#the innocence of whiteness absolves all crimes in their eyes

[spidergvven]

israel is built on top of the mass graves of palestinians, of entire towns burned to the ground, their inhabitants systematically slaughtered. the occupying settlers regularly arm themselves and rampage through palestinian neighborhoods. they march in the street chanting death to all arabs. israeli snipers shoot children and elders in the head and laugh about it afterwards. they assassinate journalists and doctors, bomb hospitals and apartment buildings. they openly call for a war of extermination and refer to palestinians as animals. israelis who oppose apartheid are jailed and anti zionist jewish people in the diaspora are labeled as self hating jews. peaceful protesting like BDS is criminalized in europe and the us.

but there are those who will look at these atrocities and say their heart weeps for both sides. they cry over genocidal fascists and pretend that makes them enlightened. they accuse those who unilaterally oppose apartheid and ethnic cleansing of extremism. their cowardice and complicity is heinous. never trust someone who will weep for the murderer while the victim is still bleeding out.

#everyone wants to cry about the 'innocent civilian settlers' #no one wants to acknowledge how many of those settlers gleefully take part in pogroms against palestinians #the innocence of whiteness absolves all crimes in their eyes #free palestine

[antihibikase-archive]

the hero’s journey.

In the hero's story, both the princes of truth and ideals are accompanied by a party of three.

A warrior, for  boundless strength.

A scholar, for adaptive knowledge.

And a heart, for unwavering emotion.

That’s how the story always has been.

And that’s how the story should always be.

...

Two years ago, N laid eyes on Hilbert at Chargestone Cave, accompanied by his two childhood friends and a newcomer. 

As soon as he saw their initial party of three was now a party of four, he was confident that Hilbert, was, in fact, destined to battle against him, his ideals, and his friend Zekrom at the end of his journey.

The hero’s journey.

In the hero's story, both the princes of truth and ideals are accompanied by a party of three.

How fitting. Their parties were complete now.

All that was left was to let time take its course, until both Zekrom and Reshiram chose their respective heroes.

Hilbert was a hero himself, opposite of his own tale, accompanied by his fateful companions, all who will fall to the mighty dragon of ideals.

Clearly, the heart was poor little Bianca Alabaster, who was seeing the truth that not everyone could become stronger.

Clearly, the scholar was the newcomer Hilda Weiss, denied of the throne of champion, but blessed with knowledge and experience.

Clearly, the warrior was Cheren Slater, who fell behind Hilbert's strength and compassion in every way, who grew up in his shadow.

Wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Just like everything N had learned so far in his journey, he was completely and utterly mistaken.

N finds himself unable to meet Bianca's gaze when she asks him if he had thought the same as her back then. 

If he had mistaken her kindness for weakness. 

If he had mistaken Hilda’s experience for knowledge.

If he had mistaken Cheren’s stoicism for strength.

He finds himself unable to answer.

Because it’s true, isn’t it?

The prying eyes of the league were nothing compared to her heartbroken voice.

Though they may accept him with their hearts, he knows not all would forgive him, especially for the part he had played in forcing Hilbert’s hand in accepting the sword. 

In accepting the crown.

In becoming a hero.

Being pure and innocent did not absolve him of his compliance in his father’s crimes, nor did it excuse his escape at the end of it all.

Perhaps Zekrom leaving his side in favor of a new hero was for the best.

Both his truth and idealism were wavering after all.

...

Bianca is able to pinpoint why Cheren starts closing his heart again.

Why he feels this way.

Of course she does. She seeks the truth, and she finds her answers.

It is befitting of a scholar, no?

It’s never easy to swallow, the reality of the role she was bestowed upon by the gods themselves. The road she was carefully curated to take.

It seems ironic to her that Cheren, who had come across as the cool, calm, and collected one in their group, had been assigned the role of the heart in the hero's story.

Twice, in fact.

Bianca knows how it must hurt.

To be stripped of one's agency.

To be seen as weak.

To be doomed by the narrative.

Twice.

Bianca brings the bitter truth to everyone's attention, supplying her hypothesis with evidence she had gathered over the years; pictures of the murals she's seen all over Dragonspiral Tower, accurately translated text from ancient scripts, and verbal confirmation from the cooperative sages and N's sisters themselves, who were well-versed in the story of the legendary heroes.

All Hilbert and N can do is lower their heads in guilt, while Nate, newly crowned champion (but still a child) tries his best to look for a way to help Cheren, nevermind all this talk about heroes and legends and destiny.

There were three heroes in this room, weren't there, Nate asks. 

What use is that title if they're unable to save one person? 

Much less from some bogus story from years back?

It’s not bogus, silly child. There are facts. There is proof. The truth is laid for all to see.

But a little white lie passes through her lips, and she masks it all with a smile and a sense of false hope.

...

Hilda does not believe in legends, even if they rip through the fabric of space and time just to show themselves to her.

She does not believe in them in the sense that she does not think they are worthy of her trust.

How could they, when they were complacent in Team Plasma's sins?

If they had really cared about humanity, wouldn’t they have taken better care of their withering garden?

She doesn’t get it. 

Not at all.

Not even when she sees the dragons with her own two eyes.

Not even when the swords of justice appear before mere children.

Not even when the spirit of victory itself chases after her.

She knows she has no place at the table of the league. She was rightfully denied her title as champion, as her strength had not been lacking, but her heart and resolve were weak.

Yet, she finds herself in the spotlight once more, clasping Bianca’s and Hilbert’s hands with her own as she listens to the tale she dreads to hear, in an effort to make everyone understand.

Understand why the heart was wavering.

In the hero's story, both the princes of truth and ideals are accompanied by a party of three.

It was only right for the warrior to remain in the shadow of the hero, as so the ancient texts say.

She feels their hands squeeze her’s for reassurance.

She hates it.

Not them. Never them. Her precious, precious friends.

She hates how everything turns out. How everything played out.

How the gods themselves jeer at them.

How they toy with them.

How their journey was executed like it was a bad adaptation of a decades-old play in Nimbasa City.

She’s sick of it.

These dragons, these mythical creatures, these legends don’t deserve the praise and worship they get.

Not even if they save the world.

...

Cheren tries.

He knows he’s spiraling out of control.

He tries to find proof of his existence as something meaningful.

He knows that Reshiram and Zekrom don't see him as lesser of a human being even if he feels like he was a sacrifice just to wake them.

He wants to prove his fears wrong.

And he does.

For a brief moment in time.

He sees the small Pokemon in his home, thriving and enjoying their lives to the fullest because Cheren raised them, provided for them and cherished them.

He sees lovely flowers on his desk- Gracideas, even, from Nate and the rest of the students, who are all wishing him the best of health.  

He sees the thank you card that comes along with it, from Nate and the rest of the children, with little doodles of Stoutland, Watchog, and Cinccino.

It works for a little bit.

But then he spirals.

Its a cycle.

He feels better about himself but then he falls apart.

Constantly.

There's only enough flowers he can receive before it starts to feel like he's being a bother.

Like he's being patronized.

Like they're sending him off to a funeral.

He knows he’s losing himself.

But he can’t. He just can’t.

He can’t let them take him.

He can’t let fate do this to him.

Not again, not again, not again.

In an attempt to regain control of his life, Cheren runs to the only place that he knows will cut the strings and set him free.

At the top of the lookout, the breeze feels vaguely reminiscent of his home.

...

Hilbert is a hero, whether he likes it or not.

He’s not incredibly smart like Bianca, or amazingly strong like Hilda.

He knows that. 

He’s fine with that.

He accepts that. 

But what he doesn’t accept is the truth of the heart.

In murals and ancient texts, the hero is depicted with a silver crown embedded with stones of black and white, a velvet cape draped over their shoulders and a sword in hand.

The scholar is depicted in heavenly robes imbued with long-forgotten magic, carrying a tome of blessings and curses.

The warrior is depicted in heavy, impenetrable armor, an army of weapons at their disposal as they ride their mighty steed.

But the heart has no direct depiction.

That’s what Bianca said.

In some versions of the story, the heart is not even included at all.

A strange role to play, he thinks.

But an awful, awful one at that.

He supposes he knows the reason why the heart is an ugly thing to touch upon, especially once he understands the very purpose of the heart in the hero’s journey.

No one likes hearing about how their heroes are imperfect.

The same must have been the case for the old Unovan folk, who saw human sacrifices as a necessary evil if it was to appease the legendary dragons.

It was sick.

It made him sick. 

But moreover, it made him anxious.

He did not share the idealism that Nate had. 

Even if they claimed he was an integral aspect to the meeting, Hilbert boarded Reshiram’s back and made his way to Aspertia as soon as the terrifying realization had set in.

The heart was of unwavering emotion.

But not Cheren.

Not his best friend. 

Not the person who had grown up by his side. 

Not the person who had cried in secret at his own frustrations for being weak.

Not the person who had temporarily lost his self at the hands of the enemy.

Not the person who was used as a sacrifice. 

Twice.

And his best friend, his poor best friend who had suffered so much to catch up to his steps, to support him through thick and thin.

His poor best friend who he had abandoned to wait for him.

His poor best friend who had now seen the truth his purpose in Hilbert’s journey.

Apologies were long overdue, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

But if Hilbert was a hero like the world had claimed, then he would do what Nate had asked of the league, and save the heart from meeting a grim demise.

...

In the hero's story, both the princes of truth and ideals are accompanied by a party of three.

A warrior, for  boundless strength.

A scholar, for adaptive knowledge.

And a heart, for unwavering emotion.

That’s how the story always has been.

But Hilbert would be damned it he let it stay this way.

#Pokemon #Pokemon Fanfic #Pokemon Black and White #Pokemon Black and White 2 #Natural Harmonia Gropius #Trainer Bianca #Trainer Hilda #Gym Leader Cheren #Trainer Hilbert #Trainer Nate #((Might be turning this into a thing?? W/ a different writing style and all.))

[somethingelseishere]

October 19, 1978.

Bishop Magorian is found murdered in his home.

All four limbs grotesquely broken, hogtied into a ghoulish rectangular flesh cube. His eyes were removed and placed upon an open bible at the scripture:

“The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.

But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!” – Matthew 6:22-23

“You gotta come see this.” the detective says to the FBI agent in charge.

“What, the donut truck break down outside?”

“We just got a confession.”

The two men race from the office and down the hall. They stop outside of an interrogation room.

“Is this some kind of joke?” asks the agent. “Hear what they have to say first.” requests the detective.

They enter the room, close the door and are seated. The detective reaches towards the tape recorder, stopping with his right index finger above the red button.

“You ready to make it official?” he asks.

The person sitting across from him nods in the affirmative. He presses record.

“My name is Eleanor - Sister Eleanor Thurman. I am thirty-one years of age. I have been with Our Blessed Lady of Sorrows for nine years, eleven months, three weeks and five days.”

The two men stare at the young woman of diminutive stature.

“I am responsible for the recent killings of four clergymen.”

There is a generous pause, the men exchange a brief glance.

“I would’ve killed so many more.”

She sat at the table, small and harmless in appearance with a red carnelian rosary coiled around her blood-stained hands.

No more than five foot three - a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. Doe eyes and freckles with short, dark brown hair. The look of a college girl, young teacher or new mother. Nothing about her spoke to even the furthest possibility of serial murderer.

This one slipped under the gate.

“Why?” asks the agent.

“For years, I knew - and did nothing! I knew and stood by, all the while, these child-raping monsters doing the unthinkable. Loosing their demons upon the innocent. Ruining countless lives.”

“Why didn’t you come forward, with evidence?”

“I didn’t have the proof you would require but there were signs - tells - things that no normal, decent person would dismiss or try to explain away.”

“So you think turning yourself in will absolve you of these crimes? Make it right with your God?”

“It is my penance, for not acting sooner. To live out my days in a cage.”

“Ya know, they’re gonna push for the death penalty."

“So be it.” she says, resigned.

“It’ll never happen. But, you will die in a cell. Guaranteed.”

“I accept that.”

Sister Eleanor continues her statement on each grisly murder, providing details no one but the killer would know. She is read her rights, booked in and taken to a holding unit. This was a first for both the city of West Chester and the state of Pennsylvania.

TWO WEEKS LATER

The long, flowing black robe trimmed in rich crimson hangs loosely on the spindly older gentleman’s body as he makes purposeful strides up the bright and surprizingly clean hallway.

The guard leaves the Cardinal standing in front of a cell door. A switch is thrown, the door unlocks. Inside, seated on her bunk - Sister Eleanor. The man enters, leaving the door open wide.

Several moments pass, a loud gurgling and other sounds of a struggle leak from the room. After several seconds, the man exits and walks the hallway in the opposite direction.

Half an hour later, Sister Eleanor Thurman is found on the floor of her cell surrounded by smeared bloody hand-prints with a white frothy discharge around her mouth.

"The Blackest Heart" - Final in the three-part series 'Carnelian'.

Mixed media on plywood. My 138th painting.

#abstract art #acrylic painting #textured art #mixed media #dark art #writing #fiction

[mzdsanalysis]

Wei Wuxian’s Actions and Morality:

I am kind of confused on some parts, and i would really appreciate it if someone is willing to discuss it with me. It’s regarding Wei Wuxian, and his exact involvement in the events at the Accident at Qiongqi Path and Bloodbath of Nightless City.

Now, at the accident at Quiongqi path, Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning were just going to Koi tower for the full month celebration to which they had been invited to. Jin Zixun ambushes and threatens to kill him if he doesn’t remove the hundred hole curse. Wei wuxian tries to explain that he didn’t cast the curse and isn’t guilty (admittedly he could have done it in a better way). Jin zixun doesn’t believe him and continues to threaten him. Jin Zixuan appears, tries to diffuse the tension, but still insists that wei wuxian comes along to answer the accusations. Wei wuxian doesn’t believe him (he isn’t wrong to. Guys show up with a whole gang, accuse him of something he didn’t do, and then ask him willingly to come along to “resolve” the issue, though they had spent the past year slandering him and wanting to murder the people he is trying to protect. Just getting into his perspective of things.) Wei wuxian gets angry and accuses Jin zixuan of being on the whole thing, and is agitated and afraid. Which is when he loses control of the resentful energy, which extends to his control of wen ning, and that’s how wen ning, not currently being in control of his body, punches a hole into Jin Zixuan and kills him. Now, automatically, I am going to absolve Wen Ning of any guilt. He is literally NOT in control of his own body. He did that due to the Wei wuxian controlling him with resentful energy. But Wei wuxian also isn’t completely guilty. He was upset, confused, and to some extent scared. But not even subconsciously was he planning or intending to kill Jin zixuan. He lost control over the resentful energy. He put wen ning is a specific state, and then lost control over him, due to not being able to regulate his own emotions during the whole chaos. An accident. An accident that led to someone innocent being killed, but an accident none the less.

Now, I expect different peoples take on this is going to deviate somewhat and that’s fine. I am cool with it. In my opinion, he isn’t completely guilty, but is still responsible. He did not have the intention to kill Jin zixuan, but he DID kill him. It was because of the resentful energy that he was still learning about and how to control it. But if you are going to use a knife after everyone telling you it’s dangerous – although they are doing it just because they don’t want you to have the knife, they want themselves having the knife, while at the same time threating to kill your friends, so you don’t exactly have a choice, but use a freaking knife to, you know, NOT DIE – when you accidently stab someone, it’s still somewhat on you. Lan Zhan had warned him that it could end up badly if he did loose control over the resentful energy and wen ning, and wei wuxian dismissed it. But it was still something he was experimenting with and researching, and hadn’t completely figured out. So it’s not like he didn’t care or was dismissing that it was a bad thing, just that he genuinely didn’t think it would happen. He has been controlling it so far, and everything has been fine, and since he doesn’t exactly have any other options, he will have to continue using it, despite the arguments on the dangers of it.

Now, the bloodbath at Nightless City. Wei wuxian already knows at this point that wen ning and wen qing are dead, and he heads there to atleast collect their ashes and bring them back. When he arrives at the pledge conference, all the sects attending, all 3000, are collected together, and Jin Guangshan makes his speech. He announced that both wens are dead, and then spreads the ashes, the ones Wei ying had come to collect. Then announces that they were going on next day to kill the rest of wens anyway, along with wei ying, to loud applause from the crowd in attendance. Its only then wei wuxian makes his presence known. Before that, he was just listening on. Jin Guangshan makes some more accusations: at Qiongqi Path wei wuxian killed Lanlingjin sect members, the ones jin zixun brought to ambush him, and that wei ying is the one who made wen ning go in a rampage at koi tower (a lie. While jin zixuan’s death at wen ning – actually wei wuxian’s – was an accident, the rampage at koi tower, as we know for a fact, wasn’t an accident (confirmed by MXTX’s interview.) I am not sure if it was mentioned in the book, but from what I can recall, it was xue yang. I might be wrong, but it was still done on Jin Guangshan’s orders. So the deaths of members of the other sect’s members, Lan and Nie, and the others, lie not at wei wuxian’s feet but Jin Guangshan’s. Wei wuxian doesn’t take the accusations silently, and argues back: he was the one who was ambushed, who almost got killed. He has every right to defend himself against the men Jin Zixun brought to attack and kill him. The crowd says he shouldn’t have been so heartless, and in wei wuxian’s own words: no matter what the other sects throw at him, no matter how hard they try to harm and kill him, he is not allowed to touch them, harm their members, defend himself or fight back even if it cost him his life. The sects throw in their final arguments in:

Even if he was fighting back, it doesn’t account for the 130 people who died at koi tower at hands of wen ning.

He shouldn’t defend the wens. They are horrible and evil and guilty and deserve to die.

He is only doing it for his pride, and to prove himself a hero.

He laid the curse on Jin zixun.

Each of them are easily nullified.

Wei wuxian didn’t cause wen’s ning rampage. Jin Guangshan did. The 130 lives are on his own hands, not wei wuxians.

People aren’t guilty by association, especially by family relation. None of the wen remnants have any blood on their hands. They are from wen qing’s branch and are non-combatants, thus they were not involved in any of the Wen Ruhon’s actions. Nor were they involved in at the accident at Qiongqi Path or Koi tower. They are innocent.

The argument about his pride came from their attitude towards him from before his defection. They had admired his powers and were intimated by it, but didn’t like that he belonged to Jiang sect, and wasn’t willing to change his loyalties to belong to them instead. He also dared being defiant and outspoken, and powerful while being a servant’s son, and that’s a crime of it’s own in their eyes. Is wei wuxian’s slightly arrogant? Yes. Is he wrong to be? No, he is very powerful and is aware of what he is capable of. Is that a reason to hate him enough to want to kill him? No! wth

He laid the curse on Jin Zixun. He didn’t. Su she did. Jin Guangshan and Guangyo were aware of that, and still sent zixun to ambush wei ying anyway.

None of their accusation hold any weight to them. Admittedly, we know that because we read the book and these characters aren’t exactly able to do that. The only people here who know about it are Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao, who planned the whole thing in the first place. So, I am not going to paint these people as all evil. Some of the sect’s members did die. Some of these people have actually the right to be angry at what happened, though the anger is pointed in the wrong direction.

But the rest of the people are there because of the mob mentality. Because someone is guilty, someone needs to be punished. Here its 50 people and wei ying, one of their own ex members. But because they are not worth the effort, none of it needs to be investigated, to be proven. They have an available party to hold guilty, and it’s far too comfortable for them to put it on their heads rather than find the actually accountable people.

To an extent, it really does seem, by the proofs handfed to them by Jin Guangshan, the wei ying is guilty, That he actually did it. But don’t they owe to the 50 wen members who are about to be slaughtered like cattle, for no other reason than being associated with Wen sect and Wei wuxian, for atleast one of them to look a bit harder, to try a bit harder? I would say so. Wei ying would too. I don’t think the other sects would agree with us, but it’s ancient china society, and modern war ethics and laws aren’t exactly in place to prevent them from doing so.

Back to Wei ying, he gets shot at by a disciple. It actually pierces him, just by luck not in a fatal place but only by a fluke. It was aimed at the heart. The intention to kill was there.  He fires the arrow back, kills back the guy who tried to kill him. I don’t know exactly how anyone could hold him completely in the wrong here. We might not like it, but wei ying is not some pure white angel, nor a pacifist by any means. He is a soldier, a fighter, and he is amidst people who are literally moving to kill him by any means, and he just got an almost kill-shot. He has every right to defend himself, fight back, and honestly, kill back anyone who is trying to kill him. Eye for an eye, punch for a punch. It’s ruthlessly fair, despite sounding harsh. Honestly, it is harsh, but it’s not wrong, wither we like it or not.

He calls forth his dead, the battle begins. Lan Wangji tries to get him to stop, but it doesn’t work. There are definite tones of a sort of deliriousness. I am not exactly sure to how severe it was, but it shows he wasn’t exactly in an emotional and mental fit state. It’s definitely obvious when he tries to make his way to Yanli, and is too worked up to control the corpses crowding around, and the one standing behind Jiang Yanli. He is only able to do it when yanli asks him to stop it all so that she could tell him what she had wanted to tell him. He forces himself to calm down, and is only then able to control the corpses. (I am not saying the deliriousness was severe enough to absolve him of any responsibility he does hold in the event; I am merely acknowledging it’s presence.)

Then Jiang Yanli gets killed by the bow guy’s brother, and that when thing’s go from going downhill to just jumping right off the cliff. But unfortunately, MXTXs writing doesn’t exactly let us to be a witness to the scene, so the curtains close, and we are only allowed to make our assumptions on what happened, who/how/how many exactly died.

The point of this bloody essay is to determine the exactly how much of the event was Wei wuxian involved and responsibly for, so I can examine wei wuxian’s morality with all facts present.

If we go according to the book, wei ying:

Used some pretty grotesque methods to kill in the sunshot campaign

Allowed/ made Wen Ning kill his killers at Qiongqi Path

Accidentally killed Jin Zixuan

Kill Jin Zixun and his men after their ambush

Got in a fight on the way to the pledge conference with a group of cultivators: he broke one’s nose, kicked out his teeth, and made another fall and break his legs (not a severe injury according to lan wangji)

Fought in Bloodbath at Nightless city (after they had made the announcement, they were going ahead with the attack on the wen remnants and wen ying)

I am only including actions that me, anyone else (or the character’s) could possibly hold against him and question his morality with.

Here is where my confusion comes in. Now, I made the mistake of reading the novel only after finishing the tv show. As we know, the tv show took some liberties with the plotline and altered a few things. I honestly like a lot of the changes. Usually when tv shows make changes like that, it doesn’t always work out and it kind of depletes the essence of the story, but they actually managed it quite well. But one of the key changes were the plotlines around the Qiongqi Path accident and nightless city.

Divergences in the tv show:

At Qiongqi Path, Su she’s flute is what makes Wen Ning kill Jin Zixuan (+ Jin Zixun) rather than wei wuxian loosing control due to his emotions.

At the bloodbath, Su She playing the flute is what stopped wei wuxian from halting the battle and loose control of the fierce corpses.

(+ by the time of the battle, the wen remnants were already dead, so wei wuxian’s fight becomes more about revenge and grief rather than to protect them)

Basically, they abbreviated a lot of his action to other people. Which I understand, I guess. You are less in the character’s head while watching the tv show rather than when you are reading the book, and for the audience to develop a better and more empathetic relationship with a lead character, liberties needed to be taken to make him more sympathetic.

My debate on his morality, hence, is more focused on the book character rather the tv show (honestly, since even his only 2 serious offences are not even his fault in the show.) but in the book, they kind of are. He did kill Jin Zixuan: accidentally. He had no intention whatsoever of him doing it; not subconsciously or consciously. He was just feeling agitated and angry and viewed Jin Zixuan as a threat, and Wen Ning, who was in his fierce corpse state, interpreted as a need to kill jin Zixuan.

The only way you could put this against him is if you hold him responsible of using such an unstable and dangerous form of cultivation/magic. But he already gave an answer for that, which none of us can argue against: he didn’t have choice. He never did with demonic cultivation.

He started using it in the Burial mounds to survive and make it out.

He used it to seek justice for his sects massacre (go ahead and debate the need for that if you need to. I don’t)

He used it to fight in the Sunshot campaign, and he was a MAJOR force in the campaign, and a enormous contributor to it’s success. Could they still have won if he hadn’t been with them? Maybe, sure. But if there was any risk to loosing them, and wen sect remained undefeated, Jiang chen and yanli and wei wuxian were as good as dead. No way they or the other sects who had raised arms against wen sect would have been allowed to live or survive.

He used it to save Wen Ning and other wen remnants: war prisoners who were undergoing severe abuse and were basically being killed off. For no reason than being wens. Yes, I know it was common in ancient china to kill off the whole family. But it’s not right. Wei wuxian doesn’t think so. And neither do i.

He used it to bring back Wen Ning for Wen qing.

-  I don’t know where I read it that he brought him back for protection or as a weapon. He didn’t. He was pissed at what they did to him, and brought him to allow him to tell wei ying who had kill him then allowed him to get his revenge. He than made him sentient because he had promise wen qing & the other wen members that he could bring him back. He promised his sister that he could bring her brother back. That’s why.

He used it to protect burial mounds and the wen remnants: A bunch of non-combatant members that he had grown to love and care about as family. As you can see here:

“ He turned around, knowing that it’d be a long time before he’s get to see the people he was familiar with again.

But…right now, wasn’t he on his way to seeing people he was familiar with as well?”

He used it to fight back during the ambush. He doesn’t have a gold core; He literally cant wield a sword to defend himself. So he uses it to summon corpses to fight against Jin Zixun’s men.

·       He uses it to fight in the Bloodbath of Nightless City, after Jin Guangshan announced that they were going ahead with killing the rest of the wens and wei ying, and the attending crowd voiced out their excitement over the prospect.

 Second, the bloodbath at nightless city. Yes, it was a very brutal battle with many casualties. But these people were planning to kill him and the wens. They had decided it by the time he spoke up. It was a definite thing that was going to happen.

 Now you can argue against the use of violence, and need of it. But while I am very anti-war myself, I still hold to the belief that there are some fights that are worth fighting for, that need to be fought for. The wen remnants were innocent, and no one, NO ONE, had the right to decide they needed to die just because they were wens. They were innocent people. They had not actively killed or participated in the massacre that the main wen sect had conducted, and being blood relations to the actual guilty party is not an indication of being guilty too.

You could also argue the value of 3000 lives against 50. I have seen people do it, and write metas about. But whats the value of 1 life or 10 or 50? How are we supposed to decide who deserve to live more? How is that anyway moral?

Wei wuxian didn’t act to choose one group of lives over the other. He did it to protect himself and the people he cared about, and that meant fighting against anyone who was actively intending to kill and harm them, and was an acting threat. As human being who, like any other being, has the right to defend himself, to protect himself, to survive and be able to live. 3000 people wanting to kill him, and wens doesn’t take away his right to do that. There isn’t a rule that if enough people want you dead and murdered, rightly or not, you should just let them go ahead with it and turn your belly up. That…just doesn’t make sense?

I am in acceptance that he is a grey character, with his flaws and his merits. What I am confused about is exactly how much black and white went into making his grey. Maybe because I watched tv show and read the novel at the about same time, I feel like I am missing something. Did I miss anything? Did he do anything else? Am I wrong? What do other people think? Where do you guys lie on your judgment of wei wuxian as person and on his moral stance?

#wei wuxian #Wei ying #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian meta #wei ying meta #the untamed meta #mo dao zu shi meta #yiling laozu #yiling patriarch

[jeonggukkiepabo]

KILLER QUEEN [KTH] ♦ Secret Easter Bunny

IT’S POSTING WEEK! You, my love @yongcherie​ are my victim, hehe. I wrote this piece for you inspired by 5SOS’ cover of “Killer Queen”, I hope you like it. <3 Truly yours, lavender.

SUMMARY:  She’s all over the news, but she’s never been seen. Everyone talk about the Killer Queen, everyone wants to be the one to catch her. Police Officer Kim had a rough day and goes home with a woman he’d never seen but was yet so familiar.

WARNINGS: smut, sexual content, dom/sub tones, mentions of crime, hate sex, unprotected sex, choking, spitting.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

To the world, you were almost a celebrity - loved and hated at the same time. To him, you were a mystery. You would never get caught, you would never leave anything behind that could help them find you. But, all of them knew who you were. Well, at least they knew the name you went by. The “Killer Queen” had her first appearance in the late 1930s when you started robbing banks all around Seoul. Women in crime weren’t a thing yet, most of them were still located at home, not allowed to leave their houses while taking care of their many children - unlike you. You were independent, not needing a man to buy you diamond rings, not needing a child to keep you company. All you needed, all you wanted, was the thrill of swimming in freshly stolen money.

He had never seen you, but your name was known worldwide, ever since you’ve started to leave delicious looking pieces of cake behind you whenever you left the crime scene.

“My love. My enemy. You will never find me, never get me. But don’t be sad, eat cake instead. xx Killer Queen”

You loved the game, the thrill of those policemen running after you but not being able to even come near you. You’d get secret invitations from them, who were you to decline the chance of a bank robbery? Little did they know that you’ve always been there before them, sometimes even hanging out in the bank while they were there, enjoying those beautiful men with masculine features and furrowed brows, screaming while realizing you were gone, once again.

Of course, neither of them knew what you looked like, nobody knew about your curly red hair, the green emerald eyes that were always surrounded by smokey eyes. Your beauty mark right above the corner of your lip that you tugged into a knowing grin whenever you walked past a police officer.

By now, you’ve had more than enough money, you wouldn’t even need to commit crimes anymore but you just loved the fun and games. You loved getting dressed like a fine lady, but having a gun hidden in your stockings. You loved wearing that one black dress that stopped right above your knees - a shame during those years -, but your overknees were hiding the piece of skin that you always showed whenever you needed to bewitch someone. Some man.

You knew you were pretty, beautiful even. You had several men walking after you, buying you whatever you wanted from caviar to cigarettes and you were well versed in etiquette to always smile and take their offers. Of course, you’d never take those men home, because literally none of them were the slightest bit attractive. Fat snobs with more beard than the Chinamen just weren’t your type. You loved the attention, but you weren’t a whore. To be exact, there was only one man on this world that you’ve laid your eyes on.

Kim Taehyung, one of the youngest police officers this decade. He just turned 21 when he absolved the test and ever since you’ve been playing that lovely game of cat and mouse with him. The first time you’ve seen him you were speechless. You knew all of the policemen, Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon and even Jeon Jeongguk, their apprentice. But Kim Taehyung was a whole other level, his beauty almost being the reason you got caught because you kept staring at him for too long. At his black, permed hair. Those beautiful deep brown eyes with a glint of anger in them, but also… curiosity? Your favorite part of him was his defined jawline, sharp and precise like a strong Greek god. Obviously, you’ve had never seen him without his uniform, but you knew from experience that he had to be toned - they always were. At least Jeongguk was. But that’s a whole other story. Taehyung was taller, much taller than yourself, although your long legs had always been admired by men all over the world. But Kim Taehyung, he was a giant. Everything about him was huge. Even his hands, large and long, built to wrap around your throat easily. Just the thought of him was overwhelming you and ever since that day, you knew you had to get onto him.

Today would be the day, the lovely September breeze blowed through your freshly curled hair, causing you to shiver here and there. You were wearing your favorite black dress with lace details and heels that would never allow you to run, but you never needed to anyways. You even used your favorite perfume, the one that came straight from Paris, and applied some plumping gloss before you went out of your house, picking up a piece of cake from the bakery that you sprinkled with some gunpowder until a cursive KTH was readable on the pink icing. 

For today, you didn’t plan to rob a bank, you wanted more. Your first official meeting with Taehyung should be special, you had planned this for months now. Knowing his exact working schedule, you decided that today would be perfect. 

It was early afternoon, around 4.30 PM and you knew that Taehyung would be working until 9 PM the least. As of today, it was your biggest crime ever. Murder, just to get Taehyung's attention. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right? In the beginning, you opted to kill his roommate, Park Jimin, but his cute squishy cheeks and bright eyes just screamed innocence. Instead, you opted for some random jogger, did what you had to do as you hid in the trees to leave a piece of cake behind after you called the police to report a crime. 

Hours later, it was around 11 PM, you were sitting in Taehyung’s favorite bar, enjoying some cocktails by yourself while you waited for him to arrive. Once the door opened and Kim Taehyung walked in, not wearing his uniform anymore but a white shirt and black jeans instead, you couldn’t help but sit down right next to hime. “Hello stranger. You seem distracted”, placing a glass of his favorite bourbon in front of him, you sipped on you own cocktail. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, until he decided to give in. “Yeah, I am. Work stresses me out, I’m in need of a break but I can’t because we’re working on this one case and we can’t rest until we found her and…” “Oh, you’re a police officer? You seem so young!” You smiled politely at him while looking him right into the eyes. “You should take a break whenever you need it, stranger. Work won’t pay you once you’re suffering from burnout, right? Take you wife and go on a road trip, calm down and once you’re coming back, you could always return to your case. I mean, you’re not the only one working on it, are you?”

Taehyung laughed bitterly, swallowing his entire drink in one go, catching the last drop on his lips with a flick of his tongue. “No wife, just me ‘n my hyung. It’s not that her bank robs aren’t enough for us to handle, no. She just fucking killed someone! Ugh, sorry, you probably don’t want to hear me rumble”, he twists his glass before looking at you again. 

“I’ve never seen you here, what’s your name? I would always remember someone as beautiful as you.” You giggled at his lame pick up line, placing one hand on his shoulder while leaning over to his ear. “I’m Koya. But don’t tell anyone, please. I want to keep being the mysterious red haired girl at the bar”, you winked at him before ordering another round of drinks for the both of you.

“So, officer. There’s no wife, right? How? You’re handsome, you’re successful. What are you hiding inside that pretty head?” Crossing your legs, you accidentally brushed his by doing so. “I don’t know, really. It’s just that this case follows me everywhere. You’ve probably heard about the Killer Queen, she’s always in my head. I even dream about her, almost every fucking night. I don’t even know what she looks like, yet she won’t leave me alone!” He grabbed your hands in his much larger ones, squeezing them lightly. “I’m obsessed, Koya! Obsessed! She ruins my mind without even knowing it.” You just laughed it off before placing one hand on his forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe someone should take you home, officer.” 

Taehyung shudders under your touch, sighing. “Maybe, yes. But my hyung’s home and I don’t want him to worry about yet another mysterious case. I’ll just stay here and-” “Or you’re coming home with me? I know how to take care of a lonely man, c’mon, pretty boy.” You held out your hand for him to take and once he reached out for you, you pulled him out of the bar. 

“You’ve never told me your name, officer. How should I call you, once you’re balls deep inside me?”, you were leaning over to Taehyung who already seemed a little tipsy. He turned his head in surprise, watching you carefully. “Tae… Taehyung.” “Alright then, Taehyung. Let’s take you home and I’ll take good care of you.”

Once you headed back to your apartment, you drag him into your bedroom, pressing your lips to his delicate neck and started to suck around his jawline, pressing kisses to his adams apple. You hadn’t even started - yet he was a moaning mess under your touch. In one swift motion, Taehyung grabs your chin, forcing his lips onto yours and kisses you roughly. You know you just won. Taehyung is yours for the night, all your wet dreams will be coming true and you almost forget what you had to do to get him into this position.

Taehyung’s hands hungrily roam your body, grabbing your ass and giving it a light slap that causes you to jump. “Who do you think is the one in charge here, babe?”, you bite his earlobe softly, pulling on the dangling earring while slipping your hand down his tight pants. Taehyung moans, head thrown back in pleasure. Giggling, you grab his aching cock through his underwear. “You’re right, it’s me. I’m the one that will make you feel good, that will make you come. You’ll do what I say, understand, darling? Be a good boy for me.” 

Taehyung laughs and shakes his head with a wide grin before throwing you onto your bed. The bounce almost presses the air out of your lungs and you can’t help the huff that leaves your lips. “Nah, love, I don’t think so.” Taehyung’s lips find your sweet spot way too easily, his tongue tickling the skin of your neck. You groan, trying to push him off, but his hands slip around your wrists to pin them above your head, his beautiful teeth smirking down at you. Once his mouth is right next to your ear, he huskily whispers. 

“Remember that I’m a police officer and domination is my job. Don’t you think you could change that. Mhh, you’re lucky I don’t have my cuffs with me, angel. Now, what does a pretty girl like you do in a bar? Drinking pretty drinks alone? Don’t fool me, Koya. You’ve been waiting for me, yet, I’ve never seen that angelic face of yours. Who are you, mysterious girl?” 

His fingertips slowly trail down your cleavage before he dips them in between your breasts. You try your best to hold back any moans, but you can’t help the whimpers falling past your lips as you breathlessly answer. “I already told you who I am.” Even though you’ve alway been the dominant part in any of your sexual relationships, you can’t help but submit to Taehyung. It’s like you’ve been waiting for years to find the right one to show you where your limits are. And you’re desperate to know.

“You’re not just the girl in the bar. You’re not just Koya. Tell me, what do you do? How do you know me?” Taehyung bites the soft skin behind your ear, fingers trailing down you legs, not caring to remove the heels that made them look so much more elegant. Sitting up, he looks down at you, trying to mesmerize your face. Those bright red curls, framing your head in contrast to your pale skin. Those green eyes, full of lust and admiration. Those lips, tainted by a knowing smirk. Your voice as you whisper your answer. “I’ll tell you once we’re done, as long as you’re being a good boy.”

Taehyung huffs, his lips leaving a wet trail right above your stockings. “Then I’m not going to touch you unless you beg for it, love. And your lips already made me wonder what the rest of you might taste like. Now c’mon, hurry up. Tell me who you are.” He ruffles your dress up to your stomach, your emerald lace thong now fully exposed to his starving eyes. “God, you’re a queen”, he lets out a shaky breath, growing even harder by just looking at you. 

You giggle, whispering a soft “little do you know” before pulling that dress off your body. Then, you point at his shirt, raising an eyebrow. “That needs to be off, I want to see how trained officers really are.” Taehyung raises an eyebrow as well before a cheeky smirk replaces his expression. “Mh, your smug tongue has to go, princess.” With that, Taehyung lifts his shirt over his head before stuffing it right into your mouth, smearing lipstick all over the fabric and your chin. “Sad enough that you can’t beg like this. Look at you, all dripping wet for me even though I didn’t even start yet.”

His fingers quickly pull on the expensive fabric of your thong, roughly ripping it in half, leaving the shreds wherever they landed before dipping one finger between your folds. “Mh, isn’t it sad that you don’t want to talk to me? Instead you’ll just have to lay here, watching me and enjoying the show, not getting any of it. You could’ve gotten my tongue, my fingers, my cock. Poor you.” Taehyung stands up, opens his jeans and pulls them and his boxers down his toned legs. His knees dip down besides your legs again, but this time his hands don’t explore your body. Instead, Taehyung roams his own chest, contours the abs that you want to lick so badly. His left hands reaches down to grab and massage his balls while he takes the right thumb between his soft lips, sucking on it slowly. “Mh, I’m still tasting you, Koya. Wish I could taste more of you, so delicious”, he hums with closed eyes.

Thumb still in his mouth, Taehyung grabs his cock and starts to glide his hand up and down, not being able to hold in the growl that leaves his chest. You try to sneak one hand between your legs, wanting to find at least a tiny bit of friction, but Taehyung wasn’t having it, slapping your hand away while flicking his index finger against your clit. He stops pleasuring himself for a second to pull his shirt out of your mouth. Are you still sure that you don’t want to tell me who you are? C’mon, angel, be nice. How. Do. You. Know. Me?”

You just roll your eyes, bored of his little games as you chew on your bottom lip, guiding two of your fingers in front of your mouth to spit on them. Saliva was running down your chin as you moisten your nipples and pinch them slowly. “I can play that game too, Tae.”

You move your fingers down your stomach, closer to the wet heat that throbs between your legs, circling your clit quickly before plunging two fingers into your cunt. “And I love playing games. If you don’t want to touch me, no problem. I can do it all by myself, just keep watching.” Your fingers move faster and faster while the other hand massages your breast. You know you’ll be close soon, this entire day has been riling you up enough already. Taehyung seems to notice too, pressing one hand onto your stomach to press it down, leaning over your pussy as he opens his mouth with a knowing smirk. Your eyes widen, not being able to hold back anymore as you come with a loud scream, messy and all over the bed - and Taehyung’s face. 

Looking down at Taehyung, your eyes widen as you see him trying to catch every drop with his tongue before swallowing down all you gave him. “Oh angel, look what you’ve done.” His thumb starts to rub over your sensitive clit again. “You’re such a bad girl, if I was on duty I would’ve probably gotten you arrested for your behavior, Killer Queen.”

Your smirk vanishes as you watch him with nervous eyes.

“What are you doing now, hm? You can’t run, you can’t hide. It was stupid to think I wouldn’t know, wouldn’t figure it out. Leaving a piece of cake, just for me, huh? I wish I could shove it down your pretty throat and leave you choking on it, love. I despise you. You’ve ruined so much for me. And now, killing someone just to get me to fuck you? You’re so pathetic. But I’ll take your wish for granted, slut.”

With that, he turns you around quickly, pulling you up on your fours before slapping your ass in such a pace that you couldn’t even count how many times Taehyung ended up spanking you. Then, without any warning, he slips right into you. Stretching you out so painfully, but oh so good. “You like that, bitch? Getting fucked by someone you’ve been running away from so long? Is that your game? Just to get my attention? You’re so pitiful.” Something wet lands between your shoulders, running down your spine to pool in the curve over your ass. Taehyung just spat on you. And you loved it. “I’m sure you want to feel like the guy you killed? Want to feel every little bit of oxygen leaving your body?” He whispers against the shell of your ear as he grabs your throat in his large hand. “Yes, Taehyung, fuck. Yes. Yes!”

You’re a moaning mess under his touch, obviously enjoying his roughness and dirty talk. “I’ve been watching you for so long, Taehyung. Always been there when you arrived at the crime scenes. I loved watching you getting angry, but also flustered at my remains. You never knew what I looked like, but you always wanted me. Don’t flatter yourself, Tae. You’re just as pathetic as I am. And-”, you let out more and more moans, nearly screaming as Taehyung pounds into you faster now. 

“Shut up! I can get you arrested at any time now that I know what you look like. I could never forget those tits”, he roughly grabs them with his free hand, “or this sinful mouth”, he turns your face to spit directly in between your gasping lips, “and you know that. You’re mine now, Koya. Mine.”

With that, he pushes into you one last time, feeling your walls clenching merciless around him, your wetness trailing down both your thighs.  “Turn around”, Taehyung demands as he waits for you to face him, not hesitating to shove his cock between your lips and down your throat. You swallow him down like the good girl you are, playing with his balls and looking up at him through teary eyes. His gaze was rough, not a tiny bit of affection was written in his eyes as a growl escapes his mouth, sweat dripping down his forehead onto his chest.

He pulls out just before reaching his orgasm, just to paint your face with his cum. After one last moan, he sits back down, still looking at you. “What am I supposed to do with you, Koya? You fucking killed someone, I couldn’t let you go, even if I wanted to. I must call my team. They’ll be here about twenty minutes after I’m gone, maybe even less. Be smart, Koya.”

Taehyung sighs while getting dressed, looking over just to see you lightning a cigarette without any rush. He shakes his head. “They will kill you, you know that? You’re a criminal. That’s your chance to run and never come back. Now that you’ve had me, nothing holds you here anymore. Be fucking smart!”

You just laugh it off, wiping the remains of his cum from your lips as you exhaled the toxic smoke. “And where would be the fun in that, Tae? C’mon, get them boys. Try to catch me.”

Frustration overcomes Taehyung as he grabs your cheeks. “I’m trying to help you, Koya. Run!” He presses his lips onto yours one last time before heading out the door. The last thing he heard was a faint “See you soon, Taehyung. Same place, same time? Maybe I will kidnap your little Jeonggukkie that time?” before he made his way towards the police station to report your address. 

All he could do was hoping that you were long gone before the squad enters your home. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a single chance to see you ever again. 

#secretbunny #kim taehyung #yongcherie #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #vantaenet #maknaesmutsociety #magicshopnet #bts smut #kim taehyung smut #taehyung smut #maknae smut #easter #jeonggukkiepabo #masterlist

[hamliet]

Nie MingJue: Righteousness Without Empathy

Nie MingJue is a character I do happen to like a lot despite his often-regarded unlikeable qualities. His arc is extremely tragic, and while Jin GuangYao is ultimately responsible for his tragedy, Nie MingJue played just as much a role in his own tragic downfall. He sacrifices empathy in the name of righteousness (and Jin GuangYao sacrifices righteousness for empathy), but both Jin GuangYao and Nie MingJue can honestly be said to be two sides of the same coin in that they both have a core of wanting to prove themselves, and it’s this core that destroys them both. 

Let’s begin with this conversation between the two of them: 

What Nie MingJue hated the most were such irresponsible words. Fuming, he lunged with his saber, “You had no choice? Whether or not to do it was up to you, and so was whether or not to kill them!”

Meng Yao dodged, protesting, “Was it really up to me? Sect Leader Nie, if we think from each other’s perspective…”

Nie MingJue had known what he wanted to say. He interrupted, “We won’t!”

Nie MingJue has always prided himself on being righteous, but he’s completely unable to consider things from another’s perspective. Jin GuangYao considers things from everyone else’s perspective--he’s extremely empathetic; however, he doesn’t really use that empathy for anything other than to manipulate to serve himself.

Jin GuangYao, “It isn’t that HuaiSang is a good-for-nothing, but that his heart lies somewhere else.”

Nie MingJue, “Well you’ve really discerned where his heart lies, haven’t you?”

Jin GuangYao smiled, “Of course. Isn’t that what I’m the best at? The only person whom I can’t discern is you, Brother.”

... Women, liquor, riches—he touched none; art, calligraphy, antiques—a pile of ink and mud; the finest green tea leaves and dregs from a roadside booth—there was no difference. Meng Yao tried everything he could think of yet still couldn’t find if he was interested in anything beside training his saberwork and killing Wen-dogs. He really was a wall made of iron, impenetrable by even the sharpest blades...

Nie MingJue’s understanding of righteousness completely fails to take into account the struggles of others who did not have his privileged background. He doesn’t consider this when he finds Meng Yao having killed a superior in the Jin Sect in Wen clothing (while the novel never states it explicitly, Jin GuangYao later mentions to Lan XiChen that Jin GuangShan somehow told him to kill Wen RouHan, so it’s not inconceivable that he was already planning to go undercover; then again, neither is it for certain). Jin GuangShan had just lied to Nie MingJue’s face about Meng Yao:

Nie MingJue’s brows immediately furrowed. Back then, the story that Meng Yao was kicked down Koi Tower passed around for quite a long time. Even others had known of such a farce, so there was no way that the person involved couldn’t remember the name. Only someone with the thickest of faces would be able to play dumb in such a situation. It was just that, however, Jin GuangShan just so happened to be such a person.

Yet Nie MingJue still refuses to consider that maybe he can’t trust Jin GuangShan to behave honorably. He refuses to consider that the world isn’t divided into black and white, underhanded trickery and forthright righteous honor. When he urges Meng Yao to confess and atone, he doesn’t consider that Meng Yao’s plea that he will be killed for it was very likely true. Jin GuangShan probably would have had him executed.

Nie MingJue, “To get here, you took the wrong path.”

Meng Yao, “You’re going to be sending me to my death.”

Nie MingJue, “If your words are true, it won’t happen. Go, reflect, and turn over a new leaf.”

Meng Yao whispered, “…My father hasn’t seen me yet.”

It wasn’t that Jin GuangShan didn’t see him.

He simply pretended to not know his existence.

So what happens when you have righteousness without empathy? Can you even call that righteousness?

Not really, which Jin GuangYao exposes to him.

[Jin GuangYao] looked up, unknown fires dancing within his eyes, “But, Brother, I have always wanted to ask you something—the lives under your hands are in any regard more than those under mine, so why is it that I only killed a few cultivators out of desperation and you keep on bringing it up, even until now?”

Nie MingJue was so enraged that he began to laugh, “Good! I’ll give you my answer. Countless souls who have fallen under my saber, but I’ve never killed out of my own desires, much less to climb up the ladder!”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, I understand what you mean. Are you saying that all of the people you killed deserved their deaths?”

With courage gathered from nowhere, he laughed and walked a few steps closer to Nie MingJue. His voice raised as well, asking in an almost aggressive manner, “Then, may I ask, just how do you decide if someone deserves death? Are your standards absolutely correct? If I kill one but save hundreds, would the good outweigh the bad, or would I still deserve death? To do great things, sacrifices must happen.”

Nie MingJue, “Then why don’t you sacrifice yourself? Are you any nobler than them? Are you any different from them?”

Jin GuangYao stared at him. A moment later, as though he had finally either decided on something or given up on something, he replied calmly, “Yes.”

He looked up. In his expression were some of pride, some of calmness, and some of a faint insanity, “I and they, of course we are different!”

They deserved to die, did they? Yet we know Nie MingJue took part in the Siege of the Burial Mounds (even if he did not play a very large role), where the elderly and weak Wens were murdered and thrown into a blood pool.We know he refused to speak up for Wen Qing, saying this:

Lan XiChen responded a moment later, “I have heard of Wen Qing’s name a few of times. I do not remember her having participated in any of the Sunshot Campaign’s crimes.”

Nie MingJue, “But she’s never stopped them either.”

Lan XiChen, “Wen Qing was one of Wen RuoHan’s most trusted people. How could she have stopped them?”

Nie MingJue spoke coldly, “If she responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it’s the same as indifference. She shouldn’t have been so disillusioned as to hope that she could be treated with respect when the Wen Sect was doing evil and be unwilling to suffer the consequences and pay the price when the Wen Sect was wiped out.”

Yet that is exactly what he was doing right in that very scene, in the face of Jin ZiXun’s internment camps where Wen Ning was murdered: refusing to say anything because of his personal hatred for the Wens. In that very same scene, he even thinks that he knows Jin GuangYao was fibbing to help his father and yet says nothing, because it benefits him to have Wens hurt. 

In contrast, Jin GuangYao empathizes, he knows how people feel, but he doesn’t allow that to change his mind and help them. He too is always working for his own benefit, just like Nie MingJue. They’re not very different at their core. 

So basically, righteousness without empathy is pretty close to hypocrisy and allows injustices to prevail, which is made exceedingly clear when corpse!Nie MingJue enacts atrocities and murders many innocents. It’s a parallel what happened to Xiao XingChen at the hands of Xue Yang: being tricked into killing without realizing it. The difference, of course, is that Xiao XingChen did empathize with Xue Yang to an extent, whereas Nie MingJue refused to empathize at all with Jin GuangYao (hence why it’s super ironic that a technique called empathy is what exposes Wei WuXian to what Nie MingJue was feeling and to who the culprit is). 

Nie MingJue winds up as an unrestrained corpse killing at random in a futile attempt to put himself back together. While we don’t have a ton of background re: what made Nie MingJue the way he was, we know he witnessed his father tricked into a qi deviation which gave him a lifelong hatred for Wen RouHan, which might have traumatized him. That said, we can’t say for certain. But considering the themes of the novel and the motives for other killers--Xue Yang, Jin GuangYao, Wei WuXian--it’s not exactly far-fetched to theorize that this is symbolic of Nie MingJue trying to heal himself through violence as a way of setting the world/his body right, and that completely failing and just hurting everyone around him.  

Lan SiZhui, “It seems like he is searching for something… Maybe it is… his head?”

Wei WuXian, “That’s right. He’s searching for his head. There are quite a few heads here, so since he doesn’t know which one is his, he’ll pull off the head of each person and place it on top of his own neck to see if it fits or not. If it does, he’ll do with it for a period of time, and if it doesn’t, he’ll throw it away, so you should walk slowly. You must not get caught by him.”...

under the forceful attacks of the flute and the guqin, he looked as if he finally lost all energy, succumbing to the three instruments. With a stagger, he fell to the ground.

To be more accurate, it wasn’t that he fell down, but that he fell apart. There were the arms, the legs, and the torso, broken and scattered over the carpet of dry leaves.

He kills the Mo family (despite their awfulness), he tries to kill SiZhui, he tries to kill his brother, he would have killed even Lan XiChen if Jin GuangYao had not pushed him away at the last second. Righteousness without empathy is not righteousness at all; it is a sword that can only wound, not heal. (And for the record I’m not absolving Jin GuangYao of responsibility; it’s his fault for killing Nie MingJue--but please note Nie MingJue’s actions in death aren’t that different from his actions in life. Starts off killing evil people--the Wens, the Mos--tries to then kill people associated--all Wens, SiZhui who is a Wen--and spirals into lashing out at everyone around him including, finally, HuaiSang.)

Lan XiChen, “Brother, this is HuaiSang!”

Nie HuaiSang, “Brother can’t even recognize me…”

Wei WuXian, “Not only can’t he recognize you, he can’t even recognize whom he himself is right now!”

Nie MingJue had already become a corpse controlled by the heavy energy of resentment. He was fierce and violent, attacking indiscriminately....

Lest we think the novel wants us to ascribe these actions all to Nie MingJue being dead and unable to physically see, the novel refutes this:

The harsh, stern expression on his rigid face held a sense of judgement that was no different from before he died.

In addition, there are two foils that arise in the GuanYin Temple scene that add to this: Wen Ning and Su She. Nie MingJue attempts to kill Jin Ling in a case of mistaken identity (symbolic for how Nie MingJue acts/kills on incomplete information) and Jin Ling is only saved by a Wen, Wen Ning, jumping in front of Jin Ling to atone for killing Jin Ling’s father as a crazed corpse himself. It doesn’t kill Wen Ning, but it sets up a Wen as righteous and even trying to protect Nie MingJue from his own actions, and also showing that Wen Ning, who truly was not responsible for his actions back when he killed Jin Ling’s father, takes responsibility for what he did. 

Later on in the same chapter, Nie MingJue kills Su She in Su She’s attempt to protect Jin GuangYao. Nie MingJue despised Jin GuangYao for a moment of unrighteousness, and Su She served Jin GuangYao with unflinching loyalty because Jin GuangYao remembered him, so they are foils. Su She, of course, is extremely wrong in his petty cruelty and loyalty that is never questioned, but Nie MingJue’s inability to forgive similarly leads to killing. 

It’s also ironic, of course, that the whole reason Nie MingJue goes on a killing spree is because his little brother, the one he wanted to protect, is the one who unleashes him and damn the cost. Like, HuaiSang got Mo XuanYu to commit suicide, risked Jin Ling’s death multiple times, destroys a poor woman’s corpse just like his brother’s corpse was destroyed. 

Nie MingJue’s righteousness is a prison. It’s not righteousness at all, and it’s the reason he winds up trapped in a coffin with Jin GuangYao, whose empathy was not used for righteousness, for a hundred years. Both of these paths lead to death and imprison a person. 

#nie mingjue #mdzs meta #jin guangyao #mao dao zu shi #mo dao su zhi #chifeng-zun #nieyao #tho it isn't intended to be shippy if that's your boat float it #su she #wen ning #wen qing #3zuns #xiao xingchen #xue yang #nie huaisang #cql #the untamed #chen qing ling

[96thdayofrage]

Set a timer for eight minutes and 46 seconds and sit silently. Eight minutes and 46 seconds is an extraordinary amount of time — especially when your life is being slowly drained from you as was the horrific experience of George Floyd at the knee of ex-officer Derek Chauvin, who is currently on trial for second-degree murder, manslaughter, and now newly reinstated third-degree murder charges. May 31, 2020, will be a day we won’t soon forget when the video of Floyd’s last minutes of life were propelled around the globe in a viral video that, much like the open casket of Emmett Till, spurred an uprising. Once again, frame by frame, the video showcased the heinous nature of White supremacy and the cruelty of America’s criminal justice system.

There are so many aspects of that video that will forever haunt us. The desperation in the screams coming from Floyd begging for his life and then calling out for his deceased mother. The depravity exhibited by Chauvin in the ease he had with taking this Black man’s life. Unmoved by the glares, cameras, and outcries of the people watching a murder take place in real time, he stood with his hands in his pockets and sunglasses stationed on his head. But that is White supremacy, right? That is the ease with which it operates throughout this country and around the globe. We saw it in Chauvin’s face and the faces of the insurrectionists who stormed our Capitol and smeared feces on the halls of our democracy. Their faces uncovered — baring their entitlement and inhumanity for all to see.

The Chauvin trial isn’t just about the murder of George Floyd; it is about the lack of compassion and humanity shown toward Black people in this country and whether or not America will choose to ever see it. What’s most troublesome about the beginning of this trial is the trauma that will be reignited. Every time an innocent Black person is murdered, it is like all of us receive yet another slash to our hearts — death by a thousand cuts. We’re told not to protest, not to cry out, not to seek justice, and just wait as a system that was built to destroy us gets to decide if our lives actually matter. We hung on as we watched the George Zimmerman trial that spawned the Black Lives Matter movement and listened as the defense put deceased 16-year-old Trayvon Martin on trial rather than his predator.

In the eyes of the American injustice system — if Black men, women, and children are murdered by White vigilantes or White police officers, then folks automatically think we must have done something to cause it.

As we prepare to go through this trial where Chauvin’s attorneys will try to convince us that what we saw with our own eyes wasn’t indeed what happened but instead that it was Floyd who caused his own death via drug use — hold onto your self-care and sanity tightly.

What we know to be true is that if we are keen on the patterns of White violence in this country, we know they are never held accountable for the crimes committed against Black people. And yet we continue to persevere with an almost godly amount of grace through a world that wants to exterminate us by any means necessary. If Chauvin is held accountable for his crimes against Floyd, it won’t erase the centuries of violence we have experienced. It won’t absolve this nation from its despicable maltreatment of the people whose ancestors gave their lives in order to create this land of freedom. What we must remind ourselves of as we prepare to watch this trial unfold is that America doesn’t get to define our humanity. This injustice system doesn’t get to perpetuate falsehoods about our melanin being a threat. 2020 — the year of vision — opened our eyes to exactly who White America is and the privilege it exudes and the systems that need to be destroyed because of it.

As the late Audre Lorde once said, “If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.” It is always darkest before the dawn, but the dawn always arrives.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Divine Mercy Sunday Solemnity; Liturgical Color: White True power pardons

In the Nicene Creed, we say that Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father. When a judge walks into a courtroom, the bailiff announces, “All rise,” and the judge sits in judgment. In his see city, a bishop rests in his cathedra, and in his palace, a king reigns from his throne. A president signs legislation while seated at his desk. The chair is a locus of power. The power that emanates from such seats of authority judges, condemns, and sentences. Today’s feast reminds us, though, that authority also exercises power by granting mercy. When a judge pronounces innocence, the sentence is no less binding than one of guilt. The absolved exits the court into a new day, ready to begin again. And when the priest’s voice whispers through the screen, “I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” guilt evaporates into thin air. The purest and truest expression of power is the granting of mercy.

Mercy is a superabundance of justice, not an exception to it. When faced with a wound to the common good, those responsible for repairing the damage do not have two contrary options: justice or mercy. Justice and mercy are not mutually exclusive. Mercy is a form of justice. Mercy does not ignore the tears to the fabric of the common good slashed by crime and sin. Rightful authority notes the torn fabric, weighs the personal responsibility of the accused, and distributes justice precisely by granting mercy. Mercy does not turn a blind eye to justice, but fulfills its obligations to justice by going beyond them. After all, one cannot be absolved of having done nothing. Similarly, where there is no guilt there is no need of mercy. When justice calls out, two words echo back off the hard walls: “condemnation” and “mercy.” Mercy runs parallel to, and beyond, the path of condemnation. This is the mercy we celebrate today, the mercy whose greatest practitioner is God Himself. Because He is the seat of all authority, God is also the seat of all mercy.

God plays many roles in the life of the Christian—Creator, Savior, Sanctifier, and Judge. Our Creed teaches us that God the Son, seated at the Father’s right hand, “will come in glory to judge the living and the dead,” both at the particular and at the final judgment. At that moment, it will serve us nothing to state, in excusing our sins, that “God understands.” Of course God understands. To state “God understands” is just another way to say that God is omniscient and all powerful. “God understands” implies that because God knows the powerful temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil, that He could not possibly judge man harshly. Yet “God understands” is a lazy manner of exculpating sinful behavior. When nose to nose with God one second after death, the repentant Christian should plead, instead, “Lord, have mercy.” Faced with the scandalous behavior of a friend or relative, the response should again be “Lord, have mercy.” Appealing to God’s mercy will melt His heart. Appealing to His knowledge will not.

The private revelations of Jesus Christ to Saint Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun and intense mystic who died in 1938, are the source of the profound spirituality of today’s feast. Sister Faustina was a kind of Saint Catherine of Siena of the twentieth century. She lived a regimen of fasting, meditation, liturgical prayer, and close community life that would have crushed a less resilient soul. But Faustina persevered, amidst debilitating illnesses, sisterly jealousy, and respectful but questioning superiors. Her diaries are replete with the starkest of language from the mouth of Christ, showing that moral clarity precedes the call for mercy. Sister Faustina faithfully recorded Christ’s manly commands in her diary. One of these commands expressly desired that the Divine Mercy be celebrated on the Sunday after Easter. In an age old pattern familiar to an ancient Church, Saint Faustina’s private revelations were challenged, filtered for theological truth, sifted for spiritual depth, and granted universal approbation by the only Christian religion which even claims to grant such. In the soundest proof of their authenticity, the profound simplicity of the Divine Mercy revelations and of their related devotions were intuitively grasped and adopted by the Catholic faithful the world over.

Pope Saint John Paul II first inserted today’s feast into the Roman calendar on April 30, 2000, the canonization day of Saint Faustina. Saint Pope John Paul II was also canonized on Divine Mercy Sunday in 2014. And so the Church’s third millennium was launched with a new devotion that quickly eclipsed many older ones, a new piety rooted in the most ancient truths, a fresh appeal to a side of God that had not been fully understood in prior ages. Divine Mercy is the new face of God for the third millennium, a postmodern Sacred Heart. This is the God who leans in and waits with bated breath for us to whisper through the screen, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” This is the God who at the end of time, whether our own time or all time, waits to hear from our lips those few prized words “Lord, have mercy.” Having heard that, He need not hear anything more. And having received that, we need not receive anything more.

Divine Mercy, do not hold our sins against us. Be a merciful Father who judges us in the fullness of Your power, punishing when needed, but granting mercy when we need it more, most especially when we are too saturated with pride to request it.

__________

April 19, 2020 Divine Mercy Sunday (Year A) The Eighth Day in the Octave of Easter Readings for Today

On that day all the divine floodgates through which graces flow are opened. Let no soul fear to draw near to Me, even though its sins be as scarlet. My mercy is so great that no mind, be it of man or of angel, will be able to fathom it throughout all eternity. Everything that exists has come forth from the very depths of My most tender mercy. Every soul in its relation to Me will contemplate My love and mercy throughout eternity. The Feast of Mercy emerged from My very depths of tenderness. It is My desire that it be solemnly celebrated on the first Sunday after Easter. Mankind will not have peace until it turns to the Fount of My Mercy. (Diary of Divine Mercy #699)

This message, spoken by Jesus to Saint Faustina in 1931, has now come true.  What was spoken in the solitude of a cloistered convent in Płock Poland, now is celebrated by the Universal Church throughout the whole world!

Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska of the Blessed Sacrament was known to very few people during her lifetime.  But through her, God has spoken the message of His abundant mercy to the entire Church and world. What is this message?  Though its content is endless and unfathomable, here are five key ways that Jesus desires this new devotion to be lived:

The first way is through meditation on the sacred image of The Divine Mercy.  Saint Faustina was asked by Jesus to have an image of His merciful love painted for all to see. It’s an image of Jesus with two rays shining forth from His Heart. The first ray is blue, indicating the font of Mercy coming forth through Baptism; and the second ray is red, indicating the font of Mercy poured forth through the Blood of the Holy Eucharist.

The second way is through the celebration of Divine Mercy Sunday.  Jesus told Saint Faustina that He desired an annual solemn Feast of Mercy. This Solemnity of Divine Mercy was established as a universal celebration on the Eighth day of the Octave of Easter. On that day the floodgates of Mercy are opened and many souls are made holy.

The third way is through the Chaplet of Divine Mercy.  The chaplet is a treasured gift. It’s a gift that we should seek to pray each and every day.

The fourth way is by honoring the hour of Jesus’ death every day. “  It was at 3 o’clock that Jesus took His last breath and died upon the Cross. It was Friday. For this reason, Friday should always be seen as a special day to honor His Passion and ultimate Sacrifice. But since it took place at 3 o’clock, it is also important to honor that hour each and every day. This is the ideal time to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. If the Chaplet is not possible, it’s at least important to pause and give thanks to our Lord every day at that time.

The fifth way is through the Apostolic Movement of The Divine Mercy.  This movement is a call from our Lord to actively engage in the work of spreading His Divine Mercy.  This is done by spreading the message and by living Mercy toward others.

On this, the Eighth Day of the Octave of Easter, Divine Mercy Sunday, ponder the above desires of the heart of Jesus.  Do you believe that the message of Divine Mercy is meant not only for you but also for the whole world? Do you seek to understand and incorporate this message and devotion into your life?  Do you seek to become an instrument of mercy to others? Become a disciple of The Divine Mercy and seek to spread this Mercy in the ways given to you by God.

My merciful Lord, I trust in You and in Your abundant Mercy!  Help me, this day, to deepen my devotion to Your merciful heart and to open my soul to the treasures that pour forth from this font of Heavenly riches.  May I trust You, Love You and become an instrument of You and Your Mercy to the whole world. Jesus, I trust in You!

#divine mercy sunday

[mostfacinorous]

FIRST LINES MEME

Tagged by @veliseraptor to share the first lines from my ten most recent fics!

(I am going by most recently updated.)  1. Little Talks co-written with @portraitoftheoddity​      The rush of stepping between worlds never got old, and the adrenaline that came along with it powered Loki through any nerves that might otherwise have manifested on his way into the lower branches of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, the place only ever glimpsed through the eyes of others and accessible to him only through memories of memories. But it seemed to him that the more secret, the deeper these mortals were likely to bury it. And so he made his way, as silently and innocuously as possibly, further down the spiraling labyrinth of heavy doors and sidestepped scanners. Until he got stuck.

2. Let’s Talk Shop      “Ever since the merger, the guy’s been grating on my last nerve. But I can’t fire him; he’s one of our strongest performers, and we inherited his five year contract.” Nick sounded resigned, but still angry. “What does he do that’s so grating?” Steve asked. He’d interacted with Loki, and found him… polite, if cold. And maybe a little full of himself. But none of that seemed to be worth the level of complaints Steve had been getting about him. “He’s disdainful, he’s proud, he tries to take control of any project I put him on, he doesn’t know how to work with anyone-- hell, I put him on his own brother’s team, hoping that Thor would help dislodge the stick up his ass--” Steve lifted an eyebrow and glared, and Nick had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry. Figure of speech.” “Or the start of a workplace harassment suit, if he feels like his job might be at risk.”

3. Give Up the Ghost      He wasn’t lonely. He didn’t get lonely. He’d developed an immunity to that a long time ago. He was alone, certainly, but that was fine. It meant he could be left to his own devices, left to his notes and trials of various new uses for old magics, new ways of bending his power, new shapes to bend it into. He may not have been a fighter, but he more than made up for it with his abilities. It was just a matter of honing them. And that was what he was doing, the first time he created it. Called it. Summoned it.

4. Second Chances; New Beginnings      “Things get bad for a while. Then you folks start popping up, we figure out who you are, toss you together, and things get good again. Until you die.” Fury was looking out at them over his steepled fingers. “Seems like a pretty raw deal for us, though, doesn’t it? I mean-- my life’s kind of on a track right now.” The guy who spoke, Tony, was slouching low in his chair, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on top of his fashionably dishevelled hair. “Problem with that is, you talk like you think you have a choice. You think I’m offering this to you? Hell, if I got to choose, I wouldn’t pick a bunch of kids for starters. Wouldn’t decide to bestow powers on those three-- they look like they each wish they could claim a corner to stand in. And I sure as hell wouldn’t choose some entitled little shit to protect Earth, but here we are. You’re Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Congratulations.” Fury stood, looking around at what he had to work with. He didn’t seem overly impressed.

5. There’s a Spark      Loki'd been on Earth for a couple of years, now. Or at least, he'd been regularly causing havoc on Earth-- usually in New York-- for that long. That wasn't the same thing, necessarily, Steve realized. Not when even Asgard couldn't lock him up or shut down his abilities to travel. It'd been odd though, the way things had sort of tapered off on his end. He hadn't killed anyone in over a year. Hadn't made any grand demonstrations of power, forced people to kneel or sing his praises-- less ego mania, less appearances overall. Heck, the last time they'd seen him, he'd shown up in the Avengers' living room with a box of kittens. Mind you, those had all been high level mob bosses before they were kittens, but the point remained. The guy wasn't exactly pulling big schemes these days.

6. Thin White Lines      “What is this, Thor?” Steve's voice broke through the hubbub from his other teammates when Thor appeared, his brother in tow. He was on a lead-- and the image didn't sit particularly well with Steve, but neither did the one of Loki running amok and potentially destroying New York. Again. “Asgard's laws of recompense.” Thor spoke with an almost hesitant gravity. “Which are what?” Natasha asked, words somewhere between sharp and drawled. Steve shot her a grateful look; she, unlike Tony and Clint and Bruce, seemed to be in the game and not just reacting. Not that he could blame them, but it was nice to have a solid voice of reason standing next to him. “Loki's crimes against Midgard are great enough to warrant his death. The laws of recompense allow him to do what he can to reverse his damage and lighten his sentence accordingly. He will, of course, be punished for the lives he took, the damage which is irreversible, but for the rest--” Thor broke off, looking hopeful. “If you will allow it, we may save my brother. My friends, I would not ask this of you if I had another choice.”

7. I Know No I      It wasn't as though he was innocent in all of this. It wasn't as though the damages done to his body, mind, and powers made him somehow magically absolved of his guilts and wrong doings. All it did was make at least one of his brother's friends less likely to pulverize him at the first glimpse. When he'd woken in the vibrant light and starch whiteness of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Hospital room, he thought he was in some new level of hell. There were tubes in his arms, wrapped to his fingers, and so much of him was encased in such heavy material that he thought, for a moment, that his captors put too much faith in old wives' tales about the powers of iron to bind magic. Until he realized that they were cloth, and even being so slight a substance, they were too heavy for him to lift. Only then did the panic fully settle into his chest, and the monitors at his side began shrieking their shrill mechanical chimes. He knew where such technology resided, and immediately knew where he was and why he was there. He was on Midgard. And he was weak and broken, devoid of his immortal strength, and so filled with a distant dull pain and so dull of wit that he knew he must be under some sort of sedation. He was mortal, and most likely abandoned here by Odin's decree. After all, mortals do not belong in Asgard. They have people here to tend for their sick, their invalids. Everyone knew Odin’s stance on his son’s intended. He assumed as much was true for his false son, as well.

8. What a Lovely Day      Humans were incredible things. They always had been. Exposed to pain constantly for long enough, they could become used to it, accepting of it, to the point where they forgot what it was like to not be in pain. The same could be said of the hum and the vibrations of the bike beneath him. He knew that once, back when he’d first stumbled across this old Indian, it had seemed too loud, too rough. Now, though, he forgot about it, forgot that he’d known no noise other than it and the occasional crunch of his own footsteps over the crust of the dirt. Forgot that, once, he had been able to get from one place to the next within a single afternoon, on real roads, even gravel roads, that didn’t kick up dust and coat his throat. He deserved the discomfort though, because of what he couldn’t forget. Because he knew that he was responsible for this. Humans were incredible things. But even with as modified as he was, as strong as the good doctor and Stark could make him, there were a few pains that he could never quite come to terms with. Not the physical ones. But the Misery. The guilt. He was meant to save people, to inspire hope. Once, he had tried to let himself be that. Tried to give himself that, to make it his mission… now he stayed as far from people as possible. The hope in their eyes felt like knives, and not seeing it there felt like failure.So he was left with himself, his thoughts, his guilt, and the rattle of his bike. And this wretched heat that made his back stick to the back of his own shirt. He wasn’t driving aimlessly, though. There had to be one person who didn’t see him as the statue without a pedestal. He had to have survived. That was what Bucky did, was survive. He’d lived through ice, and years, electricity being poured into his brain. Lived through abuse and assignments and assassinations... surely he lived through some sand, some heat. He was out there, somewhere, wandering the great waste, and every gleaming light on the horizon made Steve’s mouth firm a bit. He hunkered down against the bike, tucking his face behind his shield, which he’d mounted at the front-- no longer bright colors, now just a dust collector, stripped of all its grandeur. Like the Earth. Like him.

9. Wish Upon A Star      “It is heavy and uncomfortable.” He wasn’t complaining. He was just… stating the obvious. Even as he pushed a finger between the strap on his neck and his skin, trying to adjust the helmet so that it did not drag so. He had to raise his voice to be heard, had to lean forward and angle his head so that his mouth was close enough to the man before him to be audible over the drone of the engine and the roaring of the wind around them. “You trying to tell me that two feet of metal horns is lighter than a faceless motorcycle helmet?” There was no mistaking the amusement in his companion’s voice, and Loki scowled and crossed his arms, tightening the grip he had on the other man with his knees and thighs. Horses, he’d been told, were out of style on Midgard.He wasn’t certain that he liked this better. In fact, he was fairly certain that he didn’t like this very much at all.

10. What Would  I Give      At Bucky's funeral, Steve stood stock still, certain that if he moved, if he turned, if he so much as reached a hand up to brush away the tears that were still falling, he would shake apart. He'd always known Bucky would die being a hero, but he'd always figured they'd go together-- it would be because of something he did. The lack of guilt when that turned out not to be the case didn't make anything easier, though.There was no casket, because there was nothing to bury. Bucky had been lost at sea. He'd tried begging him to enlist in the reserves, or the army, or the air force. Steve had spent his entire life afraid of the sea, and if he hadn't already been weak and sickly and unable to enlist because of it, he still wouldn't have been able to follow his friend. At the time, he'd wondered if maybe that wasn't the point. But on his leaves, it became obvious that Bucky legitimately loved the ocean, loved being out on it and all the workings of the ships he served on. Steve felt happy for him, glad that his friend was doing what he loved. But he missed him, too. He'd only been out for eight months when the letter came in. There had been a man overboard, and Bucky went after him. Neither of them were recovered, and at the time of the writing, the other man had not been identified. Maybe a stowaway or the survivor of some other ship's misfortune, but not one of their own. How like Bucky, didn't matter who it was, if he was around, he felt like it was his job to save them.

#Writing meme #that writing thing I do #I don't know who to tag??? #If you want my tags take them please #MCU #ok so AU where... #I'm not even gonna bother explaining #if you're curious you can go look for yourself.

[wittypenguin]

Compulsion (1959)

This is the thinly veiled story of the American kidnapper-murderer duo Leopold and Loeb, who committed “the crime of the century” in May of 1924. They considered it a demonstration of their perceived intellectual superiority, which not only enabled them to carry out what they considered to be a ‘perfect crime,’ but in turn also absolved them of responsibility for their actions. Head to Wikipedia to learn more about the case itself: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leopold_and_Loeb.

Decades later, my maternal Grandmother refused to talk about it as she said it was the most horrible thing she had ever heard of. It should be noted that she lived through the dust bowl of the ’30s in Saskatchewan, knew very well the reports of Concentration Camps of WWII, the atrocities of Vietnam, and even the details of the Shannon Tate murder. Additionally, she read murder mysteries almost exclusively. Yet this case was something — along with the ‘Black Dahlia Murder’ — about which she would not willingly think.

There are three other films telling this story or having a look at it, one of which is Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope.

Both the music and typeface during the titles suggest a wacky Disney comedy, which seems highly inappropriate. Also odd is the use of black & white, wide screen CinemaScope (2.35:1), and 4-track stereo sound. This is… well, kinda weird and we hadn’t had a word of dialogue yet. 

Dean Stockwell [left in photo below] is recognizable physically, but vocally he sure isn’t. His voice seems too high and affected somehow. It’s pretty much the same as when we see him in an episode of The Twilight Zone from Season 3, “A Quality of Mercy,” but that isn’t surprising as many people’s voices drop in timbre as they age. This film was only made two years before the episode was filmed, so that also checks out.

Thanks to screenwriter Richard Murphy’s adaptation of Meyer Levin’s novel, there’s incredibly heavy-handed use of Nietzsche’s doctrines regarding the ‘Supermen’ — or ‘Übermenschen’ as he termed them — who set the laws of society into place but were not themselves beholden to those legal strictures. There’s also a large amount of use of the phrase ‘there are no feelings; no emotions.’ Presumably that’s something else from the philosopher’s treatises. I haven’t read any of his stuff, so I’m not one to comment there. But, like any philosophy, when interpreted by someone with a twisted sense of ‘right and wrong,’ one can bend anything to fit the decision to do something inhumane if you put a mind to it, and these two idiots do just that. First we see them steal a typewriter and some money at the start of the film, later they agree that one of them is going to force themselves upon a fellow student in an area where there’s ‘no one to hear her scream,’ then they’re going to kidnap and murder a young child who lives across the street from one of them (and in the real case, they were a cousin of one of the pair). The typewriter is used for creating the ransom note, but they kill the child before the ransom can be paid: the more is there just to add another crime to the list, all of which they are sure they will be found innocent of, because they are Really Important Thinky Guys.

We don’t see the body of the child: it’s just out of frame. The body is described (I think) as ‘disfigured,’ as well as a detail you don’t learn until late in the trial: the identification was slowed by the face having had acid poured upon it. This is really reprehensible stuff.

Welles shows up at the one hour mark with some of the worst looking ‘age make-up’ I’ve ever seen. His eye-bags and greyed hair alone are probably just a bit too rough for a 600 seat theatre, so for close-ups on film… abominable. His fat suit works, but it doesn’t really hang right. 

His marathon of defence against capital punishment is astonishing. I haven’t a clue how close it lands to the argument presented by Clarence Darrow, but the version we see here is both poetically written and moving. Thinking of Mr Welles’ reputation for rewriting practically anything that came out of his mouth on film, I checked for an ‘uncredited’ listing for his contribution to the writing of the film. Surprisingly, there wasn’t one! This may have been one of the few times he didn’t dabble in his dialogue!

The ending comes surprisingly quick, basically ending right after the sentencing. We don’t even leave the courtroom. I don’t know what I would have wanted more of, perhaps the two boys coming to the reality of what they had done, perhaps; maybe set in prison itself, possibly with their parents visiting? You don’t really need anything more, but some ‘decompression time’ after the climax would have been good, rather than ninety seconds of rushed exchanges.

Worthwhile, but I’m glad I only rented it for $5 from the iTunes Store. I don’t much see the need to revisit the film, save for maybe that massive monologue at the end where Jonathan Wilk summarizes his clients’ defence against the villains of Capital Punishment. That part really is astonishingly well written and acted.

★★★☆☆ 

#Compulsion #Leopold and Loeb #courtroom drama #Orson Welles #review #film #cinema

[wendynerdwrites]

Meta Repost Project: Fandom Studies and the Personal Favorite White Boy

(note, this is an article I originally posted on therainbowhub and fandomfollowing two years ago but has been lost to caches and bad decisions on my art. Here it is again, non-caches and in full. This article has some errors and is out of date, but I wanted to preserve the original even if it is flawed. It works well as a reference and I may add/alter it again, but I wanted to post is and have it here, untouched, first)

This one’s gonna hurt…

Personal Favorite White Boy (n.): A (usually white) male character who can commit acts ranging from “pretty damn douchey” to “outright atrocities”, but is constantly defended by or stanned for by a furious fan base who will go to any lengths to excuse their actions and vilify critics. A male fave who is portrayed as a precious cinnamon roll who are only ever victims and heroes, and anyone who says differently is evil or illiterate. Who will have their fangirls who “understand” them furiously warp their characters, outright ignore their flaws, and attack anyone who points out anything remotely negative about their faves. Any woman who rejects them is an evil bitch, as is anyone who dares to hold them accountable for their actions. Everything they do is justifiable due to past abuse, “true love”, or a protective instinct. The figure from which Draco in Leather Pants, along with other modern fandom tropes, has spawned.

Fifty Shades of Grey fans will dox you online for saying Christian Grey is an abusive stalker despite the fact that he tracks a woman through her cellphone and uses faux-BDSM to hurt his wife for the crime of going out for drinks with a friend.

Twilight fans will lose their shit if you point out how not-okay it is that Edward Cullen took a piece of Bella Swan’s car engine out to keep her from going to see Jacob. Or if you make the point that Jacob forcing a kiss on Bella is, in fact, sexual assault.

You’re a total simpleton if you think that Thomas Raith from the Dresden Files is rapist. Sure, he uses magic to compel humans into having sex with him, but he acknowledges he’s a monster and also consent doesn’t matter to vampires! He’s a hero because he feels bad about it. Can’t you just understand context?!

If you dare to mention that you’re not supposed to stand with Ward (or you get shot in the head because he’s a traitorous neo-Nazi rapist), some Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. fans will want your blood.

Finn Collins from The 100 has great hair and calls the lead female character Clarke “Princess”, but he also killed nearly twenty unarmed men, women, and children. That makes him a war criminal and the Grounders wanting him dead as an offering to insure their peace treaty (the one that will likely insure the safety and health of hundred, if not thousands of innocents) is pretty reasonable. As is how the lead character, Clarke, stabbed Finn to spare him a torturous death. But some fans of The 100 insist that Clarke is “a bitch” for doing this and not killing Grounder leader Lexa— even though that would surely result in the deaths of everyone she’s ever loved.

…I know, right? It’s maddening. How much media utterly idolizes men even if they’re shits? Or at the very least problematic?

These men— the Grant Wards, the Spikes, the Finn Collinses, the Tyrion Lannisters, the Edward Cullens—- are the Personal Favorite White Boys, and they get psychotic fandom defenses more passionate than anything. These PFWBs will be absolved of anything— be it rape, abuse, massacres, mistakes that lead to the violent deaths and starvation of thousands— by certain fans with defenses going from “He was abused as a child” to “He cried once.”

Which brings us to the first prong of my theory regarding the rabid Personal Favorite White Boy Defense phenomenon: male characters in media, agency, and our changing views of what we view as acceptable and unacceptable.

First, there are the roles of female characters in stories, and how the primary actors or aggressors in most stories are men.

Men were almost always the active players. Even in stories that feature main female protagonists, such as Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, those main female characters are so passive to the point of unconsciousness— and need to be saved by men in the form of what is considered modern day sexual assault.

But men were the primary agents, the true heroes, and so they had actions that could be judged for good or ill– choices they actually made. Whereas even the females’ characters choices were usually framed as a thing they did because “they couldn’t help it.” Still utterly passive, with no agency. So there is no instinct to defend female romantic leads in text much because there was never a real need. Even when they were objectively messed up people, they were always framed as a prize and their flaws had more to do with them being weak and dependent than letting us see their own choices and real motivations— think Daisy Buchanan (who was awful, but very much built up simply as an object rather than a person). So there simply has never been much encouragement for men to feel like they need to justify their fictional crushes. Once a woman did something bad, it was done. She was just bad. But she was always, always passive and always an object. There are some exceptions, of course, but often even those stories are altered or ignored. Compare and contrast how the stories of Joseph and his coat of many colors or David defeating Goliath are well known and publicized. Meanwhile few people could tell you much of Judith, who saved the Hebrew people by slaying the Assyrian general Holofernes.

In modern media, we’ve improved by increasing the actions of female protagonists, but in a world where the ratio of male to female characters in mainstream film is 2:1 and The Bechdel Test actually has to be a thing, we’re still used to having women as non-entities.

And that’s the narrative tradition we have. So while we can up female agency, men are pretty much NEVER without agency, even in woman-centric media unless it’s aimed at little girls. Men are still very often the heroes, the aggressors, the people who take active part in everything and have real choices to examine. And since we’re encouraging more progressive views, it means that arguing of the morality regarding men becomes far more complicated and nuanced.

Look at the changing views of characters like John Harker or Heathcliff, or any Byronic hero. Once they were an ideal, but now that our lens has changed, particularly when it comes to romantic/sexual matters, heroes get challenged in a new way, and are challenged to their potential romantic audience— primarily women. So the pressure is on the women to justify their fictional romances.

As said before, we’re used to, and comfortable with, judging women both fictional and factual. Women are encouraged to defend men, and expected to do it now with the rapidly changing social views that we have. And unfortunately, while the complex issues of things like personal autonomy, consent, and justice have been progressing, there are many people who are still woefully uneducated about certain issues. For instance, when I wrote in a blog post how in the A Song of Ice and Firebooks, the character of Tyrion Lannister molests his crying, terrified, twelve-year-old POW of a bride, I had a very sweet teenage reader go, “Wait, Tyrion rapes Sansa WTF???” When I replied that no, I said he molests her, the young woman asked, “Wait, are molestation and rape not the same thing?” She seemed pretty happy to learn this, even though she, like all other young people out there, deserve to have learned this at a much younger age.

We still have a ton of women these days who don’t know that sexual assault encompasses more than rape, that consent can be revoked, and are still heavily influenced by rape culture and sexist ideals. People who still think it’s not abuse unless the boyfriend gives his girlfriend a black eye. Who don’t understand that S&M is meant to be built upon clear, informed consent and communication.

So as a result, when you point out to someone that taking apart Bella Swan’s car engine totally qualifies as abuse, you have many fangirls who are shocked and furious. To them, domestic abusers are drunken stepfathers in wife beaters breaking bones, not well-dressed, sophisticated, “protective” Edward Cullen.

When you say that Christian Grey is an abuser since he manipulates ridiculously-innocent and ignorant Anastasia Steele into a “BDSM” relationship and continues it even after it’s confirmed that she doesn’t understand concepts like butt plugs and orgasm denials, then shames her for using the  safe word (which is, like, a totally normal thing to use), they become enraged.

When you mention Damon Salvatore raped someone, the response is often, “But she expressed interest in sleeping with him! They flirted!”

Now, everyone is happy to judge women, but rarely to ever examine their choices. Those judgments have always been simple: Virgin/Whore.

There’s never been any sort of need for men to try and justify their romantic choices, partly because heroines were so bland so often, portrayed as objects not people, and you can’t really examine the morality of an object that doesn’t make real decisions. Whereas male characters have historically always had agency.

But men aren’t objects. They are the people who, historically, have controlled the world in really messed up ways and we’re coming to realize that. So women will have put emotional stock in a character, and now are pressured to examine a male character’s choices in a way that men haven’t really had to, especially not through a lens of characters they find attractive.

For instance, guys will talk your ear off about how much Bella Swan from Twilight sucks, but were they ever in a position to get emotionally attached or attracted to her? No. Female characters are either identifiable with women or just titillation or prizes for men. Bella Swan was never meant to be lusted after or won by a male audience. Whereas women throughout history have been actively encouraged to think of Heathcliff or whomever as a romantic interest, and now that sort of thing is being challenged. Women are encouraged to be on the defensive about their romantic/sexual feelings, and that is their default setting.

Let’s face it: throughout history, those things that have been viewed as appealing to women, especially young women, are often denigrated and seen as “lesser” pieces of art than those marketed or made by men.

Sure, the word “fan” originally comes from the word “fanatic”, but that seems to only get recognized when women are involved. Male fans are just that— fans. Female fans are half-fan, half “lun-ATIC.” And no amount of football riots, soccer riots,hockey riots, or actual history will do much to dissuade people of this idea.

When Elvis Presley and The Beatles took over the popular consciousness, much was made of their legions of screaming fans— most of them young women. These “Beatlemaniacs” were a joke, a joke which ended up extending to the band itself.

Today, The Beatles are seen as one of the most important, artistically capable, and revolutionary musical acts of all time. Whereas before, during the height of Beatlemania, critics were quick to make snide remarks about their lack of artistic merit. “Is this the King’s English?”, one snide reporter wrote. They were seen as nothing but mop-topped sex symbols…

…Right.

Indeed, fangirls have had to defend their media preferences for a very, very long time– just as much for modern media as classic works. Plenty of people these days will sneer at a “feminine” love for classic knightly tales of chivalric romance— “All that stupid fairy tale romantic BS. That’s not how it was in the real Middle Ages!”

Granted, it is true that the knight in shining armor trope isn’t exactly historically accurate. But what many people seem to forget was the context under which many of these fairy tales and stories of courtly love were written. These stories were not just written to make naive women soak their petticoats. In fact, many of the codes of romantic chivalry were established by and for men in order to instill a more sustainable and less chaotic way of life for men at arms— a way of giving knights a code in order to keep any guy with a sword from randomly slaughtering and raping everyone he encountered. Indeed, many fairytales and fantasies— from Snow White to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight— were written with the intent of positively influencing and representing the cultures that spawned them; they were not only entertaining and educating their contemporary audiences, but serving as significant historical and social texts for people to study today. “Fairy tales” and myths of knights and ladies have huge academic and intellectual significance to the modern day. And yet, many call it “Fairy tale bullshit.”

As a result of this cultural bias, women just naturally feel the need to automatically be on the defensive about things they like, regardless of the artistic merit of said media. This includes the need to justify almost any sexual/emotional/romantic feeling they have for a male character. Men? Not so much.

We’re just not used to questioning the agency of men. We’re supposed to accept men as heroes and accept what they do “for love.” We have to always make excuses because they’re men being men. Women should be prizes for these men. And we should stand by our men.

Unfortunately, there are changing standards for acceptable behavior. What does and doesn’t count as sexual assault. What does and doesn’t count as stalking. What does and doesn’t count for abuse. What can and can’t be excused on the basis of age or history of abuse. Edward Cullen was “protecting” Bella. Grant Ward was abused as a child. Finn Collins was traumatized and was desperate to find Clarke, who he was in love with. Christian Grey is just into S&M.

Any excuse must and should be found. Or certain actions should just be brushed aside as no big deal, especially if they did it “for love” (often the excuse with Finn Collins defenders).

Now, it’s true that certain Personal Favorite White Boys are in fact characters with complexity. But the strange thing is is how often those very complexities that are praised by fans are in fact erased via white-washing, all while female characters are vilified for infractions as horrible as “crying too much”, “not falling in love with the guy who wanted her”. Tyrion Lannister from A Song of Ice and Fire is a great example (known more popularly by his show counterpart, who has most if not all of the character’s flaws erased… Yeah, the Personal Favorite White Boy can be extended to dudebros like David Benioff and D.B. Weiss making “adaptation” decisions as well). He’s a severely messed up person who has moments of great compassion and courage, but also sometimes does horrible things. This is not because he’s pure evil, but because the man is completely warped. But that does not make excuses, validate, or erase the horrible things he does. They do not make him a good person. Tyrion is still a character with agency, and oftentimes he uses that agency to do awful, awful things.

And if you bring that up, you’re an ableist douchebag who thinks people who have been abused should just “get over” things.How dare you call the man who willingly married a twelve year old POW selfish and sexist! His Dad was the one who offered him that marriage (along with another match as an alternative, with no threats of violence), and his dad has abused him, so therefore Tyrion did no wrong!

Just like Thomas Wraith can’t help hypnotizing people into sex, because he’s a vampire and vampires in the Dresden Files don’t care about consent.

It’s okay as long as he acknowledges that he’s a monster.

Even when a guy is a rapist, neo-nazi terrorist, the fact that his father beat him means #IStandWithWard.

That is not to say that all fans are like this. Nor is it to say that there is something necessarily wrong with having a problematic fave— as long as you acknowledge and don’t try to white-wash these things. There are tons of fanboys and fangirls who are perfectly ready and happy to admit the faults of their characters,  gleefully call them “shitheads”, and examine the issues at play in the media they consume. But unfortunately, the Personal Favorite White Boy phenom is great enough that it sort of sets the stereotype for empty-headed female fandom (which, by the way, is bullshit).

This mentality comes from a strong social background. One in which we are expected to find reasons and explanations for the heinous acts committed by white men. Where the Aurora shooter was described as bullied and mentally ill, and will be nonviolently taken into custody for a life sentence after killing a dozen innocent people; where Jeffrey Dahmer is given due process and only restrained during arrest after killing and eating several people, but Walter Scott is shot point blank for running and 15-year-old Dejerria Becton is forced to the ground because of a noisy pool party.  One where women are not expected to have agency. One where rape culture and bigoted social mores are institutionalized. Where women expected (and are expected) to be judged for everything. Where women in media are sex objects, so there is no urge for the heterosexual males who want her to feel the need to defend her actions or choices. Meanwhile, women are actively encouraged to feel persecuted or defend “their men” no matter what. Where they’re automatically defensive because female audiences are so automatically looked down upon, and where media is being constantly re-examined through a rapidly evolving social lens. Where the issues of sexual assault and consent are so poorly explored and communicated that there are tons of people who still don’t get that hypnotizing people into having sex with you is still rape.

As a result, we’ve produced the culture of #IStandWithWard.

And then there’s just how female fans in general are treated– but that’s a different article.

(This is the first in a series of articles exploring fandom and its idiosyncrasies. Tune in next time, when Wendy deconstructs all the reasons fangirls are so automatically defensive of everything in the first place!)

#personal favorite white boy #meta repost #byronic heroes #sexism #fandom meta

[emilyplaysotome]

Part 7 - About Last Night

Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole is an ongoing story about our MC, who could easily be anyone in voltage fandom. She woke up in hospital bed only to discover that she’d somehow been transported Voltage universe:

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Part 7 - About Last Night

For the third time in four days, my head pounded, except this time I only had myself to blame.

I should have ensured that the meal ended before the cake, before the wine, and before my resolve had been shaken. If I’d been strong enough to end it when I should have, I would have been waking up in my own bed right about now, instead of the bed in Soryu’s penthouse. 

Reflecting back on it now, the entire night had been designed to seduce me. Similar to the MCs of this world, I too was unable to turn my nose up a delicious meal - especially one that was free. 

Back home, my friends and I had what I fondly referred to as “our restaurant club”, which consisted of a monthly get together at the latest up and coming (or high end) New York City restaurant. We’d splurge far beyond our means in the shared interest of tasting the best NYC had to offer. I had dined on everything from the nine-course chef’s tasting menu at per se, to Mario Batali’s down-to-earth pastas and pizzas at Otto, and as a result, the opulence of the spread Soryu had prepared for us was not lost on me.

The entrees ranged from familiar Western comfort food that he had no doubt ordered to put me at ease (such as hamburgers, french fries, and pizza), to Japanese delicacies (in case I was feeling adventurous) which he walked me through, such as namako (sea cucumber) and fugu (blowfish sushi). It was fairly miraculous that I had been able to resist at all, considering the fact that while I had been working hard to convince myself that Soryu as a man was not “real” in the sense I required, the food very much was. 

The one silver lining of last night had been that I’d at least had the good sense to keep things platonic...other than the part where he held my hand and we gazed into each other’s eyes...

...Barf. 

How had I allowed myself to get so swept up in the moment? It wasn’t like me...although, when I began to think about it, kind of was. I chalked my inconsistent behavior up to my inner Gemini, who caused me on occasion to transition from calculating and deliberate to whimsical and careless.

I lay in bed, eyes not quite ready to be opened, as I oscillated between scolding myself and attempting to justify my actions. I told myself that in the grand scheme of things, hand holding was fairly inconsequential considering it was something grade school children did without second thought. The more I thought about it, I began to feel pretty confident that I could play the entire night off without any hurt feelings. 

After all...he’d asked me to have dinner with him and then decide. Just because I’d decided to sleep on his offer, didn’t mean I wasn’t ultimately going to take him up on it.

Once I’d worked this all out in my head, I rolled over, opened my eyes, and almost screamed bloody murder.

Soryu was curled up next to me, sleeping soundly, which was odd because I knew for a fact that he had not been there when I went to bed the night before. Sure I had been drunk, but I hadn’t been the kind of drunk that I’d been with Hiroshi.

I reached my hand out and gingerly poked his cheek as I sat up, creating some space between us.

“Yo, get up.”

Groggily he batted his eyelashes at me as his eyes adjusted to the morning light, and he smiled that kind smile which had the power to render me helpless if I wasn’t being careful.

“Good morning.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” I said forcefully, putting my emotional walls back up. “Why are you in my bed?”

He rubbed his eyes, as if he were a little boy, and innocently said, “Honest mistake. I was pretty drunk last night.”

I knew that was a lie. Soryu Oh didn’t get drunk. Soryu Oh was a man who could hold his liquor. He was just making an excuse to get close to me, and I needed to do what I couldn’t bear to last night and push him away.

“Oh, well....thanks for everything, but I’d like to live in employee housing now.”

I found myself unable to make eye contact as I said the words, so I don’t know what he actually looked like when the reality of what I said sank in, but I’m pretty sure it must have been heartbreaking to witness. Like the coward I was, I stared at the covers until he left the room, closing the door behind him. I could hear him speaking with Eisuke in the other room as I got dressed, making good on his promise.

I knew it was all my fault, and I couldn’t tell what was making me feel worse - my hangover or my actions. 

It didn’t matter though. I couldn’t sit here forever, wallowing in my poor choices, so I forced myself to get up and began to gather what few belongings I had.

Once everything I owned was present and accounted for, I looked at the empty suite and said a silent goodbye to it, which I knew was illogical on my part as I’d be back to clean it in the days to come. I recognized the fact that I felt a bit of gratitude towards this room which had offered me a bit of comfort in what had otherwise been a traumatic few days. As it sunk in that I would never live here again, my overly sentimental feelings towards the penthouse began to make sense - not only had I developed an affection for the space, but also the man who inhabited it. 

Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, my guilty conscience went into overdrive, and instead of vacating the room I found myself rummaging through the suitcase I had just packed. I found the small piece of silk fabric Tauxolouve claimed was a thong, and left it under Soryu’s pillow.

I started to leave again, but then began to worry whether or not it would be too hidden. In order for my sins to be absolved, I needed Soryu to find the thong and return it to me in the way I predicted he would. 

After staging the balled up thong in a few different locations, I finally settled on the corner of the bed that we had shared last night. Convinced that the contrast created between the black silk and white bedding would set my plan for redemption in motion, I took one last look at my carefully art directed thong, and left the room.

Kenzaki allowed me a half day to get settled in my new digs and I have to admit, living alone again was pretty awesome. The room itself was as I’d expected - a small studio apartment that would have felt claustrophobic to anyone who hadn’t been conditioned to deal with small spaces. Fortunately for me, New York City real estate had prepared me for such a room, and I quickly felt at home. 

The room had all the necessary furnishings provided, and it had seemed that either Soryu or Eisuke had instructed whoever prepared the room to include a few sets of bedding, in addition to a television, and laptop. I didn’t have much stuff, so it was a fairly easy move for me, and after no time at all found myself moved in. I glanced at my phone and saw I had a few hours to kill before I was required to be in at work. There was a lot I wanted to do, but if I’m being honest, it was hard to think about anything other than Soryu. 

Obviously he had gotten under my skin, which bothered me, since I logically I acknowledged that none of it was real. Everything he did, and everything he was - it was all an elaborate ruse to get me to fall in love with him, and what made me even madder was that it had only taken a few days to for me fall under his spell.

Was I that pathetic, that starved for attention in my old life, that I would allow myself to fall so quickly for a man that I knew was an illusion?

I sighed, mulling it over in my room, half-euphoric with an unfamiliar love sick feeling, and half-disgusted by how weak I was.

After an hour or so of wallowing on my new bed, I decided to attempt to be productive by adding phone numbers (if available) to the places I planned on visiting. Once that was done, I found myself on the phone with the Sanno Corporation, setting up a date to tour the office, followed by a few more calls, including one in which I impersonated a concerned parent in order to visit the grounds of Seishun High School. Before I knew it, I’d set up several appointments and it was time to go to work. 

I put on my uniform, and for the first time, in a very long time, worried over whether or not I looked ok.

“I’m here to clean!” I exclaimed cheerfully as I entered the lounge.

I’d been procrastinating a bit - handling the suites first, full well knowing that the entire group was present. They were in the middle of planning the upcoming auction, and spoke about it freely with the understanding that I possessed no knowledge of hotel’s shady dealings. Their candor surrounding the discussion of the auctions surprised me. Considering they had only known me for a few days, it struck me as odd that they would speak so freely about their plans in my presence. Perhaps they figured that I was insignificant, or that their fragmented manner of speech made it unlikely that I would put together the clues that hinted at the hotel’s dark underbelly. Regardless, it still felt rather careless to me.

With the bidders completely engrossed in their conversation, for the first time since I’d arrived at the Tres Spades, they ignored me completely. I took advantage of this opportunity to go about my business (hurriedly tidying as the room magically reset itself) while attempting to inconspicuously listen in. 

As Eisuke alluded to disposing of someone who had begun asking too many questions about the ins and outs of the auctions, I stole a glance at Soryu and reminded myself that he was a bad man, in charge of a dangerous, underground crime ring that murdered people on a regular basis. Just because this world felt familiar and safe to me, didn’t mean it actually was. I had to operate with caution moving forward as it seemed entirely possible for me to perish in this world, just as it had been in mine.

“You wouldn’t want to date John Wayne Gacy or John Gotti,” I whispered, trying to convince myself, “and you definitely don’t want to date him.”

My time spent cleaning went quickly (as it usually did in this world), and with the exception of Eisuke asking Soryu fairly pointedly if he had a date for the auction (he said no), very little happened.

Actually...that’s an over simplification. They talked about an upcoming heist, murdering at least two individuals that they felt posed a threat to their auctions, and wanted Kishi to look into Soryu’s file at the station, as Eisuke was concerned by the Ice Dragons’ recent drug activity arousing the MPD’s suspicion. However, as a woman who was desperately trying to control matters of the heart, Soryu’s lack of date for the auction jumped out at me more than the terrifying reminder that I was literally working for criminals.

I was about to excuse myself when Eisuke called me over and asked me to make him a coffee. I protested at first (that’s not really a maid’s job), but soon remembered how futile arguing with Eisuke Ichinomiya is. From there, the orders started coming in - a tea for Baba, juice for Ota, bourbon for Mamoru.

Only Soryu stayed silent, and followed me to the drink cart to prepare something for himself. I got to work, as did Soryu, and after a brief, uncomfortable silence he broke it by asking, “Did you settle in ok?”

“I did, thank you.”

“I...you left this.”

With that he thrust the thong I’d left behind into my hands.

I’d done it as a favor to him - as an apology for treating him so poorly when he’d been nothing but wonderful to me. He didn’t realize it though, but he would soon enough, and I knew exactly what I needed to do from here.

“Oh gosh,” I said, pretending to be ashamed. “How embarrassing.”

I made sure to not pocket the thong as fast as I would have normally, because I knew like a moth to a flame, Baba would appear any moment.

“Is that what I think it is?”

He obnoxiously patted Soryu on the back and for once, I felt in complete control of the situation.

“Baba,” I pleaded quietly. “Please...don’t tell the other guys. Okay?”

I made sure that the insinuation we'd slept together came across loud and clear. I watched Baba’s face quickly transition from disappointment to a sort of smugness that could only be meant to antagonize Soryu. It occurred to me that I had triggered something in this universe that changed Baba’s role from a potential love interest to a mischievous, fun loving, tension breaking side character. 

He nodded with a wry grin, and trotted back to the couch, taking what would most likely be a permanent seat next to Ota.

While he did this, I pretended to be relieved, but in actuality knew that the second I stepped out of the room, Baba would reveal what I had hinted at to the rest of the men, and all Soryu needed to do was go along with it.

Soryu didn’t understand this though. He stood before me, red faced and clearly befuddled. Just as I’d done with Hiroshi, I lightly touched his shoulder and got on my tiptoes, bringing my lips close to his ear.

“Feel free to go along with it,” I whispered.

“Go along with what?”

“You know…” I trailed off and gave him a suggestive look, which caused him to turn a bit redder. “Consider it my farewell gift to you. We’re even now.”

Soryu’s eyes widened slightly, as he came to grips with what I’d done. 

I watched as the wheels spun behind his eyes as he realized that I’d left the underwear behind on purpose, and blushed an even deeper shade of red when he realized that I knew what the rest of the men knew, but never said - that Soryu Oh was a virgin.

Sure, he was many things, but being a virgin was the one thing that the bidders, should they ever want, could hold over his head. It was something that he found to be a bit embarrassing, as a 28-year-old man, and a gangster no less, who was constantly surrounded by sex and illusions of sex.

I’d put two and two together fairly quickly, between Eisuke’s initial certainty that lodging with Soryu would make me most comfortable as a woman with a boyfriend. Eisuke had made it clear that day out of all the bidders, Soryu would never touch me, and when I’d pressed him, insinuated he’d never seen his friend in all the years he knew him touch a woman, so it was doubtful that he’d start now. 

My conviction only grew after Soryu told me about his past - having never been in love or casually dated. Since he’d also expressed that he’d never patronized a prostitute, it was clear that his sexual experience was limited to whatever he did on his own time, without the mess of a flesh and blood woman that he’d lose interest in “after she opened her mouth” as he had so bluntly said that night.

From behind me I could hear snickering, and I watched as Soryu’s face relaxed. He gave me a small nod, to the point that anyone else who hadn’t been watching us closely would have missed it, and with that, he walked back to the couch carrying the drinks I’d prepared for everyone.

I left room, quietly closing the door behind me, with a clear conscience but my heart aching ever so slightly. This was for the best. I needed to keep moving forward. I didn’t have time to pine over Soryu Oh right now. 

I needed to get to Conte before I missed the dinner rush.

To be continued…in Part 8!

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(Hope you’ll check it out too - the other parts are up top! @plloo2013!)

#voltage fandom #voltage fanfic #voltage fan fiction #kissed by the baddest bidder fan fic #kissed by the bidder fanfic #kbtbb fanfic #kbtbb fan fiction #soryu oh #eisuke ichinomiya #ota kisaki #mitsunari baba #mamoru kishi

[moonlitgleek]

what are your thoughts on King Aerys's Kingsguard? Do you think they were honorable knights are toadies who didn't uphold their vows?

Oof, that’s a loaded question. Bear with me because I have thoughts.

The Kingsguard are vital to GRRM’s interrogation of knighthood and his definition of a true knight; we’re meant to see how hard it is to live up to the ideals of knighthood in a world that allows for conflicting vows, how good knights in service to a bad cause handle it, how many of them dare to question the system itself, and how that reflects on their view of themselves and of the institution as a whole. Living up to the chivalric code is freaking hard which is precisely why it is the mark of a true knight.

So we have the kingsguard as a model of how crooked the current system is: this is an institution that is universally viewed as the embodiment of the chivalric code but its fundamental flaw -- the fact the their vows to the king are taken to supersede their original vows to “be just [..] protect the young and the innocent [..] defend all women” even though the knighthood oath is the foundation on which the Kingsguard oath is built upon - effectively compromises that same code, exposing its oath to be hollow in practice and presenting a conflict of morality that so many of the revered knights in Westeros fall to.

And that’s exactly what happened with Aerys’ Kingsguard – they took their oaths to obey and protect the king, even if they morally opposed his actions, to be of paramount importance and to be held above all else. Barristan Selmy’s reflection on his role during Aerys’ reign, though it shows his shame and regret for doing nothing in the face of Aerys’ atrocities, still show his belief that he was honor-bound by his Kingsguard oath to do exactly that.

Barristan Selmy had known many kings. He had been born during the troubled reign of Aegon the Unlikely, beloved by the common folk, had received his knighthood at his hands. Aegon’s son Jaehaerys had bestowed the white cloak on him when he was three-and-twenty, after he slew Maelys the Monstrous during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. In that same cloak he had stood beside the Iron Throne as madness consumed Jaehaerys’s son Aerys. Stood, and saw, and heard, and yet did nothing. But no. That was not fair. He did his duty. Some nights, Ser Barristan wondered if he had not done that duty too well. He had sworn his vows before the eyes of gods and men, he could not in honor go against them … but the keeping of those vows had grown hard in the last years of King Aerys’s reign.

The same sentiment is, more or less, echoed in Gerold Hightower and Jonothor Darry’s response when Jaime, ironically the only person to question the flaw in the system, struggled with the idea that he was just supposed to stand there and watch the king commit crimes without doing anything about it.

“As for Lord Rickard, the steel of his breastplate turned cherry-red before the end, and his gold melted off his spurs and dripped down into the fire. I stood at the foot of the Iron Throne in my white armor and white cloak, filling my head with thoughts of Cersei. After, Gerold Hightower himself took me aside and said to me, ‘You swore a vow to guard the king, not to judge him.’ 

The day he burned his mace-and-dagger Hand, Jaime and Jon Darry had stood at guard outside her bedchamber whilst the king took his pleasure. “You’re hurting me,” they had heard Rhaella cry through the oaken door. ��You’re hurting me.” In some queer way, that had been worse than Lord Chelsted’s screaming. “We are sworn to protect her as well,” Jaime had finally been driven to say. “We are,” Darry allowed, “but not from him.”

Hightower’s, Darry’s and Selmy’s stance isn’t surprising when you consider what we’re told of the Kingsguard’s oath.

The first duty of the Kingsguard was to defend the king from harm or threat. The white knights were sworn to obey the king’s commands as well, to keep his secrets, counsel him when counsel was requested and keep silent when it was not, serve his pleasure and defend his name and honor.

Keep silent when counsel is not requested. Serve the king’s pleasure. That’s their duty. That’s what the system is telling them they are honor-bound to uphold and what they are expected to prioritize over their knighthood oath, standard morals, and even their own personal judgement. That is the standard rule of the Kingsguard - obey without question, regardless of what’s asked of you. Tommen’s Kingsguard were utterly baffled when Jaime pointed out that blind obedience to the king isn’t a good thing. Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent helped Rhaegar spirit away a 15 years old girl and isolate her in Dorne, then probably kept her there regardless of her wishes. They all considered this an integral part of their service.

This entire situation raises a difficult question about conflicting vows (“no matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other”); what a knight to do when duty and “honor” as accepted by society conflicts with basic ethical and moral code. Note that this is not just the view of the Kingsguard themselves, this is accepted Westerosi view. Ned Stark bore no ill-will towards Barristan Selmy who stood by and let his father and brother be brutally murdered without a trial, he was sad about having to fight Hightower, Dayne and Whent who were his sister’s gaolers. Robert Baratheon refused to have Barristan killed on the Trident because he wouldn’t kill a man for loyalty. He revered him for standing by his king, even though his loyalty meant that he enabled and defended a mass murderer.

But of course accepted Westerosi view means jack shit. Just because the system is corrupt does not mean the Kingsguard (or any knight, since all knights are expected to obey their lieges) are magically absolved of any blame or responsibility for their choices. The system was flawed when Jaime Lannister chose his knightly vows and recognized that blind obedience to a tyrant wasn’t acceptable. The system was flawed when Dunk risked his life going against Prince Aerion to protect Tanselle, and when he stood up to Eustace Osgrey once he discovered his lies. The system was flawed when Baelor Breakspear and Raymun Fossoway took a stand for Dunk, and when Brienne said of Ser Quincy Cox “he could have tried, he could have died”, and then went on to fight a hopeless fight to protect the children at the inn knowing that she would die. The system was flawed when Davos risked Stannis’ anger and retribution by smuggling Edric Storm out of Dragonstone. Knights take their vows willingly, accepting the responsibility and solemn duty to keep those vows and to stand up for those who can’t even if it meant their death; failing to do so in the name of duty to a tyrant is not good enough. That oath of obedience is no excuse. I generally find that accepting the idea that these knights did not have a choice or that there is a way to defend their actions buys into the rhetoric of Meryn Trant who would have us believe that he was completely justified in hitting 12-year-old Sansa, perhaps even that there was “honor” in it, simply because the king ordered it and he was sworn to obey the king. That it’s a thought process that could easily devolve to absolving the likes of Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch of their crimes just because they were following the orders of their lord to whom they swore an oath of obedience.

But it’s not like we don’t have examples of knights, even in Aery’s Kingsguard, either subverting or outright going against their vows to the king because they applied their own moral judgement and recognized that they shouldn’t obey the king. There’s Jaime Lannister obviously, but also, Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent - possibly Gerold Hightower as well - owed their allegiance to Rhaegar instead of Aerys, probably because they couldn’t handle Aerys’ madness and the way he was leading the realm to ruin…. but then they showed the same blind obedience to Rhaegar’s orders regarding Lyanna and saw Robert as merely a usurper. Which isn’t really an improvement. They just transferred the object of that obedience from one person to another. But this still shows that they were capable of finding wiggle room within their vows when recognizing that the king shouldn’t be obeyed without exception and that there were cases where disobeying the king was the correct course of action.

Now we can’t paint all the Kingsguard who followed the sentiment of prioritizing the king’s orders above all else, even when the king was evil, with the same brush - if we do, we’d be missing a crucial part of GRRM’s commentary on both the Kingsguard and knighthood. Because not every man who follows that sentiment is a vile monster or a terrible person. While Meryn Trant or Boros Blount are truly vile people who think nothing of abusing a child, or worse, think they were in the right to do so, we have Arys Oakheart who was ashamed of hitting Sansa and who tried to argue but ultimately participated in her abuse anyway, and we have Barristan Selmy who is also ashamed of standing as a silent witness to Aerys’ crimes but tries to rationalize it. It goes a long way in emphasizing that evil does not triumph just because bad people do evil things, it also triumphs when good - or relatively good - men do nothing.

That’s why I can’t talk about Aerys’ Kingsguard as a monolith entity when they obviously had different stances and views of the bounds of their oath. Jaime Lannister questioned the system and ultimately rejected the notion of putting the king’s orders first regardless of the cost when he chose the half-million lives inside King’s Landing over his oath to the king. Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent and possibly Gerold Hightower took liberties with their oath based on their moral judgement but instead of applying the same morals to Rhaegar, they just transferred their obedience from one person to another and ultimately followed the same sentiment. Barristan Selmy “did his duty” and suppressed his moral questions, as it appears Jonothor Darry did. Lewyn Martell…. Oh, who the hell knows, we have so little information about him (sigh, George), but while it’s safe to say he was Team Rhaegar initially, Elia and her children’s captivity during the Rebellion certainly complicate his position later on.

I tend to think that most of these knights fall under the category of the good men who did nothing or “did their duty” and let injustice prevail. They were no toadies but they most definitely broke their knightly vows. Challenging the system is hard, speaking up against an authority is hard, but it’s only through that difficulty - that test - that a true knight is made. They should have tried, even if it meant their death. They took oaths to protect the innocent and the weak but they squandered them. Aerys’ Kingsguard were not true knights; not one of them, from Barristan Selmy to Arthur Dayne to Gerold Hightower. They are no Duncan the Tall or Brienne of Tarth.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #the kingsguard #knighthood #barristan selmy #jaime lannister #arthur dayne #oswell whent #gerold hightower #jonothor darry #lewyn martell #meryn trant #boros blount #chivalric code #so many vows...they make you swear and swear #ask box #Anon asks

[burndownthehousetonight]

((Holy hell, a lot happens in this @tinyredartist RP, it’s like a twenty layer dip make of pure drama and feels and I love it))

It was only barely ten in the morning, and most of the present customers were clearly not there just to drink. Manic's walk almost made it look like he was showing off, channeling some old way he used to act for his new identity. He walked right up to the bar, sitting down and calling down the bartender.

"Hello," He cooed out in a smooth voice. "I heard you have a special on some new drinks here? Something called a black pearl? I've heard it's real... addictive~"

Manic brushed his quills to the side, sneakily turning on the small camera hidden in his earring and showing off the voids in his glove where he seemed to press three of his fingers against his palms, to make it look like some of them were missing. "Or am I coming to the wrong place?" Manic knew the right fake name to imply what he was looking for. He also knew exactly how to use his little make-up kit to make his arm look like it had some kind of healed track marks. He leaned over like he was hitting on the bartender, just enough to show off his little make-up effects.

The bartender that Manic called over was young, clearly new at his job, and very, very intimidated by Manic’s flirty attitude. Overwhelmed, he called Aria over.

“Black pearl? I’ll get the boss for you then." They were never told what black pearl was, or any of the other codenames, but Aria had figured it out pretty early on. She opened the secret door and disappeared from Manic's sight. Scourge came in, ordering a shot of whiskey from the male bartender.

Aria knocked at the door to the bat's office “Ma'am. There’s an order for black pearl downstairs.” It wasn't their most popular product, but the customers that came were very steady. The woman motioned at Aria, the implication obvious as she went to retrieve some from their little storage space. Manic waited impatiently, tapping his fingers on the bar top as he waited for whatever his next cue would be. And sure enough, Aria arrived down the stairs not long later to usher Manic in. Manic stood and strolled behind the bar like he'd done this many times before. He only gave Aria a nod before continuing in to the building. The office he ended up in wasn't necessarily oppressive, it was just the circumstances that made it feel that way. Slightly dirty, but not in any real noticeable ways. Dark colors, but nothing too sinister. If an innocent inspector entered, they wouldn't suspect a thing. "Bartender sent me up here," Manic added as he strolled up to the desk. "What kinda prices we looking at?" Aria waited patiently by the door until she was ordered by the bat to go downstairs.

The bat herself opened up a file on her computer. “Depending on your current tastes. I figure an… Individual such as yourself wants the high end stuff? But first I need your information for… Security reasons. Name?”

Aria waited, able to listen in from behind the bar as she talked casually with Scourge. The king himself had been hit with Manic's makeup skills as well, adding scarring and age. The bandages came off, the classic jacket replaced with an older looking one, making him into a unique but non existent alternate.

“Hey broad! You call this whiskey? Its dish water!” He said, slamming the glass on the bar. He even donned an accent.

“I’m sorry sir. Perhaps I could offer you another drink from our vast selection? On the house.” Aria gave her best customer service smile again, protecting Lukas.

“Yeah, that’s more like it. Gimme a beer, full to the brim, no foam” he demanded. The second it was set before him, he picked it up and chucked the contents onto Aria's top. The men and women in the bar cheered, most very happy for the show. Aria covered herself and checked for her spare shirt.

“Lukas I have to go upstairs. Hold down the fort.” And Aria climbed up the stairs to knock at the door again. “Ma'am? May I come in? Someone threw a beer at me and I’m soaked through… And my spate shirt is in the wash back at home… Can I borrow one from you?” "My name?" Manic said back. "If you say so. Scourge Castillo." He brushed his bangs aside, grinning. "Don't look much like a Scourge, do I?" The bat woman tapped away, Manic watching on eagerly. It was a slightly outdated model, nothing he couldn't get into easily. "Looks like this isn't your first visit?" She looked at the monitor, before turning back to Manic. "You stopped here two years ago, did you? Don't remember your face..." Manic shrugged and played along with the unexpected turn. "Get my fix, get some booze, it's a good place. Just haven't been around lately." Manic was tempted to try and say something, just anything to fish some more information. But then, Aria knocked. "Yes, come in," her boss replied, doubtless wanting to perv on Aria as she could. "Who's screwing with you?" Manic was half focused, just praying he'd get a chance to dig through those files himself before turning them over to Zonic. Aria stepped in, top soaked through, her bra clearly visible. “Green hedgehog. I just had him kicked out. Not a regular.”

The bat licked her lips and got up, locking the cabinet that contained her stash. “Please excuse me Mr. Castillo. I have to help my poor bartender.” The bat walked over, leading Aria away from the room into a bedroom. “You poor dear… Its soaked right through. Your bra is too. You can borrow one of those as well.”

“Thank you Ma'am.”

Their voices and the sound of their heels clicking on the stone tile faded away and they walked off, giving Manic ample time to get to the computer.

Aria allowed herself to be lead shyly to a closet. The boss pulled out a crisp white uniform shirt and then had Aria remove hers. “What cup size are you?” She asked, clearly eyeing Aria's boobs.

‘Buy Manic time,’ Aria thought to herself. “I don’t know ma'am..”

The bat smirked, licking her lips again and sitting on her bed. “Well then, Let me help you with that… Take yours off and throw it on the pile of dirty clothes. Then come here.” "What on earth is this storage system...?" Her files were saved under convoluted names, important program files saved in completely different folders and information seemingly scattered around at random. A strange slapdash collection of file management that absolutely should not have worked, but somehow fell together into a barely functional web of coding. He'd need all of it. He was forced to silently tap away at the keyboard and backtrace any files connected to her strange storage system, and prayed they would transfer well. Twenty percent... Forty... The numbers crept by. Sixty... Eighty... He was almost done, but Manic wasn't completely comfortable. She was gone an awful long time, and he still hadn't heard her walking back. But it gave him a chance to look at the information she'd brought up on 'himself,' which was nothing more than a few sentences of plain text. "Scourge Castelli Marks - Two scars on chest, one on left shoulder, middle fingers and left ring finger missing, tracks Ad - 692 Clark Drive Anstey Purchases- Feb 2 15 - 120g h (wht, fl q), 18k - cash" Those words were burned into Manic's mind. He covered up his tracks easily. Putting the mouse and keyboard back in place, even down to adjusting the wires to their original positions. Every detail had to be perfect when he sat down in his seat... and shivered. For just a few moments, he couldn't hide his nerves at what he was going to do with this information, and whatever was happening to Aria... He received a text sent from Scourge. “If you get finished and she’s not back yet, wait until its not as suspicious and go looking for Aria.”

Aria meanwhile was assuring her boss that the bat had adequately measured her chest and had picked out a bra that fit correctly, even if it was made for looks more than support. She wasn’t sure how long Manic needed, so she was waiting for a signal of some kind.

“Oh my. It seems that the beer split on your skirt too..” The bat insisted, making as if to pull that off of Sria too.

“That’s quite alright, you’ve been more than helpful. I’ll bring these back to you clean on my next shift.” Aria insisted, stepping back and opening the door. Manic could now hear their voices, probably.

“Thank you for the shirt, Ma'am, but I have to go. Lukas cannot be left alone.” "She's getting outta there now," Manic shot back at Scourge. "We're good." The bat was clearly very much against letting Aria leave so soon, but Aria was getting out of there as soon as she could. Manic just sat still, getting more and more anxious as he kept thinking over that information. Scourge wasn't the type to buy this stuff in bulk, but that... was an insane amount. What the hell was Scourge doing here? He did his best to look like he was bored and twiddling his thumbs when the bat returned. "Sorry about that," she said simply. Manic gave her a dismissive hand gesture, certain she wouldn't notice anything different from before. The transaction was short, sweet, and probably a little suspicious with Scourge's previous purchase, but what was he going to do about it? He just had to play along. A small amount - enough to give a sample to the zone cops. Knowing these places, this sample was probably some part strychnine, but he wasn't taking it. Either way, he was done as soon as he could be, slightly worried about the drugs he was hiding in his jacket, unsure of what to say or feel. Aria was alright... right? She didn't seem hurt, but he knew that whatever that woman did when she was alone with Aria couldn't have been good. In an out. It was short, easy, and now all he had left to do was rush to the van and hope Aria was going to be alright. Scourge met him at the van with an undercover Zone cop. The Zonic showed the other his credentials and held his hand out. “Evidence please”

Scourge stood next to Manic. “He’s absolved of all crimes. It was decreed before we left.” He handed over the permissions.

Zonic opened the baggie and shook some of the powder into a bottle of liquid, turning it a bright blue.

“I’ll be calling this in then and we’ll raid within the hour. How many innocents currently in the building?”

“At least two. The bartenders. One didn’t know and one is under duress.” Scourge explained. "Zonic," Manic said as he unfastened the rectangular earring. "We kept this on hand while getting our data, this shows everything that happened. Just a sec." Manic flipped open one of the backseats, revealing the laptop and devices. He pushed the power button and plugged the earring into the laptop with a thin wire between the two. But a laptop this powerful still needed to turn on. So as they waited, Manic pulled out his phone, and started texting something to Aria; "Good luck <3" "Scourge, I have some information. On Scourge, I mean." He said, not quite thinking his wording through. She asked for a pseudonym, and- He was already in the system. Not just in the system, but in the system with an address." There was a desperation to Manic's voice as he prayed he still lived wherever he said he did. "We can finally get some answers! Wait, I want to- hold on, before I show it." Manic almost pushed Zonic aside, shifting to random points of the video and guessing his way to the moment he wanted to show Scourge as the video quickly buffered. All the same information, except this time, there was a Zonic looking on... "You know the man who purchased 120 grams of heroin?" He stated, interpreting the acronyms easily. ”… Is that a lot?“ Scourge asked and both hedgehogs turned to look at him. "What? I’m a king, I don’t know this shit. But hey, a lead is a lead right? I’ll help you follow up after we get Aria out of there. Don’t you have a raid to call, Commisoner?” He asked the Zonic, who nodded and walked away, making a call.

A text from Aria, unusual in how quickly she responded to it. “How long until the raid. I don’t know how long I can handle this. She’s all over me. I managed to hide in the bathroom.”

Scourge was wiping his makeup off and grabbing his jacket from the backseat of the truck. The bandages were off and if Manic was watching he would see the layers upon layers of scars. Manic would have been more concerned about what his scars could have meant, if it wasn't for the text they received from Aria. "I thought you got out of there!" Manic fired back as fast as his fingers could manage. He was starting to panic again. "Ari, this raid is going to happen soon, you're going to be alright." If he knew that THIS was how she wanted the plan to go down... Manic was impatient for a response, sitting down in the driver seat and tapping his leg impatiently. "Yeah, it's a hell of a lot." Manic finally said. "3 grams is a large buy, I don't-" He shut himself up. "We've gotta keep Ari safe. Is there, like, a bathroom window? A crawlspace- I don't know!" He gripped his fringe. realizing just how mag this situation had gotten. "I don't know...! What the hell have I done?" Scourge grabbed Manic by the shoulders. "Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He read the texts and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll go in and get her. Commissioner, one of my people inside is in danger and I know for a fact that there is at least one gun in the place. If I can’t get her out, you call the raid as fast as humanly possible. Manic, put your game face on, literally, and join me when you’re done. She wouldn’t dare hurt aria if both of us are there."

He booked in, speeding into the bar to try and get Aria out of there.

Aria sent another text. "I did. She followed as soon as she was done with you.I’m safe for now. Shes rather… Amorous at the moment so she’s not gonna hurt me. I just feel sick”

Zonic put his hand on Manics shoulder. “Um.. There there? It will all be okay?” Through his anxiety, Manic still found a desperate chuckle as he went for his kit. "I thought some kind of zone Scourge would be the cops in this place?" Manic said, half serious as he started contouring his face once again. "Thanks, dude." It was weirdly cushy for a moment... and then he went right back to his make-up. "Alright, we're getting this done, and we're doing it right." He said, almost smearing the made-up around his eyes and making them look somehow less vibrant. "We're getting this done now." Zonic just watched as Manic redid his hair, his outfit,, even scrubbed off the fake scars across his chest, turning into a less elegant-seeming person within a few minutes. He gave Zonic a firm slap on the back as encouragement, and dashed down in Scourge's footsteps. Dasvidania. Was it always like this? He knew there were vague memories years before, but he didn't remember Scourge disappearing to buy anything. Maybe they just wanted a drink and made a terrible choice? He honestly couldn't remember. All he knew was Aria was stuck somewhere, and they had to get her out of there quick. "He is.I’m the drug trafficking specialist. Damn. That was fast.” When Manic left, he started making calls.

Scourge was already at the bar, Aria staying close to him as the bat lusted after her from afar, forced to deal with the junkie customers.

Aria relaxed as the musician sat down, his presence clearly calming. Aria was a bit of a mess. Lipstick smeared, makeup on her collar, subtlety marked by the bat.

“Hi Manic” she smiled, tense. “How’s that friend of yours that you went to go see? Is he coming soon?” "I dunno," Manic said, looking out the window with a grimace. "Dante said he wasn't gay, but I said it wasn't a date, and he said it was still awkward..." Manic rattled off some nonsense as he looked over Aria. This was utterly terrifying. "Weird, there was this other green guy I ran into outside who hit on me? Normally I gotta go outta my way to get people to like this frumpy clump." He made an exaggerated expression, not just to act casual, but to try and give Aria something to smile at. "Oh, you got a little something on your..." He waved his hand around, motioning towards her collar and smeared lipstick. "You want me to grab something from my car real- Nah, women's clothes and stuff is private, right? I could walk you over. You know I ain't into girls, I won't peek." The bat was clearly peeking as she dealt with some customers.  Now was their chance. He just had to lead her to the car... and try and comfort whatever kind of new trauma she had to deal with. ”Yeah, thanks. My break is in five… I had to send poor Lukas home, he couldn’t take being hit on. Poor thing… And I’m like, 85% sure that Dante is into boys and just said that so you wouldn’t get freaked out.“ His joke made her smile softly, still nervous. "Aw, don’t say that. Cause its a lie.”

Scourge was quiet and Aria tilted her head. “You alright?” Trying to comfort him.

“Yeah yeah.. Just pain. The meds haven’t been working lately. Rosy said she’s not gonna bump up my dosage.” He shrugged, playing it off as nothing.

“Why not? If you’re in pain..” She seemed concerned, fully engrossed in the lie until her phone went off, making her jump.

“Ooh! Break time! I’ll be back in 15, boss!” She gathered her things quickly and motioned for the boys to follow her. “Coffee, anyone?” "Yeah, sound ace, mate." Manic said, standing up and walking out the door with his usual strut that he dropped the moment he was out of sight of the woman. He dashed down the street towards where their van was, desperate to grab that old rag and help wipe off the remnants of whatever Aria was forced to suffer through. He was barely gone before he started rushing back to Aria, who'd fallen behind. "Dude, I thought you were gonna get in a FIGHT with Scourge in there!" He said, patting the wet cloth on her collar to clean up some foundation. "I thought this was just gonna be- If I'd known, I would've changed the plan, I'm so sorry. You gonna be okay?" The look in her eyes told him that no, she wasn't going to be completely alright just yet. Scourge caught up to them. Once more, all of those scars were on display, and Manic could only imagine what could have caused them. He was sure they were responsible for whatever pain he spoke about... at least in part. "Hey, Ari. I don't know if that was a ruse or not, but do you actually, like... wanna pick up a coffee or comfort food or whatever? Food helps with your nerves, right?" Aria shook like a leaf, letting Manic wipe away traces of the bat. The shaking had started again, just enough to denote that she would, in fact, NOT be okay.

Zonic came over, and Aria looked up at him. "When are you gonna do your thing?”

“Snipers are aiming at the building from all sides as we speak. My advice is for you to leave the vicinity. Go get something to eat.”

Aria nodded and Scourge hugged her tightly. “Come on. Let’s go get you some kind of pastry… Manic? You coming?” "Of course, dude." Manic said, walking up next to them. "You need all the comfort you can get." He gave her a gentle pat on the back, barely enough to make contact. He didn't want to give her the normal kind of hit's he'd give people, he didn't want to actually startle her. He kept turning back and looking at the building, before turning away, only to keep repeating the process It was done. He got what was hopefully all the information she had. Aria seemed to know her way around the area, and more or less lead them to a chain coffee shop. Pastries, drinks, a gentle atmosphere, all the kinds of things Aria had to deal with. Manic didn't know how far her boss had gone, he just hoped it wasn't too far. He leaned up near Scourge. "I don't care what I get, just keep an eye on Ari," he said. He quickly walked away, taking a table with a plush chair for Aria and watching carefully. She seemed like if they didn't act just right, she would be on the verge of a breakdown. Aria attempted to calm her nerves, sitting in the plush chair. Scourge left Manic to watch her as he went to go order for all three of them.

Aria put her head in her hands, sighing. "You don’t need to worry Manic… I just need to calm down…” The gentle comfort did not go unnoticed to her, she knew Manic hit hard, and the sudden timidness was surprising.

Suddenly, multiple cop cars, swat vans and a few zone cop vehicles drove by, blocking off the street. Looks like the raid was starting.

Scourge came back, a croissant and black coffee for Manic, tea and a chocolate croissant for Aria and black coffee for himself. He rotated Arias chair so she couldn’t look out the window.

“You gonna be okay lamb shank?” He asked, petting her gently. She nodded and purred. The sirens weren't easy to ignore, but they were distant enough that they could at least try. Manic nibbled on the pastry. It was too sugary and he could tell it wasn't anything special, but it was something to eat. Manic chewed quietly and looked on, not entirely convinced Aria was going to be alright. Some of the other customers were clearly interested in the sudden number of emergency vehicles, gossiping among one another about what kind of nonsense must have been happening. But none of them could hear what they were saying, and that suited them jsut fine. They were safe. "Ari, do you think you're gonna want to hide out for a while?" Manic said, softly so no one else would hear. "Or do you think you want to stay here and keep staying with Scourge?" It was clear she needed some kind of company right now. She ate her food quickly, the tea disappeared much slower. Tiny sips. Debating her options.

"Well… Either I can stay at home, stay with Scourge or hide out…. I kinda wanna go home… Although if either of you two are worried, I do have a pull out couch in case either or both of you want to stay the night”

Scourge picked up on the subtle invitation. “Sure kiddo, I’ll stay at your place for the night, if you want."

The sounds of sirens grew louder and Aria's ears pressed to her head. She took out her sketchbook and started sketching the other people in the café.

"So um… I was thinking… The casino we were at last night? They’re hiring bartenders… Maybe I should apply?” "Hey, I know this chick who used to work that kind of job, and she said it pays pretty well!" She seemed like she was already thinking about ways to start over, that was good. Although if Manic's suspicions were correct, she must have been thinking about this for quite a while. "No need to tell us, you can apply wherever-" Uh oh. Manic made that smarmy grin again. "You just wanna see Terra again, don't you?" Even when they were all trying to comfort Aria, Manic could still find the time for some stupid, stupid mocking. "Honestly, I was just planning on heading back home tonight- Nah, I'm making sure you're okay. But I guess for now, we should try and calm down." Just from the way he looked to the side, it was clear he had something he wanted to say, but he didn't want to say it just yet. A few times back and forth with himself, and; "Uh, I used my old boyfriend's name as a pseudonym..." He tried to find the right words to finish. "He was already in her system... with an address." Aria blushed heavily, playing with her cup. The mocking made her feel a bit better.

"Well.. She did bring it up to me… And it's not a bad idea… It's within warping distance, the people seem nice enough…” She let herself trail off, glad for the company later on in the night. Aria tilted her head as Manic struggled with himself, closing her sketch book.

Scourge stayed quiet as Manic explained himself to Aria, who was clearly happy for the distraction.

“How far away is it? We can pop right over if its less than 100 kilometers away! If it's more than it’ll take a day of rest between warps but..” "It's in Anstey. I think that's about... half an hour by car?" Manic didn't know the area TOO well. "Let me look up the address quickly, see how far it is." Without waiting for a response, Manic was tapping away at his phone again. "692 Clark Drive..." He looked at the results for longer than he would if he was just looking up an address. Link after link... He covered his mouth. "It looks like the last owner moved out a year ago." Manic said, but he clearly wasn't broken up over this. "We've got his pseudonym, I can probably get a forwarding address out of this." He brushed his hair to the side and smiled. "This is... This is great." He smiled at the screen, and simply thought. And thought more. "Uh... Ari?" Manic said, thinking. "I know you said you didn't see Scourge, but he stopped there a year back. Do you think...?" He didn't want to admit it, but it was clearly there. "Does she have cronies who push for her anywhere else? We could find whoever sold all that to him, if we're lucky." Ari made a soft noise of happiness, not a purr, but close. Seeing Manic so excited was… Infectious. Even Scourge was in a good mood now. All three ready to go and find Manic's missing lover.

Of course, Aria and Scourge were worried. What kind of life would Manic get dragged into? But they said nothing. Don’t kill his mood, not after the long day they had.

Aria thought long and hard. "I don’t think so. She’s a bit of a control freak… But what day was this, maybe I can dig around in my calendar and see if I was at work… Cause if it was I could probably check my tip receipts.”

Scourge pipped up. “Maybe you wanna warp up there anyways? See if anyone has kept in touch with him?” "The day? Febuary second, 2015." The date was engraved into Manic's mind. "It didn't have a time or anything, and it said he payed in cash. Remember, he was missing three fingers. That should be enough to go off of, right?" He didn't face either of them directly, and some of his enthusiasm seemed to dull. "Uh, you sure you're fine with warping up there? I mean he's still a Scourge, dude, he was involved in a lot of messed up stuff." He scratched his arm. "Well, if he was involved with your boss, I guess that's kind of a given... But still, it ain't safe to lurk around a life like that." There was a silence as he went to drink his coffee. He didn't even like it black, but it was a gift, and it wasn't poison or anything. It was mostly just to keep himself quiet. "But if you think it'd help... yeah. Yeah, that's be perfect." "February 2nd..- oh my god. I wasn’t at work that day cause the bartender that Lukas replaced had died in an accident... They suspected foul play but never proved anything… I was planning the funeral and given free reign on the company credit card, which was weird… That’s why the bos-… SHE. didn’t come to the funeral, not cause she was emotional, but because she was moving a large amount of product and needed the bar empty… Later on that week I was offered an insane cash bonus if I would do some… Favors for her… That explains a lot…” Aria sat in silence for a while, thinking. Maybe had overshared a bit, but it was explaining random closings over the years.

Scourge nodded at Manic. “I think we both agree that warping up there is a good plan. You can’t go up alone.” "18k ain't much in terms of how much stuff she was moving," Manic said, "But I'm guessing he wouldn't have been her only client. Guessing a lot of business was going on when Scourge was there... ... Just how many people had this woman been involved with? Moreover, was Scourge actually pushing it? It was hard to believe that he would buy that much for himself, but it wasn't impossible to think of it, as much as it pained Manic. "I know the kinds of people Scourge hung around with, I know how he acts. Don't worry about me, I'd watch your own necks if I were you." Manic exhaled. "Point is, we have a lead, and if something big comes up, we can just warp away to... anywhere. Are you guys sure you want to get involved in something like this?" "Yes. We wanna help you Manic.” Scourge insisted, reaching out to put his hand on his shoulder.

“Wellll… Not anywhere. I can only warp 100km in any direction without getting tired.” Aria stated, thinking. “But out of harms way for sure. We’re in. Let’s pay and get going then.”

Aria got up to do so and Scourge stayed behind. “Manic. Are you gonna be okay? This is gonna be a lot to deal with.” "Thanks, guys. Come on, let's head out somewhere so we ain't warping in front of a billion people." Manic said, pointing towards a back exit to the building. He didn't even give them a chance to respond or object before leading them out. "I've thought about this stuff for two whole years, I've used to it. I just want a lead, dude, and this is a huge one." His smile was strangely genuine, given the implications of everything they found out. "Even if it's a bust, we still get an adventure out of it, right?" Manic patted himself over, checking his possessions and locations. Pocketknife? Check. Bills hidden in inside of vest? Check. Lockpicks tucked into quills? Check. "Alright, I'm ready whenever you guys are. Just stick close." Aria double checked herself as well, checking her purse and backing away from the boys. She let her claws out one at a time, then pulled them rapidly in and out. Basically stretching her muscles. She giggled as Scourge clapped, impressed.

The green hedgehog zipped up his jacket, covering those scars. He had at one point pulled his quills back into a ponytail to keep them out of his face and was now fixing some brass knuckles under his gloves.

"Ready boys?” "Let's hit it." He was more prepared for the warp this time. There weren't going to be any special effects, and any kind of dizzying lights, they would walk through and be at their destination. He eagerly jumped through the portal the moment it was summoned, expecting the lack of transition now. What he wasn't expecting was the kind of town they ended up in. There were rows of tiny brick houses, likely rented out rather than properly sold. It wasn't a grimy city, a city that had been destroyed, some mass of addicts and ruined lives. The street was lined with some randomly-planted trees and a few small gardens. The buildings were clearly well maintained, if not high end by any stretch. It was a pleasant neighborhood with no real signs of danger or malice. Manic had to do a double take and check the building they were in front of. Yes, it was numbered 692. Somehow, this empty-looking house in the suburbs was owned by Scourge at some point. "You sure this is the right place? Anstey. 'A - N - S - T - E - Y,' right?"

"I’m never wrong.” Aria shrugged, putting her claws away quickly and shutting the portal behind them. Looking up and down the street, she shrugged. “Cute place… Let’s knock and see what secrets this town is hiding.”

Scourge agreed, motioning for Manic to lead the way. Grabbing onto her arm gently. “Manic wait. Aria need to rest for a second.”

The hedgie sat down and inhaled slowly. “Whoever or whatever lives here had warping disabler on. Not recently, maybe a year? But I’m definitely feeling the after effects.” "That makes sense," Manic added. "Scourges always have their ways of making sure no one messes with them. Brute strength or numbers... Mine was smart enough to use tech." He sat down with the two. not entirely sure what to say. He peeked around at the neighborhood. It seemed like some young child across the street had seen the three warp in, and was now calling their confused and likely tired parent to look out the window with them. A pleasant, normal family in a pleasant, normal-seeming neighborhood. "And I guess he was smart enough to go somewhere no one would think to look for him," he smarmed. Another peek back revealed it was not much different from the others along the street. The downstairs lights were on. "I mean, it doesn't seem like this place is evil or anything. We could just try being direct and ask the new owners, or something. Aria rubbed her forehead. Waiting for the aura of the sensors to fade. The sound of a child calling for his parents made her get up. "Let’s ask the people who live here now. If they don’t know, we can ask the neighbors.”

Scourge got up as well, offering Manic a hand so he could do the same. He pulled the other up and they started up the small walkway. Aria was the one to knock, stepping back behind Manic. He would do the talking. The door was eventually opened by an elderly moth woman. From what they could see of her house, it seemed like rather stereotypical grandmother fare. This went beyond nonthreatening into cozy. "Yes, may I help you?" He voice reflected the kind of power one would expect from a leader, but with a kind of gentle compassion. "Yeah, this is... kind of a long shot, honestly." Manic wouldn't have to act, she seemed trustworthy. "I might look a little familiar? My older brother used to live here." Not true, but he wasn't sure if this woman would care to help if she knew that Scourge was his old lover. "I'm wondering, do you know anything about the last person who lived here? Did he ever give you a forwarding address?" "Forwarding address..." She thought back for a moment. "You may be out of luck, the last owner moved out without notice. I haven't seen or heard mum from him. I'm sorry." Manic was expecting that response, but not for her to continue speaking. "There is an attic in he house I haven't entered. These bones are too brittle to climb a ladder, perhaps there would be something up there?" She stepped aside, and motioned. "Please, come right in." Aria bowed her head as a sign of respect. Scourge got directions to the ladder from the old woman and followed Manic to hold the ladder in case it was fragile. Aria stayed behind with the elderly moth.

"Thank you very much for letting my friend check around. Is there anything I can do in return? It's the least I can do to repay you for your generosity.”

Meanwhile, Scourge and Manic had found the ladder. The ceiling it was embedded in was too high for either to reach. Scourge knelt down and laced his fingers together.

“Come on, I’ll give you a boost.” "If he's looking for his brother, it's the least I can offer." The old woman told Aria as she entered a small living room, with a tiny outdated television and shelves upon shelves of all manner of adventure movies. "Although if you could help me find an old disc, I would be more than happy. These things need to be organized one of these days..." There was a thump from upstairs as the attic ladder quickly descended and made contact with the floor. "It seems they found it," she joked. The attic area they climbed into clearly wasn't meant to be used much. The short ceiling was steeply angled, and the only source of light was a blinking lightbulb and a small, dusty window. There were some things in the attic, mostly old newspapers used to wrap whatever was kept up here. It looked like it had been cleaned out for the most part, save for some boxes. The main thing that caught Manic's eye was some boards along the far floor. "Scourge always had the same hiding places, south-east corner every time." The planks easily hinged open, revealing a small compartment in the floor. Manic pushed some old papers aside, revealing an old tote bag with a logo for some band on the front. "This was where he always hid his stash," Manic said, "why'd he leave it here?" Opening it revealed nothing but the faintest traces of powder and a pamphlet for somewhere called the 'Maddoc Addiction Centre'. "This is it," Manic said, flipping open the pamphlet. "We know where he disappeared to." "Of course! Which one are we looking for?” Aria knelt to check one of the stacks. She recognized very few, most of the movies were older than she was.

“Its an old Indiana Jones movie dear. I'm afraid that the case fell behind the shelf and I can’t reach it,” the moth woman insisted and Aria merely nodded and started looking through them.

Scourge read over Manic's shoulder. “He was going to try to get clean? Maybe after he sold that stuff he had enough to retire? Enough to get clean and then try and find you?”

He was getting his own hopes up, but they were close to the end of the trail​ that he couldn’t resist being positive. Manic was grinning fondly. "That's why he moved to a nice place. People in a place like this don't know how much it's really worth, he could sell it at a huge profit... I think you've got it." He closed the pamphlet, and held it to his chest. "He always talked about rehab, but never did it. Still, ditching an apartment without paying rent and going wherever's exactly his M.O. Come on, let's see if he left anything else back here." The boxes that were left in the attic were all rummaged through and left emptied some time ago. They clearly had empty for some time, due to the layers of dust inside the open flaps. "I think I'm gonna have to look into this place myself. Medical centers keep their records locked really tight, and I've got all the gear to get into them." He patted Scourge on the back. "Unless you're another hacker, I think I'mma do this bit on my own tonight." Downstairs, they had finally found the missing disc. "Oh, thank you so much," she said as she looked at the jewel case. "I knew I didn't sell you, you're one of my favorites!" She spoke to the case as though it was a person. Manic and Scourge walked down from the small stairwell. "Did you find what you were looking for?" "That’s fair, Manic. You can park the van next to Aria's building, they’ve got free parking for one vehicle per unit and since she doesn’t own a car, hers is empty…. And I may not be a hacker, but Aria’s sister in law has a brother who may be able to help you. He mostly does sound systems at the bar, but this is just up his alley. You might remember him, he was the tiger who set you up at that first show.”

Aria smiled, “Yup. Indiana is safe and sound. I take it you have good news?” When Scourge explained that they had a big hint to the bother's location, Aria's smile lit up. “That’s great guys!”

They said goodbye and thank you to the old woman and left, walking down the street a ways.

“A rehab center? Maybe if we go and ask, he may still be there?” Aria suggested. "Looks like it's a short term facility," Manic said, flipping through the pages of the pamphlet. "I don't really know how treatment's supposed to go, but he's kind of stubborn. I'm pretty sure he's long gone, but we just need the patient data. Anyone he might had known, when he left, it'd be invaluable. I'll grab it tonight." He gave Scourge some friendly sass. "And trust me - I don't need help hacking." Manic checked the time on his phone quickly. They were in some town in the middle of nowhere, there was no way they'd be in danger from their little scheme at Aria's bar. "Hey, it's been a little while since the raid started. Do you wanna check the news, see if anything's going on?" His smiled faded a bit. "Or are you still kinda shaken...?" Scourge looked offended, clearly in a playful mood. "Ugh, how ungrateful. We bust a drug lord, take you to knockoff Vegas and this is the thanks we get?” He teased, draping himself over Aria's shoulders. She merely laughed at his theatrics.

“No thank you. I’m trying not to think about it. You can check if you want to though,” She admitted as they walked into a small park. Aria gladly took a seat on a bench and relaxed.​

Scourge sat on one side, looking over at her, clearly concerned. “You okay, lamb shank?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just…. Processing. Can we go home to get Manic's van now?” She asked, quite eager to get into comfortable clothes and out of the bra she had borrowed. Manic didn't want to cramp Aria into the bench, so he just stood near the bench and leaned his back against the tree. Again, not a great park, but Manic didn't visit any parts. It definitely was more calm that most of the places he visited, much less anywhere he'd been with Aria or Scourge. "Maybe let's wait juuust a minute," Manic said. The masses of ivy crawling up the nearby buildings might have made them look cheap, but there was still a weird charm they provided. Manic wouldn't call it charm of course, but he did know he wasn't hating it. They all needed a moment to relax. They all needed many, many moments to relax. "If you're up for it, let's head back." Manic said sighing and standing from his spot. "Come on, I can only take so much tasteful scenery." Aria yawned, stretching out. Natural spaces were always calming for her. She could have fallen asleep on the spot if Scourge hadn’t gently nudged her to keep her awake.

"Where am I warping us to?” She asked, yawning again. The shock of the days actions had hit her hard and all she wanted was a nap.

“Your place. We can wait there until Zonic gives us the clear," Scourge insisted. Aria complied and scratched a portal open.

When the boys joined her on the other side, she would already be lying facedown in her bed. "Oh my god, it's like you read my mind," Manic said, flumping straight onto the ground and sitting against the foot of her bed, legs crossed and his body looking deflated. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled. It was only when he breathed out that he realized just how much stress he'd been holding in. "Oh man, today was..." He swiveled his head to the floor. "Holy crap, that was a lot. So we called the police on a drug lord... barged into an old lady's house... found out my boyfriend might be a drug pusher..." He tilted his head. "You just gonna leave the warp open?" He wasn't complaining. The royal purple color and swirls of sparkles were mesmerizing and beautiful... if also probably dangerous to leave opened and laying around. "Don’t sit on the floor. I haven’t vacuumed..” She waved a clawed hand at the portal and it snapped shut with an audible yet quiet click. Scourge was clearing the couch of books and art supplies and moving the coffee table to pull out the bed inside. Since it was already made, he flopped down on that.

“How about a group power nap and then we reorganize afterwards?” Scourge suggested. Aria nodded and grabbed an oversized sweater. She put it on and tucked her arms into the sides, fiddling around until she pulled out her work top and her bra. She tossed them in a laundry basket and slid under the covers for a nap.

“There’s room for two on the bed Manic.” Scourge insisted, shifting to make room for the other. "That's... sliiiiightly gay, but okay!" Manic said, as though he was not massively and totally gay. He curled up on the side opposite Scourge. To say that laying down with a Scourge was strange would be an understatement. Especially after spending a day learning so much invaluable information about his old lover. This Scourge was very different. Different scars and marks, a different face, a different voice, but it was a Scourge. And it would have been more awkward if his relationship hadn't been opened, but Scourge clearly had another love in his life, and Manic was just looking for a place to nap. That simple gesture was making Manic exceptionally uncomfortable. But he just curled up in his place, clutching the sheets and drifting into a short nap as he pretended to let the stress melt away. Scourge and Aria were out like lights before Manic crawled into bed. Scourge stayed with half his body hanging off the bed. The jacket had been discarded on a chair, and Manic could see the fine network of scars. Looking closer, Manic could tell they had been left by a whip. A few scars looked fresh, reopened probably by Scourge's everyday movements. But they were old wounds.

Aria had burrowed into her blankets, exhausted and purring quietly in her sleep. He didn't want to ask where those scars came from. They criss-crossed and wove together in a chaotic mess Manic didn't want to bother decoding, the details of each scar wasn't important. All he could do was close his eyes and drift to sleep, letting the news of the day cross his mind time and time again until he was too tired to keep thinking. He didn't dream in extreme emotions or strange scenarios, it was a mundane dream he would forget as soon as it was over. Simple day to day situations, nothing more. He woke up feeling newly refreshed, just as he'd hoped. It didn't seem anyone else was awake. Maybe they were heavier sleepers than even Manic? Scourge and Aria made quiet snoring noises in their sleep. Even if it was a different Scourge... it was a Scourge. It wasn't going to hurt either of them if he didn't know, and it wasn't anything immoral... right? He turned onto his other side as Scourge slept, and curled up with his eyes closed. He didn't want to make things awkward between them, of course. He just had a chance to lay next to his old Scourge, if he imagined hard enough. That's all he needed, he lied. He just needed a few more minutes next to his Scourge, and he'd be happy. Scourge barely moved in his sleep, face buried in his pillow as he slept dreamlessly. The way he was curled up hid his hands and his back from the other as well. It wouldn’t be bar for the other to pretend that he was laying next to someone he loved. Scourge wouldn’t have minded if he knew what Manic was thinking.

Aria woke up a little bit later, making soft mewling noises as she fought off sleep. She got up, still wrapped in a blanket, and went to the only door in the apartment that didn’t lead to outside. As one would expect, that door was to the bathroom. Manic barely noticed. He almost wanted to reach out and hold onto him, but he didn't want to freak out Scourge. He clutched to his pillow like it was a person, just imagining that he was there somehow once again. This didn't help as much as he would have liked it to. All he did was pull out his phone, and silently start tapping away into a notepad; "I can't have the past stay prologue when I'm dying to feel your touch But I can't bear to take replacement With a faker's pathetic clutch" Would he do anything with the words? Most likely not. He just stared, and left them for later, knowing he's most likely revise them to the point where they were unrecognizable. But as much as he pretended a falst touch would only hurt him, he certainly didn't mind the thought. Scourge's ear started to twitch and he rolled onto his back, one arm splayed out. Stretching himself before curling back up again. Even though he was fighting it, he still woke up, grumbling. Lots of unsatisfied rumbles and soft squeaks as he sat up, looking​ around the room . He blinked slowly at Manic, letting it all sink in.

A louder grunt was his ‘good afternoon’ and he got up, stumbling to the kitchen for a drink.

Ari came out of the washroom in a fluffy robe that hung to her ankles, her hair soaking wet. She stepped behind a screen and closed it, changing into soft PJs and a t shirt. Manic gave polite hellos to both Aria and Scourge when they came, continuing to tap words and strange shorthand into his notepad. Not other lyrics, more vague ideas for instruments or even just notes about random other thoughts he had. He didn't feel like he needed to change his normal outfit, just rolling out of bed and going to the mirror to check his makeup and hair were still set. Perfect. He left the bathroom with his phone still in hand, this time connecting to whatever internet Aria's building got. He'd waited long enough, he had to check the news. "Breaking news!" The local paper's website bore loudly. "A raid is currently underway at local bar Dasvidania. G.U.N. officers and zone police have been spotted taking aim at the building, with certain officers rushing the building. Neither group has offered a statement on the raid just yet." That was all he needed to read. It was half an hour ago, the building could have blown up by now for all he knew. But serious time was over, and he had another clumsy transition away from those kinds of worry. "Ooooh shoot, dude, where'd you get that fluffy mess?!" Manic said quite genuinely excited at the sight of her fluffy pajamas. "Those are like the best clothes! You know, the ones that are almost half as fluffy as a Silver!" “Thank ye. Got them as a birthday present from the little old lady who lives downstairs. She got them from a shop downtown I think?” Aria thought as she went to her fridge and opened it. The fridge was mostly empty. Whole shelves with no food on them. Some bread on the counter and a jam jar in the pantry were utilized to make Aria's snack.

“You guys want anything?” She offered, motioning for the boys to take anything they would like while she went to sit at the table.

Scourge looked over at Manic. “Have you checked the news yet?" He whispered, keeping his voice low as to not disturb Aria. "I'm good," Manic said, waving off Aria's request. When he saw she was distracted with her snack, he went back to talking to Scourge. "Yeah, I just looked it up. Looks like no one's supposed to know what's going on yet, but officers are entering the building and it didn't mention any gunfire. I think maybe she realized she was screwed," Manic said. "Guess we'll have to check again in a bit." Manic brushed his quills aside, putting on his smile. "But I guess nothing we can do now. Just try and relax..." Manic pretended to lounge back and relax with his phone, but he was scoping out a different website. The Maddoc Addiction Centre. Maybe fifteen minutes from where Scourge used to live? And judging by their website and brochures, they specialized in treatment for heroin and other opioids. He just gazed down the webpage, as though he'd find anything on Scourge there. “Okay. We just need to keep our guard up. Until they’ve got her for sure, I don’t think Aria is safe. She’s the primary target of any retaliation.” He mumbled to Manic, watching as Aria flipped through a book on art and design.

The door rang and Manic saw Scourge reach for his pocket where his brass knuckles were stored. Aria got up and peeked through the hole, opening it with a smile.

“Miss Nelson! What a pleasure to see you! Please come in, let’s get you a seat”

A old mouse woman shuffled into the room, taking a seat on of the stools next to the island in Aria's kitchen. “Hello dear. I’ve brought some cookies for you for your birthday. And as soon as I saw that story on the news I had to make sure you were okay.”

She seemed kind and gentle, clearly was a very maternal figure to Aria. Hadn’t seen Manic yet. Was he still in his jank clothes...? Nah, it was his normal outfit. Hell, if Aria hung out with a Scourge and no one cared, no one would probably care about a Manic, either. He hoped. He assumed. "You sure? If her boss liked her- I dunno, she might be looking for your fake alt Scourge, or even the one I acted as." Manic shrugged and pulled out his phone. "I think Aria should be safe, at least for a little bit." He decided to check a few other news sites now that this woman openly mentioned the press releases. They all either reiterated the same basic information, or were too broad-scoped to focus on such a local event. The arrest probably hadn't occurred yet. He stashed it away, wondering what they were supposed to do next, if not hide out. When the elderly mouse woman looked at the two of them, Manic gave a lazy wave as his greeting. She waved gently at him, returning to her conversation with Aria. Fixing her spectacles, she peered up at Aria.

“When I saw all that fuss in the paper I got very worried. You weren’t involved in any of that nasty business, were you?” She seemed worried and Aria patted her hand.

“Don’t you worry Miss Nelson. I wasn’t involved. Between you, me and the boys, I was the whistle blower. The cops aren’t after me.”

The mouse relaxed and got up. “Well then, so long as you’re alright. Now I’ve got to get going dear, its polka night at the seniors club!” She exclaimed excitedly, shuffling towards the door and waving goodbye at the boys. “Good bye scourge. Goodbye Scourge's new ‘friend,’” she hinted at something then left.

“Food!” Aria squeaked once she was gone, unwrapping the cookies. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Manic was not Scourge's new boyfriend. He wasn't his boyfriend, he wasn't dating more Scourges. It wasn't just an off-handed comment, but a venomous off-handed comment, chewing away at bits of him and making him feel every second it was in his body. It was just a few off-handed moments in a bed, it wasn't serious thoughts. It was just a fantasy. It was just a fantasy. For as coy as the comment was meant to be, it stabbed around Manic's chest for just a few moments. "So what kinda cookies did you get?" Of course Manic wouldn't let any of that through. He had to be silly, it was just his character. Rather, it was just the character he wanted people to think of him as. But as long as he was acting happy, he was going to be fine. This was entirely untrue, but the lie was enough to keep him calm for the moment. Scourges stomach sank as well and when she left he apologized to Manic quietly.

“Sorry about that.. She means well. If you need a moment I can go…” He offered, gesturing to the fire escape outside the window.

Aria hadn’t noticed the comment, having started to snack on the home made chocolate chip cookies. She offered some to the boys and Scourge took one, purring quietly. It was awkward between them now. He hated it. He knew how it felt and what Manic was going through, but said nothing. "Man, it was just some smarmy nothing," Manic reassured him. "I'm all about smarmy nothings, don't go jumping off the fire escape or something!" Fixing the problem would probably fix the pain. But they were doing everything they could to fix the problem, so all he had left to fall on were his own joke and smarmy nothings. Manic was happy to take one of the chocolate chip cookies. Easily one of the best flavors, even if he wasn't going to complain about getting any kind of cookie. "Wait, I thought tomorrow was your birthday?" Manic added, not quite certain. "Or was she just being a soft and lovely not-quite-grandma-but-very-close?" “She’s totally one of those people who adopts all of the kids they can, unofficially. My birthday is technically on the twenty third, but she’s going out of town later on today.”

Scourge stayed quiet. He knew that Manic wasn’t fine, but said nothing. Let the other cope in his own way.

Aria nibbled on more cookies, quite content. She did love her sweets. “So whats the plan? Do we go to the addiction center and ask before you hack?” "This site shouldn't be hard to get into," Manic said between bites. "I figure we check the database first and see if anything comes up. We get nothing, we save a trip, right?" Manic was already standing up while he kept talking. "I'll just drag my laptop up here, I ain't having you two sit around in my van while I do dorky tech stuff." Before he left, he did take the time to face Scourge. "Really, mate, I'll be good. Trust me." It was clear he was pained, but pushing through. It was just a mistake, he could get over this with time. The two were left to their cookies while Manic strolled down the halls and towards the parking lot. He could do this, easy. He'd done it many times before with more high security systems, he probably wouldn't even need to get out the big guns for this. He was so close to having his answers, he could almost taste it. He was just a few lines of code away from some new lead, some new... anything! He had gotten so excited, he barely even realized how fast he was running until he almost slammed right into Aria's door. Aria and Scourge were laying in the bed that Manic had shared with Scourge. The other hedgehog had the TV on and was watching mythbusters

Aria had cleared the island in the kitchen for Manic. “It's a clean space for you to work. Let me know if you need anything else,” she insisted, as she sketched one of the hosts. "Alright, sweet," Manic said, wasting no time in getting his Laptop running. He pulled out a pair of large headphones, putting on some music to drown out the sounds as he focused. He actually cracked his knuckles in anticipation. It was go time. The system wasn't as insecure as he'd hoped. It was poorly coded enough that it was actually hard to penetrate. If he changed the wrong code, the database would become a tangled mess that simply didn't work. Strings and blocks of code were long and jumbled with little regard for how they interconnected, resulting in tangled jumbles of security that threatened to shut down and not work for anyone if he made the wrong move. Brute forcing passwords probably wasn't an option, either. So he had to comp through the code carefully, seeing what problems he could find. He onl took occasional brief breaks to let his mind regroup, but that's all he needed to find a massive problem. No, not in the code. He made a serious face and motioned for Scourge to join him, completely silent like he didn't want Aria to know. There was a news article opened, published mere minutes before with a few lines of text highlighted. "...Zone police have stated that all five arrests made were of patrons to the bar. A tip hotline has been set-up for anyone with knowledge of the whereabouts of the bar owner, who police failed to arrest." Scourge getting up was enough to distract Aria, squeaking as he walked between her and the tv. She watched them talk quietly, feeling much like the younger sister whose brother had friends over. She attempted to see between them, but Scourge's body was in the way.

“Shit… Okay, we need to get her out of here now. Come on, let’s move this operation to the castle. I’m not risking lives”

He rubbed his forehead, clearly planning something as he closed all the windows and blinds. Aria squeaked again and walked over to Manic. “Hey! What’s going-”

She read the highlighted bit and Aria's heart sank, starting to shake in fear. "Aw, Ari-" Manic wanted to help Scourge with his plan, but he had no idea what it was. And Aria's fear was clearly the more important thing here. He walked up and let her huddle against him. "Look, I know she's dangerous, but I've always lived around dangerous people like her. I know how to keep you safe, we're all going to be alright." He quickly switched back to the wall of code he was looking at, closing the article entirely. "So what's the deal?" Manic said as he held onto Aria. "We just leaving lights and the TV running, make it look like she's still here and warping the van to the castle, or-" He covered his mouth. "No, we should leave my van here. We can warp around without it, it'll make it look more convincing. Lemme grab my stuff outta there quickly." Manic didn't even give them time to respond. He sat Aria down on her bed and rushed down to the van as fast as he could go. Down the employee stairwell, to the car- thankfully, there weren't any goons or anything hanging out. Alright, they still had time, they weren't in the red yet. When he burst back in, he was carrying a binder full of CDs and that old leather jacket from the back, wrapped tightly around his make-up kit and all the electrical boobahs he used for hopefully innocent hacking. "Lemme jot some things down," Manic said, opening a digital notepad and tapping out strings of bizarre words and weird shorthands only he understood. "So what's the plan, what're we gonna do?" Aria was shivering so badly, afraid for her life. Grabbing a suitcase under her bed, starting to pack the essentials slowly. Functioning on auto pilot. Toothbrush. Art supplies, Dress clothes. Books.

She had an idea, mixing up some paint water and leaving an old brush in the water. Leaving the bread out. Making sure her bath towel was damp. Hid the pull out bed. Messed up her own sheets and tossed a pair of boxers she had as pj pants on the floor. Tossing the lingerie as well. She was staging a scene.

Manic came back and she turned to him. “No, you and Scourge take the van. She won’t attack if she knows you’re in here. She’s fought Scourge before. You two leave with the van, I’ll warp your stuff to the castle and call Zonic.” Manic turned his head to Scourge, before turning back to Aria and nodding. "If you're sure you'll be safe... Let's get moving." Manic unplugged his computer and forced a shutdown, not caring about whatever progress he made. He grabbed his laptop and held it under his arm, the binder in one hand and the jacket of supplies slung over his shoulder. "Come on, Scourge, we've gotta rush." Manic clearly took after his brother. His running went beyond a sprint, jetting down the stairs and to the van in considerable time. By the time Scourge was back to the van, Manic had already thrown his stuff into the back and gotten the engine going. Manic was out of the parking lot with what he felt was no time to spare. They were probably breaking many speed limits, but he didn't care. The quicker they got to the castle, the quicker they could get to keeping Aria safe. Scourge followed, stealing a cookie or two to go. Kissing Aria on the forehead protectively, he left. He sighed and reached into his pocket, pausing. He wouldn’t smoke here. Manic slept in the van sometimes. However the pack was out, waiting at a moments notice.

For the first time in what felt like days, Aria was alone. Quickly, she messed up the place a bit more and sprayed some cologne. Her goal? If her former boss got jealous she would lash out and hopefully screw up. After it was done, she called Zonic, a number that Scourge had given her for emergencies.

“Zonic. Its Aria. She’ll come for me, just get someone who’s good at stealth to wait here for her…”

By the time the boys got to the castle, Aria was already there.

Manic was simultaneously surprised and not surprised in the slightest to see Aria there. He left most of his things in the car, still grabbing his laptop and that makeshift bindle of electronics before stepping out. "Alright, good, you're safe," Manic said, almost ushering the two of them into the hall. He seemed more than rushed. "Alright, we'll be safe here, let's get to- anywhere, I guess."

He exhaled. This was the firs time he'd let either of them see him actually shudder through his anxiety. "Alright, I'm gonna get back into the system while I remember most of what I did." He didn't seem to waste time, immediately walking into a sitting room and dumping his stuff down on the floor next to the nearest seat. Once again, he'd have to wait for his computer to turn on, impatiently tapping his fingers on the armrest while Aria and Scourge just followed along.

Aria, of course! "Right, I'm so stupid! Anything I can do to help, Ari? You want me to put some music on, or something?" The initial panic was disappearing the more he spoke.

Scourge felt a little overwhelmed, being pushed around and trying to deal with Manic's nervous habits and Aria's almost stone-like hyper focus. Once Manic had settled down and turned to Aria, he would notice it too. How her eyes weren’t quite focused on anything in particular. Like she wasn’t there.

Aria herself felt like she was floating. Her eyes were working fine, but her mind translated everything into fuzzy pictures and shapes. Like she was looking through clouded glass at the world.

“Aria? Hey, Ari? Hello?” Scourge waved his hand in from of her face, to which he got almost no response. He guided her to sit down, concerned. Manic would find Scourge's phone suddenly tossed to him.

“Call Rosy. Tell her were in the frontmost sitting room and that Aria is acting odd. She’ll know what to do.” Manic didn't need to be told twice. With a few quick presses, he was already on the line. "Rosy? Scourge tossed me his phone... Aria's in the front sitting room, she's acting weird... yu-huh... alright, got it." It was barely thirty seconds before Manic hung up, leaving the phone on the side table. Was Aria going to be alright? He'd seen this once, maybe twice before, was this that dissociation thing? Whatever it was, it meant that Aria wasn't there. At least with Scourge sitting so close to her, she couldn't have been violent or harmful in this state. Right? Manic sat down near hear, within her line of sight. "Aria, it's Manic." He said softly. He had no idea what he was doing, but he could bullshit his way through trying to keep her grounded. "Listen to my voice. I'm sitting here. You're here, I'm here, Scourge is here, we're safe together, okay?" He ran his hand over Aria's, only tracing his fingers. "Focus on what's around you. My hand is on yours. Can you feel that?" He prayed she would give some kind of response. He moved his hand appropriately as he spoke. "Here, it's a few gentle pats... There's nothing to worry about here, you're safe. You're okay." Aria's eyes were still clouded and unfocused as she tried to ground her thoughts. She could barely feel Manic touching her hand, but her fingers twitched gently.

Rosy came into the room, slowly and delicately. Not wanting to startle Aria or Manic.

“Hello little one…"She cooed. She sat on the couch, gently lowering her body down. "Sweetie? It's Rosy. You’re spacing out again.” Manic was growing to the idea of Scourge. He'd met good Scourges before. This didn't feel like a Rosy in any way. Rosy was mentally ill, not a mental illness caretaker. It felt like they were only a counterpart in name, rather than in character. No one else was batting an eye, so this must have been Manic assuming things again. She was doing her best to help Aria out of whatever fugue she was in, Manic wasn't going to complain about that. It felt like he was watching some absurdist deconstruction of Rosy rather than an alternate. But she was here, and she was helping. Manic backed away slowly, letting a woman who knew what she was doing take over. "Is this normal for her?" Manic said, turning to Scourge and speaking quietly. "No. I’ve never seen her like this. I… I don’t know what to do…” He was speechless and unsure of what would happen. He ran his hands through his quills, pulling on them gently. It was a painful experience but it helped him focus a little. He left the room, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lighting one.

Aria meanwhile, was gently shaken by Rosy, and when that didn’t work her head was leaned on the maternal woman’s shoulder. Rosy just let her lean there for a few minutes until Aria's eyes slowly closed and she nuzzled into the warmth

“That’s it. that’s my girl…. Come back slowly, no need to rush… You’re safe, I’ve got you… You were just in shock… You’re okay,” she cooed. Looking after Scourge with worry. Manic didn't even seem to notice the smoke. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do. Rosy needed her space, he didn't want to leave while she was in this state, he didn't want to do anything to distract Rosy as she did her work. He couldn't do anything but sit down on one of the couches and wait. If Scourge had no idea what this meant, what was someone who barely knew her supposed to do?! Their eyes all darted to Aria when she started to nuzzled against Rosy. It was still delayed and slightly robotic, but it was a lot of progress. They were hopefully going to be alright. He spoke quietly between Scourge taking puffs from his cigarette. "Hey, I'm just was confused and scared as you," Manic told him. "If Rosy says she'll be okay, she'll be okay." Yet he still found his eyes falling on Rosy more than on Aria, not quite sure if he could trust her just yet. "Do you have to do that in here?” Rosy whispered, seemingly annoyed with the smoking hedgehog.

“Sorry. I’ll take this outside. Call me when she’s better.” Scourge said coldly, getting up and leaving the room, going out on a balcony. He was so stressed he could FEEL his quills turning grey.

Rosy looked after Scourge, concerned. “Go after him, would you? I’ve got Aria. He doesn’t smoke until he’s crazy stressed. The doctor told him he needs to stop.”

Aria slowly relaxed, becoming less and less stiff. Clearly Rosy's presence was enough to help bring her out of it, bit by bit. He didn't want to leave Rosy alone with Aria, but he didn't have any real proof that this Rosy was psychotic aside from his own prejudices. So with some blatant hesitation, he left after Scourge onto the balcony. It wasn't a long walk, but the sights of the halls reminded him of his night here. The stories of the haunted wing, that strange door, there was too much in the castle that he wanted to run off and see. But he couldn't just yet. He'd have to wait and carefully craft his excuse before doing that. Scourge needed help, it seemed. Manic's entrance wasn't as delicate as Rosy's had been, but for him, it was still rather subtle. When Scourge did turn to see him, he kept that same relaxed pose. "You're stressed as hell, ain't you?" He said bluntly. No point beating around the bush. He leaned against the wall, staring out at the land. "You wanna talk about it? Or just wanna suffer with someone else?" The wind blew gently as Scourge looked out over his castle, whisking away the smoke. His jacket had been abandoned on a couch inside, scars out in the sunlight. Manic's entrance had been careful, but when Scourge turned to look at him, he saw just how deep the bags under the others eyes were.

"Sorry… I’m just a little frustrated. These past few days have been… Overwhelming. I don’t know why I’m complaining, you were being hit harder with all this information than I was. I mean, I knew about Aria's past already and her money problems, but the rest was a surprise. Can’t imagine how you feel.”

Empathizing was not his strong suit, it seemed. Scourge looked out across the castle grounds again, blowing a puff of smoke that the wind carried away. The view itself was breathtaking, miles and miles of green lawn and a small town in the distance. But inevitably, Manic's eyes would come back to Scourge. He wasn't used to seeing older Scourges. He was only in his mid thirties, but the bags made him look a few years older. And he couldn't keep himself from looking at the scars, either. Think, long scars from some kind of whipping. But those were questions for another time, a time when he wasn't trying to recover from some mass of stress. Manic just shrugged. "I'm used to feeling overwhelmed," he admitted. "I don't feel any better than you do, I'm just real good at hiding it." He was still doing that impatient finger tapping on his own elbows. "We all want it to slow down. I know Aria's gonna agree." He stared out over the landscape, not knowing what she should have been thinking. "I guess... Aria's getting over her panic. She doesn't have her job, we're keeping her safe from her boss. We know Scourge was trying to clean up, we've got leads on him- as bad as the past is, the present's looking pretty ace to me." As usual, he tried to break the tension by smiling at him. "We've all gotten through worse. We'll be fine, dude." "Feh. You think I’d be used to this by now. I’ve done shit more dangerous than this before. When I was your age no death-defying thrill was out of the question. I was reckless. But a few years later, when I settled down on the action stuff and was declared the proper king, I had all of this responsibility. I didn’t get overwhelmed then, I don’t know why it's happening now. Maybe I’m just getting old…”

He listened to Manic speak and nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. “She’s been through a lot. I’m surprised she’s as emotionally stable as she is… But I can’t help but worry about the both of you. Like you said, you’re good at hiding things. Stress. Anxiety. It’s impressive but concerning. Suppressing things isn’t good for you.” "Smoking ain't either, but it's better than having a total breakdown." Manic crossed his arms and leaned over the balcony. "This ain't the fun death-defying thrill, and this ain't a normal responsibility. Watching people fall apart around you's terrifying. It's the worst kind of responsibility, of course it's overwhelming. You're trying to parent a woman with problems out the yin-yang and some guy who used to date someone just like you." He closed his eyes. He wasn't able to act off all of the sadness that was starting to build. "We've all got really crap hands. We'll just learn how to play them and see where we go." He let out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe we can find you some of that death-defying thrill again? The real fun kind?" "I swore off the death defying stuff a long time ago… Doctor said that my heart couldn’t take the constant adrenaline. It's already pumping super fast as it is…. You’re right though, I try to parent Aria and you as best I can because she needs guidance and you… You remind me of me when I was a little bit younger than you are. I’d hate to see anyone with so much potential destroy themselves the way I did. Besides, I didn’t have anyone at that time. I don’t wanna see that happen to you." He was holding back a bit.

He smirked and crushed the now finished cigarette under the heel of his shoe. “I f*cking suck at cards.” Manic just smiled. "Dude, you're a king. Not just a king, but the real good kinda ruler. You're fun, you ain't a snob, you made bad puns - If that's wasting potential, I'm gonna have to screw up more often." He joked. Their was a lot of underlying sadness to everything they said. He couldn't help but look on and feel like they were hurting each other more than they were helping. His eyes kept falling onto Scourge's scars, knowing full well that however he screwed up, this was the direct result of that. "Honestly? You wear 'em well." He smiled up at him. "You clearly survived a lot worse than this. And if surviving every kind of trauma's failing to you... You're just wrong, dude." Another sad smile. He gave Scourge a pat on the shoulder, making sure he didn't touch his scars. "Don't act like you aren't repressing stuff, either. You ain't a great actor." "Thanks kiddo. That helps… A lot more than you’d think.” He ruffled Manic's quills playfully. He didn’t say which part of Manics rambling speech helped, but clearly he was in a better mood. The cigarettes were put away. His eyes closed and he basked in the warm breeze for a minute.

“Come on. Let’s go and check on the pipsqueak. Unless you had something you needed to get off your chest?” "Nothing too serious," Manic said. "I still keep thinking about Scourge, and hanging with you... you remind me of him. In a lot of ways." He found his smile and laugh once again. "But you already know I've got damage. Let's get a move on. We need to make sure Ari's okay, and we've got a database to hack into." It was strange to see a scourge without his jacket, and it would have been strange to see Scourge without his bandages, anyways. Manic didn't want to say anything to offend him. Just what had he gone through...? It wasn't Manic's business. He at least seemed to be in better moods, even if it was after what felt like a constant stream of drama. Sneaking off into the castle didn't even occur to Manic this time. He was just happy to be with Scourge... "Hey, dude." He quietly stopped Scourge short of the door. He seemed fidgety. "It's been a while since I've seen him. I just wanna think of him, you mind if I...?" He smiled and motioned like he wanted to hug him. "Hmm, Imma assume that’s a compliment. But if you ever need to talk I’m here.”

The walked thought the brightly lit halls full of color and life. A maid or two bustled past them, briefly greeting their king by his first name. Manic was right, he was a relaxed ruler, full of charm and kindness. Definitely not a typical alternate.

When he was stopped at the doors, Scourge's glance went from inquisitive to caring as Manic asked his favor. “Of course. I don’t mind. Just watch the scars, they don’t like to be touched.”

He pulled Manic into a hug, happy at least that the other was at least trying to seek comfort from others. That was good. Manic closed his eyes for just a few moments. It wasn't a serious guy, just a gentle hug between friends. He was very particular where he put his hands, making sure he didn't touch any scars. And it was perfect. For a few moments, he was back in Scourge's arms. It was all he needed. He pulled away, smiling strangely softly for who he was. "Thanks," he said sincerely. The strange sadness of the moment didn't affect him. They were feeling more comfortable around one another. Even if it was in bad circumstances, they were happy. "Alright, enough mushy time," Manic added. He slowly swung the door open, hoping that Aria hadn't panicked or gone berserk. Scourge let him go, smiling back as they peeked their head in. Aria was sitting up, rubbing her forehead gently. Rosy was gently rubbing her back.

"Hey pipsqueak… How you doing?” He knelt at her feet, gently holding her hand.

She spoke in what Manic could only assume was another language. A rich tone, full of rolling sounds. Everyone looked at her, confused.

“Aria, we can’t understand you." The sounds seemed to come together into some kind of coherent structure, but Manic didn't know what that structure was. It sounded beautiful in a strange, exotic way, but she was speaking in this tongue around people who couldn't understand what she was saying. Either she was saying insulting things about them in tongues, or... "Ari, you know we can't understand what you're saying, right?" He asked softly. Maybe she was in a strange fugue where she couldn't tell where she was, and she reverted back to her native tongue in a confused stupor. Maybe she was struggling to collect her thoughts, and these foreign words were all she could come up with. He turned to Rosy, flecks of fear visible in his face. "Uh, do you know what's going on?" "Let her process. She’s probably overwhelmed by all of this. English isn’t her first language so she’s processing in… Her native tongue. I don’t know the name of it.” Rosy explained.

Slowly Aria relaxed and took a shaky breath. “I'm… Sorry. This is unusual for me” her accent was thicker than usual, her rs rolling in the slightest of ways.

Aria rubbed her eyes, stretching out gently on the couch. “Fessus sum- sorry. I’m tired.” She whined and Rosy got up, helping Aria up as well.

“Come along then. Time for bed.” She insisted, leading Aria to her room. Scourge followed, motioning for Manic to come along. She got in bed and looked up at the group. “Could someone stay? I’m… I’m scared.” She admitted quietly, almost ashamed. It was almost pitiful to see Aria like this. She always acted strong, but this news about her boss had her seemingly terrified to be alone. He'd gotten in trouble with serious figures many times before, but he always had Scourge with him to help clean up their messes. Aria? She didn't have a lover like that. By the sounds of it, she didn't open up to seemingly anyone. "Of course, mate." Manic sat down in a small chair meant for a vanity, pulling it closer to the bed. "It's a lot to handle at once, I get it. I don't know how you're feeling, but we're here to help." He was careful where he put the chair. Not too close, not too far. Just enough that they could talk without him hovering over her. "Do you wanna talk, or just want me to put on some music for you?" Rosy pet Aria gently and the hedgehog snuggled into the affection. "I’ll get you something warm to drink. A tea maybe?”

Aria nodded to answer Rosy's question and Scourge pulled out his phone. “I’ll go call to beef up security.” He left and Aria and Manic were left alone. She snuggled into the blankets more.

“Music and talking would be nice… Got anything calming? Not that I don’t like the rest of your stuff but I don’t think it’ll help.” She tried to joke, pulling up the extra duvet on top of her. Manic chuckled a bit while he searched through his phone. "If this was any other situation, you know I'd go straight for some kinda hard rock immediately." What Manic finally ended up playing was some downbeat hiphop, simple beats and slow melodies that sounded like sleeping music. He left his phone down, and leaned over towards Aria as she huddled up in her blankets. "Ari, I've been in these kinds of situations before, y'know. Pissing off the wrong person, but here I am." He held his arms out, as if to show off the fact he wasn't dead. "There's always a way to survive and thrive. I've got tons of experience. And trust me." He reached over and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Having friends around makes it a hell of a lot easier." "Of course you would. I know gentle is not your style but I..uh… How do you say…” She paused, clearly trying to think of a word. She gave up after a short time and continued with a different word. “.. I am thankful, I guess is the closest…”

She snuggled into the blanket, listening to Manic talk. Smiling as he patted her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re my friend.” She said, yawning. Drained of all her energy. The gentle sounds of music could have lulled her to sleep, but her body fought to stay awake, fight or flight mode still activated. Rosy returned, setting the tea on the table gently. She didn’t stay in the room, merely bowed softly to Manic and left. He couldn't help but think to his own alternates. The Rosy he knew was... more extreme than this, to say the least. Hell, all of the alternates he knew were different than this. It was a surreal experience for him, seeing people he knew as anywhere from jerks to homicidal maniacs being pleasant. His mind would drift off from time to time, not to his Scourge, but to himself and Aria. He'd met alternates of himself, but never alternates from an anti Mobius. And what would Aria's alternates be like in a normal zone? If she was good here... "You know, I have some friends back in my home city," Manic started as he sifted through his phone. "They're kind of the more normal jerkish Destructix crew, but we're tight. If you want some extra muscle..." He showed her a photo saved to his phone. An old one, of himself arm in arm with his old Scourge in the front of his van. A few other Destructix members could be seen in the back of the van, posing for the photo with what appeared to be small gems of some kind. "...we've got the best of the best on our side." Aria took the phone from his hand, smiling gently at the picture of Manic and his Scourge. Manic looked so much younger, clearly in love. It made her feel better as she handed the phone back.

"Thank you but no… I think just the castle security will be enough… But thank you for staying with me anyways…” She stopped talking for a moment, formulating words.

“You look so happy in that photo… You must really love him a lot,” she said, purring quietly. He smiled. Not with the same kind of consuming, excited happiness, but with a genuine happiness all the same. "Like I said, we've got the best of the best on our side. I ain't just talking about security." He looked down at his phone for another moment, remembering an old gem heist that went far better than they hoped. "Hey, I'm gonna be riiiight back, okay?" Manic said, slowly standing. "We can talk while I work on getting into this place's records. I won't have to love him from a distance for long." Despite the distance to the living room, Manic was back in barely a minute. He channeled all his speed to sprite downstairs and around to the room, grabbing his laptop and charger before speeding right back. As he plugged his laptop in to charge, he sat down again, looking over that strange shorthand he wrote for himself. Maybe some fond memories could help her relax. "Hey, Ari? You ever been in love?" Despite his supersonic typing, his words and posture were soft. Hacking came naturally to him, it seemed. Aria let him leave, wrapping herself in another blanket or two, quiet. She felt bad for Manic and wondered if there was anything they could do to help him more. She would have to grab a book on magic later. For now, she settled into her blanket cocoon.

When Manic returned to ask his question she thought for a while. Pondering people in her life. "Not in the way you and your Scourge were. I’m kind of closed off romantically? I just didn’t know how the b-… SHE would react to me seeing someone. She almost attacked a pretty girl who was flirting with me at the bar once.” Her sentence trailed off as she smiled at a memory.

“My parents were a textbook case of true love. So its not like I haven’t seen it in others.” "You don't have to worry about she's going to react," Manic added as he turned to face her. "She's gone. You can date whoever the hell you want." He kept trying to come up with things to say as he waded through a certain part of the system, not an easy balance. "Hey, speaking of, you haven't called Terra yet, right? Don't you think you're leaving her hanging? Come on, you can shoot her a text, one message ain't gonna hurt. Just send like ten hearts and an eggplant, it's not gonna make a bad impression." Manic's computer made a whirring sound, as he looked. "I think we're just about...! Yeah, we're in!" Manic delivered the line with a bit too much excitement. Even if he'd probably need to brute-force his way into getting a password, he was close enough to an answer he could almost taste it. "Haha. You’re hilarious” Aria said, sticking her tongue out at Manic playfully. She did grab her phone and text the bat though. Just a simple ‘hi how you doing’, nothing flirty or fancy, but clearly shy.

She scooted over on the bed to look over Manic's shoulder. “What you got? A forwarding address? Maybe something we can use to track him?” "Uh, this'll take a bit," Manic admitted. There was some kind of program running in the corner that, unknown to Aria, was testing password after password fitting the string length. "These kinds of programs can take a while to get into, and-" The program stopped as a seemingly random string of seven letters and numbers was displayed on the running program. "Wh- Nevermind, guess the password was real weak." He said, pleasantly surprised. Although given the shoddy coding, he wasn't too surprised. Manic put some information into a patient search database. "Scourge Castillo." With an embarrasingly long wait time for a modern website, a patient profile showed up. There was a photo of who was clearly the same Scourge from the photo. His skin looked dry, his quills more ragged, and he was a bit older, but there was no doubt that this was the same person. Manic started to read through the information. "Scourge Castillo. Age: 27." He listed the information off with an intend tone, clearly invested in everything he was saying. "Birthday, height, weight- His forwarding address is still that place in Anstey. Uh, let's see. Treatment for addiction to heroin, plan is..." They came across the same line. "He's still at the clinic." "Then what are we waiting for!?! Come on let’s go!” Aria rolled out of her cocoon and fell face first onto the floor. She got up and dusted herself off, smiling sheepishly. “Heh. I’m okay!”

Aria opened the door and borrowed a radio from a guard. “Scourge, come back to my room, Manic found something!!!” She insisted, then gave the radio back.

“I think I can warp us to that facility! It might be a strain but I can do it!” Aria insisted, stretching out. Clearly preparing to go right that second.

Scourge came in, judging by the breeze he had used his superspeed. “What did you find?” "Check it!" Manic said, spinning his laptop around and showing off his profile. "Scourge is STAYING THERE! We know where he is!" All anxiety was gone from Manic's mind for just a few moments. "Come on, Ari said she can warp us over! I- Wait, wait!" Manic ran up to the vanity. He scrubbed off all of that make-up he had caked over himself, putting on his olf feminine face. He pulled out his hairclips again, straightened out his vest, just made sure every part of him was alright as he rapidly tapped his foot on the floor. "He doesn't know how I've been dressing up, he's gonna wanna see the real me!" And one more detail. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pendant in the shape of a drum, dangling it from his neck. "Come on, let's get to it!" Aria pulled on her shoes and read the address off the computer, reaching up to scratch open that swirling rip in space time. She was the first one through to secure it, but once they were all outside the main facility, she snapped it shut.

The building was inviting yet formal. Clearly designated as a rehab center. Scourge held open the door for aria and Manic into the well lit foyer. A squirrel tapped away at a computer behind the desk. Aria nudged Manic forward so he could talk to the secretary and ask to see his mate. Manic didn't waste a second, running up to the desk as fast as he could manage. "Hey, are visiting hours over? I'm here to see Scourge Castillo." "Scourge Castillo..." The squirrel mumbled as she tapped into the computer. "He's staying in room 505. Right down this hallway, take the third right turn. It should be down that hall." Manic was already gone. He barely even gave Aria and Scourge chances to follow him as they rushed towards where Manic's lover was staying. He was so close, so close...! He wasn't expecting to run into a maintenance man locking the door. "Wh- No, wait, I'm here to visit that patient!" "Sorry, but he just left." He said, shrugging his shoulders and sighing. "Left with his great aunt about half an hour ago." "G-Great aunt?" Manic said, almost shocked. "He never talk to his family!" "Don't exactly think that was a bad move," the maintenance man joked. "She seemed reeeeal pissed at him. Maybe you can still catch up with her? Overweight bat woman, you know her?" “No, we don’t. Did they leave by warp?” Aria asked, panting slightly from over exertion.

The maintenance man rubbed his scruffy chin, thinking hard. “Most possibly”

Aria rubbed her forehead. “Alright, okay, we can work with this, which door did they leave out of?” The employee pointed and Aria took off, Scourge following her lead to the outdoors.

“If they warped, I can track them by looking at all the warps that have been opened here, maybe reopen the portal if I can find where it was in the first place. But this feels sketchy to me, Manic.” Aria insisted. "That's cause it is." Manic said, thinking hard. "I don't mean Scourge doesn't talk to his family, I mean he doesn't HAVE a family." There was an ache in Manic's mind that was stopping him from calming down. It was ridiculous, it was hard to believe in every way, but he had an idea of just who Scourge had run off with. "Uh... Aria, are you okay?" Sure enough, it looked like Aria had tired herself out from all the warping she'd done. "Hey, hey, let's sit down. I'm sure he's going to come back in the morning," he lied. "They can't be gone forever. How about you check the warps you can find, and I wait to meet him in the lobby, alright?" “I mean technically he has you, but that’s not the point here.” Scourge mused, staying quiet.

Aria continued feeling around for discrepancies, eyes closed. Tuning Manic and Scourge out to focus. Scourge sat down next to Manic. “She’s in the zone right now. She can’t hear us.” He explained.

Soon, Aria found a seam that felt fresh. She opened her eyes and looked back at the boys. “Found it. Try using a warp ring on the spot, it should re-open” she insisted, marking the spot with a stone and going to sit down next to Manic. She leaned on the door-frame and closed her eyes for a second.

Scourge looked at Manic. “So what now? This is your call.” The only other bat in a Scourge's life would be a Rogue, and they never matched that description they received. Manic didn't want to admit it, but there was only one woman the maintenance person could have seen. "No." The word trundled out of his mouth and awkwardly dangled in the air like it was waiting for him to add something else. He wanted to say yes. He NEEDED to say yes. But if they said yes, Aria's old boss was liable to kill at least one of them, if not all of them. They had no idea where she was. "It's too dangerous," Manic added, once again searching for the right words and leaving the fragment hanging. "We can't follow-" Manic was getting genuinely more terrified the longer he spoke and let the fact sink in. Whatever had happened exactly, they knew exactly where Scourge was. Manic wasn't sure he wanted an exact location anymore. Aria opened her eyes in shock, almost falling off of the steps leading back into the building. “No? Manic, we’re so close. He’s one warp away, why…”

Scourge got Manic by the shoulders, inspecting his face and looking him the eyes, looking for something to piece together Manic's actions. He was only slightly behind him.

“No way… You don’t think he would go with her, do you? He owes her nothing. There’s literally no benefit for him… I’ll call Zonic. Two people are easier to track than one.”

They looked towards the portal and aria just couldn’t keep up with unspoken​ words. “Guys? What’s going on? Who did he go with?” Was it worth it to lie? After all, if both of them were together and they were that desperate to find them, it was eventually going to come up. But Aria was in such a vulnerable state, she probably couldn't handle the idea. Was betraying her trust going to cause more problems than letting her have another episode- "Rogue." It stumbled out unconvincingly, Manic forcing himself to say the wrong thing and struggling to let every syllable escape. It was one of the least convincing lies he'd ever told, easily. Aria could have told in an instant that this wasn't true. ANYONE could tell in an instant that it wasn't true. Manic was going into panic, and turned to Scourge again to beckon for some kind of answer, hoping she wasn't going to piece it together in those last few moments of silence. She pieced it together when the lie came out weak. Manics lie was nothing but sweet. “I’m glad you’re trying to protect me Manic, but you don’t need to. I just figured it out. Scourge is right… And so are you. We call for zone cops and let them handle this. They’re the only ones who can reopen portals other than me, that I know of. Then they warp you boys home and I find a way back by myself.”

Scourge nodded and got on the phone. Calling up Zonic and letting him know where they were and the story. Manic was unsure of what to say. Was Aria in shock, did it just not hit her hard? She was taking this way too well, although that last line let him know that maybe she wasn't in the best state of mind... "Hold on. You can't go alone, dude, she's still angry at you. I'm fine sticking around, mate, don't worry about me. I've slept in crappy vans and stuff, I'll stick with you." He spun around and looked at Scourge. "I'm gonna stay with Ari 'til her warp powers are recharged, or whatever the word is. We could-" Manic slapped his forehead. "I'm such an idiot-! We're checking out his room, seeing if we can find anything." Manic pulled a set of lockpicks out of his quills. "It's probably just a three, maybe four tumbler lock. You guys good with that?" “Zonic is coming to get me now, we can coordinate from out here. Aria, find somewhere to nap while Manic searches.” Scourge dictated to them as a warp opened behind him and Zonic stepped out.

Aria and Manic went back inside. The door popped open for Manic like he had just used a normal key. “When this is over, you’re teaching me how to do that,” she insisted as she walked in. "Don't tell me what you're gonna do with that power," Manic added. His usual smarm was gone. Scourge was in serious danger, and they had a messy room to sift through. Bed? Nothing but discarded clothes and blankets. Desk area? Pamphlets on recovery and ODing and an ashtray with a few old cigarette butts. The dresser was Manic's goldmine. The bottom two drawers were just clothes, but the top contained more personal possessions of Scourge's. Two leather jackets - Scourge was always buying new brands with new embellishments. Goods that were invariably stolen, the kidns of small valuables Manic would expect out of him. Even a few loose photos of Scourge's old crew. A fond, tear-jerking moment for Manic. The only other thing in the drawer was a letter in what Aria would find as familiar handwriting. "If you contact your friends, they will die. If you run away, you will die." Manic felt like he was going to faint. Aria felt her stomach drop. Grabbing onto Manic tightly to steady them both. Aria took the letter and looked it over. Front. Back. Front. Back. Holding it up to the light. Hiding it in her shadow. Looking for any other kind of clue. Especially who it was addressed to.

“Manic… ” Aria said, clearly terrified. “Manic I’m so sorry… This… This is all my fault…” She started to cry just a little, actively backing away just in case Manic got angry and lashed out. Unlikely? Yeah. But it was still possible.

Outside, Scourge and Zonic were planning a path to attack. Scourge looked back at the hospital. “Keep on that idea and I’ll approve the plans in a minute… Imma go check up on those two.” "You didn't do anything wrong," Manic said through his daze. "This must be that bat who sent it... No wonder he didn't contact us." He looked at the letter again. Now that he looked at it, some of those photos in the drawers had similar creases, like they'd been folded when this letter was sent to him. And judging by the yellowed edges of the paper, that was some time ago. "We just have to-" he gulped. "Keep going. I know he- He must have wanted to see me this whole time. I guess he didn't give up on me...?" He smiled, and started to even laugh a little. Not a little, rather loudly as Scourge burst in. "We're so close, he's right there!" He said, still laughing partially from panic... partially from relief. He still loved Manic. "What do we know about Scourge?" Manic said sadly through a melancholy smile. He moved to put the letter back in the drawer. Just at a glance, Scourge could tell those flame decorations on the jackets in the drawer were the same as the ones from the jacket in Manic's car. Scourge just looked confused. Turning to Aria. “Ummmm… Explain?”

“The bat was blackmailing scourge to run away. She’s come back to get him now. We need to move and find them as fast as we can,” Aria explained.

Scourge nodded. “They’re ready to move in. Ari, Zonic wants you on standby, just in case. They warped back to the bar. You’ve got to walk them through the hiding spots.”

Aria pulled Manic outside to the portal. Zonic and the others were waiting. "Alright... so we good?" Manic said, still shuddering from the thoughts. "Ari-" Manic finally broke down, starting to sob slightly as he spoke. But he quickly brushed off the tears, trying his best to hold up. "She's such a bitch," Manic eventually said as he started to breathe raggedly. "This woman's going down. Do you think- Scourge is alright, right?" He pleaded to one of the zone cops. His Scourge had no idea where he was. All he knew was be was being forced down into some kind of a trapdoor. He didn't recognize this place, he didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that needle she was holding to his arm was dangerously close to being pressed down. "The fuck are you gonna do with me?!" Scourge shouted at her as he was stuffed into the small hiding hold in some unknown building. "Oh, it's very simple." The bat said. "You want to see your old lover, I'll be happy to let you go. I just want to talk to one female friend of his." "'N what's gonna happen to her?" "You ask too many questions," the woman said, holding the plunger of the syringe like it was a threat. "You don't agree, I'll tell the police all about your debts... and get a nice big dose of your favorite heroin." Scourge shut up immediately. “Alright boys, listen up! Chances are this guy did NOT go willingly. Our goal is to get in, get him and get out. Now he IS a Scourge alternate. And I know all of you have your issues with us. But just imagine it's me in there! Alright? ” Scourge called out and the cops nodded. Everyone scrambled. Tactile gear on, riot shields, big guns.

“HOLD IT!” Aria screamed to get peoples attention. “SHE'S CALLING ME. HOLD YOUR ENTRY, WE NEED HIM BACK ALIVE.”

She picked up, shaking. "Hello?“

"Hello my dear~ remember me?” The bat cooed, making Aria shiver.

“How could I forget. Where are you? Is Scourge still alive?” She tapped the side of the phone and the cops started tracking her call.

“Oh he’s fine dear, just a little worried. Did you know that most overdoses are caused by rehabbed junkies trying to use their former dosages?”

“I’m aware of that. What do you want from us? What will it take to bring him back?”

“Oh it's simple really. I want you. Specifically I want you to get here through a warp ring, so that way I don’t have to worry too much about you struggling.”

Aria looked up at a shaky Manic, saw the worry for his lover, for his friend. Scourge, who was listening in through the tracker, shaking his head for her to say no.

“…Deal. But I want to talk to him first. I need proof of life.” A pause as the bat pressed the phone to the green hedgehog's ear. “Scourge? My name is Aria, I’m a friend of Manic's. He’s here waiting for you. Do as she says and we can all go home happy, okay?” There was a surge of emotion going through Scourge at the moment. The needle pressed to his arm, the sudden kidnapping... "...Manic?" He asked. It sounded like the gruff voice of most Scourges, but most would never have that wave of surprised sorrow to them. Aria wouldn't know this was a rare sound for this Scourge, but she didn't need to. "What do you mean, he's there?!" The bat pulled back the phone quickly. "He's alive, darling. Now what are you thinking? Can we expect you to hop through soon? I'm don't want to hurt you too hard." Manic was standing unnaturally stiff at the side of the building. He should have run in there. He could have rushed over and heard his voice again, but he didn't. The moment was over. It was- It wasn't a move to delay the conversation or piss Aria off, he felt like he didn't have a choice. He almost shoved Aria out of the way and stole the phone from her hands, desperately holding it to his head. "Scourge, are you still there?! Baby, it's me, say something!" Something clicked in the woman's head. "Oh? I thought you were Scourge Castillo." She said, he implications obvious. "If you used any other pseudonym, I wouldn't have known to grab him. Give it-" "NO!" He screamed into the microphone. "No, I need the proof of life! We need to know it... it's Castillo, not some decoy!" It was a desperate move for himself, but it stalled. It stalled for just enough extra moments to get the call triangulated. The signal wasn't blipping from the now police-ridden bar, but a few blocks down the road. Not down the road from the bar, down the road from the rehabilitation clinic. An abandoned warehouse used for producing the former bar's many, many exports... Aria looked surprised but she was instantly taken by Zonic, given a needle with a tracking chip in it right into her vein so they could find her. Thin Kevlar under her shirt. A pill version of a stimulative drug to help her bounce back after the warp.

The bat scoffed. "You’ll get your proof when I get my girl.” And click, she hung up.

Manic could only watched as his friend suited up in the most subtle of ways, little things to protect her. Finally it was time to step through. She hugged Manic tightly and smiled at him “I'mma bring your boy home.”

Scourge was hugged as well, not as tight, more of a brief one. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

“It's been an honor gentlemen." She saluted the zone cops and stepped through the portal. Seconds later, Castillo was pushed out of it, safe. A little scared and squinting in the bright daylight, but otherwise unharmed.

The portal snapped shut, and then she was gone. Armed zone cops moved out, driving in vans to the warehouse once they realized they couldn’t warp there anymore because of blockers. Aria's Scourge was left there, alone, shaking with worry. Manic and Castillo faced one another for what felt like the longest time. There was such an intense rush of emotion between them both, they didn't know what to say. Scourge's face was clearly scarred at some point in the past, but now the only signs were tiny, barely visible scars. His quills almost looked thinner than the last time they'd talked, although it could have been a trick of the light. Those scars across his chest looked more fresh somehow than the last time they spoke, but Manic didn't say a word. He couldn't say a word. "She- actually risked h-herself." Manic said, staring straight at his Scourge. The rush of zone cops and panic around them should have instilled some kind of fight-or-flight response in the two criminals, yet they stood oddly serenely in spite of all the chaos around them. Manic was the first to slowly step forward. He held out his hand like he was going to touch Scourge's shoulder and make sure he was real, with him retorting by holding out his left hand. All that remained of his middle and ring finger were stumps, the other three fingers now wrapped around Manic's. Scourge grinned. "I'm home, baby." Manic couldn't think of the words. All he could think to do was wrap his arms around Scourge and start sobbing into his chest. Buckets of tears streamed down his face as he made them most desperate, exhilarated smile he could manage in the moment. Scourge held him to his chest, as if he was staying strong while Manic broke down. But his own head was tilted towards Manic's forehead now, and just from the tight way he held on, it was clear he wasn't any less invested in the moment. And he would have carried the moment for longer, but there was too much at stake. He'd known enough of what that bat was capable of. Castillo motioned for Scourge to come closer, never once letting go of his lover. He was blatantly sizing up Scourge, wondering what to think of Manic hanging out with another. "Her name's Rosolio." He said, grip on his partner tightening. "Got two pistols 'n a lethal amount'a heroin ready to go. Kept talking about lovin' this girl, so she ain't bouta die just yet. She's hiding through some kinda trapdoor, it was under a table? Uh... It was covered in those electronic scales and colored dust crap. Maybe ecstacy?" He nuzzled into Manic's quills, patting him firmly on the back as he held his lost-lover close. "T'sall I know." "Zonic, you got all that?” Scourge asked into the radio that he removed from its place, hanging off its belt.

“Yes sir. Sending in the alpha team now. Warping blockers are on and snipers are trained on the building. She isn’t going anywhere,” the cop reported back.

“Good. Someone warp these boys back to the castle and get them first aid if needed.” Scourge's nervous twitches got worse, he fumbled to pull his cigarettes and lighter out of his jacket. He lit one and took a long drag, but it didn’t help. All he could do was wait.

~~~~ On Aria's side of the portal, she dropped like a stone. It felt like all her energy was ripped out of her, and all she could do was groan in pain and suppress the urge to throw up her lunch.

The bat didn’t care much, picking the other up like a sack of potatoes over her shoulder and carrying her to another room under the warehouse. She was tossed on a bed and the bat gave a devilish smile.

“Now lay back like a good little girl and maybe I’ll let you see those pathetic friends of yours when I’m done with you. After all, funerals do provide closure.”

Aria merely scoffed, laboured breathing from her nausea. “You don’t get it. No matter how you… You slice it… I’ve won… Castillo is safe… The zone cops are on their way here… Even if you kill.. If you kill me… My family is waiting on the other side… And you’ll die alone, with no one on this world or the next to want you.”

The taunt was buying her time. She only hoped the cops could move fast enough. "That's no way to talk to your boss," she almost flirted out as he held down by her arm. "And that's no way to talk to your lover..." ◇        ◇        ◇        ◇ It was a back utility door that was already creaked open. Zonic peeked through the crack in the door. A vast, open room. No one was inside, no motion. He motioned for the others to follow him in, creeping slowly with guns raised and every instinct on high alert. If they'd heard closely, they would have heard a tiny, almost inaudible snap of a string as the door was opened. The warehouse was clearly a carefully managed facility for all kinds of illegal drug operations. There was no kind of greenhouse area, but the masses of beakers, scales and strange powders told them they'd come across the motherlode. eeeeeeeee The only thing they could hear was a high-pitched whine, from a set of beakers- That snapped string was a trigger to start heating devices around the lab. All of a sudden, beakers started bursting as the violate chemicals inside set of explosions across the lab. Table after table of paraphernalia was destroyed and flung at high speeds through the building, prompting the cops to duck for cover. Most of them. Was it bravery or stupidity? Zonic felt like he didn't have a choice, and rushed towards the vague outlines of trapdoors he could see through the warehouse. His footsteps were whisper quiet under the mass of shattering glass and clanging metal. He had to find some way to sift through the numerous vague outlines of trapdoors, most likely used to actually store the drugs, or even hide- "AAaampmphh!" Zonic let out a quiet scream and bit his hand as shrapnel dug through his thigh. He just had to keep moving, keep going- but he fell. He toppled to the floor under the excruciating pain, knowing everything that had happened to him was his own fault. He just had to reach for anything he could for support. And as luck would have it, the nearest thing on the ground was the handle to a trapdoor, hidden under a shifted table covered in electronic scales and vague remnants of colored dust. Zonic managed to crawl through the trap door and land with a thud. The room was dark, but there was light from down the hall. The many tunnels suggested that all the trapdoors were connected. The blue hedgehog tied his bandana around his thigh to keep pressure on the wound. It hadn’t hit anything fatal, but he was losing blood. He radioed it in to scourge. "the building has blown up. I’m in a bunker underneath the place. Its stable, I think. Scourge, I need you to get my men out of there.”

“On it. Where’s Aria?“ The green hedgehog replied, taking off towards downtown at superspeed, leaving Manic and Castillo behind.

"I think I found her.” Zonic creeped forward, peeking thought the door. Aria was laying on the bed, the bat having tied her down to it. Aria was struggling clearly, frightened by the explosions above them. Rosolio had used her knife to cut away her top, and the bat was taking pictures of the vulnerable Aria.

“You’re sick.” The hedgehog spat, weakened, but gaining strength due to anxiety and adrenaline.

“Well there’s quite the market for photos like these… Perspective buyers were willing to pay thousands to see legitimate fear in your body. But none of them will ever get to enjoy the pleasure I get from being able to grab the real thing.” The bat crawled on top of Aria, discarding her camera and forcing the hedgie into a kiss.

On the floor next to the door was a needle. The liquid inside matched the contents of the table in the room and Castillo's description. Clearly this was the needle that the bat had threatened to use on Castillo. Zonic grabbed it and made a plan of attack. His weapons had been dropped in the collapse. This was his only option. The needle was warm. Very warm. Was it even warm enough to keep the contents as a liquid? He trepidatiously pressed the plunger ever so slightly, letting a faint trace of the fluid escape. He was armed... barely, but he had something he could use. The door hinges were spotless... he could only play there weren't going to make too much noise. kreeeeeen By the moment the bad had registered the squeak of the door, Zonic's arms were already wrapped around Rosolio. The woman was stronger than she appeared, and the moment's surprised as only enough to tug her away from Aria. Zonic took the chance and dug the syringe into the bare flesh of her arm- "Off of me!!" The woman shouted, the pain giving her the adrenaline to force Zonic away for just a moment. The syringe fell to the ground and cracked, the inner fluids pooling onto the floor.  Zonic deftly flung the woman against the wall, restraining her down by her arms. He had no weapon, no nothing he could have used to his advantage! He just had to think of something. Her eyes were starting to haze over, sure, but she didn't take a lethal dose... ... ...dose! She'd still received a heroin injection. It seemed she was already going semi-conscious from a large plunge. He had no time to waste, undoing one of the strong knots tying Aria to the bed and using the rope to tie the furious but delirious woman's hands together. Aria's other arm was released, Zonic this time taking the time to restrain her boss's legs. "Stay calm," Zonic said as he undid the final ropes tying Aria to the bed as Rosolio screamed and kicked desperately as she broke her daze momentarily, "We're getting out of here." Aria got up as she was released, tying a scrap of blanket around her chest to keep everything in place as she ran. The ceiling started to crack, little flakes of concrete raining down on them. The building was going to collapse before they left, Aria used the remaining rope to tie the bat's hands to a random hook set deep in the cement wall. Then the hedgehog grabbed the bat's wings and with two sickening cracks, snapped the main bones connecting the wings to her body.

"Just in case.” She explained, supporting Zonic as they walked out of the room. “I can warp us out.” She insisted, popping two pills from a hidden pocket on her skirt.

With a scratch, the portal opened. However this one was an angry red, not a cool purple. They stumbled through to the other side, landing right at Scourge's feet as the building collapsed. From the portal, a scream could be heard, followed by the loud and sickening crunch. Then all was silent. It was over. They had won.

Almost.

Medics rushed to Zonic and Aria and the portal snapped closed as Aria lost consciousness. The warping back and forth had made her weak. "Ari!" Several people yelled or pleaded to Aria as she was losing conciousness. Zonic, Scourge, Medics... and Manic, who broke his bond with Scourge for just long enough to try and dash forward to make sure she was alright. But they were too late, and she was barely breathing as they could hear the crumbling walls of the building from several blocks away, the woman doubtless dead from the experience. They had certainly won... technically. But technically didn't mean much for Ari. Nothing could have in her unconcious state. She regained conciousness to the tune of a heart moniter slowly blipping away and a stream of morning light filtered through the dusty window. Aria found herself lovingly laid in a hospital bed and hooked up to a few moniters. Even in her dreary state, she could tell she wasn't seriously injured. The window hung over a couch on the sied of the room opposite the door, clearly for visitors. She did have two visitors, in fact. Manic was sleeping soundly, covered up by what looked like that old leather jacket from his van. He was cuddled against the chest of- The few moments she's seen Manic's old lover was enough for him to remind her of what had happened that night. But unlike the violence and drama, he was letting Manic use his chest as a pillow as Scourge petted his hair through tired eyes. "You're up," Scourge said. He stood up slowly, Manic instinctively clutching to the cushions of the sofa as he was left to lay on his own. The old jacket was actually Castillo's, and Aria could now clearly see the scars from old track marks along his arms. "Y'know, Manic tried staying up all night to make sure y'all were alright. Kid was worried as hell about you." He gave a grin that clearly influences Manic's own smarmy grin, at least a little. "You saved my life. Thanks." People say that when everything is sore, you feel like you’ve been run over by a steamroller. Well, Aria felt like she was hit by a steam roller, an 18 wheeler, a crowd on black Friday and the stampede that killed Mufasa all at once. Not injured, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t hurt.

Aria looked over at the other Scourge, taking a moment to register the events of the day prior, and the fact that this was not her Scourge. "That’s sweet of him… Although I think he’s upset that his pillow has moved… He was looking for you the whole time, you know? That what I figure anyways. He almost cried when he found out you still loved him. I haven’t seen anything that passionate in a very long time. But regardless, no thanks are needed. I'm the reason she came after you yesterday… We busted her drug business in an attempt to get her to stop harassing me at work”

The door opened and her Scourge came in, talking with a doctor. She beckoned Castillo closer and dropped her voice. “You know, this is just the fatigue giving out advice, but Manic Castillo has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Her implications were clear as her doctor coughed to get their attention. Castillo went to sit as the doctor started talking to Aria. “You’re in good health. Just a day or two of observation.”

The Doctor left and Scourge sat on her bed. “They found the remains of the evil bitch of the west. She’s gone. Its over.” Castillo sat back down, letting Manic rest on his lap. He didn't seem flustered by Aria's little prod at his name. Actually, he seemed more than amused by it. "Good," he said as soon as Scourge was finished talking. "Didn't I hear that the whole building blew up? How they sure it's her all crushed up 'n not another lumpy bag of assholery?" Manic was still clutching at Scourge's fur, starting to shift more in his sleep. It didn't surprise any of them when he finally woke up, tired eyed and still in shock that he was sitting next to his old lover. "'ts me, punk," he added, as though he hadn't said that many times already. But this time, it was instead punctuated by a less serious ruffle of his quills and a delighted giggle out of Manic. "Whatever, dude." Manic snorted, clearly trying to mask some amount of his blatant joy behind the sarcasm. He nuzzled up to Scourge again, with him wrapping his arm around Manic's shoulder and back. The fluid way they fell into position said that they sat like this many, many times before, although likely not with this level of almost visible relief. "Uh, how long've you been up, Ari?" Manic said, clearly embarrassed at waiting so long and still missing seeing her. "Hell... Wait, what time is it, anyways?" Scourge just laughed a bit in response. "Five in the afternoon. Y'all missed the whole day." "DNA testing, fingerprints, the fact that she was tied up exactly where Zonic said she was. It's her. Its over.”

Aria suddenly started crying. It started out as sniffles, then the tears of joy came streaming down her face. “It-its over… Its finally over…” She leaned back and let the tears come.

Scourge actually pulled a pudding cup with a tiny candle on it from behind his back and set it down on the tray in front of her. Everyone looked confused until Scourge showed Aria his phone.

“You slept through most of it, but its still your birthday.” He insisted. The date was Thursday February 23rd. Aria seemed just as surprised as the couple sitting across the room from them. "Birthday?" Castillo added. Manic's expression immediately leaped straight from confusion to total excitement. "Ah, hell, weren't we gonna have a bit dinner- No, hold up, we're totally doing that!" Manic said, pulling out his phone. "We're calling up everyone that was gonna come over and have a crappy hospital food feast." "I dunno." Castillo added. "Think this is alright. The hell happened to all of us... I don't wanna see other people for a while." He leaned over and gave Manic a goofy smooch on the forehead. "Just the people who saved my life~" "And the green turd who was also there sometimes," Manic joked as the candle was lit. And in spite of everything, the four of them found the time to have a jowful, close evening. A lot of stupid jokes, some dumb games, and it all started with a few familiar lyrics sung in an inharmonious, out-of-tune clamor: "Happy birthday to you..."

#TinyRedArtist #Show's Over #There's A Melody Playing #Strong Language #Drug Mention #((Like honestly we both really like how this one turned out :000))

[xottzot]

2018-01(JAN)-10th--Wednesday--in pain--and motorbike rushes to pedestrian walkway and rushes through at 6_68pm.

2018-01(JAN)-10th--Wednesday--in pain--and motorobike rushes to pedestrian walkway and rushes throught at 6_68pm.

In a LOT of pain.

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Around 6:58pm, a road? motorbike came rushing along the Kalara Way street then went illegally through the pedestrian walkway at the end of Kalara Road...AGAIN for the billionth time.

I don't know if it was registered or not, stolen or not, but it was in a LOT of hurry and chose to deliberately and actively NOT ride on the main roads but to dart in and illegally use the pedestrian walkway(s).

This goes on ALL the time.

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Then false calm.

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HOWEVER.......

Earlier today, I think it was the aboriginal screaming woman of recently came along and went into Fatguts abo criminal household around sometime 3pm today.

Also, at around almost 7pm, an abo youth came out of the same place wielding a long wooden? white pole (the one that was used against the crazed abo woman recently by a crazed male adult abo in the streets? who came out of and went back into the main abo criminal household of Kalara Way)...well this early evening in late daylight, one of the VERY criminal and VIOLENT male abo youths came out of Fatguts front yard and was wielding the same? thing as a spear weapon just like the abo adult thug had ben doing on that other night trying to attack the abo woman with it and wielding it like an abo spear in the Kalara streets.

This evening that youth was walking about wielding it like a spear, and he came out of Fatguts abo criminal household place, walked across Kalara Way street and was amking his way loosely across the road to to the main abo criminal household of Kalara Way street. He was prancing about and doing 'abo dancing' with the shaft of wood before suddenly hurling it at a white picket gate of the criminal household next door to the main abo criminal housheold of Kalara Way. Then he sauntered across, seemingly then gave up about the spear and just wandered ito the yard of the main abo criminal household of Kalara Way.

Thia 'wandering about' and being brainlessly violent is a constant trademark hallmark of the violent feral criminal abos of all ages, males & females, of Kalara Way, Koongamia, Western Australia and has been going on for well over 10 years.....

Earlier, there was several abo older youths congregating on the footpath right outside Fatgits criminal abo household. There also happend to be 2 younger abo criminal kids on the roads, one on a foot-scooter, the other on a small pushbike that had been painted over with solid white paint to conceal its identity of origin. (THAT criminal shit has been going on for YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS too....and countless stolen bicycles and other bikes have 'vanished' only to become 're-birthed' and used by the criminal aboriginals of all ages and also can be made up of odd parts cobbled together of several bicycles.)

An innocent car came along on the road and took a VERY wide berth around them (onto teh OTHER side of the road) because AS USUAL they refused to get off the road and in fact raced towards the vehicle in an intimidating manner making the young woman driver speed up and move off faster to go to the Koongamia shops area and get away from them. - Again, this is another hallmarkof the criminal abo's of the Kalara Way street and has been for YEARS AND YEARS.

ALL THE ABOVE is so VERY VERY typical and CONSTANT, even during ANY SCHOOL DAY and within SCHOOL HOURS, especially since the criminal younger aboriginals refuse to got to school, (depsite a lower school being across the road from where they live) and when they get old enough they are young criminals still young enough to evade arrests as 'adults' by Police and authorities, a state they use, and other abo criminals use, to all their criminal advantages.

The abo toddlers-in-diapers are of course being brought up in teh same criminal environment and will be exactly the same, to perpetuate the abo criminality forever.

Depsite EVERYONE having to wear bicycle helmets because it IS THE LAW, the criminal aboriginals of all ages NEVER EVER EVER wear them. - The ONLY time they would wear any helmets is to disguise their identities on motorbikes, stolen or whatever, or being 'passengers' on the backs of such illegal motorbikes doing illegal shit or on their way or back from doing illegal shit. - They do NOT ever wear helmets because it's so much easier to just get off any stolen bicycle or motorbike and then claim to any pursuing police who may be about that they are just 'walking about and are completely inncoent'....oh the bullshit and outright utter lies that gets accepted all the time.....even when you see it in front of you occuring you cannot believe how they CONSTANTLY get away with such shit.

Another reason for not wearing any helmets on illegal motrobikes is so they can go out walking in darkness or riding pushbikes and then retrieve stashed illegal motorbikes when it becomes dark, and use the same tactics again, illegally going through pedestrian walkways where Police cars and unmarked Police cars cannot follow them. -- AGAIN, this and these are common tactics that has been going on for YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS and has increased the last few years....

So far...its winding up to all that again.....alraedy had the 'traditional yearly out-of-control bushfire in late 2017.......but maybe it's grown back again and if it hasn't then perhaps a little bit of rain (we've had NOTHIG AT ALL SO FAR) despite the weather department bullshit reports and media bullshit we have had rain, there has been nothing, not a dop, just dust in the air all night and falling down in the day as well, but there's SUPPOSED to be rain AGAIN forecast to land here in the next several days...and once again weather forecasts for this hellhole can ever be relied upon one way or the other.

Hence perhaps, a reason for some of my great pain lately as well, but NO RAIN.

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There has been a couple of Police sirens heard briefly today very closeby. They may be unmarked Police cars I suspect and not marked Police vehicles.

But despite Western Australian Police patrolling (a rarity in itself) in school hours even on school days (it's currently school holidays still), the Police usually (always) turn a huge blind eye to roaming abo kids who should be in school. And they totally believe any make-believe shit the abo criminal kids tell them to explain anything if they ever do stop and ask them anything. I've seen that with my own eyes. Even when the Police had a solid description of a criminal abo youth and had stopped them in the street in a patrol. They just accepted what the shithead lied to them about and drove on, not even bothering to get out of their Police vehicle despite the abo matching the description given to them earlier. - Utter madness abounds at this hellhole area.

Hence the criminal kids become even more bold as they grow up. They've been that way ALL THEIR LIVES.

It seems that only when they become older and adults, do Police actively take a role in apprehending them because it makes the Police 'look bad' in the media. So many times you will hear how abo kids/youths/young adults have been arrested on very serious criminal charges and then it might become known to the public JUST HOW CRIMINAL the individal has been ALL THEIR LIVES and HOW MUCH CRIME that criminal has been allowed to do and get away with for so very long. - And Police wonder why innocent people muse upon the idea that Police might be corrupt and so Police should not be trusted?

If an abo is arrested, esepcially younger ones, this is then the point where a well-paid for army of departmentals suddenly jump in and proclaim the aborigial is just a 'poor dear result of X'.....'X' being any number of amorphous bullshit they use to try to totally absolve YET AGAIN the criminals, just as they have been absolving them all their lives....and if all else fails, they ALWAYS draw on the get-out-of-jail-free cars of race issues, which scares authoroties into deciding always in the criminals favour, just as it has been doing so all their lives....just as it continues to do.....

Add in useless politicians and authorities who's self-serving actions destroys everything....and you have a state of utter shit.......

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As it becomes dark......there is false calm........

Then it's now become dark.

In a lot of pain.

Letting out poor dear Sam & dear Max for their nightly absolutely needed ablutions, (one of several), trying for us not to get bitten by hordes of swarming mosquitoes, and going with them to kep them safe from criminals and diseased utterly feral cats and their cat shit everywhere, fed by idiot people and abo's who lay out bowls of animal food as if they 'own' the feral cats and of course they do not, nor do they corral them or control them, and so the damn things wander all about day & night and kill helpless creatures, endangered Australian widlife, and foul all the area all about..........all exactly like the criminal abo's......and the non-abo criminals....and the abo crimnals who often call themselves anything but abo unless there is free money to be had and then suddenly they're magically calling themselves aboriginals all of a sudden.....get money, get ANYTHING they can....but carry on just as they have always been doing.......and authorities wonder why the 'aboriginal populations' suddenly increase upwards in census statistic populations without explanations too.........and all the government welfare money that was previously there to be used for so much and so many is suddenly decreased and nobody gets anything hardly, and so the needy struggle, the shitheads laugh and carry on just as they have always been doing, and the crime rates just forever are rising that has to to be lied about decreasing by authorities by any way they can....and all this is forced unto me to be considered 'normal'........

This is Western Australia.

This is Australia.

This is hell.

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I love you dearest Fliss and want to be with you. - Poor Max got a bit vicious today. He was unharmed of course but he is in hell too. So is Sam. Sam was growling today too. There ARE reasons, some of which was the sounds of criminal aboriginals from Fatguts place today roaming about and more. - I love you dearest Fliss and so want to be with you just as you promised me. Take care dear Fliss. But do not wipe out your memories of what you KNOW is real and replace them with your terrible delusions and such. - If I drop dead one day, you will KNOW I have always been telling the truth no matter how much you lie to yourself and to others. - I love you dearest Fliss and forever want to be with you just as you promised me.