumbridge was the first major battle of the Third God Wars, this would be the second. The Armadyl/Bandos scuffle was on a different level - more isolated and less destructive. This time, they’re were battling through the streets of the largest city in the Kingdom of Kandarin.

The Saradominist effort to halt Zamorakian advances in the Kandarin Kingdom forced Saradomin to delay his plans for Morytania, or so rumour has it. It was mere whisperings at this stage, but it was told that Saradomin planned to reignite his desired conquest of Morytania, taking it out of the hands of the Zamorakians (Lord Drakan especially) and liberating the people of Meiyerditch, returning it to its former glory of the Hallowland.

Thanks to two asshole Mahjarrat, that had to be put on hold.

The God Wars were beginning again; at the rate things were going, it wouldn’t be long before an all-out conflict arose.

“You triggered this, Jahaan,” Ariane finished, gravely. “I know it was you who Sliske managed to trick into letting him into Guthix's chamber. Now, the very Mahjarrat that deceived you, the very Mahjarrat you're somehow so chummy with, is the one that’s allowed the world to be torn apart, and instead of trying to stop him, you locked yourself in petty revenge. You're the WORLD GUARDIAN Jahaan - it's time you started acting like one.”

Moving towards the door, Ariane peered briefly over her shoulder with darkness in her eyes. “Actions have consequences, Jahaan. Start thinking of the bigger picture.”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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#ozan #ariane

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years

Text

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 17: Fiona Moore, Locker Room Ghost.

(Ally + Lyn + Michael).

Lyn.

Despite her zealous, I told Ally we not doing any more ghost hunting until after my swim meet this weekend. Although she had been a little pouty about it, I argued that we needed to stay on top of our schoolwork, even if we were solving multiple murders. My education wasn’t going to suffer because of this, and I refused to let it happen to her and Michael either. Plus, since the last time we went ghost hunting left me with a super wonderful souvenir, I wanted to wait until after the meet before doing it again. Finally, she conceded defeat. Hey, having two older sisters was great for winning arguments.

I sat on the bench after warmups, redoing my hair. After that embarrassing meltdown at the pool, I was starter to feel a little bit more like myself. Loryn was watching my back like a hawk, but I found that I didn’t mind. I was still a little fragile, if I was being truthful. I did, however, fill that stupid prescription I’d gotten way back in the hospital for some sleeping pills. I was using them sparingly, but the first night I took them let me sleep through the whole night, a first time in a long time. It was amazing what a full night’s sleep could do for a person.

I slipped on my sneakers and cheered for Maddie as she swam her 100m Backstroke finals. This weekend hadn’t been my best, but I refused to let my crappy mood swings ruin this meet for everyone. I cheered the loudest I could and swam my heart out. I guess I needed to get ready for my race, the 100m Fly. I went over to the blocks to start my good luck ritual when Sophie approached me.

“Hey, Lyn,” she said, stretching beside me.

“Hm?”

“I know I shouldn’t ask, but what the hell happened to you arm?”

“Bear attack,” I said with a cheeky grin. I flexed my biceps so the scars stood out even more. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”

Sophie looked over with skepticism in her eyes before snorting. “You’re so weird. Good luck, Lyn.”

“Good luck to you too, Soph. May the best-looking win.”

She grinned at me as she snapped her goggles on. “Guess I have this in the bag, then.”

I smirked at the floor, feeling a lightness in my chest. It felt good to joke around with someone who wasn’t involved in my daily life. Sophie and I were rivals on different teams, but we’re also friends because we swim against each other in nearly every Fly race. We had a strange relationship, that’s for sure.

We got up onto the diving blocks as I adjusted my Fastskin one last time. I caught Loryn’s eye from across the pool deck and winked. She shook her head with a laugh and gave me two thumbs up. The horn blew, indicating that we needed to be ready. The whistle went and we were off.

100 meters was so fast and slow at the same time. The race was speeding by, but I felt like I was moving in slow motion. I really wanted this race to be a good one. I hadn’t had a fantastic meet this weekend, mostly because I was still in my own head, but this was the race I wanted to win. My arm was blazing with pain, my lungs felt like they were on fire, but I pushed through all that. I was swimming for myself. This was something I absolutely loved doing, and I was willing to put a 110% into it.

My hand punched the wall awkwardly as I crashed to a stop. My eyes flickered to the timer, and a huge grin broke out onto my face. Sophie and I tied for first place, which didn’t happen very often. But the best part was it was a best time for me, a new record. Actually, as my mind raced through all the numbers printed on the wall back home, that was a new record for the school!

Sophie draped her arm over my shoulders, her chest falling up and down heavily. She smiled at me, her cheeks bright red from exertion. “Guess we’re both gorgeous, eh Lyn?”

I laughed loudly, hugging her back. We got out of the pool together, heading towards our respective teams. Coach Jacob hugged me tightly, not caring how wet he got.

“A new best time and a new school record!” he exclaimed, eyes bright with pride and excitement. “That was amazing, Lyn!”

“Thanks,” my grin couldn’t get any bigger. I gave everything I had for that race. My breathing was all over the place and my legs were shaking like crazy, but I felt great. Actually, this was the best I felt in awhile.

“Go warm down, you still have the relay, if you’re okay to keep swimming.”

I nodded as I headed to the cool down pool, my heart beating like crazy. Adrenaline was pumping through my whole body, my brain was buzzing with excitement. Maddie was leaning against the wall when I hopped in, and she patted me gently on the head as she got out. I nodded at her as I ducked under the water, pushing off lazily.

I swam about 500 meters before getting out, the high finally wearing off. I got out and walked over to the benches, drying off quickly before throwing on my sweats and shoes. Loryn wrapped her arms around me before I could pull my shirt on, and I glanced over my shoulder to see her smiling softly at me.

When I raised my eyebrows in question, she just shook her head. “I’m just happy that you’re looking more like yourself,” she said quietly, for no one else’s ears but my own.

“Me too,” I replied just as softly. I twisted all the way around and hugged her tightly, breathing in her calming scent.

“Do you two need a room together or something?” joked Kerry as she sat down next to us, putting her own coat on.

“Shut up,” we said in unison. Kerry just laughed at us.

I did pull away, because my arms were getting cold. Loryn gave me one last arm rub before heading over to the blocks for her last race of the meet. I threw my shirt on, then my parka. I walked over to where Emma was sitting with Tammy, grim determination on her face. I sat down next to them, saying nothing. We all hype ourselves up when needed, and right now I could tell she just wanted to stew in her thoughts.

When Maddie made her way over, Emma sighed deeply, standing up slowly. We gathered around her, my eyes wandering over to where Andrew was huddling the boys. When our eyes caught each other, he smiled and nodded, mouthing ‘good luck’ to us. I did the same back, turning my attention back to Emma.

“Okay, we have 3 more meets after this. But this relay? This relay is for Jackie, who couldn’t be here today,” said Emma, her eyes ablaze with firm determination. “I just want people to have a good race, okay? Try your best, and I love you girls so much. Wolves on 3!”

We cheered on 3, emotion cracking through all of our voices. We got up to the blocks, waiting for them to tell us it was okay to go. Maddie waved to all of us as she jumped into the water after the first horn blast. I took in a deep breath and held it there for a minute, waiting for my nerves to calm. We were doing this for Jackie, and that was most important to me right now.

XXX

Turns out my Monday morning class was cancelled, so that was a nice surprise.

I sat at the table, staring off into the distance, my head empty of thoughts. I should be worried about heading back to the locker room so soon, but honestly, I didn’t think it was going to be as bad this time around. No freaky full moon to give the ghost- I mean Fredrik- any super boosts. Then again, that was me, the bloody optimist, always looking on the bright side of things, even when I shouldn’t because it could end up hurting me and I’m such a fucking idiot that-

I shook my head, stopping that train of thought in its tracks. Until I was able to speak to a professional about all of this, I needed to keep myself in check. I was put on a waiting list, but there was always the mental health counsellor that I spoke to last time. You get free sessions from her.

Vaguely I heard voices getting closer to where I was sitting. I tilted my head backwards and saw Ally and Michael walking over to the table. Ally waved at me, a bright smile on her face. Normally when she smiled at me like that, my heart would race and my ears would light up like Christmas lights, but right now I felt numb. Was it happening again? I smiled back at least.

“Hey,” she said, taking the seat next to mine.

“How was your weekend?” Michael asked, sitting down across from us.

“Good,” I said, my voice sounded a little flat in my ears. I blinked, shook my head, and tried again. “It went really well.” Not much better.

Ally looked like she wanted to say something but changed her mind, reaching for my hand instead. As soon as a connection was established, the feeling returned to my body again and I closed my eyes, trying to supress the shuddering of my body.

I looked over at her, and she just smiled gently at me. I was very aware of Michael sitting across from us, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. The urge to kiss her was very strong all of a sudden, but I managed to tear my eyes away, the tips of my ears feeling very warm. I did interlace our fingers underneath the table, however.

“Okay, I was thinking that we could potentially go tonight,” Ally led with.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with classes tomorrow,” I interjected.

Ally nodded. “Right. If everything goes smoothly this time, it should be fine. We just need to go in, talk to Fiona, and get out. There’s no reason to actually go into the swim’s team change room, which is where Fredrik was last time.”

“And maybe you don’t wear the amethyst this time,” remarked Michael lightly.

“Fair point, I’ll make sure those aren’t on.”

I leaned forward, cupping my chin in my palm. “Okay, should I still bring a weapon? I would really like it if I didn’t nearly die again this time. Or if you guys didn’t either.”

Ally frowned, her thinking face firmly in place. “No, it should be fine. Wait, no. I- um…yeah, you know what? Bring something, just in case. I don’t think it should be dangerous this time, but better safe than sorry.”

“Excellent,” said Michael, clapping his hands together. “My question this time. If Fredrik was brought here forcibly, finding the murderer won’t actually help him move on. The person who brought him here or someone else who is well versed in…well, whatever the heck you need to be well versed in sending ghosts back to where they belong.”

“There was no question in that,” Ally pointed out.

“What? Oh, right. Do you know anyone like that?”

“Nope,” said Ally, popping her ‘p’.

Michael stared at her blankly. After several silent seconds, he shook his head with a chuckle, “I’m not sure why I expected a different answer.” I cracked a smile at that.

We planned our night for the next little bit before we all headed to class. The plan itself was pretty straight forward: we were going to go there just after closing, talk to Fiona, and get out. If everything all goes according to plan, we should be in and out in about an hour. I hope it went according to plan.

XXX

Ally.

I closed my laptop after noticing the time. The Athletic Centre closes at 11, and it was 10:50 now. I had to head out shortly to meet the others. My heart was doing a funny little skip beat the closer it got to mission time. I tried very hard to supress my nerves in front of the other two, but internally I was freaking out. It had gone so horribly wrong last time, with both of my friends getting injured. I didn’t want that to happen again, never again.

I pulled on a hoodie and grabbed my jacket before heading to the door. Sarah had fallen asleep already, snoring away with her headphones on and show still playing. It was probably better this way, now I didn’t have to explain myself to her. I closed the door behind me as softly as possible.

Unfortunately, as I was leaving, the RA happened to be at the door. She inquired where I was going, and I had to fabricate this massive lie on the spot about how I was meeting up with my friends for some late-night studying. The look on her face told me she didn’t really believe a word I just said, but she shrugged it off. I wondered how people like that managed to get a job like this yet they’re so apathetic about the students in their care. I honestly wanted to move out already. Maybe I would get an apartment for next term. I would miss Sarah as a roommate though, she’s been nothing short of amazing since we started living together.

The stars were out in full tonight, twinkling brightly above. I stared at them as I walked towards my destination. It was truly a strange divide, this earth we lived on. How could I be heading towards something so dark and terrible, yet the sky was gorgeous? Humanity could be both beautiful and vile at the same time.

When I got there, no one else was here yet. I took a seat on the grass, not caring that my skirt was getting wet. I pulled my legs in close, still looking up at the night sky. I could still see that there was something dark swirling around this building, but hopefully we could help it leave after tonight. I looked over to the central area of Yokeville, where I could make out some of the buildings. It was a curious thing that such a small town held so many dark secrets. I wonder what else was hiding here, just beneath the surface. Surely the university wasn’t the one thing with a darkness?

I looked over to where the Student Centre was. Jamieson was there, waiting for us to capture his murderer. Amelia was waiting in Harper Hall, wishing for the same thing. Fiona was just inside here, not aware that we were trying to bring her peace. Even Dahlia must be waiting for some form of justice to be served for all these murders.

Actually, speaking of her. Something was bothering me, something I hadn’t noticed until I was thinking about the murders. They all had similar methods. All the victims’ deaths were considered suicides or accidental, but when Dahlia had appeared that day with her wounds in front of me, they were most definitely stab wounds. It didn’t match the MO of this guy. Was it possible that Dahlia wasn’t killed by the same person? I frowned in displeasure at the thought. I never once thought to ask her how she died, because I guess subconsciously, I didn’t think she was connected to this string of murders. That was very disturbing.

“Ally!”

I looked over when I heard my name called. Michael was walking over with a wave. He had his bag again. When I asked about it, he told me it was filled with precautionary items again, just in case. Also, I had to stop myself from snorting because he was wearing a baseball helmet.

“What?” Michael said when he saw the look on my face. “I’m not risking it again, okay? I like my brain the way it is.”

Can’t argue with that logic. I stood up with a laugh, shaking my head in amusement. “I get it. I just hope for our sake that you don’t need it at all.”

“I freaking hope so too.”

Lyn silently approached as we were chatting away. She waved to both of us when she got close enough to be seen. She was carrying a baseball bat that looked like it was covered in something white in her right hand. When she saw Michael’s head gear, she grinned.

“Looks like we had the same idea,” she said, holding the bat in view.

Michael looked over the bat before whistling in appreciation. “Covered that bad boy in salt, did cha?”

“You bloody well know it.”

I clapped them both on the shoulder with a little effort. “Okay, are we ready?”

One nod and one shrug later, we were heading in. Michael flicked the flashlight on, waving it around to check the hallway out. There was nothing noticeable. I knocked my knuckles against the wall, earning me a strange look from Lyn.

“Hehe, just making there’s no distortion happening this time around,” I said with a sheepish grin.

“Makes just about sense as anything around here,” she commented dryly, earning a chuckle from both of us.

We walked down the familiar hall, cutting through the weight room just like last time. The closer we got to the women’s locker room, the heavier the air was getting. Sweat was already beading my forehead as we approached the doors. Lyn took a deep breath before pushing them open slowly. Michael and I peaked out from behind her, seeing nothing. We all glanced at each other before heading in.

A growl came out from behind the locked door of the swim team’s change room. We froze, not daring to even breathe. A tense few minutes later and no other sounds, we kept walking. My heart was thudding against my rib cage, as if it was trying to escape my chest. Michael was shaking next to me, his teeth chattering loudly. Lyn’s knuckles were white as she gripped the bat with dear life, holding it up high.

We walked into the bathroom/shower area. One of the sinks was dripping, the pipes groaning above us. I slowly walked towards the mirrors, tapping my fingers against the glass. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lyn slipping a ring on her finger. It must have been the same one as last time. Michael put one of his hands on my shoulders, nodding encouragingly. I nodded back, then looked back into the mirror.

“Fiona? Fiona, are you there?” I called quietly.

There was a flicker from the flashlight as it went out. Michael looked at it very concerned when there was another flicker in front of us. We both jumped back in shock as Fiona Moore appeared before us. Her hair was stringy and hanging limply in her face. Her skin looked soddened and bloated, with parts of it hanging off by stringy threads. Her eyes looked glassy. She looked at me sorrowfully.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly.

“You said that last time,” I responded evenly.

“Because it’s true. You’ll only get hurt.”

“Fiona, we know who you are. We know that you went missing, that you and your brother were murdered,” I said, taking note of how she winced when I mentioned her brother.

She looked away, shaking her head. Droplets of waters hit the floor. “I meant it last time too. I don’t know who you and your little Scooby gang think you are, but you need to leave. It’s not safe here.”

There was another growl, louder this time. I looked behind my shoulder fearfully, but there was still nothing there. I turned back to Fiona, who was watching me with a weariness.

“Fiona, I’m trying to help solve your murder,” I explained, my voice tight with control. I could feel the panic bubbling up inside my chest, squeezing my throat with each word spoken.

“Ally…” Lyn was facing the doorway, grim determination on her face. “Speed things up a little, okay?”

“You need to leave,” said Fiona. Her face went dark, fangs flashing briefly before turning back into normal teeth. My heart skipped a beat. Was she turning vengeful?

“Show me!” I pleaded, stepping forward. “Show me how you died, and then we’ll leave! Please, Fiona, we’re only trying to help!”

“YOU CAN’T HELP!” Her voice boomed. The mirrors shattered, spraying the floor with glass. The pipes rattled threateningly above us, waiting to burst at any minute.

“Ally, we should go!” squeaked Michael, reaching for my arm. I pulled away, refusing to take my eyes off of Fiona. “Ally, please!”

“Give me another minute!” I stepped towards her. I know that we needed to get out of here, but I was close, I was sure of it. Behind all the rage, there was a sadness. I could see it in her, the true belief that no one cared. “Fiona, I care! I know how easily they gave up on you and your brother, but I won’t! I swear that I’ll bring your killer to justice!”

“NO, YOU WON’T!” There were tears streaming down her face as the walls started to shake violently. “You people all say that, but never mean it. Why should you? You and your fucking White Privilege would never understand how it feels to be forgotten. A pretty young White girl like you? If you went missing, the whole damn country would have been searching for any sign of you being alive,” she said scornfully. “Me? An Indigenous woman? How many of us have gone missing before and no one cared? You never cared. They didn’t, that’s for sure. The search party from the RCMP lasted 2 weeks before they declared it off. You know what they said about us? That we probably got shit faced drunk and froze to death somewheres. That there was no point in looking until the ice was gone, and that cougars probably ate our bodies. We’ve been dealing with this kind of bullshit for years, so what makes it different now, ALLY?”

The floor was filling with water now. The pipes burst, water spraying from the showers, sinks, and showers. The walls seeped with vicious dark red blood. Michael scrambled out of the way as one of the taps smashed into the wall next to his face. Lyn grabbed my arm, pulling me away from Fiona.

“Ally, we need to go now!” she yelled over the sound of rushing water.

Even though I was conflicted about leaving, I knew we had to. It was getting too dangerous. “Fiona, I will help! I promise to figure this out, I won’t let you down!”

Fiona’s face twisted up in rage, those fangs returning once more. “If you want to know how I died so badly, little miss hero, then I’ll show you!”

A huge bellow caused ripples across the water that was nearly up to our knees. Fredrik smashed into the room, taking all three of us down at the same time. His monstrous arms wrapped around my throat and held me under the water. I tugged at his fingers, struggling to get away. Michael reached into his bag and stabbed Fredrik in the arm with a knife. Instantly the wound began to steam as he bellowed in pain, retracting his arm away. Lyn smashed her bat against his other arm, causing him to swat at her. I scrambled away from his, coughing up water as I tried to catch my breath.

“I thought you wanted to help, Ally,” sneered Fiona in my ear. “I thought you wanted to know how I died, Ally.”

“I-” I broke down into a coughing fit.

“He’ll get you in the end. He always wins in the end.”

I looked up at her. There was rage as clear as day on her face, but in her eyes was fear. I reached out and touched her face, causing her to flinch away. “Who, Fiona? Who did this to you?”

Fiona looked at with me with pity as she pushed me under the water again. “If you don’t know who, then there’s no hope.”

I struggled against her grip as my vision started to get spotty from the lack of oxygen. My hand slipped off of hers, as my eyes started to close unwillingly. I can’t believe I told them it was going to be safer this time, only to end up being killed by someone I was trying to help. How would mom and dad react when they found out? How disappointed would dad be once he figured out what killed me? But just before I lost consciousness, Fiona got torn away from me, and someone hefted me to my feet.

I threw up a bunch of water, my chest heaving as I gasped for breath. Lyn stood in front of me, her bat held in front of her like a sword. “Ally, are you alright?” she asked, not turning around.

“I-I will be,” I choked out.

She nodded, her back still to me. “We need to leave, now. I have a plan. Fiona is too dangerous. Either she is being controlled by whomever killed her, or her rage and agony is far too much for her to handle. That beast is blocking our only exit,” she indicated Fredrik with a tilt of her head. Michael backed away from Fredrik, who was holding his arm tenderly. He backed up until he was right up against us. Lyn glanced at both of us, her face calm. “Ready?”

“Ready for what?” Michael asked, his grip on the knife tightening.

“My plan,” said Lyn, her voice still strangely calm. Honestly, it was scaring me almost as much as Fiona was. How did she even know all that about Fiona? It didn’t make any sense. But then it hit me like a ton of bricks. It was her eyes.

They were sea green.

XXX

Michael.

“W-what plan?” I asked, my arms shaking violently. I barely noticed when Ally stiffened beside me, chalking it up to her being scared of nearly dying. It was a little strange that Lyn was the one with the plan, considering she could barely see the ghosts even with the ring, but I was willing to give anything a chance at this point.

Lyn glanced at me again. “Trust me. Fredrik is only here because Fiona summoned him here with her rage. I believe there are two exits once we get by him. So, the logical conclusion is to stop Fiona.”

I looked over at said ghost, whose entire persona was changing right in front of our very eyes. Her fingers were elongating into claws, her face changing into something beastly, like her brother. I had no idea what Lyn was thinking. There was no way we could stop them between the three of us. Especially since Ally was still coughing her lungs out.

“Are you s-sure?” I stammered. My pulse was throbbing in my ears, my teeth clattering. I was scared out of my mind right now, but I was still able to comprehend everything. It felt very hopeless, truthfully.

Lyn smirked at me, her eyes brimming with confidence. “Trust me,” she repeated. “I can handle Fiona. You two make a break for it, and I’ll follow shortly behind.”

Before I could argue the insanity of that plan, Lyn charged forward. She ducked when Fredrik took a swipe at her. I saw our chance, as Fredrik lunged at her. I grabbed Ally’s arm and pulled her towards the doorway. Fiona disappeared and reappeared in front of us, her arms outstretched to stop us. I was just about to swing my knife at her when Lyn smashed the bat against her face. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I thought it was glowing. Like the whole bat was just glowing with energy. Okay, that’s super freaky.

I didn’t have time to figure that out. Ally wasn’t coughing as much anymore, and she managed keep up with me as we ran down the hallway. The ceiling lights rattled as we heard Fredrik roar in frustration. Lyn dashed out from the other room, quickly following behind us. There was blood smeared on her face but otherwise she seemed unharmed. A huge rush of water and blood spilled out, filling the hallway. I thought about heading towards the back entrance again, but the water was making the floor slippery. Making a quick decision, I ran towards the stairs, making sure Ally was still with me.

The three of us raced up the stairs, our footfalls echoing throughout the whole building. I shoved open the emergency door and the girls flew through the doors as I followed shortly behind. We ran all the way down the street until we were near the Swan Pond, very far away from the Athletic Centre.

Ally fell to her knees, gasping for breath. Bruises were already forming on her neck from where she had been held under by Fredrik and Fiona. I fell down beside her, throwing my stupid baseball helmet off. My chest fell heavily as my whole body trembled. That was terrifying. I closed my eyes to focus on slowing down my heart, which I was pretty sure was beating 200 beats a minute. I’m not sure if this time had been worse than last, but right now I didn’t really care.

Lyn sat down next to Ally but said nothing, just looking off at the night sky. She was behaving really strangely. I rolled onto my side, and asked, “Are you doing okay, Ally?”

She nodded slowly, still taking gulping breaths of air, but she was doing it less. After a few minutes, she finally sat down, wrapping her arms around herself. “W-who are you?” she croaked out. I blinked in confusion, looking around. Who was she talking to?

“You know who I am.”

What the hell? I sat up, even more confused. Why was Lyn talking? I looked between the two of them, trying to figure out what was happening.

Ally rubbed her eyes, her glasses missing. They must have been lost in the tussle. She looked over at Lyn with tired eyes. “Stop playing with me, please. I’m too tired to figure this out.”

Lyn(?) smirked as she twirled her hair around her finger. “Not even a thank you for helping you out? How truly tragic, and very rude of you.”

“Give her back.”

“She’s right here,” said Lyn(?), tapping her head.

“I’m sorry,” I cut in, “but what’s going on?”

“That’s not Lyn,” said Ally dully. “Look at her eyes, those aren’t her eyes. She’s being possessed by someone. Well, not someone. She’s being possessed by Dahlia.”

What? I frowned as I looked over. I could barely tell the difference in her eye colour, but I guess they did look a little greener. How the hell did Ally pick up on that so easily? Her observation skills were really amazing.

“Anyhow,” Dahlia/Lyn said, waving her hand around, “I am going now. It took a lot out of me to do this. Just make sure you don’t go sticking your nose into there anymore, it’s far too dangerous. I also expect a thank you later, darling.”

The breeze picked up as Lyn’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. She fell to the grass with a heavy thump. Ally crawled over and grabbed her face, her own full of concern. I shuffled over too, carefully putting my hand on Ally’s shoulder.

“Is she okay?” I asked with concern.

“I…I think so?” Ally answered, her tone unsure. “I’ve never really seen a possession before now. I don’t know how it’s going to affect her.”

I frowned. That was not great to hear. I looked around, noticing for the first time that it was lightly snowing. We were all wet and shivering from the cold. I looked back at Lyn. I wasn’t sure I would be able to carry her back to her room like this, I was too tired, and she was dead weight right now. This wasn’t a good situation.

“We need to figure out how to move her,” I said quietly. “We’re going to freeze if we stay out here.”

Ally nodded. I felt terrible. She really went through the wringer tonight. I also would bet my bottom dollar that she was blaming herself for that attack. There was no way to predict what happen. It caught us all off guard.

Something else was bothering me too. Last time, I figured I saw Fiona in the mirror because Ally’s own abilities had been heighted. But this time? She wasn’t wearing the gemstones. I was worried that the spiritual energy was increasing at the school, which usually indicated something bad was coming.

Okay, I needed to figure out how to get us back into somewhere warm. I couldn’t leave this all on Ally’s shoulders. Ignoring my protesting body, I got to my feet. “I’m going to get campus security,” I told Ally.

“Is that a good idea?” she countered. “They might question why we’re soaked to the bone in the middle of the night.”

“Maybe, but what options do we have? I don’t think I can lug Lyn back to her dorm.”

“What if we tried together?”

“Ally, no offense, but you’re in no condition to help me,” I sighed. Ally sighed too, knowing I was right. We were stuck.

But by some grace of God, Lyn’s eyes fluttered open.

XXX

Ally.

“Wha’s going on?” Lyn asked groggily as she sat up.

Relief flooded my body as soon as I saw her eyes were back to those beautiful electric blue. I practically fell on top of her, wrapping my arms around her tightly.

“Um…” Lyn wrapped one arm around me while using the other one to support herself. “Why are we outside?”

I was too exhausted to even muster up an explanation, but luckily Michael stepped up to the plate. He knelt to the grass, his brows furrowed together in concern. “Lyn, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Lyn blinked. “Ally was…she was being attacked by Fredrik, and you fucking whipped out a knife and stabbed him. I remember hitting him with my bat so he would let go, and I think he tossed me into the wall? I kinda blacked out after that. Speaking of,” she shifted so she was sitting up more, cupping my face in her hand, “are you okay?”

I nodded. My throat hurt so much, and I didn’t feel like talking right now. My lungs were aching, and my head was pounding after nearly dying.

“Okaaaay,” said Michael slowly, “so this is gonna sound super weird, but I guess you were possessed by Dahlia.”

“What?” Lyn stiffened underneath me. “How did that happen?”

Michael shrugged helplessly, and when Lyn looked at me, I did the same. I really didn’t know how she did it. I was being truthful when I told Michael that.

“Cool. Cool. Cooooool,” Lyn shook her head. “You know what? I’m not even gonna think about it, not right now at least. That’s just too much for me to process.”

“Fair enough,” said Michael. “I personally have no idea how to process that either. I do know that we should get inside though, before we freeze to death out here.”

Lyn snorted. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but that has to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard. I can totally tell you’re from BC, you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“Sure, it’s chilly, but this ain’t cold,” she said with a smile. “It can feel like -30°C here with the wind chill, Michael.”

Michael looked horrified. “Are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you East Coasters?”

Lyn full on laughed while I chuckled silently into her chest. My eyes felt heavy, and I started feeling myself drifting off, which given my condition was probably not a good thing. But I was tired. My body ached. I just wanted to sleep now, to make it all go away.

I felt my body weight shift as Lyn stood up. I blinked my eyes open to see her looking down at me with concern.

“You doing okay, Al?”

I shook my head.

“Right. We should get back then.”

I could feel her body shaking as she carried me across the campus. Knowing her, I bet she was feeling a lot worse than she was letting on. Just like last time. She pretended that her arm wasn’t that bad so Michael would be seen first. What did Loryn say to me that time we spoke? Something like Lyn would carry the weight of the world without letting anyone know how heavy it was or whatever. I curled in closer, trying to stop my own uncontrolled shivers.

It sounded like Michael and Lyn were talking about something, but I couldn’t make out the words. Everything was fuzzy, like if my ears were filled with cotton. I tried very hard to stay with it as they walked back to the residences.

Some time later, Lyn was jostling me in her arms still. I was still awake, I swear. It took me a couple of minutes, but I finally focused on her face. It looked blurry. Then I realized I wasn’t wearing my glasses. That’s why everything had been so hard to make out.

“Ally? Can you hear me?”

I nodded.

“Do you have anyone to get into your res? I don’t have your key.”

“My purse,” I croaked.

“Luv, your purse is gone. I think we lost it back there,” said Lyn softly.

Oh. I guess that meant my phone was gone too. So, I couldn’t even text Sarah to let me back in. Crap. I bit my lip, trying to think of a solution. There was a doorbell that people could ring if they lost their student card. I was about to tell Lyn that, but she was already walking in some unfamiliar direction.

“Wh-where are we going?” I asked, my teeth chattering as I shivered.

“You can just sleep in my room tonight,” she said. “Nura is out with her boyfriend, so I know she won’t be back until tomorrow after class.”

I didn’t say anything else until after we got there. Lyn tapped her card against the sensor pad and pulled the door open once it turned green. The hallway was dimly lit as she walked towards her room. I was surprised that there was no RA in sight, but then I heard some rowdiness somewhere else in the building, and assumed they were there.

“Ally, can I put you down for a second? I just need to get my key out.”

I slipped down, feeling very unsteady on my feet. I grabbed a hold of her arm to keep myself upright. Lyn reached into her pocket and fished out the key. Her hand was shaking pretty badly as she tried to get it into the hole. I reached over and tried to steady her hand, but it only made it worse. We both ended up giggling as she finally managed to insert the stupid thing. She helped me into the room.

I was starting to feel a little more awake, but honestly, I was freezing. I took a look around the room and I don’t why, but I was surprised to see the stack of books beside the bed that I assumed to be Lyn’s. At least it looked like her bed. There were photos tacked above the bed, but they were too blurry for me to see.

“This way,” Lyn grabbed my hand and led me to sit on the bed. “Here, I have some clothes you can change into. They’re gonna be way too big for you, but it’s better than freezing your ass off.”

I took them thankfully. Lyn turned her back to me, to let me change in peace. I quickly undressed and put on the new clothes. Lyn wasn’t wrong, they were too big. I felt like I was swimming in the t-shirt, and while the waist wasn’t terrible because I could tie it, the pant legs just went on forever.

“I’m done,” I told Lyn.

Lyn had been pulling on her own new shirt. She turned around and grinned when she saw how I looked. “Here, put this on too,” she tossed a hoodie at me.

“Thanks,” I said as I pulled it on. Already I was feeling a little better. Lyn sat down next to me, holding a brush in her hand. I looked at it in question.

“Your hair just looks like it needs a quick brush,” Lyn explained as she waggled the brush around. “After my hair gets wet, I like to brush out the tangles before sleeping.”

She started to slowly brush out the tangles, which felt very relaxing. I found myself leaning into her as she ran the brush through my hair. It was strange to think that I nearly died not too long ago, yet here I was, in my crush’s room letting her brush my hair. It was surreal. I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I sat there, everything catching up to me at once. My throat was pounding from where those hands tried to squeeze the life out of me.

“Hey,” Lyn said softly behind me. I turned around, wiping at my eyes. She cupped my face in her hands and wiped away the rest of the tears with her thumbs. “It’s alright. You’re going to be okay. If you need a minute, I’m here.”

I nodded, sniffling. She pulled me close for a hug, and I held on to her tightly. Was it worth it? Was I doing the right thing by investigating these murders? I thought I was, I really did. I guess a better question to ask if it was the right thing to drag in other people with me? I didn’t think it was. I should tell them to stop, that they didn’t need to help me anymore. I’ll do this on my own from now on. I took a shuddering breath to say as much, pulling away from Lyn’s embrace. But when I saw the look on her face, I knew I couldn’t. There was a fire in her eyes. They both would have told me if they didn’t want to help, I believe that.

“Are you doing okay?” Lyn asked, her eyes searching my face. I nodded, and her lip quirked upwards. “Good, I’m glad. Get some rest, Ally. You need it.”

“Lyn…” I hesitated.

Her eyes narrowed in concern. “Yeah? What is it?”

“You…you would tell me if you didn’t want to do this anymore, right?” I asked, my heart speeding up in a bout of nerves.

Lyn’s face softened as she reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Of course, I would. You never forced me into this, Ally. I chose to help. Michael too. Listen, what happened tonight? Not your fault. Shit happens, you know? Don’t blame yourself.”

My heart was still racing, but it wasn’t from nerves anymore. I nodded, so she knew I listened to what she said. She smiled, her hand still on my face. My hands were trembling, but I knew. I leaned forward, kissing Lyn softly.

Her eyes widened in surprise before she closed them, kissing me back. It was better than I ever imagined it to be. I could smell the chlorine on her skin, lingering from her earlier practice. Her lips are softer than I expected, not at all dry.

I pulled away, smiling shyly. “I wanted to do that for awhile now,” I whispered.

Lyn put her forehead on mine, her thumb rubbing my cheek softly. “Me too,” she admitted with a chuckle. “I was going to, back in the library before the ghost interrupted. Then I was too wrapped in all my shit when I got back. I’m glad you took initiative, heh. Now, as much as I want to kiss you again, you need to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

“Okay,” I pulled away and laid down in her bed. “Do you mind sharing with me? I’m still really cold.”

Lyn smirked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Sure thing.” She got up and shut the lights off, then climbed back into the bed. It was a little small for two people to share, but I found I didn’t mind being squished. She wrapped her arm around my middle and held me close. Lyn pulled up the blankets, tucking her chin on top of my head. I felt warm and protected by her embrace and loved it. It was a wonderful feeling. It chased away the chill I felt deep in my chest. I drifted off instantly.

#unnatural affairs #ua #ally holland #lyn hart #michael yamamoto #fiona moore #ghosts #paranormal #murder mysteries #original story #original fiction #orginal work #sapphic lead #wlw romance #romance #orginal writing #writing

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thehavenmh · 6 years

Text

The Haven's Beginnings

Zen Founder  The Haven Support Network  I was 30 years old and had just gotten married when I last tried to kill myself. I was actually in a psych ward on the upper west side of Manhattan and went into a bipolar mixed state due to natural chemicals, rapid cycling, and new medications. It made me suicidal. In a few minutes of fixated psychosis, I climbed up on to the top of a wardrobe in my bedroom, kneeled on the top, and dove off on to the top of my head. I had hoped that it would break my neck and kill me. My luck, it only did one of the two. I shattered my C5 vertebra in my neck and fractured my T6 in my back into three pieces. I needed surgery to repair my neck and they needed to use a mesh wiring to keep everything together. It was a long, gruesome recovery. But I lived and that’s what brings me here today. Mental illness has dictated much of my life for the last 20 years. The first time I attempted suicide I was 13 and in a manic state brought on by Prozac. As a result I ended up in a teen psych unit for about a month. It was a horrific experience, one I often blame myself for because I didn’t choose the nicer hospital. But I was 14, what did I know? The psych unit was old and kind of rough around the edges, not slick and sterile like in an actual hospital. There were 2-4 girls to a room and half the beds were falling apart. The different buildings were separate so we walked with nurses between Lodge (my unit), the school building, and the dining hall. Eventually, due to excessive self-harm behaviors, I wasn’t allowed to leave Lodge. I was introduced to the quiet room, shatter-proof glass, velcro mittens to keep me from scratching myself, forced sedatives, and strait jackets. At one point it got so intense that I had four fully grown men holding me down on the floor, while one sat on top of me to keep me still, and was then injected with a sedative in my buttcheek. They tied me up in a strait jacket and put me in some sort of sling so they could carry me wrapped up to the van which would take me down the hill to the more intense quiet rooms. In my head it’s “the burrito.” Many more things happened in that month, but those are stories for another time. I lost friends because of what people said and believed about me. Which is fair, honestly. I was out of my mind and likely an unhealthy influence on those close to me. I was literally losing my mind in a mental hospital. It’s understandable. But part of that experience was my first run in with the stigma of mental illness. I hadn’t known that it was truly bad to be crazy. We had a psych hospital and rehab center in my town growing up. We always joked, don’t go nuts or the whitecoats would come take you away, but that was about as serious as it got. What happened, which I didn’t know at the time, was I had come face to face with the stigma of mental illness. Stigma rears its nasty head whenever there is something unknown, liminal, abnormal, not understood. People with mental illness suffer a tremendous amount of discrimination and a huge proportion of people suffering don’t even have access to mental healthcare to try and improve their situations. One contributing factor is simply that mental illness has been taboo to talk openly about and continues to be taboo in most places around the world. Men in particular find it hard to come forward and discuss their mental health. While we find it difficult to have conversations about mental health, people find themselves in hopeless situations and lose their battles with mental illness. Suicide statistics show that over the last 45 years suicides have gone up 60% worldwide. “The World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates that each year approximately one million people die from suicide, which represents a global mortality rate of 16 people per 100,000 or one death every 40 seconds. It is predicted that by 2020 the rate of death will increase to one every 20 seconds” (Suicide Statistics | Befrienders). These are terrifying statistics, made even more so by the incredible lack of mental healthcare in most parts of the world. Even in the developed countries access to mental healthcare is never simple. The American pay-to-win system leaves those living paycheck-to-paycheck with few options and high deductibles if they’re able to get an insurance plan at all. In the UK waiting to see a psychiatrist through the NHS could take up to two years, especially if you’re looking for a specialist. In Brazil if you go to an emergency department and proclaim that you’re going to kill yourself, they will call your doctor and send you home. In many other countries there is simply nowhere to go. When I was younger I relied on chatrooms and forums, seeking solace in the experience of others, looking for validation for what was happening in my head. I discovered that I wasn’t alone. Last year I went looking for a mental health community that I could get involved in. I found a chatroom and moderated for a while. Mostly I offered support and advice to people who were having a rough day or in crisis of some sort. At some point a friend of mine left the chat and casually said, oh you might try making one yourself. Today I run a network of mental health peer support chat servers. We use an application called DiscordDiscord - Free Voice and Text Chat for Gamers, that you can use on mobile, in browser, or in Discord’s desktop app. The Haven Support consists of three servers: Haven Lite, which is for people 13 and up who are living with mental illness; Haven Retreat, which is for people 13 and up who are looking for emotional support and a lively community; and The Haven, our main server that is 18 and up and you must be living with or believe you are living with mental illness. I began The Haven set on cultivating an environment where people could feel less alone, could get help when they otherwise couldn’t, or give back because helping others helped them too. The phrase that came to mind was, “Care when you need it, care for others when you can.” I’m bipolar so I’m used to a rollercoaster of capability. What I imagined for the community was something similar. When you’re down and you need a hand, someone is there to grab you. When you feel like supporting someone, you can reach out and see who reaches back. We are a tight community that wouldn’t survive without our peer support volunteers and the moderating team. The most important role in the server is Support. Having the Support role means that you receive notifications when someone is asking for help in one of our 1:1 support channels. Without the people who volunteer in the support channels, The Haven wouldn’t be anything like it is today. I am constantly amazed and forever grateful for the time and effort that people are willing to give each other. It is humbling. Our guides, support mods, and moderating team are also all volunteers who donate their time (and sometimes money) to keeping the peace, making sure all three servers remain safe spaces for people to hang out in. I always tell my team that we should strive to do what is best for the greatest amount of people. The long-term goal for The Haven Support is to become a non-profit that raises money for people anywhere in the world who cannot access timely or effective mental healthcare. I hope that along this journey I am able to spread some awareness about the very real struggles that people with mental illness face day to day. It is still more acceptable for women to receive treatment for mental illness, but men are just as or more likely to be struggling and are more prone to committing violent suicide. Maybe in a few years it will feel more OK to say, “I lived,” after a suicide attempt. Hopefully within the next decade schools will begin to teach mental health as often as they teach physical health. Replace detention with meditation. Let kids play more and let teens sleep later. Mental illness is above all a physical illness: it is the connections between neurons, the electrical and chemical exchanges in the synapses. As far as science can tell, we do not exist outside of our bodies and our minds are theoretically contained in our brains. Since our brain is just an organ, all malfunctions thereof should be considered like those of any other organ. We do not judge people’s character because they have a broken leg, so nor should anyone judge a person for a depressive episode or a psychotic break. I have borderline personality disorder, but that just means my amygdala is bigger than yours. The Haven is the result of hard work and good luck. I found an amazing team to work with, lots of loving members who help each other when in need. We are constantly growing, and our newest connection with PsychCentral has really bolstered our position. I look forward to this new chapter in The Haven’s life.

0 notes

thehavenmh · 6 years

Text

The Haven: Beginnings

Zen, Founder of The Haven Support

I was 30 years old and had just gotten married when I last tried to kill myself. I was actually in a psych ward on the upper west side of Manhattan and went into a bipolar mixed state due to natural chemicals, rapid cycling, and new medications. It made me suicidal. In a few minutes of fixated psychosis, I climbed up on to the top of a wardrobe in my bedroom, kneeled on the top, and dove off on to the top of my head. I had hoped that it would break my neck and kill me. My luck, it only did one of the two. I shattered my C5 vertebra in my neck and fractured my T6 in my back into three pieces. I needed surgery to repair my neck and they needed to use a mesh wiring to keep everything together. It was a long, gruesome recovery. But I lived and that’s what brings me here today.

Mental illness has dictated much of my life for the last 20 years. The first time I attempted suicide I was 13 and in a manic state brought on by Prozac. As a result I ended up in a teen psych unit for about a month. It was a horrific experience, one I often blame myself for because I didn’t choose the nicer hospital. But I was 14, what did I know? The psych unit was old and kind of rough around the edges, not slick and sterile like in an actual hospital. There were 2-4 girls to a room and half the beds were falling apart. The different buildings were separate so we walked with nurses between Lodge (my unit), the school building, and the dining hall. Eventually, due to excessive self-harm behaviors, I wasn’t allowed to leave Lodge.

I was introduced to the quiet room, shatter-proof glass, velcro mittens to keep me from scratching myself, forced sedatives, and strait jackets. At one point it got so intense that I had four fully grown men holding me down on the floor, while one sat on top of me to keep me still, and was then injected with a sedative in my buttcheek. They tied me up in a strait jacket and put me in some sort of sling so they could carry me wrapped up to the van which would take me down the hill to the more intense quiet rooms. In my head it’s “the burrito.” Many more things happened in that month, but those are stories for another time.

I lost friends because of what people said and believed about me. Which is fair, honestly. I was out of my mind and likely an unhealthy influence on those close to me. I was literally losing my mind in a mental hospital. It’s understandable. But part of that experience was my first run in with the stigma of mental illness. I hadn’t known that it was truly bad to be crazy. We had a psych hospital and rehab center in my town growing up. We always joked, don’t go nuts or the whitecoats would come take you away, but that was about as serious as it got.

What happened, which I didn’t know at the time, was I had come face to face with the stigma of mental illness. Stigma rears its nasty head whenever there is something unknown, liminal, abnormal, not understood. People with mental illness suffer a tremendous amount of discrimination and a huge proportion of people suffering don’t even have access to mental healthcare to try and improve their situations. One contributing factor is simply that mental illness has been taboo to talk openly about and continues to be taboo in most places around the world. Men in particular find it hard to come forward and discuss their mental health. While we find it difficult to have conversations about mental health, people find themselves in hopeless situations and lose their battles with mental illness.

Suicide statistics show that over the last 45 years suicides have gone up 60% worldwide. “The World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates that each year approximately one million people die from suicide, which represents a global mortality rate of 16 people per 100,000 or one death every 40 seconds. It is predicted that by 2020 the rate of death will increase to one every 20 seconds” (https://www.befrienders.org/suicide-statistics). These are terrifying statistics, made even more so by the incredible lack of mental healthcare in most parts of the world. Even in the developed countries access to mental healthcare is never simple.

The American pay-to-win system leaves those living paycheck-to-paycheck with few options and high deductibles if they’re able to get an insurance plan at all. In the UK waiting to see a psychiatrist through the NHS could take up to two years, especially if you’re looking for a specialist. In Brazil if you go to an emergency department and proclaim that you’re going to kill yourself, they will call your doctor and send you home. In many other countries there is simply nowhere to go.

When I was younger I relied on chatrooms and forums, seeking solace in the experience of others, looking for validation for what was happening in my head. I discovered that I wasn’t alone. Last year I went looking for a mental health community that I could get involved in. I found a chatroom and moderated for a while. Mostly I offered support and advice to people who were having a rough day or in crisis of some sort. At some point a friend of mine left the chat and casually said, oh you might try making one yourself.

Today I run a network of mental health peer support chat servers. We use an application called Discord https://discordapp.com/, that you can use on mobile, in browser, or in Discord’s desktop app. The Haven Support consists of three servers: Haven Lite, which is for people 13 and up who are living with mental illness; Haven Retreat, which is for people 13 and up who are looking for emotional support and a lively community; and The Haven, our main server that is 18 and up and you must be living with or believe you are living with mental illness.

I began The Haven set on cultivating an environment where people could feel less alone, could get help when they otherwise couldn’t, or give back because helping others helped them too. The phrase that came to mind was, “Care when you need it, care for others when you can.” I’m bipolar so I’m used to a rollercoaster of capability. What I imagined for the community was something similar. When you’re down and you need a hand, someone is there to grab you. When you feel like supporting someone, you can reach out and see who reaches back.

We are a tight community that wouldn’t survive without our peer support volunteers and the moderating team. The most important role in the server is Support. Having the Support role means that you receive notifications when someone is asking for help in one of our 1:1 support channels. Without the people who volunteer in the support channels, The Haven wouldn’t be anything like it is today. I am constantly amazed and forever grateful for the time and effort that people are willing to give each other. It is humbling. Our guides, support mods, and moderating team are also all volunteers who donate their time (and sometimes money) to keeping the peace, making sure all three servers remain safe spaces for people to hang out in. I always tell my team that we should strive to do what is best for the greatest amount of people.

The long-term goal for The Haven Support is to become a non-profit that raises money for people anywhere in the world who cannot access timely or effective mental healthcare. I hope that along this journey I am able to spread some awareness about the very real struggles that people with mental illness face day to day. It is still more acceptable for women to receive treatment for mental illness, but men are just as or more likely to be struggling and are more prone to committing violent suicide. Maybe in a few years it will feel more OK to say, “I lived,” after a suicide attempt. Hopefully within the next decade schools will begin to teach mental health as often as they teach physical health. Replace detention with meditation. Let kids play more and let teens sleep later.

Mental illness is above all a physical illness: it is the connections between neurons, the electrical and chemical exchanges in the synapses. As far as science can tell, we do not exist outside of our bodies and our minds are theoretically contained in our brains. Since our brain is just an organ, all malfunctions thereof should be considered like those of any other organ. We do not judge people’s character because they have a broken leg, so nor should anyone judge a person for a depressive episode or a psychotic break. I have borderline personality disorder, but that just means my amygdala is bigger than yours.

The Haven is the result of hard work and good luck. I found an amazing team to work with, lots of loving members who help each other when in need. We are constantly growing, and our newest connection with PsychCentral has really bolstered our position. I look forward to this new chapter in The Haven’s life.

0 notes