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thetinylittlespider · 10 months

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Tearing Up: Season 1

Chapter 2: Family reunion.

CW: Blood, Brutal execution (Small amount of gore), slight body horror, violence, and mature language, dehumanization.

KU-M9's POV:

The white lights that casted their power over me were blinding, It was hard for me to focus my vision, to regulate it to this intensity of brightness. But my nose and ears gave me a teaser of what was happening in my surroundings.

It was natural, something that kicked inside my brain, a call of something familiar, but that never reached to my knowledge before. This wasn't something I was taught. I wasn't aware that I could even do it in the first place, but there I was, feeling...sensing, others like myself, creatures who also grew inside this laboratory, others that shared blood with me. And all I could understand was how angry and hungry they were...

The only thing dividing us, the only thing that was avoiding every "sibling" to look at each other was a wall of thin metal that originated from little straight gaps in the floor, creating a personal squared space for each of us, imprisoning everyone. A smaller containment space than before, I wasn't expecting anything good to come out of this. Specially when they gave us a crystal clear ceiling to look up at the science team, and whoever was close to the space they put us into.

But before I could even start to worry, something happened, more people were coming in. The 3 scientist that I was used to see around were now greeting a visit. The leader seemed to be the woman who took me out of my "room". She was the one who gave a warm welcome to the visits, introduced everyone, but their names are something I never cared about, not that I ever had something to tell them.

"It was time you recognized the investment I've made for you all, It is unbelievable how much time you took, the riots outside are going to be the end of me, and this force of soldiers is everything I need right now!".

Woow, that voice...Sound so juvenile, but at that tone, demanding things as soon as he spoke, with that emotion on it, I hated it. It was the first human who's voice I actually minded but not for the best of reasons.

I looked up at the crystal ceiling, until the owner of that demanding voice showed up. In his black suit, towering above the containment and giving a look at us, the products. There was no gestures to recognize, a white mask covered his face, but it was easy to tell for me when someone had their eyes on me. It was him, the great leader of the world outside this lab, the one who represented hope, the path of light.

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses of how or why you took so long, skip to the point and let's get this over with". He finished his sentence crossing his arms, while what it seemed to be his security guards started repeating his movements.

Funny, for a brief moment it felt nice to have someone talk to my "creators" the same way they used to talk to me while I was trapped in an electric chair, or when I was close to drowning in a water container...Like a lost cause.

"W-Well, sir, as you ordered, we tried to make a serum to create the perfect soldiers you are looking for...But the steroids and some components didn't work in our selected candidates. We couldn't give a human that power". The lead scientist started her speech, she seemed nervous. But what got my attention was the mention of older experiments, with procedures that I never experienced. They must have tried something before creating me and the others.

"So, we tried to create something new, not a human but with the base DNA of one...We started playing with some genes, and we found out that we could give this new being the compacted abilities and partial physiology of an arachnid. You wanted trackers, hunters, experts on capture with the ability to infiltrate and fight the resistance, not an army, but agents of pure focus on their prey. Sneaky to avoid uncalled eyes of the population, they won't even know this creatures exist" She said proud, with a nervous smile... but I, even in this enclosure, could feel the vibration from her heart, like a distant earthquake from how much it rushed.

"Of course we had to gather all species of arachnids to see how fitting their abilities would be, how we could recreate their DNA...we calculated the strength, tactics, physique, their venom, the silk of their webs, the durability, everything! And so we created new entities, 10 generations of changes, upgrades, tests...Some could keep their human features almost intact, others have some noticeable body variations, but hehehe...N-Nothing that can't be put behind a mask and a suit!". She said body variations, I was not that aware of my body...But I never seem to freak out anybody, I had fangs, I could feel them inside my mouth but they were part of my set of teeth, nothing abnormal...Or so I hoped, after all, I did not developed all my abilities yet. Why was I here then? they are talking like if they had a finished set of experiments.

"What used do they have to me at that size? You can step on them and the whole operation is down." The man in black replied in a completely annoyed tone of voice. To be fair, he provided a valid point. I wasn't even a rival to the force of a thumb pressing over my head, all my fights back in the past while I tried to escape proved useless, they just picked me up with ease and put me in my room as if nothing had happened.

"Nothing to worry about, sir! They are pretty durable at that size, enough to be stepped on by accident and live to fight another day, we have tested that! But also, in their development, they all have a shared gene that allows them to grow to human size! Although most of their abilities are woken up by adrenaline and survival instincts, the growing gene is only activated by a vaccine we have made, taking their abilities proportionally to their new size!". She then showed up 2 small, nearly unnoticeable flasks in between her fingers, those seemed to be the vaccines. But I wondered...Why are there only 2 of those? Would they work on me? I am as a fact....defective. I don't have my whole set of abilities working up just yet. It didn't make any sense for them to just have 2 of those when having 10 of us.

After she put those flasks at one side, in a metal desk, a constant impact on the side of my enclosure started to call my attention. One of my many relatives started hitting the walls that divided us, I was so absorbed into the conversation that I forgot...We were all starving, some were shouting out their anger to be released. I tried to stay at the center in between those walls, tried to focus on something else, but right now it was impossible, I lost track of what the humans above were talking about...And everything I could hear next was.

"The best of them will be the one who survives the fight...We will clean up memories, set up obedience and provide the vaccine...They all heal, so we wont have to provide medical attention to the one that's left." Said the scientists, excited, nervous, looking at me knowing well that I was defective, I was not like the rest...I was weak. What was I supposed to do? Was I meant to fight? Surely there was something I forgot to hear. This can't be the last test for me! It was not fair! They were going to kill me!

Before I could even speak, try to communicate with these humans...these beings...The metal walls fell down the thin gaps in the ground, now I could see them, and they could see me. My siblings, bothers and sisters. With eyes fuelled with fury, hunger, bloodlust.

My heart started rushing like crazy, my legs were shaking, producing a slight pain that I could not tolerate, I wanted to fall down already, my chest could not handle my agitated breathing, opening some wounds from days before, making my blood come out in small proportions. I was a mess.

Some of my brothers had what I now understood as body variations, one of them had his jaw divided in 4 sections, with a full set of sharp teeth, dripping saliva at the sight of others. One of my sisters had 8 eyes crossing her whole face, and hands big enough to crush my head in between them. Another one had a big bone claw coming out of his wrist, bleeding all over the floor while that thing was coming out.

And the carnage began...

The once white floor was now full of blood, most of my brothers didn't hesitate to start attacking, not even one of them tried to avoid the conflict, they all knew that if we didn't kill each other, not even one was coming out alive. I tried to run, being my objective a corner in the "arena" we were placed to fight, my movement was sloppy due to how damaged my legs were, my balance was off, my arms felt numb. After all, I started receiving some strong hits from my kind, my ribs shattered, my lungs failing to keep the air, a brand new deep cut in my shoulder, but I never engaged, the moments they landed a cut, a hit, another one came to interrupt them, to try and kill them...it encouraged me to keep running, crawling, whatever movement it took for me to stay away from the danger, away from the pool of blood and guts. All this happening under the eyes of the humans, who watched every bit of the fight, not caring...But I felt something, in the middle of my panic, intense breathing, fast heartbeats. I was being observed.

It was a scientist? What was it? Besides the fact that I was cowering in fear, trying to hide in a corner. Why would I bring up any attention?

Again, the humans caught my focus, and when I came back to my senses, back to the reality I was facing, I could see right in front of me, my last older brother, stretching his arm at me, hissing, not sure if he tried to kill me, or was asking for me to save him...He was being choked to death by my last older sister, she used her webs around his neck, holding him, placing her foot on his back so he couldn't stand up, increasing the force on her arm. I was frozen in place, watching in horror how the lack of oxygen was killing him slowly. His face turned red, then purple...his eyes started bleeding, and everything ended with a loud "crack" before his head fell lifeless to the floor.

"Hm..." It was the only noise that my sister released at the look of me. Not anger, not hunger, not dissapointment. But it made my heart go all the way up to my throat.

Her once orange uniform was now red all over, her face, her hands, she was the strongest out of us all, she managed to survive all the battle...And it was curious.

She was like me, at least in the physical features, she didn't had any claws, nor a four-side opened jaw, no extra limbs, her eyes looked as human as I thought mine looked. Her wounds started to heal slowly while she licked over the blood that fell in her lips. Staring at me, approaching slowly, making me crawl against the wall of that arena, with no place to escape. I was the last one left to kill. But she didn't. Was she playing with her prey? Giving me a sense of hope to take it away the moment I felt calm?

She was 1 inch taller than me, it was common that due to our genetics females standed taller than males, also, her strenght was superior, so...Why was I still here?

She bend on her knees to have better eye contact with me, and after a couple of seconds, she gave me a little smile with lips closed, moving her index finger to her mouth, trying to tell me that I had to remain in silence. But why?

The answer to that was a hit on the neck with her open palm, enough force to knock me to the floor, but in my fear, in my shock. I didn't even resist. I stayed there, as quiet and still as a corpse.

The crystal ceiling opened, the humans seemed to not notice that I was alive, they tought she was done, that she was the only one left. And proud laughs could be heard from everyone in the room.

"Seems that we have the one!" Said the man in white mask, with a tone that was more optimistic than before, he was amused by the results.

The scientist were excited, like if they expected those words out of the man for a long time.

"Now, to finish this and move to the next step...We are going to take her t-" The words of the lead scientist were interrupted.

The lights went off, and the intense white brightness of the laboratory was replaced by an intermittent low red bright. An alarm in the walls filled the whole place with noise, and a gunshot followed soon...deafening my ears for a while.

#g/t #fight #monster #laboratory #please give me feedback #baby now is scared #what happened?

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jessimiko · 1 year

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I thought I'd try my hand at a volume 9 bingo card

Neo redemption

Let Neo be assimilated into the found family, no one is safe

Alice in Wonderland references

This one is pretty obvious

Rosegarden fuel

BRO I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH I COULD CRY. Please just let me have this and I'll be happy

"The Girl who Fell Through the World"

I'm telling you there's no way that fairytale and the Ever After aren't connected, or at least eerily similar

Alice allusion character is the summer maiden

I have literally no reason to believe this other than just a hunch, but I'm calling it now

Team Reunion

If this happens in volume 9 at all, it'll be at like the very end. I have specifics of what I want out of that reunion but that's not relevant here asdfghjkl

Summer Rose

I think both Ruby and Yang are gonna have to deal with things relating to Summer. IT'S TIME TO FACE THE MOMMY ISSUES LADS LET'S GOOOOOO

bumbleby kiss/confirmed

Listen I hate this ship for personal reasons but I want them to just KISS ALREADY FUCKING COMMIT

Oscar "The Little Prince" allusion confirmed

I think y'all have heard about this theory and I am 100% here for it. And now is the time, I mean HELLO Oscar "The Little Prince" Pine is in the DESERT!!! Again this is assuming Oscar is in this volume at all :')

Magic

I'm convinced magic is just gonna be a normal thing here, like just completely throws everyone for a loop

Characters going feral

I'm a simple woman, I want to see characters going absolutely apeshit in a fight. (Would be a great opportunity to see Oscar, Ren, and Nora go feral fighting the Grimm after Winter tells them the others are dead) Listen I know it's wishful thinking but let me be a clown alright

Oscar gets his semblance

Once again this only works if Oscar is in this volume, which GOD I hope he is, and if so let my son unlock his semblance it's TIME

Grieving

Who's grieving? RWBY? Jaune? Oscar, Ren, Nora and the others? WHY NOT ALL OF THEM

Near death situations

Can we even have a volume of RWBY without near death situations at this point, I think not

Theodore frozen by fear (fight, flight, freeze)

Okay so I have this theory. Each headmaster so far (minus Ozpin obviously) has fallen victim to their own fear, which manifested in different ways. Lionheart was flight, Ironwood was fight, and following that pattern, Theodore will be freeze. Fight, flight and freeze.

Half Ever After, half Vacuo?

So hear me out, I can't imagine they would skip over whatever happens in Vacuo (unless the Ever After is outside the passage of time). And if this whole volume is only the Ever After, then I would guess they would use Volume 10 to show us everything that's happened in Vacuo. But I can't see them going that long without showing RWBY, our main protagonists. So, I figure at least SOME of this volume must be what's happening in Vacuo, even just a little bit. Maybe in the second half? Like, first half or so we see RWBY and Jaune in the Ever After, and then they escape. Then maybe we see what happens in Vacuo and and at the end of THAT is a reunion. I'm high on copium

Ship wars in the FNDM get worse

This is a given, I fully suspect someone is gonna tell me to kms because I ship Rosegarden

Emotional support Little

LITTLE IS FRIEND SHAPED AND WILL OFFER THE BEST SUPPORT

They escape at the end

I'm not going all in on this bc I could be wrong, but the pacing makes sense in my head

Ruby emotional breakdown

GIRL LET IT OUT OR IT'LL COME OUT ITSELF IN AN EXPLOSION OF TEARS AND SCREAMING

Big lore dump

Again, kind of a given

Self reflection

I think this is gonna be the perfect time for a lot of self reflection in the Ever After. About their feelings, their goals, their ideals, what drives them. And they'll come out of it with newly steeled resolve! Or it'll be like, a trauma reliving nightmare. Maybe both!

New outfits for returning characters

Listen if we see Sun this volume and he doesn't get a new outfit I'm starting a riot

Fighting inner demons

Self-explanatory, I feel like this is also gonna be THE volume for fighting your demons. And given how fuckin weird the Ever After is that could be figuratively and/or literally

Uhhh that's about it! I've never done one of these before but I figured why not, now might be a fun time to try it. Feel free to use this for your own watch through of the volume :)

#rwby #rwby9

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motownfiction · 1 year

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first post

When Eddie’s department assigns him to a History of Detroit class, he’s pretty sure that Sam is more excited about it than even he is. They’re sitting in Eddie’s office just a few minutes after his department head gave him the news, and already, Sam is bouncing off the walls. He’d be obnoxious if he wasn’t so wonderful.

“I say you make the class all about Berry Gordy,” Sam says. “Call it ‘Tamla to The Last Dragon.’ I know that’s not exactly alliterative, since we don’t count the and all that, but it also makes for some good consonance in the middle there. Tam-la. The Last Dragon. It works.”

Eddie leans back in his desk chair and laughs.

“Tempting as that is, I think there’s plenty more I have to talk about,” he says. “A certain riot that took place when you were four months old, for example.”

“You were barely two,” Sam says. “Just because you study history doesn’t mean you’re ancient.”

“Sometimes, I’m pretty sure it does.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Sam paces the floor again. Eddie can’t hear his thoughts or anything, but he knows Sam well enough by now to guess what he must be doing. Whenever he paces, he writes a whole future in his head. Usually, it’s a musical he’ll never produce or a novella he’ll never write. But it’s always brilliant. Eddie sits back a little further and watches the brilliance twist around in Sam’s pretty brown eyes. He’d be annoying if he wasn’t so handsome.

“I’ll be your guest speaker,” Sam says.

Eddie chuckles.

“You?” he asks. “Why you?”

“Because you like me. And because I’ve lived in Detroit my whole life.”

“You’ve lived in the suburbs.”

“The shitty suburbs. We were practically neighbors, and we didn’t even know it. Come on. Who better to talk to some college kids about this city than me?”

“Well, me, apparently. I’m teaching the class.”

“That’s only because you’re getting the Ph.D.”

“You could’ve done that, too, you know.”

Sam gets very quiet, and for a second, Eddie almost wishes he hadn’t said anything. Even though Sam swears his lack of bachelor’s degree was a choice (one born from freedom, art, and frustration with the backward values the U.S. puts on people’s education), sometimes Eddie thinks he wishes he was already a tenured professor, too. He’d be good at it. Sam Doyle is the smartest person Eddie has ever known, and he’s absolutely including himself in the equation. When he shared that with Sam a little while back, he just laughed and said, “I like that you consider yourself among the people you know. It’s very Socratic of you.”

Eddie thinks that might have been the moment he knew he’d never been in love before (and that now, he was in love with Sam).

“Well, I could help you out in other ways,” Sam says. “I know a lot of professors make flyers for their classes. Stick ‘em up everywhere so that people find out about ‘em. I could help you make flyers. And I could put them up when I’ve got time. I could do the first post!”

Eddie smiles. He stands up from his chair, grabs both of Sam’s hands in his own, and kisses him right there, in the middle of the office. Sam blushes, like he’s still not used to it, like he’s still harboring a crush from across the room at Linda DeLuca’s family reunion party.

He is adorable. No caveats.

“Tell you what,” Eddie says. “You can watch me make the syllabus. And if anything goes wrong, or if there’s anything you think is missing …”

“I’ll be super annoying about letting you know.”

“There we go.”

But Sam is never annoying. Even when he’s enthusiastic and running around a very small room with dreams bigger than his body, he is never annoying. He’s … he’s the kind of person everyone should meet. He’s the kind of person everyone deserves a chance to love, even just for an hour.

Thank God Eddie will have more time than that.

#drabble #writeblr #ch: eddie costa #ch: sam doyle #ship: brown-eyed handsome man #year: 1991

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adviceontheedge · 1 year

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Advice on the Edge, Episode One

Note: The following opinions are from fictional characters, and neither they nor I bear any responsibility for the authenticity, accuracy, or intention of claims and counsel. In fact, I advise you totally ignore their advice and use your own best judgment.

This week’s contributors are Mariot (from Legacy of Seconds), Franklin (from Odin’s Tillit), Time Sneak (from Time Sneak: Emergence), and Raf (from Terraform Charlie).

The question is from Becky (thank you, Becky):

Should I dress provocatively or conservatively on a first date?

Mariot Ghan elegantly moves a strand of red hair from her cyclops and runs her hands down her chest to her waist. She then eyeballs me like I’m a three-layer cake she is about to devour before speaking.

“You have to ask yourself, Becky, do you want to get laid or not? As for me, I dress however I want, and whether I wear a low-cut blouse or a potato sack, that guy will want to bang me until next Tuesday, if he should be so lucky. But then again, I am the hottest and most desired woman on the planet. Now, chances are you don’t have my amazing body, ginger awesomeness, and skin to die for but do use your assets to their maximum potential. Or, alternatively, get him in a dark and quiet place and grab him by the junk; he will come around.”

“Ah, thanks for that, Mariot, or “Riot,” as your friends call you.”

Please note: Riot is insatiable and a clone.

Franklin Daring wipes the sweat off his bulbous balding head and chimes in:

“Oh, toot, toot! I both love and hate this question, Brandy! Honestly, I don’t give a shit. Well, maybe I do. I remember a first date with this fine southern gal named Sue. She reminded me of my mother but with my cousin Randy’s peach fuzz. Her upper lip stayed white from the milk she was drinking for far too long, but no biggie, for I couldn’t keep my eyes off her tremendous rack, toot, toot. I’ve always been a tits guy, so be “daring,” I say, for I am Franklin Daring by name, daring by nature.”

“You certainly are daring, Franklin (looking away eye roll).”

Note: I’ve learned to appease Franklin, for if he senses you don’t like him, he may gut you like a pig.

“By the way, Franklin, whatever happened to Becky?”

“She married my cousin Randy. They met and fell in love at a family reunion, toot, toot.”

Say what you will about the Darings; they are a tight-knit family.

“How about you, Raf?”

The enormous white raven jumped from side to side on his limb, then sat motionless, clearly pondering the question.

“What the awwhhk is first date?!”

“Basically, the first encounter with another to see if they might be a good mate.”

“Mate, mate! Ravens, no clokes, no clokes!”

“Yes, you are right, of course, Raf. However, I will pose the question differently. Should a raven do anything special to attract a mate?”

“We uck in flight, uck in flight, so best she can fly!”

“Ah, okay.”

“Raf horny now, must go.”

Raf winged off before I could say goodbye.

Time Sneak arrived today, animating the body of Donald Trump.

“Fake tits, that’s all we have to say.”

“Oh, come now, Lord of the Greyworld Faces, surely you can do better than that for Becky?”

Agitated, the depends-able, orange-topped septuagenarian morphed into a cloud, with fylfots mostly disguising a cold black sinister snake eye.

“Becky, another useless human,” came the words into my brain, which was the manner of the fifth-dimension entity’s communication to mere mortals in his original form.

“You say that about everyone, your highness.”

The cutting edge of a swastika grazed my neck, and I swallowed hard.

“In our realm, we don’t date; we take.”

“Kind of takes the fun and romance out of it, doesn’t it?”

A finger of cloud knocked my cap off.

“Fun is incorporating the essence of a being and giving it meaning, a meaning that far surpasses anything a bag of flesh and blood and bone might otherwise attain.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think your advice will help Becky.”

“Perhaps, not, but it doesn’t matter, for my friend, Clutch, already invited her to play.”

Oh, shit.

Becky, if you’re still out there and haven’t been possessed by a one-eyed, hideous being, I advise you to dress however you want. Be confident, for that, and intelligence are truly sexy.

#science #fiction #books and reading

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suibianjie · 3 years

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things that totally happened on The Untamed

#the untamed #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wang yibo #jiang cheng #the untamed crack #ttthotu #mystuff #you know Lan Wangji absolutely made a pro/con list about this whole thing #his Pro list stretched out the door #his Cons list just said 'Jiang Wanyin would technically be family'#and boy did he STRUGGLE with that one #no hate to Jiang-zongzhu it's just both of them think the other ain't shit and they sure don't bother hiding it LOL #family reunions must be a riot #awkward as hell but a riot #1k

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

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Kane and Griffin Blood

Kristin Kane is the secret daughter of Abby Griffin and Marcus Kane. She isn't hidden away under the floor, instead lives with her father he forces her to never leave their room, one afternoon she does and meets guard cadet Bellamy Blake- who she instially falls for. Years later she ends up in the skybox with Octavia and her sister Clarke - who has no idea she exists. The 100 are sent down and she reunites with Bellamy - together they must all learn how to survive and will Kristin ever accept what her parents did to her for her whole life.

Ch 1 - That's our Dream

Ch 2 - Prisoner 318 (part 1)

Ch 2 - Prisoner 318 (part 2)

Ch 3 - Love and old enemy

Ch 4 - Living War/Home Onward

Ch 5 - Reunion/Sacrifice/Drilling

Ch 6 - Bell's Betrayal/Tech Tackover

Ch 7 - Survival is what's left

Ch 8 - Families Conflict

Ch 9 - Praimfaya Riots

Ch 10 - Bunker Law

Ch 11 - Blake's vs Blake

Ch 12 - Family Struggles

Ch 13 - Space Life Once Again

Ch 14 - Strong Willed

Ch 15 - Dinner Fate

Ch 16 - False Princess

Ch 17 - Reliving Everything

Ch 18 - Margaret Blake

(Is an x reader. I just put a name because I felt like it)

Tags - @100foreverfiles @ocappreciationtag

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x reader fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 bellamy blake #the 100 x reader #marcus kane #clarke griffin #abby griffin #kabby #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #kane and griffin blood #bellarkeselection

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frederickthegreat · 4 years

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my thoughts on TUA season 2

(spoilers, obviously)

- opened with Klaus and Ben, my kings. Klaus’s hair looks so weird straightened while short

- AWESOME opening soundtrack

- seeing all their powers so controlled makes me wonder how they leveled up to that skill in the alternate timeline. like the only time we saw Klaus use the powers of other ghosts in the correct timeline was when two of them caught him falling out of the sky. however Diego did end up controlling bullets and Allison used her voice to technically kill one of the Swedes

- the homeless man screaming Allison’s name alongside Luther... funny shit

- big teddy bear Hazel

- Elliot was fucking awesome i think he was a great addition as a side character. rip tho :(

- honestly i don’t understand why Diego would WANT to save JFK. like it’s not that big of a deal. does he not understand what messing with the timeline can do??

- Lila... impeccable

- Sissy and Vanya... impeccable <3

- yeah and fuck u Carl

- ugh, Klaus’s beard. disgusting <3

- Ben and Klaus definitely act like they should be, given that they’ve been stuck with each other for over a decade. i’ve seen some people calling Klaus an asshole for not telling his siblings about Ben, which is completely understandable (cause he was an asshole), but I’m guessing it was because he was afraid? that sharing Ben with his siblings would mean that he would lose him to them, or his siblings would find him selfish, or they would ask something of him that he couldn’t give. if that makes sense

- that ghost bitch comment was funny tho

- to the guy who called Klaus pretty boy at the bar: sir you don’t know what you’re getting into

- Raymond!! he’s such a sweetheart, i really liked him in the show. i’m really happy that Allison has found a bit of normalcy (as normal as the 1960s Civil Rights movement could be). it shows how passionate she is about what she believes in: even though she knows the movement is far from over, even back in 2019, she’s not gonna abandon it

- Allison staring at the moon every night: either thinking about Luther or how the moon blows them all up. maybe both

- of course Luther would be working for Jack Ruby

- awesome cinematography during the mental asylum escape

- yeah it makes sense that the Handler would still be alive. she was a cool villain. although it would’ve been awesome to see how evil a fish could be

- Diego’s plan was pretty stupid. that’s my boy

- honestly they revealed how Klaus started a cult really well by having one of his followers find him at jail. Klaus, ever the musical aficionado, of course writes his scripture based off of pop songs

- Raymond and Klaus meeting!! that was cool to see how their paths connected

- Lila painting Elliot’s toenails green. ugh i love that crazy bitch

- i LOVE how they incorporated the umbrella man!! tbh i’ve always believed he was the one behind the assassination. Lee Harvey Oswald was framed

- honestly a bit understandable that Luther was planning on killing Vanya? cause he had no idea who she is now, but them reuniting was actually really sweet. he’s grown up so much

- the Swedes and their cats.

- the Umbrella company building with the nuclear family mannequins... creepy, awesome shit

- baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo

- shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego

- did anyone else get vibes from Klaus’s episode opening that he was an escort to the old woman? like how he was being shown off at her arm or something and getting out of jail from a call from the governor. idk maybe the lady was just very taken with him, as anyone would be

- Elliot, our helpful king

- Allison and Klaus’s reunion was so sweet!! i’m so glad they got to interact so much more in this season

- Ben getting Raymond out through a haunting... hilarious

- sweet intimate moment between Lila and Diego

- Ray meeting Luther was hilarious, but i do feel for the poor guy. i mean i’m not in love with my adoptive sister but still

- the sit-in was really well done and beautiful while terrible. the ‘riot’ that ensued was very appropriate for today’s setting

- D-Dave

- honestly i was scared that Klaus was gonna be overly attracted to him or whatever, which would be weird cause he’s years younger than Klaus, but honestly, at the core he just wanted to save Dave’s life. even if it means never meeting him in a different timeline. he truly loved Dave. and that ptsd flashback was done so well

- i knew Lila wasn’t trustworthy but i didn’t REALLY expect that!

- Vanya and Luther talking with each other, Luther admitting the apocalypse wasn’t all her fault. beautiful

- the Majestic 12 reminds me of the conspiracy theory that only a few families control basically everything in the world. the Majestic 12 may be based off of that, idk

- idk about everyone else but Klaus’s scorpion and the frog story made total sense to me! frogs ARE bitches

- the diner scene.... ugh. it really shows that the two of them did fall in love and they did stupid in love things, like talking about their family, about why Dave wanted to join, favorite colors, favorite foods, etc. however that’s seen later on when Dave visits the compound

- yes it’s very disheartening when Klaus is attacked, but honestly i think it had to happen, just like the riot had to happen. the 60s weren’t a fun time for lgbt people and poc. it was only going to be a matter of time before the show HAD to acknowledge the consequences of Klaus’s ‘flamboyancy’ in 1963 Texas. it doesn’t make it right or easy to see, but it’s realistic.

- it also makes sense that Klaus fell off the wagon after experiencing something like that. yes we all would’ve liked him to stay sober, but sobriety and recovery aren’t linear.

- Allison is so happy with Ray can we please drop this pseudo-incest plotline let’s MOVE ON

- Texas Grace ! who is not actually Grace rip (i think? i was a bit confused lol)

- the scene with Harlan running off was really upsetting but we got to see those weird light particles that we saw in the first season

- Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo

- Klaus being a dick to Ben again, as brothers do. i do feel bad for Ben though it must be sooo frustrating. that scene with him and Allison was really sweet and funny tho

- i just have to say that Luther and Diego are so fucking funny this season it’s awesome. like there are a LOT of good lines overall by everyone but they’re hilarious. “At least he didn’t shank my ass” “no bro, he shanked your heart”“Dads part of a sinister CABAL that’s plotting on killing the president.” “a caBAL?”“You two still a thing? *leans in* do we need to talk?” “No, she’s married.” “Woah dude... that’s rough.” and countless others

- the sibling reunion!!

- Klaus really does get left out of everything tbh

- Ben :(

- sisters and Klaus!! that was so awesome to see. and Klaus’s hairpins, Vanya saying she’s gonna tell Sissy she loves her, their dance sequence, Klaus calling Allison out on that incest. beautiful

- the fucking Swedish cover of Hello was PERFECT i mean i was sad for the Swedes but it was hilarious. there were a couple beautiful shots of the boat on fire though

- god it must’ve been so traumatizing for Allison to be thrust into such a hostile place with no voice and no way to contact her family

- idk about you guys but long live Team Zero

- calling Ben that he was becoming their father was a bit uncalled for

- the fact that Klaus didn’t help Dave’s chances, and in fact escalated Dave’s own timeline.. his trembling hands... robert sheehan is an amazing actor

- the Black president bit lmaoo loved it

- the way Reginald spoke to Diego.. i’m gonna throw hands with an old man

- Klaus LITERALLY looked like he was having a seizure and they all just... played it off??

- poor, poor Carl. nah fuck him lol

- that bloody opening scene was awesome! and thank god Five got to say fuck. the fact that it was about a candy bar makes too much sense

- Robert Sheehan acting as Ben: amazing showstopping spectacular he’s so talented

- the whole multiple Fives and Luther bit was honestly really funny, and i immensely respect smaller Five over bigger Five.

- yes Klaus, you survived a family of seven. you got this

- not sad about Carl dying one bit!

- Ben... that was such a beautiful scene. not just the content of the scene, but the cinematography. Ben fading away... Vanya hugging him... ugh. the main takeaway i had from that scene is that at the core of it all, Ben and Klaus love each other immensely. they have a weird, dysfunctional, fucked up relationship, where Klaus is an asshole and Ben definitely shouldn’t of possessed him without his consent, but they’re still brothers, and Ben forgives him.

- oof Ben’s funeral was hard. also was it just me or did Klaus’s kid actor sound weird? like it sounded like Robert was dubbing his lines

- all the siblings back together again!!!! Klaus going with Vanya to save Harlan!! Vanya telling him Ben forgives him and that it wasn’t Klaus’s fault Ben got stuck with him!! everyone in the car!!! be still my beating heart

- yeah didn’t see Lila having powers coming tbh. i really feel bad for her she’s had such a rough and traumatic life, especially with the Handler as her only parental figure

- the Swede brother and Five putting down their weapons: “enough.” the Swede wanted revenge for his brothers - an eye for an eye, but there was a mutual understanding between the two of them: they would do anything for their family. if the Swede hurts one of the Hargreeves, Five would never stop coming after him. i thought it was very beautiful

- mmm Reggie’s foreshadowing coming into play. proud of u Five

- the ending was so beautiful. everyone got closure in some type of way. except now Klaus is alone with nothing but his dog tags :(

- EMO BEN HAHAHA WTFFF?? is Lila in the sparrow academy? why was Ben’s portrait over the mantle piece? did Five disappear?? is the sparrow academy just older versions of the siblings who stuck around?? so many questions

FINAL THOUGHTS

- Ellen Page’s acting consistently blows me away. she is amazing

- beautiful cinematography, funny writing, pretty good acting. i didn’t like the soundtrack as much as i did the first season’s, but some of it wasn’t bad.

- i’m glad ben got peace, but i’m also glad justin min isn’t gone for good. his social media presence is too vital for us

- i swear to god if they keep treating klaus as a joke and don’t let him get any actual development like everyone else had (he barely got closure with Dave, he reconciled with Ben through a second party) next season, i’m gonna riot. PLEASE i want to learn more about his powers now that Ben is gone. what happened to seeing tons of ghosts when he’s sober??

- Luther and Diego were probably my favorite duo of the season, I’m so happy that they’ve reconciled and are bonding more.

- just seeing Vanya grow and be happy was amazing

all in all, really wonderful season. i probably liked it better than the first one. now it’s time to consume fanfiction and maybe finish my own (check out “god doesn’t want him and neither does the devil” on ao3!)

#the umbrella academy #tua spoilers #tua season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 #tua season 2 #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #raymond chestnut #dave katz #diego hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

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dead-philosophy · 2 years

Note

What do you think about the idea that the Horned Rat is Nurgle’s grandson, and that Nurgle has a bunch of photos from the Horned Rat’s childhood like a picture of a young Horned Rat holding up a massive metal cauldron (almost to big for his little baby arms) and the frame has “grandson’s first plauge” engraved on it.

…alright that's fucking hilarious. I could see a close familial connection considering their shared love of pestilence. Chaos god family reunions must be a riot.

#dead talks #dead answers

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runeterrankhaleesi · 3 years

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I've been seeing a lot about OC's lately, so I figured I'd share one of mine too. Long ask incoming. Just a warning, this is super dark at times. Cue suicidal ideations, for instance.

Her name's Tamara. She's nothing special, just a human from one of the wandering tribes of Shurima. A bit tan, brown eyes and black hair. She was friends with Akshan until he died because after that traumatizing event her family quickly left the city and haven't looked back ever since. When she was 15, she and her family (mother, father and two older brothers) decided to move out at some point and got aboard a ship that sailed first towards Valoran, then in Ionia's general direction. In a storm they strayed from the course and got a bit lost at the sea, which gave them an unpleasant meeting with a pirate ship later. One that resulted in the ship catching fire and beginning to sink. Tamara got out but her family was stuck under the deck. In the end, she jumped and got a hold of some piece of wood to save herself from drowning. The ship went down along with everyone on board. Tamara drifted for three days, blaming herself for the death of her family, telling herself she could've went back for them and got the door unstuck from the outside but she was too afraid. Basically, she sees herself as their killer. After three days on the sea, hypothermic, dehydrated and starving, she was miraculously discovered by a crew of monster hunters. One of the harpooners got her on board and they sailed for Bilgewater.

There, the same harpooner gave her a couple of coins to help her start anew once she said she has no one left. Tamara ended up working for some inn, mildly horrified by the.. way of being of people around her. Her savior sometimes would swing by for a drink after work and soon they became friends. And good for her because with him around, nobody dared to so much as leer at her. Through the next couple years, Tamara struggled with survivor's guilt but slowly recovered. Until one faithful day when her only friend in this godforsaken place - Pyke - did not return from the hunt.

Heartbroken and scared, Tamara (19 at the time) started to think she angered something up there and that she brings bad luck to those associated with her in any way. Unable to escape from Bilgewater, she stayed where she worked but in constant fear of the people coming to the inn, especially the drunk ones. For another year, she tried to deal with nightmares of her family's screams and the image of Pyke drowning or being chomped in half by some sea creature.

She never was brave enough to end herself. Every time something was stopping her. And when a murderer started to stalk the nooks and crannies of Blood Harbor, she saw it as a chance. Oddly enough, even going through the darkest paths in the town in the dead of night, she never managed to meet the Ripper.

While she was too scared to do this herself, she did often try to put herself in harm's way, hoping someone would do it for her. And she almost, just almost got her wish when Harrowing came as it did every year. This time, instead of hiding, she walked into the middle of it. And in the swirling coils of the Black Mist she caught the Warden's eye. It kind of surprised him that a simple mortal didn't run but fearlessly walked straight towards him. She pretty much served herself on a silver platter, which was a bit disappointing. Not that he's complaining, besides, he found her intriguing. At first.

Tamara was taken by the wraith to Shadow Isles and placed within magical wards of an underground vault where the Mist couldn't drain her of her life. Shackled and unwilling to escape, she stayed there as Thresh's newest toy. I'm not gonna describe all the torture, that's really not necessary. In any way, despite her life turning into hell, she thought she deserved everything the Warden did to her (for the "murder" of her family and "bringing death" upon her only remaining friend). Once, before she passed out while she was sure she's dying, she even thanked him which just blew his mind. Afterwards, Thresh performed an experiment. Left everything open, seeing if Tamara would take a chance and flee. Then he would get the chase he wanted.

Nah. Tamara stayed where she was, impatient for the wraith to finally finish her off. Breaking an already broken soul brought Thresh no enjoyment so he eventually grew bored with her and kinda forgot about her, looking for someone more entertaining. Time on Shadow Isles doesn't really flow (my personal headcanon) so she had no need for sustenance and it gave her weeks to ponder over her current position. Thinking if all victims if the Mist had to go through the same pain that was inflicted upon her, if Thresh will ever come back to "add her to his collection" and so on.

He didn't. Instead, someone else did. A grim Sentinel of Light who hunted creatures such as Thresh. It was bizarre to find a living human on Shadow Isles and he figured she must be a captive. Promising to come back, he asked if she'd seen Thresh anywhere nearby and she reluctantly said it's been weeks since he gave her any attention. And the man - Lucian - did come back. Beaten up and tired, with another woman at his side. The two Sentinels took Tamara along. During her imprisonment, she learned a lot about the spirits and the Mist and stuff (also managed to get herself slightly cursed, not as much as Senna but still) and it made her useful. Lucian was kind of skeptical about letting her out. "Thresh will come after her again anyway." But she assured him that it won't happen. The Warden lost all interest in her after she refused to fight for her freedom. To him, she was bleak and boring. He had no reason to hunt her down again.

Senna and Lucian gave Tamara new hope by taking her in and even if her fear and guilt still remained, she started to see what an awful mistake she almost made. After the whole Viego thing that was seen in the cinematic, Tamara was sheltered in the Headquarters. And for the first time she felt the urge to be useful. No one should suffer like those lost within the Mist and those taken by it like she was. And so she joined the Sentinels' cause to stop the Harrowing from spreading.

Little did she know that their mission together will one day bring a soul crushing reunion with two people she thought lost forever. One, barely changed from when she knew him. The other.. sadly a vengeful shadow of the man who saved her at the sea. But that's a story for another time.

Darling, you should be working at Riot right now, this story is amazing!

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darkblueboxs · 3 years

Text

Lifelines

For AFTG Angst Fest day 23: “You can’t die”

Read here or on AO3

TW for extreme violence and gore.

His father starts, as promised, with his legs. He slices the tendons with thick, blunt blades that catch in the shredded flesh, eliciting noises that would be stomach-turning if they could be heard over the screaming. There isn’t much left by the time Nathan is finished, lumps of quivering flesh that may have once resembled a human but no more.

By all rights, he should be dead.

But he isn’t. He waits for death to release him from the sweat and blood and agony, but past all reason, all possibility, his heart keeps forcing blood through his veins only for it to spill out onto the cold tiles of his father’s basement.

Eventually, the voices grow distant, and the room grows dark. They didn’t bother locking the door, never imagined that what remained of him could still be capable of movement. On shaky, new limbs that heal with a speed that Neil never thought possible, he drags what is left of himself into the dark.

Three months later, they catch him again at a rest-stop near Chicago. He doesn’t know if they understand what has happened to him any better than he does; he doesn’t stick around to ask. In the backseat of a car wheeling its way back to Baltimore, he cuts and cuts and cuts until the meaty stump of his hand slips through the handcuff without catching.

The cops find a steaming wreck of a car at the roadside, and Malcom’s body cooling in the driver’s seat. The source of the pool of blood in the back, however, remains a mystery to them. The flesh of his regrown hand stings as the night wind catches it, and he picks up a new name and a new look and loses himself once more.

A month later, he is shot.

Days after that, stabbed.

Weeks later, he spits up blood as the gash drawn across his throat seals itself over, fading to a vivid, white line against dark skin. The store clerk stares at it as he swaps his blood-stained tee for a high-collar polo shirt. Later, while examining the scar in a dingy motel bathroom, he wonders in a detached kind of way whether he’ll ever grow numb to the pain, nerves torn through by endless wear and tear. He touches an exploratory finger to the scar, and yanks it back as the ghost of a blade tears through his throat once more. No. He never had that kind of luck.

“He’s been waiting a long time for you,” Lola hisses. Her threats spiral like smoke in the icy mountain air. The wind whips her hair around her face as she backs him up against the cliff edge. “We kept your room just the way you left it. Ready and waiting for your family reunion. We’re going to kill you again, and again, and again, and again, and…” She punctuates her every word with another step forward, and he steps back in turn. As his heels hit the edge, her smile turns sharkish.

Between the cliff and Lola, the decision is easy. He lets himself fall.

He doesn’t hear Lola’s outraged shriek, doesn’t remember landing, doesn’t linger long in the snowdrift before hauling himself back towards civilisation. He doesn’t think about the creak and shift of his ribcage realigning, but he does worry about the deep tracks he leaves in the snow behind him.

He takes a new name, and heads to Arizona.

“You can’t die.” Andrew’s tone is flat, yet still somehow still laced with disdain.

“I said you wouldn’t believe me.” Neil glances over to Wymack, who is watching with his arms crossed, understanding nothing of the German passing between them.

“I never said I didn’t believe you. It would be a stupid lie to tell, even by your standards.”

“So you do believe me.”

“I never said that, either.”

“There’s one way to know for sure.”

Andrew smiles ghoulishly. “I promised coach I wouldn’t spill blood on his carpet.”

“If you can’t figure out how to kill me without spilling any blood then you’re not as good as I thought you were.”

Andrew’s eyes flick over Neil, as though mapping out points of vulnerability, or perhaps looking for something else he missed. “We’ll see.”

Neil waits for Andrew to test his truth, but the night never comes.

A toy that never breaks, Riko calls him, when he uncovers Neil’s secret. His delight drips from his lips like saliva. Buried in the nest, he takes his knives to Neil again, and again, and again, and-

Neil doesn’t die.

With the marks of Christmas still fresh on their skin, Andrew takes him to the roof, eyes roaming critically over Neil’s recoloured hair and naked eyes. He drags Neil over to the edge by his collar, and Neil wonders if Andrew has finally decided to kill him. It’s a long drop to the concrete below, and the horrified churn of Neil’s stomach isn’t lessened by the knowledge that his body will knit his broken bones back together afterwards.

“You’re awfully nervous for a man with nothing to fear.” Andrew has Neil in one hand, his cigarette in the other. One moment of inattention and either could be sent tumbling over the roof’s edge. Neil’s heart hammers so frantically that he’s sure Andrew must feel it through the hand bunched in his shirt, stuttering nervously like the beating wings of a sparrow. The frailty is an illusion; Neil has yet to meet anything that will stop it powering on, dragging him through the worst the world has to offer him.

“You and I know there’s far more to fear in this world than death.”

Andrew makes a noise several shades too derisive to count as laughter. “And what do you fear?”

Neil thinks of a dark, musty room, and the steady drip of blood on tiles. “Eternity.”

Andrew’s hand releases Neil’s shirt to lie flat against his chest, and for a moment Neil is sure that Andrew is finally going to push him over. He studies Neil with eyes that burn amber against the brisk winter sky, and the moment stretches into forever between them. Not the kind of forever that Neil fears – an eternity spent in the dark being broken and broken and broken is the kind that haunts him at night, but this electrifying moment of uncertainty, he could… tolerate.

Andrew’s hand is warm enough that Neil misses the heat when he withdraws it. Neil tilts forward, although whether he’s following Andrew or escaping the drop behind him he can’t say. Andrew doesn’t acknowledge the impulse as he flicks his cigarette butt off the roof, but his eyes don’t leave Neil’s face.

“Just because you can’t die,” Andrew says, words clipped with a tension Neil can’t decipher, “doesn’t mean you have nothing to lose.”

“I know.” It’s a new truth that burns like acid in his chest, painful as it is terrifying. “I went to the nest because I have something I can’t lose.”

Andrew’s fingers twitch. Maybe he regrets throwing his cigarette off the roof. Maybe he regrets not throwing Neil off after it. “Get out of my sight.”

Neil leaves, heart still beating a frantic pace as though he left it up on the roof edge with Andrew.

He used to believe that it wasn’t the world that was cruel, but the people in it. But people – as far as Neil knows – are not responsible for the power that drags him back to life over and over. For a man who spent the best part of his life on the run, immortality should be a blessing; an immunity to the sticky end that was guaranteed to come to him at his father’s hand. Instead, Neil’s fears have multiplied a hundredfold. At least before, he had been guaranteed some kind of release, no matter how slow and painful the means. Now he fears a lifetime spent in a dark basement, a body pulling itself back together only to be torn apart once more, like Prometheus chained to his rock, rip, repair, repeat.

He wonders what his mother, who he can only picture clawing towards him across the blood-stained tiles of his father’s basement, would have thought of it all. A woman who sacrificed a true life in favour of survival, who put herself through the unimaginable just to keep Neil alive, would perhaps have appreciated Neil’s curse more than he ever could. Maybe it was her sheer determination that landed Neil in this mess, bending the laws of reality itself from beyond the grave just to keep her son’s heart beating. For a moment, Neil is so overcome with hatred that he can barely breathe for it. It’s only now, with his Foxes, that he understands the difference between surviving and living, and if he had any real choice in the matter he would take the latter without hesitation.

Surviving is scraping himself off a grey tile floor and losing himself along stretches of highway that tangle into forever. Living is the weight of Andrew’s body pinning him to the floor as he takes Neil apart again and again and again and-

Andrew says, “stay,” and Neil pictures another kind of forever.

Three. Two. One. Zero.

There was nothing of Neil that needed protecting, that could be protected in any way that wasn’t covered by his curse, and yet Andrew had insisted all the same. Give your back to me.

With Nathan’s men watching the door and Lola’s voice still hissing in his mind, Neil looks at his Foxes and makes the only choice he can. He gives them his forever.

Thank you. You were amazing.

The gun digs into his spine as the team heads out, the threat dragging Neil’s attention away from the riot roaring to life around them. Still, the bullet comes as a surprise.

Of course, the only way to guarantee there isn’t a search is to make sure nobody thinks there’s anything to search for.

The sound registers before the pain does, earth-shatteringly loud even in the chaos of the riot. Neil’s ears scream with the aftershock, but the twist of the bullet inside him tears his attention elsewhere.

Muscles rip and bones shatter and organs burst as the bullet grinds through Neil’s body, and oh, he liked this jacket. Red bleeds through the orange of Neil’s windbreaker, and if he had to guess he would say that the bullet had gone right through the o in Josten.

The crowd screams and ripples around him, a blur of faces that could be Foxes or could be strangers for all Neil’s flickering vision can tell, and men dressed like paramedics seize him by the arms and drag him to a waiting van.

In his last, fleeting moments of consciousness he looks for Andrew.

Then the doors shut, and everything goes black.

He comes around with a bullet rattling around in his ribcage. Coughing the bullet up isn’t as unpleasant as it was being shot by it, but still it scratches Neil’s insides like sandpaper. Between retches he runs through curses in every language he can think of.

Finally, he forces the slug back up his throat and spits, watching as it clatters across the grey tiles.

Grey tiles.

Gr-

The realisation feels like falling off a cliff, dizzying, disorientating, and with the certainty of a rough landing awaiting him at the bottom.

“Rise and shine, kiddo.” He would recognise Lola’s voice anywhere. It seeps into his ears like blood, blocking everything else out.

“My teammates-” Neil stutters.

“Saw you die. Don’t worry, they won’t be looking for you. Well, only in the morgues. They won’t find your body, of course, but maybe we could snip a few pieces of you off for them to stumble upon. I’m feeling generous.” She trails a painted fingernail down Neil’s torso as though following an invisible dotted line. “Your immortality frustrated us at first, you know. But now we’ve all had time to reflect on it, and you know what we’ve seen?” She leans in close, and Neil tries not to breathe in as her perfume drowns him. “Potential.”

Neil yanks at his arms, desperate to put anything between himself and Lola, but the rattle of handcuffs at his back is predictable as it is devastating. The cuffs around his ankles are an unexpected addition to the ensemble. He tries for a kick, but she surges forward, pinning his legs easily with the weight of her body.

His time in the nest – what he can remember of it – was a nightmare of knives and exy and Riko’s smile. But Riko was, when it came down to it, an amateur. He knew how to hurt, but he didn’t know how to destroy, didn’t know the ins and outs of a body like his father’s people did, didn’t know where to draw the line that would keep a victim hovering between awake and unconscious, to keep them suffering that little bit longer. Riko was a bully, but he wasn’t a professional.

Neil survived by clinging to a few things – his foxes, exy, his promises to Andrew – but also to the knowledge that he had survived worse. Riko was a nightmare, it was true, but he was no butcher.

They leave him there to stew in the dark. With a lifetime to wait and their tracks well and truly covered, they have no need to hurry. The air that feeds into the basement through an array of soundproofed ducts is stale and faintly ashy. Without windows, he has no way of gaging the passage of time. The room isn’t just dark, it’s a void, and as time melts Neil’s eyes start picking out patterns from thin air, shapes and shadows that slide around him. He thinks of the bitter January nights spent on the tower roof with Andrew, the glistening stars above and the glow of Palmetto below. He had lived each of those moments with the knowledge of how brutally it would all be ripped away from him, had known to savour the hum of the city and the sparkling sky and Andrew’s lips on his, but all the same he longs for it all just once more. The longing is such a persistent, unhealing pain in his chest that he wonders if it might be what finally kills him.

No such luck.

When the lights flick back on at last, it has been so long that the fluorescent bulbs all but blind him. Neil wants to be on guard against what’s coming, but reflexes force his head into the crook of his shoulder until his eyes can adjust. When he finally forces them open, he wishes he hadn’t, nausea rolling over him as his father’s distinctive outline comes into focus.

He speaks, probably, but nothing penetrates Neil’s terror. He’s five years younger, watching Lola drag his mother’s body away in pieces, promising she’ll be back for him next. Trying to connect the bloodstained hands of his mother’s corpse to the ones that first showed him how to tie his shoelaces, that sewed up his wounds with dental floss and whisky, that massaged hair die into his scalp and broke three of his ribs for kissing a girl…

He was too busy watching the patterns his mother’s blood made on the floor to notice the scars on his face and arms slowly seal themselves over. He did notice his father’s approach, freshly-polished axe glinting at his side.

Past and present blur into one. The first time, his father was restrained, savouring every drop of Neil’s blood as it dribbled onto the tiles. Then came the confusion as wounds sealed themselves over, then anger, cutting and cutting and cutting until Neil couldn’t even remember his own name. Both of them staring as his body knitted itself back together.

The sentence “passed out from the pain” was one that had always irritated Neil. People don’t pass out from pain. They pass out from blood loss, or lack of oxygen, or because of whatever is causing them the pain. There is, however, no simple pain threshold after which the human mind will shut itself off regardless. Pain is not a trip switch. It might shut down the mind, but the body powers on. His body always powers on, and trained hands could hold him on the knife-edge between conscious and not for a long, long time without sacrificing an inch of his pain.

This time, the butcher has no need to hold back. The axe swings, and Nathaniel screams.

He screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams until he can’t scream anymore.

And still he powers on.

Time passes. The lights flicker on. The lights flicker off. Light is terror, because it comes with pain, but not knowing what might creep in the shadows is its own kind of nightmare. Sometimes it’s his mother, clawing through a pool of her blood. Sometimes it’s Riko, racquet in hand, the Raven’s victory march roaring at his back as though a stadium is cheering him on. Sometimes it’s Andrew, blood running down his face, laughing faintly as drugs twist his mind into knots.

Lola likes to visit him in the dark, or he thinks she does. Maybe it’s just his own broken mind turning on him. Her disembodied voice puts words to the desperation clawing at the base of his skull. Forever, forever, forever.

Nathaniel forgets the stars. It’s easier than longing for them.

One day, the lights click on, their low buzz enough by now to rouse Nathaniel immediately from sleep. But it is not his father, nor any of his men, who enter.

Nathaniel stares vacantly at the police uniform.

The cop leans against the wall with one hand, makes a faint choking sound. “We got a body down here.”

Do we? Nathaniel wonders.

There are more footsteps, more noises, the door opening and shutting. Neil doesn’t do anything until a hand touches his shoulder, and he jerks back into himself with a shout. Several people scream as Nathaniel wrenches himself away from the touch. The handcuffs bite into the torn flesh of his wrists and for a few minutes everything is a rush of movement and panic.

Eventually, a woman approaches with a pair of plyers in hand. Nathaniel’s vocal cords haven’t healed enough to scream, but the noise he makes seems to get his point across. Gently, without touching him, she twists the chain of the cuffs around his ankles until it snaps, and waits for him to still before repeating the action on his wrists. His arms tumble numbly forward, and Nathaniel slumps for the first time in… he doesn’t know.

“Nathan,” he says, voice like sand in his throat.

The officer glances to her colleague. “Dead.”

It takes Nathaniel a moment to recognise the sound that escapes him as laughter.

He wants to tell them that he can walk, but his throat has done all it can for him, and he doubts they’d believe him anyway. A stretcher comes, and when he catches a glimpse of himself in the upstairs mirror, he starts laughing all over again.

Then they pass through the oak double doors and down the drive towards the waiting ambulance, but the rest of the world fades to a faint mess of colours as Nathaniel stares, stares, stares at the burning blue sky, so bright that he thinks his eyes are going to melt, but he won’t look away.

He breathes.

When he next comes around, the world is soft and blurry, like he’s wearing glasses that don’t belong to him.

“Were you disqualified?” Nathaniel croaks.

There’s a huff of air from beside him. “Jesus, kid.”

His throat hurts too much to repeat the question, so Nathaniel looks pleadingly in what he guesses is Wymack’s direction until he gets his answer.

“We’re playing the Ravens on Saturday,” Wymack answers at last. “Neil-”*

He’s already asleep again, a smile pulling at his lips so painfully that he thinks he might have torn something in the effort.

The hospital doesn’t want to let him go, and neither does the FBI, but in the end neither can find a good enough reason to hold him. They took Nathan in a bust which turned violent, leaving his most of his men dead. The promise of a reunion with the Foxes on the horizon, Nathaniel fidgets with his hair in the bathroom mirror as though taming it to his liking will distract from the rest of him. He can heal himself of anything, but the scars always remained, and there are so many that Nathaniel barely recognises his own reflection. While he’s worried about the foxes’ reactions, more than anything, he’s grateful. There isn’t a hint of his father left in his appearance.

And, at last, he is returned to his Foxes.

The deathly quiet of the room is broken by a whispered, “Neil?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says by way of answer.

“It is him,” Nicky confirms, a little hysterically. Matt makes a pained noise and reaches for Nathaniel’s face, and he can’t help but flinch away from the contact. Matt drops his hand, expression crumbling.

“No,” says Allison sharply. Renee tries to place a hand on her arm, but she throws it off. “No. I’m calling bullshit. We saw you get shot. We saw you die.”

“Where’s Andrew?” He knows the goalkeeper has to be okay, the Foxes could never have made it to the finals without him, but still he needs to see. Allison makes a frustrated noise, so he looks to Renee instead.

“The police just wanted to go over a few more things with him.”

“Like how he beat them at their own job,” Aaron adds flatly. “And how he knew that their dead man wasn’t dead after all.”

Nathaniel ignored the accusation in his tone. “He went to the police?”

“He dragged Kevin in by the neck and told him to say whatever it took to set them after the butcher.”

Nathaniel’s eyes snap to Kevin. “What did you-?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kevin replies with a kind of certainty Nathaniel has never heard from him before. “It worked.” His eyes linger on Nathaniel’s cheekbone, tracing out what remains of his tattoo. “It worked,” he repeats quietly, as though still convincing himself of the fact.

Nathaniel considers dropping into French to scold Kevin for putting himself in the line of fire, but there’s nothing he can say that Kevin doesn’t already know. After all, Nathaniel knows better than anyone how faint the world’s dangers seem with Andrew at one’s back.

He turns to Wymack. “Take me to him.”

“Neil, you need to rest,” says Abby. “You need your injuries checked, you need-”

“I need Andrew.” Nathaniel runs a hand over his face, feeling the new ridges and bumps drag against his fingertips. “Look at me. Really look. These aren’t injuries, they’re scars.”

“Old scars,” says Dan faintly. “But it doesn’t make sense, Neil-”

“You deserve answers. All of you do. But first, I need to see Andrew.”

Reluctantly, the Foxes agree. They seem unwilling to let Nathaniel out of their sight, however momentarily. He ducks back from their open arms, his heart tipping around in his chest like a boat in a stormy sea, overwhelmed by their affection but unable to reciprocate. Every time hands twitch in his direction, his vision blackens and his body tenses, preparing for a new wave of pain. His injuries may have healed themselves, but each brush of contact revives the sensations that scratch through his skin like phantom fingernails.

Wymack drops Nathaniel at his apartment before heading off to collect Andrew, silencing Nathaniel’s protests with a heavy look. He may have a point – the last place Nathaniel wants to do this is a crowded police precinct.

Nathaniel’s legs buckle as soon as Wymack shuts the door behind him, but luckily his couch is there to catch him.

He is woken by the door tearing open.

Andrew is kneeling before him in an instant, but somehow he knows – knows – not to touch. Arms held stiffly at his sides, he looks his fill, cataloguing every new cut and bruise with his all-consuming gaze. It melts something stiff and painful in Nathaniel’s soul, and he lets himself soften under Andrew’s gaze, spine curving as he melts back into the couch.

For the first time in days, weeks, months, forever – he feels safe.

Andrew whispers his name, and it is his once more.

Physical contact is slow to return to Neil, coming in fits and starts as he gives himself back to the steady care of Andrew’s hands. The dark of night is terrifying, but the court’s glaring artificial lights are worse, and it takes a long time for him to feel comfortable under anything but the gentle amber of sunset.

He learns to love the weight of Andrew’s hands pinning his scarred wrists to the pillow, loves the drag of Andrew’s callouses against the ridges of his healing skin.

The Foxes, to Neil’s eternal surprise and gratitude, accept his truth for what it is. He can tell from the sad glances most of them flit between him and Andrew that they have worries that they aren’t intrusive enough to voice, worries about their future. Neil doesn’t know if he can ever die, doesn’t even know if he can age. He may have an eternity, but Andrew doesn’t, and the prospect of a forever without him is a new kind of horror that jerks him awake in the night as frequently as any of his most violent nightmares.

Instead of acknowledging the time-bomb between them, Neil presses his lips to the pale freckle hidden behind Andrew’s ear and whispers, “stay.”

He’s back on court in time for them to face the Ravens, and under the glow of stadium lights he feels all but on fire. The final timer screams, and Neil falls to his knees, the world hazing over as the adrenaline of their victory pounds through him.

He can only watch with a detached kind of fascination as Riko’s racquet whistles down in the direction of his head. He doesn’t bother to brace himself for pain, doesn’t bother closing his eyes, knows that nothing he can say or do will make the pain any less consuming. He feels only a flash of regret that his family will have to witness something so undoubtedly unpleasant.

There’s a sick thud as racquet connects with body, but the pain never comes. Neil blinks, and his world falls out from under him as he sees who was on the receiving end of the strike.

The racquet hits the floor a moment before Andrew does. Both are dripping with blood.

The world blurs into a rush of blood and noise, but this time it isn’t Neil’s blood, but he can feel the impact regardless, screaming through him like a bullet but worse, and there are hands and faces and they want to separate them, no, no, never again, and Neil hooks a finger into Andrew’s collar and holds it like a lifeline even if he isn’t sure who it’s keeping alive, and then there’s the rumble of an ambulance and the fragile blip of machinery-

And then quiet.

Alone in a hospital room, Neil finds the tangle of something deep in his chest and unravels it, unspooling the source of his impossible power like gossamer thread, so thin and fragile between his fingers for all it has endured, and although he had never wanted it he had never had anywhere else to keep it but within himself, but not anymore, and he weaves and weaves and weaves and finally, finally, finally Andrew opens his eyes.

He touches his hand to where the pain should be, before turning heavy eyes on Neil. “What did you do?”

“Why?” Neil says, because it’s the only syllable he has been able to string together since Riko’s racquet hit its mark. “You knew I could have taken it. You knew he couldn’t hurt me.”

“You can’t die. You can still be hurt.”

“Who cares?”

Andrew’s eyes darken with such fury that the rabbit part of Neil’s mind twitches instinctively. A moment later Andrew’s usual blank expression seals itself back over, and the anger is swallowed.

“I made you a promise,” he says at last.

Half-listening, Neil slips one of the knives from Andrew’s armbands and slides the blade across his palm. They watch as blood wells up along the thin slit and pools in Neil’s callouses. The wound stays.

“That’s new,” Neil says faintly. Andrew retrieves his blade and draws it across his own palm.

Neil doesn’t realise how tightly he’s gripping the sheets of Andrew’s bed until Andrew nudges his hand. “You’re getting blood everywhere.”

“So are you.”

Andrew turns his hand over, and slowly they trace each other’s wounds, fresh and painful and wonderfully mortal. Neil can’t feel a hint of the energy that kept him alive for so long, but when his blood mixes with Andrew’s there’s something new, an intricate tangle of something holding them together.

It’s beautiful and terrible, bone-achingly addictive, and when Andrew cups Neil’s head and pulls him in it’s all he can taste, strong and fragile all at once, sweet and tingling against his lips.

They tie themselves together, and they never let go.

#all for the game #andreil #the foxhole court #aftg #tfc #my fic #blood tw #violence tw #gore tw

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emjaybeeworld · 3 years

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ADELAIDE AND OTTO (Part 1) A Mostly True Medieval Love Story

As the duchess of Burgundy and daughter of the king of Burgundy, Adelaide, was the richest woman in Europe. She was an intelligent, honorable, and breathtaking beauty, full of grace and confidence. When she was two years old, Adelaide was promised in marriage to Lothaire, the son of an Italian house rival to her family’s claim on the throne of Italy. Her parents and Lothaire’s parents were eager for the marriage because they hoped it would bring about peace between their two powerful families.

So it was that from childhood, the princess was groomed by her parents to be Lothaire’s wife. Adelaide’s father received regular updates on Lothaire’s development and activities. In turn, her father sent back reports on Adelaide’s development. As they grew up, the two children came to know each other in spite of never having met. Adelaide dreamed of the handsome young man as she eagerly awaited the day of her marriage. She blossomed into a stunning woman and, in spite of her betrothal, an endless stream of offers for the young girl’s hand in marriage were submitted to her parents. The king and queen of Burgundy would not entertain the idea of any other suitor.

Adelaide and her brother Conrad were best friends, thick as little thieves. When not in studies, they were carefree and mischievous children. They played, chased each other and wrestled, fished, swam, rode horses, and shared their dreams and hopes with each other.

Like Adelaide, Conrad had a royal imperative to fulfill—he was destined to be the successor to the throne of Burgundy. One day, their father announced that Conrad was going to Germany to foster under King Otto. It was a great honor that a king so powerful and noble was willing to take Conrad under his tutelage. No sooner was the announcement made, than Adelaide’s beloved brother was packed up and sent across the world. King Otto was legendary since, for the first time in history, he had united all the great duchies of Germany under one government. Not only was the entirety of Germany under his control, but he had also subdued troublesome Austria, Bavaria, and Suabia and put them under his rulership in order to quell their raids on Germany.

Adelaide was heartbroken, all alone in an adult’s world, the remaining bits of her childhood gone. Most of her waking hours were filled with learning royal etiquette, languages, reading, the sciences, arts, and mathematics. The princess excelled at her studies; to her natural beauty and poise, she added graciousness, compassion, and kindness.

Adelaide missed Conrad fiercely, writing letters daily. Conrad, in turn, regaled her with his activities, difficult affairs of state, the fine nuances of royal life, and training as a military commander.

Adelaide begged her parents to visit Conrad. She was sixteen and would be married soon. Once she became the queen of Italy, she might never see her beloved brother again. A time was arranged with the German king and Adelaide was sent off with full royal escort.

Conrad rode out the gates and met her at a distance from the royal palace, so overjoyed was he to see his sister again. Their reunion filled Adelaide’s heart with bliss. Oh, how she had missed him! Conrad told her that the German king had released him from most of his obligations during Adelaide’s visit so that they could spend every moment together. She would be staying an entire month. They laughed and teased each other, sharing all their hopes and dreams once again.

That night they were served at the King’s table. To honor her presence, the King’s closest counselors, captain of the guard, and his noble and most trusted knights attended. Adelaide charmed the assembly with her dignity, sparkling wit, and striking loveliness. Jostling for her attention threatened to separate her from Conrad. It was only with the greatest difficulty that she stayed by his side.

A hush gradually blanketed the room. Adelaide looked up to search out the cause. The king and queen had entered the room unannounced. Those who had seen them bowed deeply. The king, who surely must be Otto, stood a full head taller than anyone in the room. Dark blue eyes shining like the stars at twilight caught and held hers. Her heart stopped beating, air sucked from her lungs. All thought fled. An unnatural quiet filled her ears.

From a child, she had been schooled to stifle her emotions with a gentle reserve. Her parents said it would shield her from showing people her thoughts and give her an advantage. Without thought, she called upon that schooling now even as the compelling blue gaze held hers.

The golden-haired giant smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners; and, with his queen’s hand on his arm, the royal couple moved to Adelaide and Conrad. The queen was a lovely woman of quiet gentleness. Adelaide curtsied deeply to the beautiful woman, prolonging the pose to calm her rioting pulse. Rising, she kissed the queen’s hand and relayed her parents’ greetings. Turning to the king, she curtseyed as well, murmuring her gratitude for the royals’ hospitality.

She barely heard the conversation at dinner, nodding and smiling, uttering an appropriate response when necessary. In truth, she was overcome with shyness, her consciousness focused on the huge man at the head of the table. His presence commanded attention. He spoke equally familiarly to his friends and the Queen. Adelaide had heard that the king was a mighty warrior; and seeing him, she had no doubt of that. Dressed in casual knight attire, long sword at his hip, he was a man in the fittest of his prime. Eadgyth, his queen, had worn a flowing, simple dress, with nothing but a crown adorning her head. The regnant couple was clearly part of the close circle of companions and spoke with them as friends.

Occasionally, Adelaide’s green eyes met shimmering blue eyes over dinner. The queen would ask Adelaide a question, and blue eyes would intently track Adelaide’s intelligent and educated responses. A hitherto unknown part of Adelaide’s soul fractured open, filling with awareness of another living being.

After dinner, the queen excused herself and retired to her quarters. Receiving permission from Conrad, Otto suggested a walk in his gardens with Adelaide. The young duchess was fluent in languages and conversed easily in German. He dazzled her with his knowledge and experience. As a man well versed in human nature, and as her brother’s mentor, the king effortlessly conversed with Adelaide. He told Adelaide of his fondness for Conrad and appreciation for the young man’s character. Conrad was a great favorite of his court, showing excellent leadership skills. Adelaide found it easy to speak with the king; she was happy to experience his new world and know that he was in good hands.

Otto’s father had insisted on his marriage at 16. He’d been presented with a choice between two sisters, both daughters of the king of England. Everyone thought he’d choose the younger sister, but he chose the elder daughter who had accompanied the younger sister as chaperone. Eadgyth had become the love of his youth.

Now, the king marvelled at Adelaide’s grace, was entertained by her wit, and ensnared by her loveliness. He was fascinated by the young enchantress of presence so compelling it consumed those near her. His servants competed to serve her. His knights and counselors vied for her attention. There was no one or anything at his court that did not fall under her spell. Even his dogs, traitorous things that they were, followed her around the castle as if they belonged to her. Impossibly, he wanted to be the one who made Adelaide smile, to bask in her presence, to have her stroke his face, pull his ears, and kiss his nose. He was jealous of them all.

The only sour note was his troubled nineteen-year-old son, Liuthold, who followed Adelaide around like a hound on a scent. His demanding behavior was inappropriate, but Adelaide was adept at defusing him. She was flawless in her interactions with the 19-year-old prince, frustrating his attempts to woo her. Lute blamed her unattainability on bad timing or the interference of others. Ah, Lute never seemed to understand that he was root of a problem. His bouts of pouting and sulking were unconscionable. Adelaide wasn’t for a man such as his son even had she been available.

From the stunning moment that Otto first met Adelaide’s eyes across the room, he was determined she would be his. Adelaide was an irresistible force. She was a breathtaking, a blond, green-eyed beauty with a figure a courtesan would envy. She possessed a serenity and dignity well beyond her years. Adelaide’s construct of diplomacy and intelligence was remarkable for one so young. He sensed that she was hiding behind her wall of unnatural reserve; never was she as outgoing with him as she was with her large group of admirers. Unlike her interactions with Conrad, when she spoke to Otto, her words, although warm, were precisely spoken in a modulated voice, giving away nothing of herself. She was far older than her sixteen years would indicate. How could one so young be such a mystery?

Employing his considerable personal magnetism, he would break down those walls of hers and discover her secrets. Then he would beguile her into a mutually beneficial arrangement with him. It would be complicated as she was no peasant, nor was she poor. There was nothing he could give her that she couldn’t give herself. Otto would have to be careful in his relationship with Conrad, and Adelaide’s betrothal to Lothaire was touchy, but he’d not let those interfere with his plans.

The young duchess often attended his open courts to observe the administration of his laws. His brilliant administration of government and broad experience awed her young mind. When she was in attendance, the king seated Conrad with him to judge disputes. Adelaide was astounded by the maturity and wisdom of her brother. He was only two years older than she, yet he already had the bearing of a seasoned and wise king.

Occasionally, Otto would surprise her as she watched him. In those moments, he would ensnare her gaze and force her to meet his eyes. She would seem momentarily responsive, but then shutter herself and look away. A slight flush would creep up her neck and she would not look back. Always, she would leave the room shortly thereafter. It was the only weakness Otto could find; and even with that, he grasped at straws.

Ever an observer of humanity, Otto realized in speechless amazement that Adelaide had used the same avoidance techniques with him that she did with Lute. He was a master negotiator, manipulating hostile personalities, creating compromise where there was none. To be as successful as he, a deep understanding of human nature was necessary. He had that gift in spades, but he’d completely missed her aversion strategy so good was she at handling people. He should have recognized it sooner, but the cheeky little chit had really put one over on him. He would never underestimate Adelaide’s sophistication and powers of observation again. Now that he knew what she was doing, he’d use the knowledge and beat her at her own game.

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spnreactionblogging · 3 years

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CARRY ON

spoilers below but I’m very late to the game

here we go!!! there's Some Woman in the thumbnail for this episode and I'm like oh boy did you fuckers turn castiel into a girl to make it Not Gay, I will riot. we're off to a dread-inducing start I'm honestly not even sure I want to watch this? I have not heard anything good but since my options are either keep SPN blacklisted forever but ultimately get spoiled anyway, or use my dwindling remaining time to see it for myself without being told what happens, may as well be on my own terms I am hearing that misha and possibly j2 were not happy with this, whatever this is (?????) yikes I don't understand how you even have another episode after the last one. that seems like a traditional ending. you either beat a dead horse or go ultra meta and it sounds like they dropped the ball, big time but let's see jack's sweet and deserved better. there's a clock but it's NOT heat of the moment playing, damn oh the dog. we love you miracle dog sam's still jogging where's eileen!!!! I like seeing sam cooking I actually enjoy watching them do domestic stuff dean sneaking food to the dog 😭 can this be the whole episode, just them doing chores I meant to catch which book sam was reading I can't tell but it looks like it's old this is extra bonus sad for knowing that they couldn't even like, have a wrap party or anything. extra isolated. :( SPECIAL GUEST STAR JIM BEAVER!!! "Are you sure you're ready for this?" "Oh, I don't have a choice." dean hasn't been this relatable to me in years, this is how I feel watching this lmao akron pie fest dean dies of complications from diabetes god I miss bakeries or restaurants or anything I do love Sad Sam Face "I"'m thinking about Cas, you know? Jack. If they could be here." thank you Sam that pain isn't going away for me either "stop being an eeyore" Sam's the Eeyore of the series, Dean, okay, and same lmao jared fucking slammed that pie into jensen's face and they just filmed it. you can see the actual glee on his face brady??? like sam's old classmate? wasn't that his name? or no some kid. is this just a regular-ass monster of the week. do sam and dean just get killed by like. regular people? are there no monsters anymore. I would actually love that. humanity is truly the worst monster of all. didn't we learn that in season 1 :') in "the benders" are these guys sam and dean? are they just murdering monster families like they did in the holiday episode? what is happening. are those dean's shoes. I could probably recognize how they walk if I really paid attention i guess not. probably. "singer and kripke, FBI" ha fucking clowns lmao poor sam they still have dad's journal, huh. THE LORE evil mimes. vamp-mimes. I guess they kill these dudes? we gonna unmask them or what there we go this guy looks like joseph gordon-levitt oh we love torture on this show this is definitely "dean who's NOT the ultimate killer" amirite "if those kids are dead he's gonna use a spoon" how very walter sullivan of you also I feel like sam would not do this anymore but hey who am I, someone who likes consistent characterization? lol we're back to creepy barns instead of wet pipe factories dean has a fucking shuriken lmao I honestly for real need a machete for the overgrown weeds I don't hate this so far? I'm tired of the constant torture but I guess this feels like early seasons, kind of. idk. lmao sam with the concussions. classic tie them to a chair. it's what we do. i will be disappointed if they are not tied to a chair jenny? cue studio killers. I do not remember whatever episiode this is but it looks very early based on sam's hair oh thanks sam. couldn't get out of this episode without beheading a woman too one of the suggestions for me typing "woman" was a high-heeled shoe emoji. thanks, predictive text...?????? true feminist oh damn he could very well get tetanus from that. that's how trinity dies, man. should've gotten your booster shot, dean. vaccines save lives this is like the plot of signs why don't you guys wear bulletproof shit. your plot armor was holding you together until now. GUYS THIS IS HOW HUNTERS GO OKAY don't ever un-impale someone, guys like "dean we are in a major city, there are ambulances" call fucking 911, someone could be there already "I've always looked up to you" because you're taller than me lmaoooo idefk what to say about this like. we all know this is how hunters die. you fucking leered at jessica is what you did, dean if sam makes it out of this I'll accept it. if sam lives I can be okay. if this is the only way sam gets free of this, I'm okay. CALL 911 AND CALL JACK "always keep fighting" aw :( they're both very good at crying, I will give them that we never think it's gonna be the day. at least you got pie. OH THE WINCHESTER FAMILY MUSIC don't do this to me dean got a way better death than castiel. this actually reminds me a liiiiittle bit of the end of season 2? with how dean holds sam's body. the writing here is overwrought though. jared and jensen do the best they can with the script they're given but like you guys just FOUGHT GOD. they're a bit too up their own ass with this. you can tell that dabb thinks he's very clever. sam... gets a dog again? at least. i guess. the pacing is bad. I don't hate this on principle but it is not executed well. I am having like no emotional response to this except maybe relief for sam in a horrid way. like, you're free! at what cost. it's like the opposite of season 5? sam survives instead of dean. and... sam marries a dog. where do they get all this fucking lumber!!! did sam chop that all himself dude if he woke up to "heat of the moment" i'd lose my shit in the best way. gabriel wins. "gotta keep you on your toes." what had to change in this because of the pandemic? at least sam has a dog to be in scenes with him. the two guns as big and little brothers is an interesting choice of a shot. god the fucking phones. "DHS" "CIA" "dean's 'other other' phone" "state patrol" what's the paperwork on his desk? (512) is an Austin area code I have this on amazon prime and the saddest thing thus far is X-Ray: Jared Padalecki as Sam Winchester, with no other actors at all. meta ways, pandemic related. "this is agent bon jovi" donna's alive??? sam just quit, babe. just quit. or take a day off at least, jesus. didn't you just drive back from ohio are you even gonna go back to the bunker DEAN IN HEAVEN!!! how'd you get here. "well at least I made it to heaven" lmao he said the same thing oh hey bobby!! I love jack god i've missed jim beaver you guys moved on to dream bubbles!!!!! RUFUS how very homestuck + narnia of you, starring sam winchester as susan pevensie so jack just like melded all of these metaphysical spaces, I'm cool with that "so the question is what are you gonna do now, dean?" get a better beer so I can drink and drive with my car that's in heaven, I'm already dead so who cares what I hit TELL ME WHERE IS BALTHAZAR FOR I MUCH DESIRE TO SPEAK WITH HIM break everyone out of the empty I do get the impression this was supposed to be a big cast reunion and the pandemic clobbered that :( oh it's the original license plate on the impala sure do love that cas and jack "helped" to give dean everything he's ever wanted. the only time "carry on my wayward son" has been diegetic I guess sam and the dog had a child I like jared in glasses are we doing a bunch of elderly makeup yeah there he is did they just spray grey temp dye on his hair or what is sam gonna drive into toluca lake!!! buddy please don't just run the engine in a garage, he took off his glasses and that makes me nervous jake gyllenhaal looking dude which cover is this must be nice to have healthcare I so appreciate that sam's wife has zero personality and is merely in the background, of no importance whatsoever compared to his kid named dean are the two impalas gonna meet in heaven????? vancouver is beautiful, or wherever this is at jared looks so cozy in that coat you can tell j2 really do love each other for real the majesty of that forest/that river got me choked up a bit, it's such a lonely thing. like. I can see what they were going for? like dean just... getting sick, falling off a ladder, getting in a car accident, etc etc would've been more potent, I think. the execution was not good. I'm not that unhappy though. it's all right. eh. it's fine. the heartfelt message from the cast (what's left of them....) and the crew was sweet. I want to know what they were intending to do? I feel like you can definitely feel the weight of COVID fucking this up which is genuinely upsetting. sam gets like 50 years of being free of dean I GUESS???? perhaps the only way to break the cycle.

at least there was no sexual assault in this episode. i have definitely watched way worse episodes of this show. it's like. twee. but I can't be mad at these guys especially with how much I know jared in particular has been struggling with the state of the world this year but jensen talked about it with rosenbaum on his show too. 2020 has been rough. like. at least they filmed it. whatever. I feel like I get what they were trying to do even if circumstances meant it wasn't really pulled off. it seems like they were supposed to have a big cast reunion and the pandemic took the wind completely out of their sails. this feels incredibly tacked on. 15x19 would've been a much better place to stop. I feel like I just read andrew dabb's notes. I get what they were trying to go for but they didn't pull it off. I thought it was gonna be a lot worse tbh in summary: EHHHHHHHHH

#s15e20

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haloud · 4 years

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into the palm of your hand ch. 2

- ao3 -

Jake is tall. That’s the first and only thing Michael notices about him. He has to unfold himself out of the chair to avoid banging his knees on the bottom of the table, and when he manages and pulls himself up to height he towers a good six inches over Alex and Michael both. He has a nice smile, too, if you’re into that sort of thing. And he’s beaming as the two of them approach, comes out to meet them with his hand already outstretched to shake, and Alex takes it, Jake pumping his arm up and down while he grins so big his face must be killing him. Michael hangs back to let the reunion happen, hands in his pockets, thumbs in his belt loops so he can tug at them with all the nervous twitching in his hands.

The restaurant is nice, but not too nice, not even by Roswell standards. Jake’s clearly made an attempt with his clothes, but his attempt is a business-casual button down with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms. His slacks are pressed and neat as a pin, but Michael won’t judge too harshly for that. His hair is still close-cropped like it was Halloween of 2009. He’s…yeah, he’s handsome, in a normal and kind way, an honest way that reminds Michael of the smell of the old hayloft in the summer and the feeling of straw on his back and warm hands exploring his body on a scratchy old blanket. Michael doesn’t trust easy, but if Jake’s calling up memories like that, he can let himself relax a little bit.

“Jake, this is Michael. My boyfriend.”

“Hey,” Michael says, taking Jake’s hand. His handshake is a little more subdued than the workout Alex got, but Jake is still firm and eager, and he hasn’t dropped that grin of his.

“Thanks for coming! I was a little worried when Alex said he’d like to bring you—thought I might be signing myself up for the third degree or something—but when I found out it was the same Michael I knew I had to meet you.”

“The same Michael?”

“Yeah.” Jake winks at him, and Michael’s eyebrows go up. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Uh…thanks?”

“Should we sit?” Alex cuts in. The tips of his ears are bright red, and Michael’s eyebrows climb even further towards his hairline.

“It really is so good to see you,” Jake says as they take their chairs.

The second they’re seated, Alex grabs Michael’s knee in a vice grip, nails digging into the denim. His hand is a little sweaty, clammy when Michael covers it to try and settle him. Is Michael being here part of what’s making him so nervous?

“Gotta say, I was surprised to hear you re-upped this time,” Jake continues.

Alex clears his throat. “Yeah, well…you know how it is.”

“I do. And if nothing else, I’m glad it’s giving me an opportunity to work with you again.” Another ready smile follows right on the tail of the last one, even if this one is a little more subdued and sympathetic. “How do you feel about it, Michael?” He takes a sip of water, and his muddy hazel eyes are suddenly hawklike over the rim of the glass.

“Uh.” Alex’s hand digs into him harder, and Michael rubs the back of his hand with his thumb. Jake hasn’t even opened his menu yet; he watches and waits for his answer with that smile on his face and something dangerous in his eyes. “Uh,” Michael glances over at Alex, who is laser focused on his glass of water, face like stone. “Well, I mean, it’s what he—what we thought was best at the time, and since he was able to get it in his contract that he’d be staying put for a while, I was…fine.”

Oh, you know, I’m still working through the soul-crushing guilt that not only did Alex sell more of his life to the military to help me and mine but also I that I was too busy trying to drown myself in household chemicals to talk about it with him, but every relationship is a work in progress! Anyway, I’m an alien who’s wanted by the same government you serve for blowing up one of the black site prisons they use to experiment on my people and also for existing, how’s your mother in law doing?

“Fine, huh?”

“Jake,” Alex says.

“Okay, fine, I’m being a little intense. I’ve got family who don’t get why I stay,” he directs to Michael, then to Alex he says, “I got in a huge fight with Sarah over it, like, five hours before I got on the plane. Sorry for being weird.” He laughs and looks genuinely contrite.

Michael tries to relax, but Alex doesn’t lose any of the stiffness in his posture. He does at least stop squeezing Michael’s knee like he’s trying to rip his kneecap off, though, and Michael massages the back of his hand again.

“How is Sarah?” Alex asks, then to Michael he explains, “Jake’s sister.”

Jake shrugs, his massive hands coming up in an exaggerated ‘what can you do’ gesture. “She’s doing well. Divorced and remarried since the last time you saw her. Went back to school and got a teaching degree, and she’s real happy with the new guy, so. It’s just we still don’t see eye to eye on most things. But I’m happy for her.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and holds it out to them, flicking through an album of pictures of what looks to be Sarah’s wedding day. From the pictures, Michael wouldn’t be surprised if she was even taller than Isobel, so it must run in the family. The last one in the album is of Jake on the dance floor with a guy in a matching vest, the two of them chest to chest and mouth to mouth, off in their own little world.

“That’s Rohit, my boyfriend. He couldn’t get away from work to come out here with me, but he’s visiting for the first time in about three weeks.”

Michael makes a sympathetic noise. “That sucks for you guys. Been together long?”

“Almost five years, right?” Alex says. “After you had your appendix out, wasn’t it?”

“Okay, the pictures are going away now,” Jake replies, his skin showing a blush way brighter than Alex’s does, “Didn’t realize I’d be roped into telling that story just for showing off my guy but okay I see how it is.”

Alex grins his sharp grin, finally looking up, and after one last brief squeeze his hand comes off Michael’s knee. “You should have been more prepared then, Lieutenant.”

“Let’s just say that the man I love is as patient as I am susceptible to the aftereffects of anesthesia and leave it at that, huh?”

Alex laughs, a true rocking-back-in-his-seat laugh, and it sets Michael fully at his ease, most comfortable letting Alex lead the emotional tone of the conversation. With the tension finally cut, Michael lets himself lean forward and rest his chin on his palm, watching Alex talk, letting the conversation flow over him without cutting in while Alex reconnects to his friend, talking more with his hands, laughing more easily. Jake seems kind of contagious that way, a smile and a laugh for everything—and he doesn’t try to freeze Michael out of the conversation, either, even though Michael is content to just sit there and not really listen and watch Alex talk and move. He’s gorgeous tonight, his shirt open a little at the neck, his long-fingered hand back on Michael’s knee, warm and caressing this time.

The conversation flows for a good couple hours. Michael is a convenient audience for them to share stories and relive them a little bit over again. Even when they’ve paid the bill and are getting up to leave, it’s with promises to do this again when Rohit is in town and Michael smiling to himself with a wry little smile because he’s the double dating kind now and goddamn if he isn’t happy about it.

Then, when they reach the parking lot, Jake stops.

“Hey, do you mind if I borrow him for a couple minutes before we head out?” Jake asks, inclining his chin toward Michael. Alex raises an eyebrow and glances between them, and Michael just shrugs his agreement.

With a bemused smile, Alex says, “Sure. I’ll be in the car.” He gives Michael’s shoulder a squeeze as he passes, and Michael looks around to watch him go, eyes on his back until he slips behind the driver’s side door.

Michael shoves his hands in his pockets for lack of anything else to do with them. If Jake wants to corner him to read him the riot act or tell him he’s not good enough for Alex or something he could have at least had the decency to do it somewhere Michael had something to lean against or sink into, to hold him up or have his back.

“You got the height advantage, but I’ll warn you—I’m scrappy,” Michael drawls.

“I’m…not going to hit you? What the hell, man.”

“Just like to be prepared. I got one of those faces.” Michael gives Jake a grin and a wink, but all Jake gives back is a concerned look starting to border on shrink-y, so Michael hurries on, “What’s up?”

“Okay. Okay.” He takes a huge breath like he’s psyching himself up for something. “There’s no socially acceptable way to say this, really, so I’m going to jump in.”

“I’ve never been socially acceptable a day in my life. Shoot.”

“Okay.” He takes another huge breath. “The first guy I loved was killed in a drive by when we were eighteen.”

Michael rocks back a bit at that, at the ice-cold awkward shock of someone else’s old grief. His eyes go huge and wide and he scrambles for something to say, something that’s different from the plain shit people spout.

Jake doesn’t wait for him to find it, though. “He was coming out of a club and a car jumped the curb and it was just…over. There was no real way to know if it was a hate crime or if the driver was just drunk. I was two hours away at school. We didn’t talk every day, so I didn’t even know for two weeks. His parents wouldn’t even let me go to the funeral, because I turned their son gay, and if he hadn’t been at a gay club then he’d still be alive.”

“Fuck, man.”

“I know. And I’m sorry to dump all that on you, but it’s important for what I need to tell you. It’s why I joined the Air Force in the first place—I was lost, depressed. I couldn’t keep going in school and I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to my hometown where everything would remind me of him, so I dropped out and joined up. And then I met Alex.”

Michael coughs to hide the catch of his breath. He can picture it so clearly—the way Alex looked with his hair shorn and his dark, dulled eyes set straight ahead, like the way he looked when Michael hid behind the neighbor’s car and risked getting hauled in for trespassing or—caught—so he could see Alex off that day he left to report for training.

“I was—I mean, I was a mess. Could barely keep it together. Kept getting everyone in trouble because of it, and he was so…when he cornered me one day, I honest to god thought he was going to kill me. But he helped me instead. Taught me how to keep my head down and survive, and I just…my story just came out. And after that, I didn’t know why until way later when he finally told me about what happened with his father before he enlisted, but we just kind of clung to each other.”

And again, Michael is relieved that Alex wasn’t as alone as Michael was, that even as tangled up and hurting and hollow as he must have been, he had someone to help him, someone to share that piece of himself with even when it was against the law. Michael owes this man, even if he wouldn’t accept it, even if Alex would deny it too. Michael’s in his debt.

“We dated for a little over a year before we broke up because we didn’t have a whole lot in common other than a little bit of shared trauma. If you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of chatty.” He winks. “And since I’d already spilled my tragic backstory, I wanted to talk about Jordan, like, all the time. Things I missed. Regrets I had. Fears. And Alex was a great listener…but not so great at reciprocity. He’d never let me in, never let me take any of his burdens on. Made me feel like a real dick. But there’s one thing he did let me do. Insisted, actually.”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Michael says. He leans back as far as he can go without actually taking a step back, trying to give Jake space, trying not to look too interested. He’s hungry, yeah, for any scrap of information he can get about this part of Alex’s life. But if Alex wants him to know, he has to trust that Alex will tell him. It took a massive government conspiracy to get Michael to open up the first time. He can’t be overly critical of Alex’s struggle to do the same.

“I think I kind of do, actually.” Jake shoves his hands into his pockets and lets out a long breath, steaming the cold night air. “I don’t know if it’s for me or if it’s for Alex or what, but I think I should tell you this. You know…I look at him and I still see that nineteen year old kid. My escape. The only gay guy I knew, the only person who knew my grief. It’s not especially healthy. It’s a big part of the reason we’ve been avoiding each other for half a decade. But yeah, I think I need to do this for him more than anyone else.”

Well. What’s Michael supposed to do with that? At seventeen Alex had big, expressive eyes and he licked his lips as a nervous habit and Michael could have sat for hours in the too loud violent cafeteria watching him paint his nails from four tables away. He didn’t know Alex at nineteen, not really, but Jake did. And Michael wants to honor every version of Alex everywhere.

He sends a quick text: Jake caught me up talking about the good old days. You ok with that?

Alex types, then erases, then does so a couple more times before a reply finally comes through: I love you. Tell him I said thank you.

Michael slides his phone back into his pocket. “Okay. Hit me.”

“It’s just this.”

Jake holds out his phone, open to his contacts. And right there: Alex’s Michael.

Michael’s fingers tremble, just slightly, as he reaches out to take it, to hold it in his hands and marvel over it and what it could mean.

Jake shoves his hands back in his pockets. “I’ve had you in my phone for nine years. Don’t know if the number’s any good anymore, of course. But you were the one thing…he never wanted to talk about the past. He never wanted to talk about you. But before we deployed, he asked me…if anything happened to him, if I would talk to you. Tell you he was sorry. That he was always thinking of you. ‘Hear his voice for me one last time.’ That’s how he worded it. I’ve never been able to forget those words.”

Michael’s mouth is too numb to form any words at all. He’s all—cracked open, Alex has reached inside his chest and pried his ribs apart. Michael used to write Alex letters and burn them in his fire pit because smoke becomes air and particulates travel on the wind and there was as much chance of Alex breathing him in from a world away as there was him opening any letter Michael sent him. Then there are the letters he kept, the ones full of hope and pain and—Michael kept them, just in case, like he kept one of Alex’s too-small black hoodies, so that he’d have something to bury if the nightmare came to pass.

Alex’s Michael. It’s there like teardrops smearing the ink off his ten cent ballpoint pen. It’s there like a cotton sleeve held to his cheek on a sleepless night.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jake says, slipping his phone out of Michael’s limp hand. The man has a smile for every occasion, and the one he’s wearing right now is sweet and sad. “I really am just so happy you guys found each other in the end. It was really nice to meet you, Michael. Thanks for helping me keep a promise, yeah?”

And with a jaunty two-fingered wave, Jake turns around and heads for his car, those long legs eating up space so quick that before Michael can process him leaving, he’s gone.

His phone buzzes: Just saw Jake’s car leaving. Everything ok?

Fine. Headsd yiour way, he responds. It takes him four tries to type the message even that legibly, his hands are shaking so bad.

He nearly jogs across the parking lot, fumbles with the handle before he can yank the door open and climb inside, climb over the gearshift still clumsy and needy to stuff his unsteady hands into Alex’s pockets.

“Hey,” Alex croons, cupping the back of his neck when Michael ducks in to rub his forehead against his shoulder, sawing out rough breaths in the space between them.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Alex says, holding him close. “Whatever he had to say, it’s in the past. I’m here. You’re here. We are.”

There was a time when Michael laid on his back and begged the sky to let him stop needing Alex Manes, and there was a time it broke him that the begging didn’t work. And now he’s here, with Alex’s voice present and physical in his ear, the whole biological process of speaking, from the vibration of his chest to the movement of his throat and lips and tongue to the way his breath blows past the outside of Michael’s ear, and he’s home. He’s not alone.

“Michael?” A little bit of fear creeps into Alex’s voice, so Michael pulls back to look at him, blinks away the wobbly film of tears in his eyes.

“I just. Love you. God, I love you,” Michael rasps. He’s never going to stop saying it, now that he’s allowed, and it’s never going to feel any different. Like ripping the Band-Aid off a cut that’s all healed and feeling fresh air on the skin beneath.

“I love you too,” Alex whispers back, a kiss pressed to Michael’s temple, his other hand coming up to grab his waist.

“Take me home,” Michael says, but he doesn’t let go, not to let Alex drive or for any other reason, not for several long minutes.

#my fic #malex

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sffortheculture · 3 years

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Running (SF/F)or the Culture, has been a dream come true for me, and I truly appreciate Queen Wahida for putting me in this space. Signing with a Black owned publishing house in and of itself was a big deal for me, it's such a rare and beautiful thing to be a part of. When I was asked to come on board and carry the banner ad Publisher/Editor for the sci-fi/fantasy imprint it was kinda like being invited to drive the Batmobile. Now it's my hope to be as universally cool, unapologetically Black, and a space for everyone willing to take the ride. To have started as an indie author, with a book and a dream, and to now find myself in this position ready to shake the literary world. Its almost like I'm living the trope in there coolest way. I feel like the proverbial farm boy meeting extraordinary circumstances in order to fulfil great destiny, and it's humbling.

I'm honored and elated that my series The Vanguard has been chosen to lead the way for the imprint, and I think it's a good banner for what we are trying to do. Just like The Vanguard, we see a blending of vibes, worlds and literary traditions to create sci-fi and fantasy that will scintillate and inspire. It's my goal that we amplify sci-fi and fantasy that fuel imaginations and inspire.

In Book I The Stand meets The Fires of Vengeance as diverse heroes battle the police state in a post collapse New England inner-city!

The Road to Resistance by Chase Bolling is probably one of the most BADASS books I’ve ever read.

-@courteneys_corner, Bookstagram

Okay. Even though dystopians/sci-fi/fantasies aren’t my top genre, let’s just say this book gave me LIFE in many ways.

-@BooksByJanee, Bookstagram

After weapons technology is mysteriously knocked back to the dark ages, America is plunged into chaos! Shades of the Black Wall Street Massacre, and the Trump Riots ensue when the president consigns everyone but the elite to mass incarceration, and forced labor! As martial law strikes a night of protests leads to riots, looting and revolution!

Chessed, an S.C.A loving ex-gang member, dons his armor, hefts his weapons, and declares war on corrupt cops, hate groups, and the nefarious powers of a hostile government! He and his allies must fight to survive if they are going to carve a post-apocalyptic Camelot from their embattled inner-city community!

Afrofuturism, epic fantasy, and dystopian science fiction combine for an unforgettable sword and soul thriller! Beautifully crafted world building brings us romance, conspiracy, and magic...blended with heart pounding action, as modern day knights of the round table arise from the crucible of poverty, police brutality, and street violence!

Inspired by books like The Red Knight and A Game of Thrones, The Road of Resistance Part 1 is a surefire hit for fans of Octavia Butler, Mark Lawrence, Milton Davis, and Brandon Sanderson! Read the novel hailed as 'Stirring, gritty, connected and epic. A great read!' by Christian Cameron today!

In Book II Power and Vikings meet The Hunger Games as the revolution continues with The Road of Resistance Part 2!

This book will have you turning pages all night. The fight scenes alone are so well choreographed they are breath-taking. I can see every sweep of the swords and axes and found myself wincing and jumping at the descriptions which evoked such vivid imagery.

The Road of Resistance is Black Lives Matter meets Vikings, but the Vikings are brothas, this time. And they are taking no prisoners.

-Audra, Between The Reads Podcast/Author of Blood Land

When Chessed set out to execute his SHTF plan with his homies, he never imagined that he would be walking the road to kingship. But with modern weapons extinct, and years of S.C.A. and historical African martial arts under their belt, he and his company of unlikely heroes find themselves at the helm of a fledgling nation called the Vanguard!

But as ultra-nationalists hate groups rise, building economies on human trafficking, and the governor wielding incredible new emergency powers sets his eyes on rebel cities; ridin' for the hood takes on an brand new meaning!

Chessed must unite survivors, refugees, and former street gangs into an army to stop this new onslaught of tyranny! Join the Vanguard and hold the line with a diverse cast of characters as the Vanguard marches to war!

Fans of Bernard Cornwell, Tochi Onyebuchi, Sarah J. Mass, and Marlon James, have a new favorite to add to their list! Bolling combines Afrofuturism with military science fiction and urban fantasy for a non-stop thrill ride!

In Book III some queens don't need a dragon to bring fire and blood!When weapons technologies were trapped in the dark ages, and a rogue American government turned on its own people, the Vanguard, a revolutionary, separatist kingdom, led by King Chessed of Bridgeport was born! But when Chessed is betrayed and presumed missing or dead, what will become of his fledgling kingdom?

In his absence, it's up to Khalise, first lady of the Vanguard, and mother of his children to take up her nation's banner, and don her crown! As she dispatches trusted bannermen to search for the king, she must overcome depression, loss, and anxiety to lead her people to victory! But a bloodthirsty occultist elite, and an onslaught of witches, wizards, psychics, and demonic forces make the task more dangerous than ever before in the afrofuturist, dark fantasy thriller The War We Make: The Vanguard 3!

As I work on The Vanguard V The Juneteenth Campaign I am excited to announce the Chronicle of the Unbroken is entering it's beta phase! Fresh off a jailbreak from a government black site in Sleepy Hollow, Chessed of the Vanguard is back in Chronicle of the Unbroken! While longing for a reunion with Khalise and his family, but first he must fight. Beside his fellow escapees Chessed must fight through a post-apocalyptic New York; ruled by a shadowy cabal of Federal High Constables, corrupt activist clergy, and a necromancy wielding special forces officer, in disguise as the leader of a terrifying street gang!

The secret origins of the rogue AI, AINI that stripped the world of modern weapons is revealed as Chessed must discover new allies if he has any hope of victory against insurmountable odds! Anybody interested in becoming a beta reader for my later project feel free to contact me on IG @Chase.Bolling.Author!

Just Battles, and Flawless Victories,

Chase of (SF/F)or the Culture

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