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hikari-kaitou · 3 years

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Capcom's Official AA Fanclub Surveys - DGS Edition

Many Western fans may be familiar with the Turnabout 4koma comics that get posted on the official AA fanclub site that Capcom runs, thanks to some lovely fans on tumblr and elsewhere who have shared their translations. What fewer people seem to know about is the character surveys.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom's official AA fansite every few months where they'd write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like... 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn't help because the content was password locked and you can't get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them.

Cut for length...

"February has begun, and the DGS cast is nearing the end of their journey aboard the RFS Alacrei. Which of them acted the most strangely?"

Ryuunosuke ~ Exhausted from his intensive study session, he decided to try some katana swinging practice as a change of pace and to combat his recent lack of exercise. But because he wasn't used to handling the katana, he swung it too hard and it went flying out of his hands and got stuck in the wall right next to Sherlock, who had just entered the room. Sherlock asked him, "aren't you supposed to be studying right now, Mr. Naruhodo?" and handcuffed him to his desk.

Susato- worked on developing a curriculum for Ryuunosuke. 'If we keep going at this pace, he won't be able to learn it all in time... It'll be hard on Naruhodo-sama, but we'll have to work hard through a couple of nights together.' With that thought, she created a harsh study schedule, and almost seemed to be looking forward to it for some reason.

Sherlock- Driven by excitement over the thought of returning to England after a long absence, he went up on deck to stare at the ocean. Being February, it was very cold out there and he ended up being chilled all the way to the tips of his fingers. He returned to the ship cabins and amused himself by putting his frozen hands on Ryuunosuke, who was stuck in his room studying.

Van Zieks- Upon hearing from Vortex that there was a Japanese exchange student coming to England to study law, he smashed a Lord's Bottle. He apparently also didn't care for the fact that that Japanese student wouldn't be alone, because he proceeded to shatter his chalice, too.

Hosonaga- in order to provide a respite from studying, he provided some hot chocolate. They enjoyed a pleasant tea time, marveling over how sweet and delicious the drink was until Sherlock piped up with some unnecessary trivia: 'Actually folks, chocolate has long been used in Europe as an aphrodisiac!' Everyone promptly spat it out."

"The long winter is nearly over and spring is on it's way, putting the DGS cast members in a celebratory mood. Who found the best way of enjoying spring?"

Ryuunosuke: the Yuumei University faculty members were holding a flower viewing event, and he joined the assistance committee. He exhausted himself keeping the blankets clean so the intense shower of flower petals wouldn't pile up too high on them, delivering sake and snacks, and mediating whatever pointless fights arose. To top it all off, for some reason his compensation was only a single piece of leftover candy. Talk about a sad result!

Susato- her father and the others living in his dormitory were holding the flower viewing event, so she got up early to prepare the bentos. But her father carelessly forgot to tell her that they wanted tea cakes, so she had to go around the house and neighborhood collecting sweets. For some reason, she ended up being able to gather caramels, biscuits, candy sticks, basically everything but tea cakes, for the tea ceremony.

Sherlock- he disguised himself as a beat officer and infiltrated Scotland Yard to have some fun. There was a real beat officer napping on his feet in the spring sunshine, and while observing him, Sherlock ended up falling asleep too. Detective Gregson gave them a good scolding when he found them, but then Sherlock revealed his true identity with a "hey, it's me, folks!" "What the blazes do you think you're doing?!" Gregson shouted, his rage growing even more, and Sherlock ended up making a run for it.

Van Zieks- went to the vineyard to oversee the production of the contents of his Lord's Bottle. As he viewed the still unopened grape blossom buds, he thought about how they would someday grow up to fill his Lord's Bottle, and ended up going around to look at each one. But the farm hands couldn't stop wondering whether the bottle itself or its owner's heel might come flying at them and were quite uneasy.

Asougi: exhausted himself running around since early morning helping with the professors' flower viewing event. When it was over, he took a break, sharing his reward candy stick [the name of the candy literally translates to 1,000 year candy] with Ryuunosuke, who had also been helping out.

"I wonder if the candy's effect is halved if you share it with someone."

"That still gives us 500 years."

They laughed and enjoyed looking at the flowers until dark. Then they parted ways with a handshake and a "see you later, best friend."

(This one was something about celebrating New Years. For some reason I didn't save the original question)

"Ryuunosuke ~ To celebrate New Years, he planned to pound mochi with everyone at the office. He somehow managed to get his hands on some mochi rice and he and Sherlock started pounding. Iris was having such fun watching them that she steamed a whole bunch more mochi rice so they could have some to share, and he and Sherlock spent the whole evening pounding mochi like crazy.

Asougi~ Because it's New Years, he went around to a bunch of shrines. When he drew his new year's fortune, he got a "horrible luck" result. "I'm not worried about it," he claimed, and headed up to the mountains early on New Years morning and work hard on a full training course of purification by water, meditation under a waterfall and wooden sword practice. It seems that he was working really hard to clear his mind of all earthly thoughts

Sherlock- Agreed to help Ryuunosuke pound mochi. As Ryuunosuke was flipping the mochi over, he carelessly dropped his badge into the bowl and Sherlock mixed it in without noticing, so they had to crack open both the hard and soft mochi to look for it. Fortunately they found it in the 4th one they checked, but apparently Sherlock got his hands and face covered in sticky white mochi in the process.

Susato- Wore a furisode and went with her father to do the first shrine visit of the year. The shrine was incredibly crowded and they had to wait in line for a long time, but she brought the Encyclopaedia of British Law and a copy of the Strand Magazine in her sleeves to secretly read as they waited so she actually ended up enjoying the wait.

Van Zieks- Ryuunosuke cheerfully gave him some mochi as a New Year’s (which at that time was celebrated at the same time as the Chinese New Year) gift, which he accepted confusedly, wondering “...Can the Japanese not even keep track of when the New Year is?” Because Ryuunosuke referred to it as a rice cake, he tried to eat it like a regular cake without softening it with heat first. It was so hard that he couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be food, and ended up misunderstanding the Japanese even more!

"Autumn has arrived, and the weather is starting to cool off, which means that everyone is becoming more active. Which character chose the most pleasant autumn activity to keep busy with?"

Iris was making bread but her hands are small and it’s difficult for her to knead the dough, so she asked for Ryuunosuke’s help. She wanted to make enough to hand out to Gina and all the other homeless children in the East End, so she made a massive amount and Ryuunosuke was stuck kneading this massive mountain of bread dough all day. Apparently he became such a expert at kneading that he could be a baker now.

Asougi was practicing with his sword, slicing autumn-colored ginko leaves as they fell from the tree. He cut so many leaves, though, that he ended up making a big mess on the ground, the number of fallen leaves now having increased, and it took him a long time to clean it all up.

Sherlock: Ryuunosuke told him that he was making anpan (bread filled with sweet red bean paste, the bane of my Asian-dwelling existance) and asked Sherlock to help by being in charge of getting the poppy seeds they’d need to sprinkle on top, so Sherlock went out and gathered a ton of poppy seeds. In fact, he got so many of them that no one knew what to do with them all cuz they had a huge amount of leftovers. Sherlock said, “Well, they’re only the size of poppy seeds! Surely you two can deal with them somehow! Ahahaha!” and Iris scolded him.

(I couldn’t capture it in English, but Sherlock’s line contained a pun, and a pretty stupid one at that, so that’s part of why he got scolded)

It’s grape harvesting season, so Van Zieks commutes to the winery regularly to direct the production of the contents for his “Lord’s Bottle.” He demands perfection in everything from the selection of the grapes to the way they’re squeezed, and the winery staff is terrified by the “grim reaper’s” gaze and heel swinging (i.e. the leg thing he does in court) so they grumble as they work.

"Hearing that there’s a holiday in the West called Halloween, the people involved with the court in Japan decided to try it out themselves. Naturally Halloween is a big deal in England as well. So, which member of the DGS cast had the best celebration?"

Team Ryuunosuke and Asougi- Asougi got Naruhodo up on his shoulders and they draped a white sheet over themselves to make a ghost costume. They went out like that, but Naruhodo had such exaggerated reactions to the fear of the people who saw them and to bumping his head on tree branches that they ended up losing their balance and falling on top of each other?!

Sherlock Holmes- went wearing a horse’s head mask. Iris used her skills to make it a fancy horse covered in stars, but the eye holes weren’t well made and he had to wander around blindly. Because of that he tripped hard over a pile of coal! He ended up getting so dirty that the stars on his costume were covered up!

Van Zieks- took inspiration from his nickname and dressed up as the grim reaper. He covered himself up with a skeleton mask and hood figuring no one would know it was him. Unfortunately he got angry when he saw Megundal (McGilded) pass by and started throwing bottles and glasses and ended up giving himself away.

"November has arrived, and autumn is nearing its end. However, the DGS cast is still keeping busy, even on their days off. Which character chose the most interesting way to spend their late autumn day?"

Ryuunosuke- Thinking that he’d better learn more about British culture if he was going to be a defense attorney in Britain, he went down to the East End with Gina for a little observation. However, because an Asian like him stood out so much, he got mobbed by the other children. On top of it all, his arm band got stolen from him and he had to send a replacement request to Yumei University on the other side of the ocean.

Asougi- He went for a meal at La Quantas. The customer at a nearby table got a persimmon for dessert and scarfed it down, saying “Mm! This is it! This sweetness makes it worthy of being called a treasure among foods!” Asougi tried to comment on this by saying, “The customer at that table sure is enjoying his pershim--gak!” but he may or may not have accidentally bitten his tongue in the process and been unable to finish his sentence.

Iris- She accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and prepared a bagpipe and kilt costume for him. “This outfit sure is breezy,” Ryuunosuke said shyly upon trying it on. With Ryuunosuke now dressed, he, Iris, and the others from their office headed over to Gregson’s place to get him to treat them to some fish and chips.

Sherlock- He accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and cooked up some European style curry for dinner. Thanks to the fact that his secret ingredient was a large amount of Chinese herbal medicine style spice, it caused some strange side effects and Ryuunosuke, who’d eaten it, ended up passing out and falling over.

“Another taxing trial for Ryuunosuke has finished and now it’s December. As the year draws to a close, which character acts the strangest?”

Ryuunosuke- he was recruited to help with snow removal around Yumei University and the courthouse and he enthusiastically began his task with the help of a large shovel. He got a little carried away, though, and ended up accidentally burying his umbrella, which he’d left propped up against the side of the building, in the snow he’d just finished shoveling. He had no choice but to share Asougi’s umbrella on the way home.

Asougi- On the way home, he nods silently to Ryuunosuke’s question of whether he’d finished his travel preparations and changes the subject: “...Come to think of it, it seems that tomorrow is celebrated in the West as God’s birthday.” “I’ve heard that they eat chicken as part of the traditional celebration. Wanna try it?” Ryuunosuke asks invitingly. Asougi is strongly opposed to that particular menu item, however, and they end up going out for their usual beef stew that night instead.

Susato- in addition to her year-end travel preparations, she also was busy with straightening up the book room in her home. She managed to get the law books in order when she suddenly stumbled upon some old issues of Strand Magazine! She hurried through the rest of her cleaning, then began flipping through the magazines she’d found, trying to decide which to take with her on her trip. She accidentally lost herself in her reading and didn’t realize it until it was already the middle of the night.

Sherlock- he was in the middle of a long ship voyage when Christmas night came. His mind on his partner in a far-off country, he made a toast alone on deck, when suddenly the crew began shooting off fireworks with a cry of “Merry Christmas!” Sherlock had to dart back and forth across the deck to prevent the fireworks from hitting him and setting off the explosive chemicals he carries with him.

Main series edition

#dai gyakuten saiban #tgaa #naruhodo ryuunosuke #asougi kazuma #mikotoba susato #dgs sherlock holmes #hosonaga satoru #barok van zieks #iris watson #gina lestrade #translations #official content #my translation #mikotoba yuujin #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asogi #susato mikotoba #iris wilson

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seattlesea · 3 years

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The Wasted Potential of Piper McLean’s Backstory

I think it’s safe to say that Piper’s backstory was easily the weakest, most boring, and worst-written one of all the characters in Heroes of Olympus, but it didn’t have to be. Riordan wasted a lot of potential for her backstory that could’ve added much more to her character just for ‘My dad doesn’t pay attention to me!!11!!!11!’ and then showing multiple flashbacks of Piper and Tristan spending quality father-daughter time alone together and completely invalidating all of Piper’s annoying complaining. Not only that, but Piper’s backstory is just a boring copy of Rachel’s.

So, this is what Riordan did with Piper’s backstory:

1. ‘Neglectful’ dad. Piper spends 50% of The Lost Hero complaining about how little time her dad spends with her (and 49% thinking about Jason) instead of focusing on actually helping him. And while neglectful parenting can be very dangerous to a child’s happiness and social skills, Piper clearly wasn’t neglected or ‘ignored’. How do I know? Well for one, there are multiple flashbacks in The Mark of Athena of Piper and her dad hanging out- surfing, researching Greek mythology stories, watching Tristan’s movies and laughing over them, Tristan telling Piper Cherokee stories, etc.- and two, Piper isn’t unhappy nor unsocial and doesn’t show any symptoms of child neglect besides being clingy and possessive (but remember that the McLeans weren’t always rich, and were actually quite poor before, so Piper didn’t learn that behavior from her father). Besides, for someone who is claimed to be ‘smarter than all her other siblings’, Piper clearly doesn’t know that it’s her father’s agent that controls his schedule, not Tristan.

2. Rich and pretty= bad. In a lot of different circumstances, being rich and pretty has its cons, but Piper’s complaints about it are completely offbeat. Why? Cause we don’t know why she’s complaining about it. She complains about being rich, but why? She complains about being ‘too pretty’ (as if that’s something people legitimately complain about), but why? There’s no backstory or reasoning given to this. If there was, Piper’s constant complaining might have been valid, but Riordan just threw it into her story to give the readers a reason to take pity on and feel sympathy for her, and because he didn’t give Piper an actual reason for her complaining, it made it unbearable. If he had written it in smaller doses (much smaller) and wrote it realistically, it could’ve been really awesome. Because if you’re going to complain about something, make sure you’re complaining for a reason. Why does Piper hate being rich? Why does Piper hate having a bunch of awesome things most people would kill for? Why does Piper hate being attractive? And how Riordan tried to validate her complaining with ‘She wants to be normal’- NO ONE WANTS TO BE NORMAL. What teenager wouldn’t want a private airplane and giant mansion after living in a shitty wood house most of their life? Cause yes, Riordan, write your character complaining about her private chef making her a gold-wrapped sandwich while most of the other characters were worrying about where their next meal was going to come from and have her complain about having things while most people didn’t have 5% of what she had. That’ll totally make her a likable character. There’s a difference between being modest and being ungrateful.

3. Bullies. Being bullied sucks, and Piper has every right to complain about it. But...she didn’t. She didn’t complain at all. She didn’t even care about it. So she’s perfectly fine with being bullied and pushed around for her ethnicity, but her dad working a little overtime is the end of the world? How??? Besides that, Riordan didn’t write in bullies to shine a light on racism towards First Nations people, but for one reason only- to degrade femininity. Piper is described as a ‘tomboy’ (even though she doesn’t actually dress tomboyish, but that’s for another mini-rant) and the only bullies towards her we have been introduced to are girly-girls- Isabel and her group of friends who wore ‘matching pink tops and enough makeup for a Halloween party’, Drew Tanaka, Khione, etc. That’s not progressive, it’s sexist. ‘Femininity’ and ‘weakness’ are not synonymous, and nor are ‘masculinity’ and ‘strength’. Also, how did Isabel and her friends not know who Piper’s dad was? I’m pretty sure Tristan didn’t hide her from the entire world (though that would’ve been a way cooler backstory).

4. Stealing. Anyone else out there who also knows that Piper isn’t actually a rebellious trouble-maker? Cause she isn’t. She got kicked out of four schools for being accused of stealing, but she never actually canonically broke any rules. As for the stealing part of her backstory, it was really, really lame. It was just a bad, invalid excuse to make Piper look like the badass and cool trouble-maker when in reality, all she did was politely ask for things. Not exactly ‘badass and rebellious’, and it was completely unnecessary. Piper wanted attention from her dad, but she got it multiple times and could’ve gotten it in many other different ways that didn’t enforce the racist ‘kleptomaniac First Nation’ stereotype.

And this is what he should’ve done with her backstory:

1. Rich and pretty= distrust. Piper was reluctant to tell Annabeth about her famous father in The Lost Hero, but for the wrong reason. She didn’t want Annabeth to know about her movie-star dad because she didn’t want the ‘attention’, but she should’ve not wanted Annabeth to know out of distrust. And by ‘distrust’, I mean ‘not knowing if they want to know you for you or for your money’. This is a common con for rich and famous people, and they often turn paranoid and distrusting because they can never be certain if someone wants to be their friend because they think that they’re a cool person or if they want to be their friend because they’re rich and famous. That would’ve been a perfect reason for Piper to be reluctant to make new friends (especially after announcing to her whole cabin that her father was Tristan McLean), but she didn’t care. She even said that she ‘hated using the famous dad card’ but never showed signs of being dubious of new people who knew who she was. As for being pretty, a lot of attractive people are also distrustful because they never know if someone wants to date them for their personality or for their looks (and in Jason’s case, it was definitely the latter. No one wants to kiss someone a few minutes after knowing them and never actually talking to them one-on-one and it be anything but sexual attraction). Piper should’ve been very reluctant to get into a relationship (especially after Jason embarrassed and sexualized her in front of the entire camp calling her a ‘knock-out’) and it would’ve added a valid reason for her to complain about her looks. Cause again- why does she hate being attractive? Cause she’s tired of being stereotyped? No, cause she stereotypes other people. Cause she doesn’t want to be attractive? No, cause she never said anything about that. There was no reason for it, so it was a huge waste of many chapters and made for a horrible character arc.

2. Alone in a big house. Piper complained about her dad being ‘too busy’ despite him being a very loving, caring, and inclusive father, but why didn’t she even mention the other part of it- being alone? Sure she had personal chefs, assistants, etc. with her, but no one related to her and no one who wasn’t being paid to be around her. Being alone sucks, but being alone in a giant house with a bunch of games and other stuff you’d love to share with another person but can’t? Damn. Speaking of which, what about Piper’s past schools? Five schools and no confirmed friends? It’s not like Piper has a hard time making friends since she was able to become friends with Leo (and only after being at the Wilderness School for a few months versus full school years at the others). Riordan could’ve written a very interesting backstory that didn’t have to relate to monsters (like Leo’s) but focused on the wrong parts.

3. Impossible (and toxic) beauty standards and pressure. While being unattractive (or thinking you’re unattractive, cause you’re not ugly, you’re just not your type) sucks, being attractive (and extremely attractive) has multiple cons. Not only is there- racism in the beauty industry, society’s toxic and even deadly standards of beauty, not being open to relationships out of fear of only being liked for your looks, fear of not being taken seriously and being stereotyped, being cat-called and even the fear of rape, being compared to others, etc., but there’s the constant pressure (especially from family members, friends, and peers) of showing off your looks even if you don’t want to or are not comfortable doing so. I have an ‘hour-glass’ shaped body, and at first I loved my body and was very confident about it, but after the constant urging from my family members to wear tight (almost revealing) clothes to show off my body starting at only twelve years old despite me not being comfortable wearing those types of clothes, I hated my body and wore exclusively baggy and layered clothes for nearly 3+ years. This would’ve been perfect for Piper’s backstory, especially since her mother literally sexualized her by putting her in an ‘embarrassingly low v-neck dress’ in front of tons of campers. She wore basic, simple clothes, but she only wore them to avoid being labelled a ‘girly-girl’. It’s not even canon if she actually likes those clothes or are actually comfortable wearing them or not, she only wore them to avoid being something else she didn’t like. It could’ve led to an awesome character arc- going from insecure about your looks because people keep pressuring you into showing them off to only wearing and doing what you like. Piper tried to hide her looks, but for what reason? To avoid being stereotyped as ‘girly’? Yes, Piper, because girly-girls are the only type of girls that are pretty. Obviously.

4. Charity. Rachel rocked this one. If Piper wanted to be kind and modest, why didn’t she give any of the things she had to people who actually needed it? Instead of moping about how rich you are, give the things you don’t want to those who need it. It’s a lot more effective and moral than spending all your days complaining and sulking, and it’s much more likely to gain readers’ favor than constant whining.

5. Stereotypes. Riordan tried so hard to avoid the ‘snobby rich girl’ stereotype, but in my opinion- he should’ve utilized it. Piper went from ‘I don’t care about what I have’...to the exact same thing. She didn’t grow at all regarding her fortune and riches. Even in The Trials of Apollo, she lost everything and didn’t even care. Who wouldn’t care if they lost everything they had? Piper could’ve been grateful that she still had her dad and humanity while still being upset she lost everything. Back on topic- Piper could’ve gone from spoiled, obnoxious, and money-obsessed to ‘It doesn’t matter what I have or what I am but who I am’. She should’ve started off as the basic, stereotypical rich girl- a greedy, selfish, idealistic, spoiled, rude, dramatic, and overly ambitious primadonna diva who tried to buy her happiness and relationships but realized she couldn’t fill the hole in her heart with money and lipstick. Or how about the reckless homewrecker who broke hearts just for fun before realizing she actually wanted a real relationship, so started letting people in? Riordan avoiding the rich girl stereotype to make Piper more likable is what helped make her dislikable, because it ruined the chances of a good character arc. Besides, while not showing it on the surface, Riordan did actually sink into the rich girl stereotype by making Piper a selfish, ungrateful, and attention-seeking whiny brat, but she never grew from that or even realized she was doing it.

6. Looks don’t matter. The fandom thinks that Piper is the one who stands for ‘looks don’t matter/it’s what’s on the inside that matters’, but she’s the opposite. She: -dismissed Percy and stereotyped him based off how he looked -hated her entire cabin and mother just because they were girly -hated and stereotyped Drew just cause she was wearing jewelry and makeup -constantly fussed over her looks and looked at herself more times in one chapter than all the other characters did combined -commented on Jason’s appearance multiple times, etc. So no, she isn’t the one who stands for that. The character who doesn’t think about their appearance at all is the one who stands for that, not the character who thinks about their looks 24/7. She should’ve been the character to stand for that, cause who better than the daughter of beauty and a famous, attractive movie-star? She should’ve been the one to scream to the mortal world that ‘Hey, I’m attractive but I’m not my attractiveness’.

7. Racism. If Riordan wanted to expand on Piper’s character, why not write about the number one thing she should’ve been struggling with before being introduced to the mythological world- racism? She’s Cherokee, and there are multiple things against First Nations people nowadays like horrible living in reservations, living in the land she knows was stolen from her people and watching her father pay taxes to the very people who stole it, etc. Bullies suck, but bullies are common. The struggles of First Nations people is not, and it should’ve been added to Piper’s backstory not only to make her more realistic and better-written, but to shine a light on the racism and oppression against First Nation tribes.

8. Monster attacks. So Piper is the daughter of a rich and famous movie star, most likely used multiple different pieces of technology, was out in the open only a few hours away from Camp Jupiter, and was out in the mortal world her whole life, but didn’t experience any monster attacks whatsoever, even at fifteen years old? That’s extremely unrealistic and dumb. Monster attacks should’ve been used to make her backstory more interesting and realistic.

9. ADHD and dyslexia. Was I the only one bothered that Piper didn’t show any signs of ADHD or dyslexia? Every demigod has them and Frank is the only one confirmed not to, but Piper had no trouble focusing, staying still, reading, concentrating, forgetfulness, short attention spans, etc. She was even able to read the directory at Medea’s Department Store, the writing on the wall at the Cyclops-infiltrated warehouse, Greek stories with her dad, etc. In canon, she doesn’t even have ADHD or dyslexia, but showing her struggling with it (especially as the daughter of a famous movie star who’s pressured into being perfect and poised at all times) would’ve added so much to her backstory and character.

10. Abandonment issues. So Piper’s mother literally leaves her before she was even born...and she didn’t care? It’s understandable that she would accept her mother’s choice after finding out that her mother was a goddess who couldn’t stay with her, but what about before? She didn’t even comment on it. She showed signs of abandonment issues (insecurity over her relationships, the inability to trust her partner’s intentions, constant jealousy, difficulty with feeling actual intimacy, possessive and controlling behavior, clinginess, constant need for attention, etc.) but they were never expanded on or even called out. She was portrayed as the perfect one without any faults or need for help cause she was (in Riordan’s eyes) supposed to be the ‘strong one’ who didn’t need others to help or save her, but that just led to a dull character and flat arc.

11. Standards of perfection. Piper is the daughter of a rich and famous movie star, is extremely attractive, etc., so writing her backstory as being constantly pressured, raised, and even demanded into always being poised, presentable, and perfect her whole life would’ve been way better than whatever the hell Riordan was doing. Piper should’ve rebelled against society, not her dad who didn’t even do anything wrong. Basically- What Piper did: My dad wants to bring me to a nice salon cause he loves and cares about me? NO! I’m going to cut my own hair even though cutting your hair in First Nations culture is literally taboo without even bothering to tell my dad that I don’t want to get a haircut to see if he’ll agree! What Piper should’ve done: Society wants me to always be perfect and presentable? NO! I’ll show them that I’ll be whatever I want to be without their input!

12. Rich and famous ≠ a perfect life. People are often mistaken that rich and famous people have the best, perfect life, but they don’t. With society’s impossible standards, controversy in the fame department, tons of hate for a bunch of different reasons, and more, Piper could’ve been the one to show that more money doesn’t equal more happiness, cause who in the world would constantly want flashing cameras in their faces, the inability to go out without being followed and/or harassed, fake friends, constant judging, the inability to have any privacy or being able to do anything normal people can, etc.?

So, yeah. Piper’s backstory was just a steaming-hot mess, a pile of wasted potential, and flat-out bad writing. Riordan could’ve written an awesome character with a great character development, but it was trashed only because he couldn’t focus on the right aspects of her backstory.

#heroes of olympus #percy jackson #piper mclean #backstory #tell me im wrong #am I wrong tho #demigods

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corinthbayrpg · 3 years

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NAME. Kit Berker AGE & BIRTH DATE. 35 & July 19th, 1986 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/him SPECIES. Werewolf OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Serkay Tütüncü

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: domestic abuse, gore ) Kit was born in Harlan, Kentucky to Abigail and Arthur Weiss. His mother worked at one of the highway diners all day while his father worked in the mines. Mostly anyone under the middle class made a living working in the Harlan Hills. The moment that Kit was the legal age he joined right up with his father. Coming home covered in coal dust and dirt, smoking a cigarette and nursing a beer on the porch. Kit was so tired most of the time that it became real easy to tune out the yelling and screaming of his parents having their nightly domestic. Often ending with a crash of something breakable and his mother weeping in the bathroom with a glass of wine. Harlan County was the kind of place where you don't ask too many questions and you don't stare too long. Everyone kept to themselves, you certainly did not confront your neighbor who you saw coming home late last night covered in blood, and you absolutely did mention a troubled marriage. Everyone knew what was going on; nobody dared say anything. The worst was in church with the side eyes and whispers.

When Kit turned Twenty-two his father was killed by his mother. Across the dining room table, a beautiful dinner was laid out. His father on one end, his mother on the other. He was talking too much, saying derogatory things. “You’re worthless, you call this food?. What kind of a woman are you?” etc. She must have finally had it and let a shotgun shell cut straight into Arthur’s head. Brain matter and blood splattering the window behind him. Kit hadn’t been home at the time and ended up finding out after getting off a shift at the mine. Called down to the police station, the scene was described to him and told that his mother wouldn’t be going to prison. On the account of claiming it was self defense. Everyone in Harlan County knew she was being abused. It was just a matter of time before she lost it.

Living under the same roof as his mother was uncomfortable, sure Kit loved her and understood entirely why she did what she did. But there was some tension and uneasiness that Kit would feel whenever he would sit across the table from her in the same spot where his dad got his brains splattered on the dining room window. So he left, quit his job at the mine, took all his savings and headed North. Finding a job up there wasn’t hard. Getting himself sorted on a ranch that raised livestock, most of his duties were fixing things and herding the cattle too and from grazing grounds. The owners were especially nice to him, and they ended up getting pretty close. They were a younger couple who inherited the farm from their family and just needed help around the place since it was such a large property. Kit happily obliged, and of course the paycheque helped. There were a couple of ‘em, people looking for jobs that paid mostly under the table, but they were all good folk.

There were predators that would come and pick off the cattle now and again, most of the time it was just pesky coyotes who were easy to scare off. But a couple mornings, the farm hands would stumble across the corpse of a cow ripped apart by something much bigger. Everyone assumed it was a bear, and night patrols were set out in the evenings. Armed with a rifle, Kit headed out on his own, riding a horse around the property. Keeping the cows herded closer to the homestead. He could remember the moon being at its peak when his horse started acting strange because he could clearly see the fearful whites of the horses eyes as he was flung from it’s back and hit the ground with a hard thud and snap. His hand catching his fall and snapping under the pressure, letting out a painful cry and holding the broken wrist against his chest, eyes rising to watch his horse running off in the opposite direction, gaze trailing to the tree line where he spotted two yellow orbs staring straight at him. Everything after that was chaos, he tried to get up to run but his legs felt like jello, he went to grab his rifle but it was impossible to hold right with only one hand. The thing got closer and closer, a low growl emitting from it��s form. From a distance, Kit thought it was just a regular wolf, but as it got closer it got bigger and bigger. A massive beast that could fit Kit’s entire head in it’s mouth if it wanted. He clumsily fired off a shot that hit the wolf in the leg, it didn’t even flinch. Lunging at the man who was now helpless on the ground.

Kit could remember a lot of pain in his arm before blacking out, found only half an hour after the attack since the ranchers heard the gunshot. Miraculously they managed to get him to the hospital without him bleeding out. In the emergency room for only a few days before the large bite wound in shoulder was on it’s way to being completely healed. “A miracle” the doctors and nurses would explain to him as he finally came to with what happened. No matter how much he insisted he could go back to work, the kind owners of the farm wouldn’t allow it and said that he should take the month off after a scare like that. But as the days went by Kit was only feeling stronger and stronger, like a second wind was breathed into him. He left the hospital a week later when they could no longer rationalize keeping him there. But it was in the weeks that followed when he realized something was wrong with him. The full moon approached rapidly as he was tending to the animals making sure they were all herded back before it got too dark.

The way he felt that night he couldn’t possibly describe, it was a mix of anger, strength, fear all mixed together that sent his body into a quivering mess beneath the full moon. Everything he was feeling was amplified and he had to have thrown up at least once or twice as he curled up in the middle of the pasture. His horse had run off, the livestock wouldn’t come anywhere near him and as soon as the last cloud passed away from the sky and the moon hit its peak, his body snapped and fractured, breaking down on itself. If you asked Kit to recall how he felt in that moment the absolutely couldn’t, after both his legs snapped out of place he blacked out. Only waking at sunrise in a misty field with his face buried in the rapidly cooling corpse of a cow. Luckily no one had spotted him out there in the pasture and while naked and covered head to toe in blood he wobbled back to his cabin on the property, hiding behind the locked door for days.

Irrationally he believed that it was obvious he was the culprit, he was the last one out there, but the body of the heifer was mangled to a point that pointed towards a large animal not a “human” He had to get off the farm, at least for a little while, while no one suspected him. After the first time he went through the shift, Kit had grown to be more careful, making sure he was alone whenever a full moon came around. Controlling his emotions well enough to keep from shifting out of the blue. But the dates slipped his mind, he’d been working so much and was getting exhausted and careless. He never would’ve gone into the city had he known. It was just supposed to be a quick drink at one of the local pubs and then he’d head home, but it turned into a couple drinks and by the time he left the bar the street lights had come on and the moon was rising further up into the sky. He could feel the power tingling down his arms and through his fingers. A change he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t have many options, peeling away from the streets he ducked into an alley to let the wolf take control under the cover of darkness. It wasn’t ideal and the fear of killing someone in the city was ever present in the forefront of his mind while his body shifted and cracked into a monstrous form of broken bones and torn flesh.

A wolffish creature emerged from where the small human once was, a mind of its own as he scavenged through the dumpsters and garbage that scattered around him. It wasn’t long before it caught the scent of a human walking by. A poor victim for the monstrous beast.the growl that erupted from the back of his throat resonated off the close walls of the alley way, creeping forward as yellow eyes fixated on the now frightened form of a young man. The moment his victim spotted the wolf, he lunged, hackles raised and long teeth the size of kitchen knives tore into soft flesh. It took every ounce of Kits willpower to tear the beast away from the boy before he could mangle the corpse pass recognition. By the time he left, he thought he had killed him, with the amount of blood he left behind. But the wolf wasn’t satisfied, stalking the streets looking for a feast.

Again, Kit would wake up surrounded by the sickening scent of blood, however instead of the corpse of a cow, it was a person. A man, no older than 35, body torn to pieces, missing a arm. Looking around Kit felt sick to his stomach when he couldn’t find it around the body and assumed the worst. Crawling to the side of the road he retched whatever remained in his stomach. It took a couple more minutes to realize he wasn’t in a pasture or a forest where he wouldn’t be noticed. He was on the corner of a street, a cross walk just a couple feet down from him where he spotted people approaching, someone had already pulled out a cellphone to record. Panic set in, and again butt naked and covered in blood he made a run for it, luckily he was on the edge of town and could cut through the forest to make it back to the farm. Too bad his wolf self didn’t kill that poor sap just a mile down the road.

By the time he made it back to the farm it was daylight, the farmhands were already out and about and making it to his cabin was no easy feat. The only way without being seen was to go around the homesteaders farm house, where he saw the wife cooking with the tv on through the big bay windows, while hiding in the shrubbery he could hear a loud travel ad for Greece came on, tickets were cheap for economy, and the exhausted and out of ideas Kit, made the decision to grab what little he had and make a beeline out of the country before he could be identified.

PERSONALITY

+ hardworking, passionate, selfless – nervous, impulsive, stubborn

PLAYED BY NOAH. EST. He/Him.

#werewolf #male #taken #kit berker #serkay tütüncü

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mister-maiden · 4 years

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*It Comes At Night* A Palpable Fear

While laying in the confines of my fluffy blankets like that of a stuffed peanut with extra spice, I sit upon my red couch scrolling through the lists of Netflix Films I have already watched, ranging from horror to romantic comedy to Korean Horror Drama (Strangers from Hell on Netflix...FIRE) and here I am to come across one of my favorite films of 2017 yet again.

This is: It Comes At Night (2017)

I shall give you one fair warning before this read. This brief observation is meant for those who have already seen the film. This is not a review nor is it a summary, so I ask you look away now if you wish not to spoil a single detail.

What I wish to look at are the faucets of information we are given in the film to try and explain what “It” is in the film, for we are never actually given a proper explanation for what it is and how it works.

From the beginning, the audience can very well assume from the death of Buddy, the Grandfather, that “It” is referring to the deadly virus which has seemingly contaminated the population, forcing people to group together in their own hubs and depend upon one another for survival. The entire film focuses its central drama on this virus and how it spreads - seemingly through skin to skin contact like that of Cabin Fever’s rash, except this virus seems to cause the blood to corrode and turn black, produce fever, and hallucinations...so you would think “It” is this virus which has killed so many.

But what if I told you “it” represented far more than that?

Going back, scene by scene viewing only scenes in which the family is secluded in darkness do we see the real beast.

The Unknown.

The true antagonist is the very faucet of which produces fear. Allow me to explain.

We have a completely unknown virus, both to us as the audience and to the characters. The only symptoms they know of are those that came from Buddy. The black boils of festering flesh, rotten blood, and darkened eyes. It’s a rather horrific virus which resembles the decay of the human body and its resources. In my opinion, this seems to be some form of the Bubonic plague as its symptoms are quite similar. Bleeding, weakness, fever, blackening and death of tissue...but we are never able to confirm what it is because this is a simple family. There is no doctor in which can save the world if he has the proper tools...Just a family whose only objective is to survive.

Inside, we have all that is safe. The lights, food, water. But instead of thinking of the home as a home...let’s think of it as the human mind...And the door as the barriers we place up..The antagonist being the unknown which can tear these barriers to shreds.It’s the things that we remind ourselves everyday to reassure ourselves that everything is fine. The lovely hospitality of a self embrace that protects you, keeps your chest warm and your cheeks rosy...but then darkness falls, and all fades to darkness as paranoia sets in. The doors become hazy lines of paper as whatever protections you believed you had are simply torn apart in the most agonizing moments. For instance: The crimson door of which the family relied on so heavily to keep the evil at bay..was unknowingly opened..and no one knew who. This leads me to discuss the family.

The father heavily relies on his rules to keep the family safe, going so far as to ask the family who they slowly allow through these barriers to follow these rules a T (stick together, don’t go alone, curfew, etc). And he will do anything to keep his family safe. His strict survival has kept the family alive for this long...besides Buddy. Fanatically he strives to keep order, barriers in place to keep the unknown at bay. The sharp clutches of fear digging into the wood every night, slowly digging deeper into the mantel. When his barriers are tested by human/known means, (when the father of the opposite family tries to break in) he knows exactly how to deal with it...But when the door has been opened, and fear has been let into the house through the uncertainty of infection and the loss of trust, the father quickly attempts to establish the same barriers he kept in place from the unknown...only this time he deems the opposite family as the unknown now, keeping them out of his barriers, only this time these barriers are paper thin as fear has already infested the idea that everyone could now be infected...But with no way to be certain, paranoia is produced, and all is lost due to altered perception.

All order breaks down the the removal of these walls. “It” is the unadulterated fear which drives the reasoning of putting these walls in the first place, except “it” is the thing which tears the home apart.

The unknown of if Will was lying about knowing the men trying to shoot them

The unknown if the family is to be trusted

The unknown of the effects and symptoms of the virus

the unknown of who has the virus

It’s the absolute meltdown of order which fear is a staple for. It’s the doubt which is embedded in the families after each night..But the thing that is most frightening is that we don’t actually understand how this virus works in regards to its incubation period.

It was mentioned by the father that Buddy had symptoms in a day and was gone, we understand the child, Andrew, it infected and within the day shows symptoms of coughing and fever, and then the day after that Travis has the physical symptoms as well, and thanks to this movie’s ambitiousness, there is no possible way to tell if this is an actual good sign of whether or not someone has the virus for a simple reason.

Travis is seen having visions of walking around the house quite often...Now pair this with Alex’s sudden want to sleep walk which the opposite family states he has NEVER done before. I believe this is a proper comparison to equal that the virus causes some form of restlessness. Hell, even when all the way infected, Travis seems to be in a near comatose state of being dazed.

My proposal: Travis was sick all along after catching it from the dog who was given it by the grandfather. Travis passed it onto the child, and Andrew showed symptoms before Travis because Travis was young and healthy while Andrew was simply too young to handle the effects. What’s cool about this is that it’s completely unknown if the theory can be true. I can try and explain.

We understand that the dog was the Grandfather’s dog, so we can assume they spent quite the amount of time with each other. It’s no far fetched theory that the dog was infected by Buddy sometime before he passed because of the amount of time spent with him.This then is passed to Travis who has nightmares, insomnia, and paranoia, all mental symptoms of the virus before succumbing to the physical decomposition of skin and flesh.

A piece of evidence I would like to point out for both the dog and Travis being infected is the scene in where the dog runs off into the woods because it heard something, which Travis claims to have seen/heard too...yet the two grown men close behind didn’t see nor hear a thing. It’s a small moment in the film but I believe it was the moment in which both the dog’s and Travis’s minds were fluid enough to hallucinate. We already know Travis has had some serious nightmares, so having this type of sensory misfire wouldn’t be too reaching. Then after this as Travis spends more and more time with the other family, he infects Alex without realizing it, causing the child to undergo insomnia, sleep walking, and confusion just as Travis had in his “visions” which were more or less small windows of time he was conscious while sleep walking. For instance: I believe the door was opened after Travis left to the outside to look for his dog, found the dog rather disgustingly mangled by an infected animal, and brought it back before going back to bed and not closing the door.

Could be a reach, but other explanations are just as palpable.

Everything was so perfectly placed to be as vague as possible! It could be as simple as Andrew opened the door for the dog scratching to get inside into the safety of home, touched it and became infected before going back inside frightened of what he saw, Travis then touched Andrew who then got the virus, and it could go from there...but the virus simply doesn’t seem to be the type to be able to move that quickly. No ordinary virus is going to be able to produce such protein decay in a matter of hours. I believe it begins in the mind and slowly seeps further into the system.

That’s what is so amazing of this film. No place can I look at and go “that’s what happened” or “yeah we can easily infer this from this” because there is no factual way to draw proper conclusions, just like there isn’t a way to properly place barriers to protect from the unknown.

(Hey guys, I know I haven’t been doing much recently. To be honest I’ve been looking for employment and studying for my COMPTIA A+ exam so I can try and find a help desk job somewhere to begin a career into IT. I’m going to try and write more analysis's or observations to further enhance my communication skills. Hope you all have a good night~)

((Also might be recording some singing, so woop))

#It comes at night #Horror movie analysis #Quick writing

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queen-scribbles · 5 years

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Steady as Stars: Tragen Meta

So time to ramble about Tragen because I am overly attached to this goober and have TOO MANY FEELINGS. Quick note, everything about his home planet is my own headcanon bc canon and Legends diverge pretty sharply so I just said “Screw allll of it” and am doing my own thing 😎 Also, i tried to keep some sense of order to it, but did not 100% succeed. Lots of parenthetical asides incoming.

Brief backstory, for anyone who’s not familiar with my wonderful paladin son, Tragen is from Stenos, which is in the Outer Rim, right on the edge of Imperial space. They remained neutral during the Great Galactic War, but did host several Imperial supply lines. These supply lines eventually wound up integral to Stenosi economy, which the Empire used to blackmail them into actually joining shortly before the Treaty of Coruscant was signed.

Tragen’s love of the stars goes back to his childhood, but up until about 10 years old, it was just typical child’s awe and wonder at how many there were all the different places you could go among them, that sort of thing. Around ten is when the Empire started really pressuring Stenos to join, making threats, etc. This wasn’t common knowledge, but since Tragen’s parents were both high ranked government officials/nobility(the two are somewhat linked on Stenos; there’s the king/queen, their inner circle, and then a moderately-sized parliament of sorts drawn from the nobility. I’m still hashing out all the details, but that’s the basics), he’d hear them talking behind closed doors or after they thought he and his sister were asleep. They were worried the Empire would actually attack or invade or something like that, based off the displeasure the Imperial diplomat was conveying.

With the planet/culture’s future uncertain, Tragen started really appreciating the stars’ constancy. They’re always there, always the same, even if you can’t see them or are looking from a different angle. They’ve been there for ages and will be for ages more, and he finds that comforting.

Even moreso after the Imperial diplomat discovers how important the supply lines are to the economy and blackmails Stenos into joining the Empire with that knowledge. There are assurances things won’t change, of course, or at least won’t change much, but they do. And that’s before the Sith start looking for Force Sensitives. It’s very disconcerting for an acquaintance to be there one day and not the next. There are so many rumors about what happens to the people who go with the Sith(willing or no), it’s impossible to figure out the truth. With all the uncertainty, and his parents working even longer hours trying to merge Imperial statutes with Stenosi culture, Tragen finds even more comfort in the stars. Everything else might be changing, but they don’t.

And then the Sith find him. It takes a little over two years from winning Stenos to the Empire for the Imperials to work their way bottom of society to top looking for potential Sith, but Tragen’s one of the first they find when they finally get to the nobility/officials. By this point, the Imperials have abandoned all pretense of this ‘honor’ being optional, and so off Tragen goes to Ziost at thirteen years old. (He doesn’t want to, but loyalty/honor/duty are so central to Stenosi culture his father uses those to talk him down from a full-on freakout and into at least accepting this new path for his life, even if he doesn’t love it)

Tragen is not particularly gifted with the Force. It’s there, he has a decent enough connection to... amplify other things(ala Force scream, etc), but his real saving grace talent is martial combat. He’s been trained with a blade since he could hold one, is extremely observant and good at reading body language, and has a good head for strategy/thinking on his feet. The Sith training is where he’s introduced to the idea of dual-wielding(he’s ambidextrous, which is why one instructor suggests it), which is the only enjoyable thing about it.

Right from the start, Tragen has to hide his true self, bury it beneath a mask of anger and hatred he doesn’t really feel. He knows if he lets it slip he’s dead. He’s watched it happen; decent people who couldn’t ‘get over’ their scruples fast enough fall in duels to fellow acolytes who did, or are cut down by trainers as an example. He skates the edge of discovery the entire seven years he’s there; beating opponents to unconsciousness(so he doesn’t get stabbed in the back) but never killing anyone if can be avoided, claiming it’s so they have to wallow in the humiliation of defeat and/or “I rather like them owing me their life”. Still, he gets lectured multiple times about this merciful “flaw” he has.

During this time, he clings to the stars; to knowing that even when they’re hidden they’re still there, still shining bright, still the same. Just like him, sometimes their true nature is obscured or the constellations aren’t where you expect. bc you’re looking at them from somewhere different. None of that changes them, just how/if people see them.

Tragen’s survival tactic of hiding behind a mask of expected emotions he doesn’t really feel gets tested to its limit once Tremel summons him to the Academy for his trials, especially after Baras takes an interest in him. He’s constantly trying to outfox one of the most paranoid and brilliant Darths around, and sweats bullets the first few times he’s near the man. Once it starts to seem like Baras isn’t suspicious of him, Tragen relaxes ever so slightly. Not enough to do anything stupid, just enough he’s not a mess of suspicious tension every time he’s in his master’s presence. (And let’s not get into how hard the whole ‘wish the Jedi found you instead of the Sith’ thing with Dorgis hit him bc I’ll get too emotional to function. So many feeling for this dork.)

It’s a little easier once he picks up Vette. He doesn’t entirely drop his guard or his mask around her, but she at least is okay when he does nice/reasonable things, instead of lecturing about how he’s a terrible Sith yada yada. The two of them strike up a friendship pretty fast(she reminds him of his sister, actually), and Vette is usually the one to tag along when Tragen leaves the ship, even after Quinn joins.

It’s a still-tricky balancing act to accomplish enough of Baras’ objectives he doesn’t get suspicious while not violating his own code, but somehow Tragen manages. He leaves everyone alive he can, trotting out the ‘yes, but now they owe me their lives, giving me power and humiliating them’ excuse when needed. The entirely of looking for Jaesa, he’s adamant and upfront that he just wants to talk to her, leaves everyone alive(even makes Master Yonlach question his view of Sith :3) and resolves things as peacefully as he can. Even when faced with Jedi who are raring to fight and operating with the bias Sith = evil(tbf, he’s a rare exception...), Tragen always tries to talk things out first. He’s found pointing out he’s acting more Jedi-like than them works really, really well. On the whole, his conscience is pretty happy with how the search for Jaesa is going, though it does make him uneasy when he hears Baras got his hands on her parents. There isn’t really anything he can do at that point, so he just has to hope for the best and keep going.

While he is happy with the increased freedom and decreased oversight of having his own ship and underlings to do his job, it’s still lonely. He can’t completely relax on the ship, and he’s so used to having his mask up, he can’t bring himself to drop it around people, even Vette. Quinn there’s the obvious reasons(the man’s born and bred Imperial AND owes Baras his career; there’s no way Tragen’s trusting him with this), but Vette it’s more... worrying she’d accidentally spill the beans. She’s such a chatterbox and very impulsive, so even though he thinks she’d try to keep his secret, he’d rather not take chances with something this dangerous. This means the only time Tragen can drop the facade and be himself is when he’s alone, in his cabin, with only the stars for company. This adds a layer to his love of them; alone with the stars is the only place he can be honest, and living this lie is so exhausting he treasures those moments more than he can say.

He’s very used to opponents(especially Jedi) jumping to conclusions about him based purely on him being Sith, so Nomen Karr’s reaction on Hutta is.. expected At least, the initial hostility is. Tragen tries and tries and tries to be reasonable and just talk to the man, but Karr doesn’t cooperate. That he starts calling on the dark side is a bit of a surprise(not a huge one, though; a lot of the Jedi Tragen’s met have been hypocrites, and he could sense Karr’s pride and anger from the start), but Tragen is a skilled enough swordsman(I guess swordsman still applies to lightsabers??) he handles it.

Then Jaesa shows up. Tragen sends Vette to check in with the soldiers outside, and for the first time in eight years, drops his facade. If Jaesa can sense a being’s true nature anyway, there’s no point fighting it, and he hopes a gesture of trust like this will convince her(I did a lot of flashpoints/side quests etc with him, so he’s Light II by this point, better than a lot of my SWs). Dropping his guard like this makes him feel exposed, vulnerable. Naked, almost. He’s been so hidden for so long behind that mask, it’s mildly terrifying to let go of it.

*ahem* (But trusting Jaesa feels right, and safe, and this was the best course of action, right?)

(Wrong. She’s confused this Sith reads as merciful and compassionate against Master Karr’s arrogance and rage, and attacks him anyway)

During their fight, Tragen can’t help but admire her form; he knows dualsabers are tricky to wield and she’s very good. Good enough that it’s a challenge to beat her without hurting her(too much). By this point, Vette’s brought the Imperial soldiers back in, so he has to hide how giddy he is when Jaesa agrees to join him and help change the Empire from within.

(Having her along is like surfacing for air after much too long underwater.)

It’s a little bit... cautious at first--they can’t speak freely enough on the ship to really connect. Tragen does encourage her to have confidence in herself; she’s grown since her days as a handmaiden, and understands all too well her struggles with pretending to be something she’s not. A lot of the advice he gives her is the same things he’s clung to for years(”Keep your eyes on the goal” and “masks worn for survival are different than those worn for personal gain”) Jaesa has a million questions and Tragen’s dying to talk to someone he can be himself around, but they don’t get a chance until Taris. Tragen marks a couple firsts for me there; minorly, he’s my first male toon who did the planet arc but didn’t flirt with Thana, and more importantly: first Sith Warrior to talk every. single. War Trust target into surrendering. He didn’t kill a single one. (which I didn’t know was possible until him; I thought at least one of them[Frelka] fighting was unavoidable, but he did it.) This is where Jaesa starts accompanying him pretty much everywhere(she’s his apprentice, why shouldn’t she?) and they start building up trust and friendship and she gets a real look at his character.

Tragen keeps his word to the Siantide miners, shows restraint, and is basically the least Sith-y Sith Jaesa’s ever seen, let alone met. This is what brings her curiosity out in Shining Bright. That conversation opens the floodgates and they talk freely as they work their way through Taris, a freedom both miss once they’re back on the Empire Dawn. But even if Pierce’s quarters weren’t right next to Jaesa’s, being more open is not a good idea. Too much risk.

It is, however, very difficult to keep their conversation quiet when Jaesa tells him about the other light-leaning Sith. Tragen’s ecstatic (and relieved) to know he’s not the only one(also, impressed by how much stronger + more skilled Jaesa’s gotten with her power). He’s very eager with his encouragement she keep looking, and so giddy when she actually finds them, they’re both equally to blame for Pierce almost catching them. (It’s very hard for a pair of excited 21 year olds to keep their voices down) He sends her to make contact with these light-leaning Sith and paces his cabin in antsy, impatient circles until she gets back.

Thanks to their Force bond, Tragen can tell even before Jaesa boards the Dawn that something’s wrong. When she tells him how badly her attempt went, the first words out of his mouth are reassuring her this wasn’t her fault. She tried, and no matter the outcome, that was the right thing to do. (He does hug her, even if it’s risky, just for a moment. She’s his friend and she’s hurting, he doesn’t care if it raises suspicions)

(side note: this is where the first seeds of Jaesa falling for him are planted, when her feelings matter more than her failure, even if she doesn’t realize it until years later)

Disappointed as they might be by this setback, there’s not much they can do about it(both somehow find solace in the stars, though neither mentions it), so they soldier on. Both improve in combat prowess, Jaesa’s strength with her power grows, they become uncannily good at working as a team. (this is part experience and part Force bond--Tragen might barely be decent at most Force stuff, but he and Jaesa bond STRONG)

It’s almost a relief when Baras tries to kill him. He can stop even pretending loyalty. Though he does find it deeply ironic the Emperor’s Hand reaches out to recruit as Wrath someone so diametrically opposed to Sith values. He shares Jaesa’s excitement for potential influence he can wield, being so high-ranked and even less subject to oversight bc who’s gonna be brave enough to question the Emperor’s Wrath? Between that and Lord Emmoridg reaching out to Jaesa, Tragen’s actually feeling good about their chances at reforming the Empire. It turns out a bit more complicated than he’s anticipating--while there’s less oversight, there’s also a stricter and more definite set of expectations placed on the Emperor’s Wrath than on a run of the mill Lord. Expectations that are harder to look like he’s fulfilling while actually subverting.

Belsavis, for example. Tragen has no problem or qualms about killing Ekkage. And he knows Jaesa’s not going to tell anyone how readily he partnered with a Jedi(who he not only let live, but parted on good terms with) to achieve his goals. But he didn’t kill Col. Trill for not helping him, and he lets Lord Melicost walk away, and he has no guarantee those actions won’t raise eyebrows. Sure he can argue he doesn’t want to weaken the Empire/Sith in their war with the Republic, but a) it doesn’t stop other Sith and b) he has a history of being less brutal than a Sith should. With being Wrath now, Tragen’s starting to really stress over the balance and his facade is straining him to the breaking point.

The stars remain a huge comfort to him. He spends a lot on his time on the ship just sitting in his cabin and staring out the viewport(he calls it meditating if anyone other than Jaesa asks). The stars are still there, still the same. The constellations and which ones he can see might be different depending on where in the galaxy he is, but even when he can’t see them, he knows they’re still there. Still magnificent and beautiful no matter what happens. That thought is one of the few things that keeps him going strong.

Another is his friends. Tragen is all too happy to help Vette find her family(it makes him miss his even more) and backs her up in her reluctance to seek revenge for her mother’s death. The two of them are pretty close, and Vette always manages to make him smile, so helping her is no trouble at all. There are times Tragen wonders if she suspects how truly un-Sithy he is, but he can never quite bring himself to admit it to her for sure. That mask is such habit, it stays on around everyone.

Except Jaesa. Even if their Force Bond and her power didn’t make hiding things an exercise in futility, they’re a team and Tragen a) trusts her and b) is eternally grateful to have someone he can be himself around. Completely himself. And he feels like no matter how daunting this goal of reforming the entire Empire is, with her as his partner it’s possible. Jaesa found the light-leaning Sith, Jaesa reached out to them. Despite the initial disaster, she’s the one Lord Emmoridg reaches out to and she’s the one who keeps in touch with him.

Tragen is feeling very good about about their goals and actually starting to hope he won’t have to hide forever when they learn about Cendence. Jaesa is so distraught when relaying her encounter with the tortured and dying apprentice, Tragen shuts and locks the door under the pretense of meditating so he can comfort her without being disturbed. Knowing there’s a Sith out there hunting down ‘their kind’ is more than a little troubling(terrifying is the word he would use), but Tragen’s too busy with the Hand’s assignments to do anything about it, so he entrusts this foe to Jaesa. He knows she can handle it. She a gifted Force-user, skilled saberist, and stronger than she realizes. He’s so proud of her when she goes face to face with Cendence and beats him bc he knew she could do it.

Regarding the Quincident--bc how do you meta a Sith Warrior without touching on the Quincident?--Tragen of course forgives him. Has to dress it in the usual ‘Your life is mine now’ rhetoric, but he’s secretly amused at the irony. Baras is the Proper Sith(TM) between the two of them, is more in line with Sith values and would technically be the right choice by that metric. Tragen’s just more powerful--even if it’s still more combat skill instead of the Force. (He’s better with the Force than he used to be, but still largely relies on lightsabers. He’s more comfortable with blades)

After defeating Baras(which is a relief) and being confirmed as Wrath by the Dark Council(which is stressful af), Tragen takes a long time wrestling with how to balance his goals and his new position. Yes, he has more influence, but people will also be more wary/skeptical that the EMPEROR’S WRATH is light-leaning and trying to change things,and he’s pretty sure the more times he’s merciful, the more questions will be raised. If he and Jaesa thought what Emmoridg is doing is dangerous, training LS Sith right under the Council’s nose, this is.... too perilous for words. He actually talks to the Emperor. Tragen interacts with Vitiate; pure, remorseless evil and incredibly powerful, who he’s actively working to undermine. It makes the next few years extremely harrowing, but at least things are never boring(and most of his orders--what few there are--come through the Hand, so he doesn’t talk to Vitiate MUCH). The only thing that keeps all his plans from crashing down and totally wasting the years of wearing his mask, is that the Wrath is allowed to maintain autonomy rather than being bound to Vitiate’s will via dark side rituals. That would have led to his discovery and torture/execution, Tragen is 100% sure. Even as things stand he has to be incredibly careful.

It helps him immensely that Jaesa’s sticking around; both for her help with their goals and just bc Tragen values her as a partner. He admires her growth and resilience, she admires his bravery and sacrifice(both admire the other’s inner strength), they work fantastically well as a team--by the SoR prelude they can practically read each other’s minds, and his future plans rely heavily on her being there. Which she’s all too happy to do.

(both of them are halfway in love at this point and both are completely oblivious to it. There’s no pining--yet--bc neither has a clue the true nature of their feelings-- largely bc they both come from planets where marriages are usually for politics over love, and then their respective orders; the Sith encourage lust, not love, and the Jedi ofc with their acting like Love Is Bad Bc Attachments)

I’m toying with headcanon-ing that Tragen’s acquaintance with Lana and Theron starts with the Depths of Manaan flashpoint, bc I’m verrryyyy conflicted about him doing Attack on Tython. It feels OOC for him(I played him through it, but it didn’t sit right >.>).Whatever I do there, his familiarity with Vitiate’s nature makes him all the more frantic to stop Revan bc seriously, man, you don’t know what you’re doing, this is going to end so very VERY badly. He is, of course, right, and he hates it.The disgust he’s always felt for Vitiate multiplies exponentially at the end, when Mr. Embodiment of Pure Evil and Dickishness escapes and promises to consume his Wrath last since Tragen’s “special” to him(which makes his skin crawl; he doesn’t want to be valued by something so evil). And like all my Force-users, Ziost hits him really hard. He’s more familiar with how evil Vitiate is, so on that score he’s braced himself. But even with his mediocre Force connection, all of that terror and death so fast hits him hard--though not as hard as it hits Jaesa. She goes catatonic for a little bit, which scares Tragen half to death. It’s only about 5-10 minutes, but he recovered in under a minute, so it still feels like an eternity. And she’s quiet and closed off the rest of the day.

The one good thing to come out of SoR-RotE (aside from new friends), is Tragen can now openly, full-throttle oppose Vitiate and it’s okay. More than okay, Darth Marr himself approves. And being the Empire’s Wrath instead of the Emperor’s has him back with the increased leeway to do his own thing which makes it possible to work(still subtly) toward reforming the Empire. And he’s more sure they need it than ever now; with Vitiate out there as a threat, he’s pretty sure the Empire and Republic will have to ally again to deal with him. That’ll be much easier to do it they aren’t so wildly different. His progress may be measured in inches, but he has time; he’s not going anywhere.

Or so he thinks.

(KotFE onward coming soon in a separate post)

#queen in space #tragen xo'ric #wow that's a lot #tolja i have many MANY feelings about my boy here #otp: my north star

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marichci · 6 years

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( KIM JUNG EUN, 20, she/her) - That’s MARI CHOI, I hear that the CLAIMED DAUGHTER of APHRODITE has been here for TWO years! I also hear that they’re COURAGEOUS & RESOURCEFUL, but that they’re also TWO FACED & BITTER!

Theme song: Seashore - the Regrettes [ playlist ] Zodiac: Capricorn [ dec 30 ]

bio, hcs, powers, etc under the cut

- Mari has its origins from the ancient Korean language. It's original meaning is "mountaintop" but it also means "good, the best, the first, etc"

[ PINTEREST ]

BIOGRAPHY

‘You look like your mother. If only you actually were her.’ Those were the last words her father said to Mari before she stormed out of their penthouse in the middle of New York City, about two years ago now.

Mari Elle Choi is the daughter of a rich Korean diplomat who worked for the Korean embassy in the US. Their home base was mainly in New York, but he traveled a lot, taking his home schooled daughter and her nanny/tutor with him. Before she came to camp, Mari had no actual place to call home, since New York didn’t seem much like home either. Paris, Los Angeles, Washington, Seoul, Amsterdam, New York, Beijing; every city she ever went to was just a passing acquaintance. The only two constants in her life were her father and her tutor, who was like a mother to her. Or at least more of a parental figure than her father ever was. Mari was a footnote in his life. Aphrodite had been the peak of his love life. She’d left him broken and with a child he didn’t want. After her, he’d searched for the goddess in every women he had an affair with, which were a lot. He didn’t spend much time with his daughter, Eventually even Mari’s tutor, probably the only person she was actually attached to and who had ever shown her genuine love and who she dared to love because she trusted the woman wouldn’t leave. That changed of course when her relationship with Elle’s father went south and so at 18, Mari lost the only real constant in her life.

All of this piled up made her lose trust in people. They always leave in the end right? The evening her father kicked Mari’s tutor out of their lives, they’d just come back from some fancy event that had to do with her father’s job. Mari’s father travelled a lot between Asia and America, but this particular time he’d been sent to Europe for about a week. Italy to be precise. Monsters are even more of a hazard there than back in the states of course. However, back then Mari had no idea she was a demigod. She got in a fight with her father about his affair with her tutor, and as a result she stormed out of their hotel suite onto the streets of Rome. All these years she’d been protected by always being surrounded by tons of security and changing locations so often. She’d never go out on her own, always having her tutor or a bodyguard with her. Now she ventured into the winding streets of Rome, only to be met with a trio of Empousai. She narrowly escaped, using the charmspeak that she had developed as a young child in a manipulative environment. She did end up with a scar, now a long white line running from her hip to just above her knee.

She had to go to the hospital of course, to the annoyance of her father. He’d never known her mother’s true identity, only that he’d never met a women like her. Ironically he had always described her as divine or a goddess. Mari also had trouble reconciling what had happened with the reality she knew. Besides, her father had always reminded her of the importance of keeping his image intact. They were supposed to play perfect family at any events, to the point where Mari told everyone her mother had died in childbirth.

So when it came to telling people what had landed her in the hospital, she twisted it into something more easily to grasp for any normal human being, including herself. The story as she told it was that she was attacked by three random homeless girls, some sort of robbery gone wrong. However, a satyr who was disguised as a nurse at the hospital picked up on the plot holes in the story that didn’t make sense to anyone else, but where red flags to him. When Mari’s dad had left - admittedly not very long after Mari had arrived at the hospital - the satyr convinced her to come to camp, even if she was very sceptical at first. She mostly agreed because she didn’t want to stay with her dad anymore, blaming him for her tutor leaving. She told him it was some kind of boarding school and rehabilitation centre, and he agreed to let her go because well, he wouldn’t have to hire a new tutor or extra body guard in that way.

She got claimed by Aphrodite pretty much the moment she stepped into camp. Some kind of cruel irony, she had never thought much about any gods existing, let alone that she was a daughter of one of them. And then especially the goddess of love, she hated it. It only further made her believe true love is a sham. If there are love gods managing every move, plotting people’s lives? Then love surely just isn’t real. However, in the past two years she has learned that her mother stands for much more than just romantic love, and though she still doesn’t believe in love, she has become a bit softer towards other kinds of love. Her siblings, who showed her what family is supposed to be like for the first time, helped with that too. It’s still something she struggles with however, and also with the stereotypes attached to being a daughter of Aphrodite.

HEADCANONS

- Mari carries two knifes with her at all times. They’re made by the Hephaestus cabin, and she helped design them. They’re very thin and easy to hide under clothing, like the hemline of her skirts for example. If she has any more spots where she can hide weapons, she often adds a butterfly knife or other small blades. - This habit has originated from the attack that lead to her being brought to camp. She felt utterly out of control, terrified and helpless in that instant. Before that night, she’d just been a rich kid who hung out more with her father’s colleagues and bodyguards then people her own age. She’d never had to fight before. After the initial shock of arriving at camp had faded, she threw herself into a busy training schedule, and now she is very skilled at hand to hand combat. - She could be an assassin at this point, if she wanted to. She knows how to hide weapons, she knows how to use them so subtly that no one notices. She’s pretty deadly, but it’s not in her nature to actually go down that path. - Since her entire childhood was spend practically friendless, she has trouble interacting with people her age sometimes, though there are a few exceptions. Like the girl she met at a fancy event in nyc shortly before she moved to camp, who later turned out to be one of her sisters (cough amiria cough). It has also gotten better since she has arrived at camp and is surrounded by solely people under 25, instead of solely people who are 35 and older. - However, she is very well versed in pop culture, because social media. Duh. - She is fluent in English and French, and conversational in Korean, Italian, German, Chinese, Spanish and Dutch, just from overhearing it while visiting those countries so often. - Since she spend most of her life playing the role of the perfect daughter, and still has to take on that role occasionally when her dad drags her to events to keep up his image, she has learned to be very charming. This was also how she developed her charmspeak abilities from a young age. - At camp she often lets that facade drop however, and you’ll get a more straight-to-the-point version of her. - Besides being pretty badass, she’s still very feminine. She’ll kick your ass in heels and a skirt, basically. - If you wake her up too early she’ll kill you. Literally. She sleeps with a knife under her pillow after a certain instance of one of her eros cousins thinking he could bring her breakfast on her birthday. He regretted that.

POWERS

- they have magical control over clothes, makeup, and jewelry. they are able to change it's colour, shape, material, etc. the only thing they can't do is summon anything out of nowhere. - they have the ability to temporarily change their physical features. (rare) - they have the ability to speak fluent french. - they have the ability to make makeup appear on others or themselves. - they have the ability to curse people so all of their clothes are two sizes too small for them for a period of time. (saps energy) amokinesis:- they can sense when someone is in love and who they are in love with. - they can make people temporarily fall in love with them. charmspeak: (rare)- selected children of aphrodite can influence other with the strength of their voices.

#nectarintro #there ya go #♡ —— αηαтσмү || i've been made to walk alone all the way through my life.❜#♡ —— нεα∂cαησηs || i lived my life in bitterness and filled my heart with emptiness.❜

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beautifulramblingbrains · 6 years

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Woke - Chapter 2

Pairing: Eric/OC Fandom: Divergent / Insurgent Rating: M - Frequent bad language and sensitive subjects.

In the middle of corruption, our Leader deviates through a twisted world - and mind. Can he save himself? Does he want to be saved? He isn’t playing a heroes game. But something might just grow on him.

A/N: You can read the first chapter here. And thank you all for reading, commenting, reblogging etc. I know, these are really long chapters, so make sure you grab a cuppa before you start :)

Tags: @2toastersbang @singingpeople @pathybo @equalstrashflavoredtrash @clublulu333 @jojuarez26 @tigpooh67@murmelinchen @vitaevandal @lilu46 @mom2reesie@frecklefaceb @beltzboys2015-blog @ariwolff14 @angelswannawearmyredshooz - this is not letting me tag you? @lunaschild2016 @kirstenisntkirsty - same? @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @lauraaan182 (If I have forgotten anyone please message me.)

Impractical. It’s probably the fifth time I’ve noted the structure as impractical. Trees grow freely, and the tree inside the dome already reaches the very top of the domed ceiling. Dangerous, I scribble to accompany my list of impracticalities.

I’m not as poetic as my father, it appears.

Looking around me, nobody cares that I’m here. They have permanent smiles and greet each other in passing like it’s the best day of their lives. Free love goes a long way. It’s notable by the many children clambering about the place.

It’s like taking a step back in time - before the dinosaurs.

“Mr. Coulter.” I recognize this voice, it’s Joe, and I turn my head over my shoulder to acknowledge him. “Johanna sent me to give you these. Initiate quotas, list of recent emergencies... I think there is a crime record in there too, though, it’s not very big. There are other records in her office that she hasn’t had time to put together.” He shifts through some laminated folders until he finds what he’s looking for. “Ah, here it is. It’s actually quite interesting for me, but for you, I’d hardly find anything troublesome.”

I spot Johanna exiting the barn at last in the distance, Jimmy not far behind. A bird flies overhead that captures my attention, and when I look back, I see the flailing red skirt. I step a little closer to him and keep my voice low. “Joe, what’s her story?”

It takes him a minute to catch up, following my eyeline until he sees her. “Ah, yes, Fleur. An assistant of Johanna’s by choice. A good worker. Far more hours than the average.”

“The average woman or man?” My voice is distant.

“Both,” he tells me and I take a moment to frown at him. “Why?”

“She might be a good person for me to talk to.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed. “You know, I work closely with Johanna more often than not, too?”

“Everything you have said or done is going into the report, Joe.” My smile is forced, but he seems happy enough. “Now, if you don’t mind. I only have one and a half days left to study an entire faction.” He crosses his arms and stands with me for a long time not realizing I’ve dismissed him. When he catches me, he drops his stance, and motions that he’s going elsewhere. I have every faith he will blab to her that I made an inquiry.

I’ll study the faction on foot, take my notes, and begin writing an official document tonight.

The ease to write comes to me by the time the sky begins to darken and I find myself half invested into it beside me while I eat. It’s back in the dome that the Amity folk cram themselves inside to keep warm and share food between each other; families and single members alike. Regardless of the sunshine in the day, the night is cool.

There is a small band playing old instruments in the corner quietly, and I’m fully aware of the darkness of mine and Jimmy’s clothes along with a small squadron standing out in the array of cream and orange.

I find eating easier by now. I’m used to this place. And Jimmy doesn’t seem to be at all bothered, stuffing as much food in his face as possible. “Try the bread,” I goad him, chuckling to myself when he doesn’t bat an eyelid and takes some from the middle. Between the tables there are servers taking finished plates, replacing food. It’s easy to forget our world in a place like this. But I’m like a dog with a bone. I didn’t realize how deep rejection had hit because I spend one-third of my time scanning the tables.

If she was here, what would I even do? Talk to her? - Most likely not. Apologise for being so bumbling before? - No. Explain how it would be incredible if she would take her clothes off for me? That may have worked one time before when I was twenty, but not now. The memory makes me cringe enough as it is. And besides, this is not Dauntless, and I am nothing but a forgettable face.

I haven’t been interested in sexual encounters for so long that this time it’s slightly thrown me. Usually, it’s kind of a convenience; something I fell into, or on. But she didn’t even particularly show she was interested and I wonder if that’s why I’m so irritated. She was only polite because I am a Leader of another faction. Fleur, it’s a dumb name anyway.

“...come with us tonight, we’ll show you around,” a charismatic soldier speaks mainly to Jimmy, filtering into my thoughts.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, and the table seems to be on in some joke. I just stay quiet and sip my water. “Few cabins round here get lively at night. It’s all that peace serum. Peace in the woods. Peace in the fields…”

“Eric?” Jimmy asks. “What you doing after?”

“I’ve got work to do.” I wipe my mouth and stand up, claiming my exit.

“You’re going to miss dessert,” he says, but the guy next to him squeezes his shoulder.

“There’s enough dessert to go around.”

Scoffing, I pick up my notes and make my exit without looking back.

There is something therapeutic about viewing my own writing. Usually, everything is computer based; emails and the like. But in my own handwriting, it’s a sense of accomplishment.

Putting an arm over my head, I sigh back on the limp pillows, drawing the pen up to bite it. As therapeutic as it is, my mind is racing. I glance at my father’s book beside me, under the hue of the orange lamp. This time of night I wouldn’t be in bed. I’d be in the Pit, with Frank, or in my apartment throwing back the nearest concoction.

If they could see me now - legs up, jacket off, pen in hand - they would think something is wrong with me.

The thought forces me to my feet, groaning for the sake of my shoulders persistence. I change into my sweats and gym shoes and prepare myself to take on the unpredictable Amity footpaths.

At first, my pace is slow but with time my muscles begin to give way to the point I’m hammering the paths, between the trees, my own breathing and heart pulsing in my ears. I want to feel the burn. I want to feel the pain.

I push myself to go faster until I’m wheezing, to the point of my body’s refusal. And it all happens at once. My breath catching the cool night air, my chest tight, my shoulder screaming, I stop suddenly and bend down, grimacing to myself.

Maybe that’s what my jumbled thoughts were, a pent-up energy. Running in Amity freely sure beats concrete in Dauntless.

Rubbing my face of the sweat that threatens to drip into my eyes, I put my hands on my hips and breathe in deeply, staring up to what appears to be lifeless cabins bar the one or two with the lights still on. Some I can see clearly into, some just brightly lit curtains. And upon my stroll back, I make random scenarios of what the families are doing inside.

I’m drawing my walk home out for the fact that I have nothing to go back to and what lies waiting for me at Dauntless will be careening back to me the moment I’m home in the afternoon. I’m lost here, like a limbo, nobody to bother me. And I don’t know whether it is a good or bad thing to be left alone with a swirling brain like mine.

Even in the midst of pure moonlight, in the dark - a favorite hour of mine - my sense of purpose is questionable.

A flash of light catches me off-guard; a room being lit up, and I miss my step, frowning until the realization hits me of who I’m watching. Looking to the ground, I contemplate moving on, pocketing my hands like I’ve been caught, though it is merely a coincidence.

But in the mirror of her small room, she doesn’t see me as she stares at herself in the reflection, mousy hair draped over her shoulders which she pulls to one side to brush through. Fleur’s face is anything other than impressed by what she sees, kind of sad, like the impression she gave with her shifty behavior earlier. Standing back and gripping the bottom of her white top, she lifts it in a practiced fashion to show her bare back to me, her front exposed in the mirror, braless, and my lamenting scoff to myself is purposely victorious.

Should I knock and tell her I can see her, that the whole neighborhood could? - Maybe she doesn’t care. Checking around me, everything is deadly quiet, not a soul. If I stand here and watch, does that make me creepy or lustful, or plain lucky?

She unzips the side of her skirt and it falls away from her hips, her hands going to the top of her underwear. Whether it’s only in my mind or not, but it’s painstakingly slow, watching the material drag down her skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I whisper to myself.

Smirking, I back away, finding the path back to my cabin. My goal is to have that. My mind's made up.

Jimmy’s about to knock but I throw the door open, his hand still caught in the air. “Goodmorning,” I say, quite cheerily, him rightfully frowning at me. He looks a mess. An obviously late night. I roam over his attire critically. “Sort your uniform out.” My shoulder hits his as I pass, and I can hear him stumbling behind me to keep up. “You’re on stock intake this morning. You need to go to the warehouses and get the annual turnover of produce for me.

“There’s like twenty?”

My smile is anything but pleasant. “Good thing we’re starting early... And there is fifteen. Overhaul is stored at the other faction’s warehouses.”

“Where are you going? How will I find you after?”

“I’ll be around.” A group of Amity pass in their bright clothes. “I’m not exactly hard to miss.”

Eyeing up Johanna’s long barn just pass the dome, my practical head is on top form. Just from a look, Jimmy knows to be on his way, and I march across the dirt still slightly damp from the cooler night.

There is no one inside, the place open to anyone who might be even slightly interested. As a start, I head for the main office. Of course, everything is above the stables, so I take the textured steps up, surveying the open landing and all the rooms filtering off into sections. Down the hall I can see the door open to the makeshift boardroom we were in yesterday and it gives me a better sense of the layout.

Off the large landing, I spy Johanna’s room, open with only glass walls and multiple blurred lines that are pointless for privacy. There are drawers upon drawers and one metal filing cabinet.

This is going to take me the best part of the day.

By eleven, there are voices traveling towards me. In the meantime, I’ve been enthusiastically pulling apart her office. When Johanna appears, I welcome her to the devastation. If she is unhappy, she hides it well. Though, any man could see her eyes drifting around, thinking how the fuck she was going to put this place back together.

Concentrating back to the papers in my hand, my overall discoveries are hardly troubling, more irritating. “I’m ready to visit the holding cells. I have reason to believe they are going to be in a lackluster condition as not fucking once have you filed any criminal activity apart from random names. And some of the dates are missing.” Holding up the paper, a second part of it drops down haggardly. “And, taking a guess, it’s about a hundred years old. It pains me to think of what condition the infirmary is in.” It’s also quite clear Max has done a piss poor job in the past - which I scribble down as a reminder.

“Usually our mishaps are very lowkey.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say sharply, lifting my head to movement. Fleur glances at me, standing just behind Johanna, but I look away feigning disinterest. “Now, the holding cells?” I insist to which Johanna purses her lips. It’s obvious she was not expecting to find me here, not just yet, and not like this. “Is there a problem?”

“Erm, well, no… It’s just, between eleven and twelve I deal with simple law of the land and community problems. I’m expecting a visit any minute.”

Bingo. I knew as much from yesterday. “No problem. Shall we?” I gesture to Fleur with a tilt of my head. She holds my eyes for a second, then nods and looks towards the floor, turning on her heel. Just as I get to Johanna I stop. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

Johanna forces a smile. “No worries.”

When Fleur stops in front of me in the small lobby of the holding cells, her hands ball into fists as I approach from behind and purposefully brush past her. “What the hell is this?” I burst out upon eyeing the holding area, which consists of literally three square rooms and bars like something out of an old cowboy movie. They are all empty, gathering dust. There is even a hole in the roof beaming in sunlight and exposing particles in the air.

“Johanna doesn’t like to keep anyone in here for more than a few hours, if at all. It’s... inhumane.” I forgot the sound of her voice, soft but listless.

“Right…” I sigh. “This needs to be rectified. With no authority at all, it spells fucking trouble.” Grabbing one of the bars, I wiggle it, hearing it swirl in the concrete. “How do you think she’d feel if Dauntless took over the policing completely? A more permanent arrangement?”

“Probably relieved? She can blame Dauntless for the hospitality then.”

Smirking, I turn to look over at her. She wears red again today, this time a simple dress with it tied in at her waist. There are remnants of a fringe she has grown out, lighter parts in her hair that catch. With her in a light-hearted mood, I’m going to try my luck. “Listen,” my voice comes out like velvet, leaning up against the nearest wall. She’s been watching me roaming over her attire and hasn’t moved a muscle, which can only be seen as a good sign. “I have got to admit something.” Her expression never falters - unreadable. “I was jogging late last night... and I got a nice little surprise show from you in return.”

“Welcome to Amity,” she says unenthusiastically. She’s not embarrassed, she’s not scared, she’s nothing other than bland.

I try a different tactic. “Why do I get the expression you hate me and despise the ground I walk on?”

Shrugging, she strolls over to an old desk, black with dirt apart from a few old handprints, and skims a finger across. Her lips rise ever so slightly as she scoffs, “I don’t hate you. I just don’t know you.”

Weird, as Amity seem to be all about meet-and-greets. “We could change that,” I say, taking a step closer.

“I think you have far too much work to be taking part in getting to know me.”

“I’m a great multi-tasker.” Only my boots scuff along the ground, and she turns when I get up close.

She has ‘come get me’ eyes, long eyelashes that seem to sweep when she blinks or avoids my gaze - like what she is doing right now. “You were watching me?” she asks curiously after a pause.

“It was hard not to.”

“Careful, Dauntless aren’t supposed to show weaknesses. Is a lack of restraint your weakness?”

She’s testing me, I can see it. Using that little womanly innocence she has to dare to ask such questions. “I admit, at times I’m impulsive. But that’s few and far between. You were hardly shy last night. If you didn’t want to be watched then you would have made sure to shut your curtains.”

“If you are expecting me to take my clothes off for you, I’m sorry, but you are going to be greatly disappointed, Mr. Coulter.”

“Worth a try…” That was risky on my behalf, but I like the way she finally smiles to herself, slightly blushing, hardly expecting my reply.

“You are so confident…”

“Kind of comes with the job. I would apologize, but I don’t see what for.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” She bites her lip, and in my third eye, I see myself ripping at her pretty red dress and bending her over the old desk in here. But I resist, using my ‘restraint’.

Fleur breathes in suddenly and moves away, breaking whatever had begun to shift between us. “We should head to the infirmary… to be finished before twelve.”

“Lead the way,” I gesture. At least I’ll have a nice view on the journey.

“We prefer traditional methods and ailments. The older generation are convinced they don’t need the help of Erudite supplying them. Our treatments work to an extent,” Fleur tells me. “For the treatment they do need - which isn’t available freely - they usually get aid from their families or neighbors to be able to afford it. And if you hadn’t noticed, Amity tend to have big families and a ‘what’s mine is yours’ attitude.”

“You speak like you’re not from Amity yourself?”

Fleur crosses her arms and stops in the corridor of the infirmary, gazing into one of the rooms. “This is my faction. I chose this faction.”

“Did I touch a nerve?” I ask, looking up from my notepad.

“No, I’m over it. My family abandoned me the moment I chose.” She looks to me then smiles gravely. “Did you want to see any other rooms while you’re here?”

“What’s your original faction?”

“It’s been so long it doesn’t matter,” she says quietly. “There are surgery rooms further down if you wanted to check them out. As you can see it’s not in the same state as the holding cells.”

She takes a step but I grab her arm and snarl, “I asked you a question.”

“My chosen faction is my faction. Whatever was is forgotten and I intend on keeping it that way.” Uncurling my hand the moment she gazes down at it, she gathers her composure. “What would you like to do?” I frown at her in confusion and she says, “...It is lunchtime.”

There is something compelling about her. Perhaps it’s the inner strength she has - the coldness, the mystery. Perhaps it’s because she doesn’t show any fear and hardly cowers at all, not even when my mood shifts unpredictably to the ways I act out in Dauntless.

“Have lunch with me?” The question tumbles out, so unlike me. But away from Dauntless, my senses have unwinded; those tight coils of suffocation slowly loosening, the gun next to my bed and the urge to pull the trigger, distant. I want to think about something other than work or myself. And what’s more, is that she makes me want to. That is what I find fascinating. “I’ll be out of your way this afternoon. I won’t be coming back.”

“You’re supposed to be working.”

“I told you, I’m a great multi-tasker. Don’t make it sound like a chore now.” There’s a long moment of silence where I begin to doubt myself. “I don't ask twice.”

A nurse passes between us, greeting us both politely. When she is out of earshot, Fleur puts a hand on the doorframe and loosens her stance. “Okay.” I hadn’t thought past her accepting, and now I’m stumped when she cooly roams over my uniform, lingering at the tattoos on my neck. “But I don’t eat in the dome.”

“I’m good with take-away.”

“What about park benches?”

My frown hurts. And then I realize - my shoulder doesn’t.

Bringing the sandwich up to my mouth, I hesitate. Fleur told me the sandwich bread wasn’t laced with peace serum but I’m always unsure. I glance over to her taking a bite and decide it should be okay. When she moves, it brings my attention away from the small pond we sit in front of, fish just viewable through the murky water skimming the surface on occasion.

“You have a lot of notes,” she says distantly, peering out ahead of her. The papers sit like a wall between us. “I hope Amity cracked up to what it was meant to be.”

“Surprisingly, I haven’t been shocked by anything. It’s not my first time here, it’s just been a while.” Tugging at my collar, my body is screaming for its daily dose.

She picks a piece of bread and throws it into the water. “Amity are good people. I like the fact that we are out of the loop with the other factions. I even believe the Factionless view us differently. We don’t get harassed by them as much as I hear from the others.”

“If you’re digging for what I’m writing about, don’t worry. I’m not aware of any changes apart from basics happening here.” Scowling, I take another bite, sitting further back and throwing a leg out while the nuisance pain strikes with a vengeance.

“I’m not digging.” She’s quiet as she chews. “Can I read them?”

I snort, kicking at the dirt with my outstretched leg. “No.” Rolling my shoulder, I shove the last piece of sandwich in my mouth and sit up, putting my elbows on my knees.

“Can I see?”

“I told you, no.”

“Not the notes, where you have pain.”

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I’m irritated and fidgeting, trying not to show any expression on my face. “My shoulder. It’s nothing. Unless you want me to take my clothes off for any other reason?” I smirk over at her.

“If that were the case, I’d ask you.”

“Mysterious and blunt, what a powerful personality,” I say.

“I could say the same for you… So, you won’t show me anything? Not your writing, not your scars, nor tell me what you are thinking?” There’s a smile to her voice.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking instead?” I brush her off, reaching for my bottle of water and unscrewing the lid.

“Where is the fun in that? And, you wanted to have lunch with me.”

I forgot I have a kink for inflicting torture upon myself. “You wouldn’t like me all that much if you really knew my thoughts.” Taking a long chug of my water, my hand quakes.

“Who says I like you at all?” She smiles mischievously when I glance over to her which tells me the exact opposite.

“For one, you’re still sitting here, asking me passive questions, and eating a dry sandwich. For two,” my lips rise up all on their own. “You’re trying to trick me into taking my clothes off.” She merely bursts out laughing, and it’s contagious.

Clicking her tongue after her laughter filters out, she sighs softly. “I’m thinking you should take your jacket off.”

“So, I was right?” I grin gleefully, feeling a bit lightheaded from laughing, which is weird because I can’t remember the last time I did.

“Partly.” She stands up and I watch her critically, rounding the bench to stand behind me.

“Which part?” I ask, her hands still stained with henna distracting me when they grip my shoulder, the smell of faint perfume, the pale underside of her arm seeming so delicate. She squeezes, kneading into my neck and it’s hard for me to relax. It’s like feeling constricted, bugs crawling up the skin of my legs. I want to stand up and repel away, instead, I opt to just turn my head and shrug her off. “Don’t.”

“I was only trying to help.” Dejectedly, she clasps her hands, the wind kicking up the skirt of her dress, her hair swaying in the breeze. “I should have asked. Maybe I’ve been in Amity too long.”

My laugh sounds somewhat condescending, yet it’s anything but. “I say that to myself about Dauntless.” Putting a hand through the shaved part of my hair, I’m starting to feel like a cunt.

“Is it because… there is someone in Dauntless waiting for you?”

“It’s because,” I begin, standing up and facing her with the bench as a wedge between us. “It’s,” I exhale sharply, instinctively lifting a hand up to feel the pill bottle inside my jacket. The job I do; only the other night putting a bullet between a sixteen-year-olds eyes, the screams, the blood on my hands. “I’m not worth helping,” I finally finish. “I’m a dangerous man.” Fleur’s eyes flash between mine, the crevice of a frown between her two neat eyebrows. “I’m not looking…” I stammer for the first time in a very long while. “I don’t want or need sympathy.”

Fleur crosses her arms and forces a smile, one that does falter. “If you’re ever going to change your mind…” she trails off, gazing back up the path. She gets up, shaking her head. Brushing past me, she says, “You know what? Don’t even bother.”

I scoff to myself in surprise as I listen to her footsteps fading away, popping the pills and swallow. I snort humorously - who does she even think she is? “I’m not bothering, don’t worry,” I say to no one in particular, feeling like a jackass nonetheless.

“Thank you, Eric, for all the hard work you have put in over the last two days,” Johanna shakes my hand. Hard work? She should try getting from one side of the Pit to the other on a Friday night.

Joe is next, shaking enthusiastically, and I hope to damn god I never see any of them again. “It’s been a real pleasure,” he tells me. “It helps to make us feel a part of the city we live in, though we are so far out of touch.”

“That’s great.” I whack his shoulder hard and turn my back on him, looking to Jimmy behind me. “You ready? He nods and jumps up into the truck, leaving me the window seat. As the truck starts, I keep my eyes out to the front, but I know I’m going to be catching glimpses of red for days - whether that is on my hands, or of Her skirt.

Pulling up to the Lot in Dauntless brings a weight upon my shoulders, namely - my bad shoulder as I roll it out. I was hardly expecting a welcoming party, so to see the one lone man, bringing his arms up in a huge gesture towards himself, is somewhat of a surprise. Frank obviously couldn’t wait for me to get back.

When the engine dies and I hop down, he strolls over with his trench coat open, a massive grin that he’s known for. “My boy!” he exclaims loudly over the emptying of the truck, man-hugging me and patting my back like it’s been years. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling.”

“I haven’t looked at my phone since the reception went. I’ll turn it on tonight,” I say, just as Jimmy tiredly steps to my side.

“How was the honeymoon?” Frank laughs, greeting Jimmy in the same fashion.

Smirking, I peer at Jim. “There was a lot of honey.”

“Is that so?” Frank winks before his expression turns serious. “Eric, we gotta talk. Now.” Suddenly thinking of Max, something ice-cold drops down my back. “You be on your way, Jim.” Corralling me away from the truck, there is a shift in his stance; a lowering of his head, but shoulders stiff, glancing around us. “If I’d have known about Amity, there were a few things I could’ve got you to do - check out for me, while you were there.”

“It was a fast arrangement. I didn’t know until an hour before and I had things to organize.”

“I get that.” He pulls out a cigarette and offers me one, which I take. He waits for the people to filter out of the lot before speaking again, keeping his voice low. “This is more of a personal thing. None of the other boys know.”

I laugh sardonically. “You got secret kids you’re not telling me about?”

“No, man.” He smacks my arm. “I got family in Amity.”

I stare blankly at him for a long moment. “You have family... in Amity? Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not,” he assures, taking a long drag. “And family as in just one family member…. I hope. Kind of a sweet-sour subject, so if you’d humor me a little bit of low judgment that would be great.”

“What about them?” I’m growing bored already of his long-ass, splintered sentence structures.

“I want to know how my little flower is doing.” I zone out instantly, thinking of Her. The waves in my brain buzz, my ears ringing. “She won’t speak to me. I get a very brief message from a nobody that goes out there on security turnovers. I tried calling you, boy. And this is why.”

My head begins to throb, specifically over my eyes. I rub my eyebrows frantically, feigning tiredness. “She?” Swallowing, my throat has gone dry, and my gut hasn’t caught up with my mind. “You could have sent an email, that would’ve got to me.”

“You know I prefer face to face or voice to voice for professional purposes. And she, as in, my half-sister.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, flicking his cigarette. “It’s a real long story. Daddy had a side-chick. Side-chick has baby. Sister goes Dauntless to Amity.”

“Why?” I cough suddenly, making Frank laugh. “Why have you never told me?”

“No reason to. You know what I said in the past, right? About people finding connections and…” he trails off distantly, staring over at the truck. “...weaknesses. It’s always used against you.” He grips my shoulder, meeting my eye. “Are you going back to Amity?”

“I don’t intend to. But then, I haven’t seen Max. And I won’t know anything until tomorrow. Got some work to do at home to get this finished.”

“So, you’re not heading out with us tonight?”

I shrug, “Duty calls,” knocking his hand from my shoulder.

“You get the word you’re visiting Amity again, you tell me, brother. I mean it.” Come to think of it, as I face him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I wonder if this is what Max had seen in me the night before he sent me to Amity. “Let’s get out of here, it’s freezing. Balls are going to drop off…” He begins to walk away, towards the parking lot’s steel door. “You up for a beer?”

I’m still far behind, hands shoved into my pockets, following a crack in the ground before letting my head tilt up, trying to seem impassive. “What’s her name?” My voice cuts through the chilled air, and Frank hesitates for the best part of several seconds, holding the door open, one foot in, one foot out, like my mind and loyalties. Maybe a sign, an unconscious sign…

“Fleur,” he says. Slowly, he points inside. “Beer?”

“No. Got work to do,” I say.

“Hm, work.” He pouts for a moment, seemingly thinking of talking back but eventually just nods. “I’ll catch you tomorrow morning then.”

My holdall is dumped the moment I set foot inside the door, slamming it shut behind me, looking at the pitiful excuse of the place I call home. It’s far from the freedom of Amity; a dungeon, a place where my most decrepit thoughts linger, hitting me straight in the face.

I pace a few times up and down, past the kitchen island, eyeing up my laptop on the end. The moment I turn it on I know the emails will come flooding in, my initiate reports long and boring. But what I can also do is search the database through my home laptop, using the network accessed by senior members, like myself, Max, Frank…

Running a hand down my face, the realization of spending almost half a day with Frank’s sister; seeing her naked, lusting after her, trying my hand at flirting, is wrong. If he found out…

The thought strikes me that perhaps someone saw me with her. That maybe an informant will give their information to Frank. My part was totally innocent. I didn’t know who she was, and now her first reaction to me makes sense. He called her Flower, a nickname. I asked her about the meaning of it and her mood dampened quickly.

She’s hiding in Amity from him. No contact, he said. No contact on her behalf means she knows more than she lets on about Dauntless, about Frank. She knows things about Frank that could be dangerous.

Was Frank also fobbing me off about his whole weaknesses speech? We all have family. We all come from somewhere. So why would he call it a weakness? I don’t have attachments, but most of the other guys do. So why does that make Frank hold this secret?

The laptop is open and I’ve perched myself in front of it without being completely conscious of it. I type in the passwords angrily, scorning myself. I should have seen it. I should have known.

The Dauntless logo is at the top right of the page, a search bar to place a name or location in the middle. I don’t know her second name, I doubt it will be Frank’s. Fleur and Amity are all I have.

It takes a minute to load while I chew my thumbnail, propping my arms up on the counter. Suddenly the information springs up, her picture - that same mysterious, lost appearance that had me so caught up. Her name, Fleur Morey, Amity identification: 1247745, DOB: July 7th, making her twenty-five, seven years younger than Frank. Other than that, her information is basic. But at least she is legit. Though, there are no specifics on family.

With no email or number, she really has cut herself off from Frank.

I can’t admit to him that I met her because that opportunity had escaped me the moment he told me her name and I stared back blankly. I should have mentioned it then, but I didn’t, and logically, I’m unsure of why.

My phone buzzes loudly, snapping me out of my trance-like state. Grabbing it from my pocket and putting it to my ear, Max talks first. “Eric, I hear you’ve returned. Because I haven’t seen you I guess you’ve gone back to finish up the report on Amity? - And that, because you answered your phone, you’re not out with Frank?”

“I’m just going over the notes,” I lie, with the picture of Fleur staring back at me. It makes me feel a little creepy, stalking her after only recently departing, but it’s within good reason. “I’ll have it done tonight.”

“Other than that?”

I log out, clicking off the database. “Everything was… fine.”

Max sighs down the phone. “No hard feelings for sending you out there?”

“You know me, I’m one for expressing myself quite clearly.”

He chuckles to himself. “See you at the morning meeting.” He ends the call without my reply; the light dying on the face of the phone when I put it on the counter, leaving me to sit here in an eerie silence. Alone again.

Entering into the boardroom for our usual meeting, I take a seat next to Frank. Though, he’s quiet. Too quiet. Barely glancing my way with his legs crossed and watching his own foot bounce impatiently on his knee.

Max is up front, standing authoritatively, the group waiting. “Eric has returned from Amity with a very fine report. It’s believed from the conditions he was met with, that the holding area they have within Amity is in poor condition along with any crime-log or activity, which makes it hard in general for Dauntless to operate.” Frank’s burning stare is at the side of my face but I ignore him, acting like I’m too enthralled with this speech. “He’s advised a permanent fixture. Someone to be named head of the project.” A woman at the front that’s always hovering around Max looks over her shoulder at me and I stare her out until she ducks away. “As we are prominent members of Dauntless, I think this matter should be discussed between us. A decision will be made today.”

Frank taps my leg. “You missed out last night,” he whispers, watching Max carefully. “Two detailed hits sent to Jeanine, deviating Max. She’s dealing with the backlash. Heath banged his long lost love, Pepper. And Jimmy whitied.”

Running my tongue along every individual tooth helps to stop my mouth from getting away from me. For the first time, when I glance at Frank, he irritates the living shit out of me. The nonsense he drawls seeming hardly thought-provoking. I couldn’t care less, but find myself pondering over whether Jimmy is alright or not.

Flexing my hands out, Frank taps me again, and this time I painfully clamp my eyes shut. Maybe Fleur was right, my lack of restraint is terrible. “I want you in on tonight's,” he tells me.

I turn my head and look him up and down slowly. “I’ll be in on tonight’s if I’m not busy. Since when did you feel the need to tell me what I’m doing?” His eyes glint, his top lip quirking into more of a snarl than a smirk. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“Not yet,” he smiles fully, motioning with his head towards Max. “But maybe someday you will.”

“Then that’ll be the day.”

“Eric!” Max’s voice booms suddenly, stopping me and Frank from sneering at each other. Neither of us had heard him calling me for the last couple of minutes, and that the room is quiet. “Eric, this entire boardroom is in favor of you representing Dauntless for Amity. I’m sure, as you have been once already, Johanna would be very pleased with your presence.”

“Thrilled,” I say, and Frank leans back with a scoff in his chair.

“You start immediately. Arrangements should be made for next week.” Max nods to the woman who is his insufferable shadow, handing her some papers. “Meeting dismissed.” The room moves except for me and Frank.

“I saw this coming,” Frank begins, sounding somewhat disappointed. “You’re going to be fucking off to Amity every week. It’s going to be occupying all your time.”

“Get off my back.” I go to stand but he grips my arm, my hand whipping back to his wrist, a defensive maneuver. “You really want to do this?”

“No, but do you?”

“Where exactly are you going with this?” I ask, shoving his arm away and flexing my shoulder. “You’ve been a little bitch all morning.”

“There’s something bothering me about you and I can’t figure out what it is. Maybe it’s just me. But I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, we’ve always been straight with each other, haven’t we?” He purposely smiles with all teeth. “I’m doubting how well you’ll hold up with what’s in store for Max. You know, last night was the first time you put us aside for work?”

“I’m doing my job. The job comes first.” That may be the first time I’ve said that.

“We come first. Or have you already forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything, but this is new. You’re like a bitter wife I left behind.” Frank’s never vocalized what comes first, it’s always been my guess, but right now I know he’s trying to lay it on, trying to break information from me. He’s looking for a way in, to stab the knife and twist it until I submit. ��We are Leaders of a faction.”

“You’re also a sick man. A sick man who relies on medication. That was the deal. If you can’t turn up, you get turned out. And that ain’t pretty. Tonight, Eric.”

My eye twitches, casting a glare at him, one that would make any other person back down, but not Frank. “Fuck you,” rumbles out of my chest without any conceivable thought. “Fuck you. That was low - even for you.” As I stand up, my attention is drawn to a person by the door, leaning up against it - Leroy. He’s heard the tail end of our conversation, it’s written all over his face.

My back is so stiff, my muscles screaming to inflict pain on the next poor bastard. But they won’t get the better of me. As I get to him, he doesn’t move and I purposefully stop, staring coldly, unspeaking. I suddenly fake a large step towards him, causing him to jolt back in surprise and hit the frame. “Pussy,” I say with a smirk.

Heath keeps looking over from the seat next to me in the back of the car. This confirms he probably only knows partly of what’s happening. - Or maybe it’s just the pissed off look on my face

Leroy drives, and it’s Candor we are visiting, the great building in front of us. My mood is sour. I couldn’t care less, and I’m not enjoying being in Leroy’s or Frank’s company. “Leroy should take this one,” I say as the car stops, copying him from the night he elected Jimmy.

“We all go,” Frank frowns back at me.

“Wow, what a different attitude.” I yank on the handle of the door and open it, slamming it shut behind me. They are whispering in there in their few spare seconds and I don’t doubt it’s about my behavior. But I will not be told what to do. And I will act the cunt as much as I fucking want.

Hey, after all, Frank wanted me here tonight. Specifically tonight. And I’m going to make him regret it.

Tapping the window, I smile at Leroy. “Come on, you’re not backing out now, are you? I could really do with shooting some innocents again tonight. We tend to have a knack for it. Get’s me off,” I snarl the last part with a fake grin at his level in the window.

“Cut the shit, Eric,” Frank snaps as he emerges from the vehicle, lighting a cigarette. He inhales heavily and closes his eyes before he speaks. “Two refusements to pay tonight. You know the deal.”

We know the deal. The hand I’ve been dealt is bullshit.

“Please, please, please. I’ll do anything. I don’t have the points right now. There must be something?” The woman begged. Leroy glanced over to Frank while I stood back with Heath with a gun to her husband's head. “The medicine is for me, not him.” None of us moved, nor acknowledged her at first until Frank breathed in and crouched down to her level on the floor where she sat pleading on her knees in front of Leroy.

“You get one warning, sweetie,” Frank said, pushing back some of her hair. The husband moved and I pressed the barrel hard onto his forehead. His eyes met mine, and if only he knew how hard it was in that moment to keep myself passive. I could see the hate boiling under his surface. He would kill me now if he could. Even if the most harmless man was pushed hard enough, they will kill. “Then you get us at your door for your last chance. ...And you still can’t pay up.” He shook his head for dramatics. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Please,” she sobbed.

“She has a beautiful mouth,” Leroy spoke quietly. My eyes slid from the horror in her husbands towards Leroy getting a little closer to her. There was something different, something dark that I’d neither heard nor seen before. Leroy and Frank were pretty close, but from my new understanding, because they were just as sick as each other. Me and Frank had a different relationship - we used our heads.

“Indeed she has,” Frank said, letting a thumb slip across her lower lip.

I knew what I needed to do.

“Eric, you okay there?” Max asks, weaving behind his desk with a coffee. “You zoned out.” I feel cold all over, peering out towards the window.

I pulled the trigger. The backlash of warm blood splattered across my face from point-blank range.

My hand twitches with the noise of the gun in my memory and I whip my head back to Max. “What were you saying?”

“What the fuck, Eric?!” Frank called out, the husband's body slumping on the floor in front of me. Frank stumbled back and Leroy jumped to the side as I swung my gun towards the woman. She screamed, momentarily. But it was for the best.

I grip my hands together, blinking rapidly. Max seems to watch me closely for a minute, sipping his coffee. “Did you want one?” He gestures with the cup and I shake my head. “I have to admit, I’m impressed with the work you did. It’s detailed - can tell it’s your own words, of course,” he chuckles. “You haven’t lost it.”

“He moved,” my voice droned, putting an end to the night.

Raising my eyebrow, all I can think is, ‘Really? Because I feel like I’ve lost my damn mind.’

“You seem to be taking the thought of representing the adjustments in Amity pretty well.”

“Initiation is ending. I need something to focus on.” My thumbs twirl around each other. I need to stop this. I’m being too obvious.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Don’t criticize me,” I say.

He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs. “I’m giving you full authoritative permission on this. Your word is as good as mine. I’ll let all relevant parties know. But just…” He hesitates, rolling his lips to grimace. “Just don’t let me down.” He scoffs and turns in his chair more to the side. “I know I’m giving myself grief, having to try and coerce Frank into listening to a damn word I say. I was hoping I could work on him. Perhaps try and build a better relationship, if only for work.”

“Good luck with that.”

Max smiles somewhat then goes into a drawer next to him. “Radio, because the reception gives me a headache out there.”

“Add that to the long list of improvements,” I scoff sarcastically.

“I’m pretty sure the folk out there make sure to keep it that way.”

I sigh tiredly. “They are interesting.” The vow I told myself, to never linger in the land of regret, comes two-fold. The words I spoke aloud, saying I didn’t want sympathy, or that I couldn’t be helped were far from the truth. At the time, my back bristled and I responded the only way I knew how. But I brought back that sensitivity from Amity. The book my father wrote, viewing a relaxed life, the touch of someone who cared, which couldn’t gain anything from me, has ignited something. The gun in my mouth seems far away. The will to live harsher. Questioning everything that only a week ago I was passionate about.

The words are out before I can stop them, “Be careful with Frank. He’s a loose cannon at the best of times.” Standing up quickly, I take the radio, heading for the door.

“And like you ain’t?” he smiles. But if he’s smart, he’ll understand.

For the next few days, my life consisted of paperwork leading up to the Amity visit and arranging a new schedule, solidifying that the quota is capable between our security. In the night, I found myself just on simple visitations - premier warnings. Whether I was purposefully back seated or not, I didn’t focus on it. But I did see them afterward, joining them in the Pit. Though, it did feel like there was a distance between us. How they kept themselves to one side and I sat with Jim or Heath. My part as top dog in our faux brotherhood was shifting. I’m not blind to it. The question was, did I care?

...Not if my pain medication still fell into my hand every week.

That all fades into the background when my second official visit to Amity arrives. This time it will take me a few days, three to four to sort out how well this will work. And if what they say is true - that there isn’t a lot of problems with criminal activity or suspicious behavior. Because not only do I want to know why - so I can study it - but also if there is some backhanded business taking place. I have to say, a straggled bunch of factionless, fed and watered, then packed off into the sunrise sounds a little far-fetched.

The trucks are loaded, three to be precise, out in the Lot, ready for departure. I’m opening the cab door, checking whether I have my radio when I hear Frank call my name. I turn and he gestures to himself as per usual, like I should be in awe at the sight of him and says, “What’s up?”

Tightening my belt around my waist, I tap the knife on my leg to make sure it’s secure. “What is it?” I ask him, hardly paying attention while he holds the door for me.

“Shit’s been crazy busy. With the whole…” he rolls a hand out, saying, “Jeanine thing,” quietly. “I’m hoping when you get back we’ll have more of a chance to talk.”

“Yeah,” I say unenthusiastically. “I’ll be gone a few days.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s cool.” He crosses his arms and looks shifty, so I pause, turning to face him. “Look, er... You remember what we talked about before? About family?”

“Oh yeah, a secret sister.”

He smiles and it drops quickly. “Can you find her? See what’s going on? How’s she's doing?”

“Why don’t you go to Amity when you next get the chance?” I brush him off.

Frank laughs. “She’d probably shoot me on sight.”

My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Don’t get along?”

“Brotherly-sisterly love. You know, that old cliche.”

I don’t believe a word of it, clambering up into the cab as he still stands with the door wide open. “I won’t go intentionally looking. But if I bump into her…”

“As long as that’s the only bumping you’re doing,” he subtlety warns me. It’s a normal tone, but I know he means it. He salutes, letting the door close.

When the engine starts and we pull off, I watch him in the side mirror, dragging a hand down his face. For the first time viewing him torn or a little lost at the sight of us trundling towards his precious Fleur. I can’t help but smile to myself. And hope, that when I get back Max is still around.

It’s late afternoon by the time we arrive and have the equipment unpacked. Johanna stands at a distance for the most part with a group of people, some of the Amity getting involved and helping. I am designated the same cabin as before, refusing the assistance of Joe quickly, assuring him I’m not stupid and can remember from the last instance.

We are offered a long table at dinner, and this time it’s quite riveting to see the plentiful uniforms of black swarming around the pinks and yellows. With no tag-along with me, I’m left alone, able to eat without a continuous droning in my ear. I’ve had my painkillers in advance, a full stomach, for once feeling pretty alert to the usual aches as the outside light fades fast with the evening.

Taking a sip of water, I look between the rows of tables, conscious of the fact that I’m not being watched, not by anyone, not like I am in Dauntless.

A wry smile begins to form across my face when I see Fleur enter. Avoiding the rows of tables, she grabs the last dregs of food from the lineup. She doesn’t wear red, but something pale orange. Whatever it is, it’s hideous.

Only when she steps through the archway on her exit do I get to my feet, following in pursuit. I know she knows something. She knows about what Frank does, she has to. And she’s heightened my sense of curiosity.

She takes the main path lit by solar paneled lights while I opt for the cover of darkness. She’s loud and uncaring when she walks, not the slightest clue I’m following. I round the back of the cabins as it merges into the forest, catching glimpses of her, even when she stops and taps something on her leg. Fleur looks behind her this time but continues on.

There is a bend in the path, narrowing next to a dark and unoccupied cabin, and I target that as my point of contact. Stepping onto the path, she suddenly takes a left, past a tree I hadn’t thought about.

I curse softly, I’ve lost her. But I still get to the tree, running along one of these shit built sheds.

My reactions are based on instinct as suddenly an arm with the knife darts out and a little hand tries perilously to grab my jacket. The knife clatters to the ground after a mere tap to the soft underside of the wrist, disarming Fleur quickly. I’m able to pull the balled fist from my jacket, spinning her and restraining it behind her back as her chest hits the side of a building.

“Careful. You’ll hurt yourself,” I hiss, listening to her breathing heavy.

“Why are you following me?”

With her hair in a ponytail, I can see the fine hairs at the back of her neck, the slope to her shoulder and down, leaning purposefully into her. “Now, why is an Amity so jumpy?” I ask sardonically. “So frightened?” I loosen my grip and spin her to face me, pushing back on one of her shoulders to keep her in place.

“How’s my little flower doing?” Her eyes widen, and I can’t help the one-sided smirk on my lips as I finally get a reaction.

#woke #chapter 2 #eric coulter #divergent #insurgent #beautifulramblingbrains #jai courtney #fanfiction #fanfic #eric divergent fanfiction

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malarado · 7 years

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Time for the Sinnoh kids!!

- Platina is daughter of Athena

- Remeber when I said Daisy was Athena’s favorite? well it was a lie, Platina is

- She is the brain of the Sinnoh trio, barely fights but if it’s necessary she will do it

- One day her mansion was attacked by monsters looking for a book Athena gave her father

- Her father was kiddnaped by said monsters

- He gave her the book they were looking for

- Sebastian (her butler’s name I think??) is actually a satyr

- He was taking her to camp half-blood when they found Pearl and Diamond

- Platina and Pearl are half-siblings (duh)

- They didn’t get along at all at first tho

- Diamond is son of Demeter

- He is the assigned chef but not because he is good at cooking (he is tho), it’s because the other two suck at it

- His mom gave him a pendant that transforms into a sickle

- He hates fighting and preffers talking, it never works

- He can control plants and stuff like all the demeter kids

- Because of this he always has stuff to eat, though he prefers junk food

- He never gets angry but when he does it’s more like dissapointing, all the people who have experienced it can agree it’s the worst

- He and Pearl have been friends and neighbors since they were little so everybody thought pearl’s dad and Dia’s mom where dating

- He sees Palmers as some kind of fathers, cool uncle figure

- Because of Pearl’s fear of spiders (and later platina too) he is always prepared for spiders but instead of killing them he takes them out

- Platina and Pearl call him the Spider Tamer in secret because he finds the name silly

- He convinced the Hephaestus Cabin to build a special tv that doesn’t attrack monsters to watch his tv programs

- Pearl is Athena’s son

- He doesn’t like her at all

- This is because she is kind of a jerk

- When he and dia first arrived at the camp Dia wa claimed first so he had to spent the night at Hermes Cabin alone

- He kind of resents Dia for leaving him but feels bad for thinking that

- He wasn’t comfortable at first but then got along with the Hermes Cabin and helped them with their pranks

- Everybody thought he was a Hermes kid because of this

- When he was claimed Platina got really angry because she found ridiculous that a “buffon” like him was son of Athena

- He uses a crossbow cause it’s faster and more powerful than a bow

- He can never get calm, like never, he is always moving and doing something

- He sees Dia’s mom as a mother figure

- Dia always had his powers and could invoke fruits even before they knew ther were demigods but never cared much about it, he always says “It’s a Dia’s thing”

- Pearl and Dia want to be comedians (like in the manga) but it was seen bad for an Athena’s child to do something so stupid and meaningless as comedy

- Athena didn’t take him seriously because of this but then got proven wrong

- He is one of the best strategist in the camp

- Because of Palmer’s job he was always away so Pearl practically live in Dia’s house

- They found out they were demigods because one day they found Gold unconscious near the twon where they lived and took him to Dia’s house, then got attacked by monsters who kidnapped his parents (they were looking for Platina’s father but only knew that one of Athena’s lovers (??) had the book but didn’t knew which one) and Gold took them to camp half-blood

That’s all for now, if anyone has ideas I’d love to see them <33 I’m taking a break before doing the other characters. I have all of the godly parents planned for the other dex holders up to Alola, except for black-two and Cheren so if anyobody has any ideas it would be great if you tell me. Also I’m going to add other characters, like Misty, sabrina, etc.

#they are the purest team #gold basically found all of the dex holders #he goes on missions a lot #he found ruby emerald and this three #and probably more #pokespe au #demigod au #pokespe #pokemon special #trainer diamond #platina berlitz #platinum berlitz #trainer pearl #my art

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animalsarepeople2 · 7 years

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Welcome to Camp

The whole thing began out of an abrupt comment over a dinner of yak stew.

It was Hiccup's last day of eighth grade at Berk Middle School, and his father had came home early to celebrate the end of school and start of summer. But the 'celebration' really just consisted a few quiet clangs as spoons thunked against their bowls, and the occasional slurp of stew.

Finally, Hiccup's father, Stoick, had said something.

"Hadley, I have a job opportunity this summer. The job has an even better pay than the one I have now. So for the next few months, I'll be out of the house. A lot."

Hiccup's hand froze holding his spoon to his lips. "But, Dad... we don't need anymore money. Look at our house... our things..." He gestured to the fine china that lined some shelves, extravagant family tapestries, and the enormous size of the Haddock residence. It was, it seemed, far too big for a family so small.

It appeared that Stoick hadn't heard him. Or maybe he had just ignored his son."You're going to high school in the fall, son. That's when you start to become a man. You can handle yourself at home alone for a few days."

He was right. Hiccup was past being used to it, as his father was the CEO of Haddock Institutes, which took a lot of time to execute. However, the thought of yet another drawlingly long summer locked away at home was not appealing to Hiccup. Not at all. So that's what caused him to blurt out, "What about camp?"

Stoick swallowed another spoonful of stew. "What about it?"

Hiccup shifted in his chair. "Well... what if you sent me there this summer? I make the age group this time."

Hiccup had been referring to a popular camp called Camp Dragons. Hiccup had finally turned fourteen in February, making the minimum age limit. Since Stoick would already be out, and he certainly had enough money to enroll Hiccup in camp, there really was no reason not to consent.

"I don't know, Hadley...," said Stoick doubtfully. But Hiccup had pressed on and on about the matter for the next few days until Stoick had finally complied. He would go to camp starting June 1st.

And that was how Hiccup found himself staring at a sign, far away from any civilization, on a hot, sweaty day.

This is it, thought Hiccup as he observed the wooden piece. He tried to keep up his usual cover of bright exhilaration, though it was drooping in his anxiousness. You're finally here.

He swallowed.

Don't mess it up.

Today was the day that Hiccup Haddock finally got to go to Camp Dragons. The day he had been yearning for ever since school had ended earlier in May. He would be here for two and a half months. Two and a half months to prove his worth, and hopefully go back home with maybe a friend or two more. He wasn't asking much. Just that he would be eyed as a little more popular than he was now. Hiccup the Useless, the kids sometimes called him. Not a great nickname, he knew, and he was set on getting a better one. Such as Hiccup the Useful. Hiccup the Awesome, Hiccup the Cool, just to name a few. He had to do well at camp this summer, or high school would turn out just like middle school.

It wasn't that he so much regretted his request to come to camp, but he did admit that he was a bit nervous of how things would turn out. And nervousness wasn't a nice feeling. No, not at all.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. "You ready, son?"

Hiccup looked up at his father. "Me? Yeah- of course, Dad. Why wouldn't I be?"

Stoick seemed not to hear him as he too stared at the sign. Camp Dragons, it read in messy splotches of red and black. "We'd better get going in, then, before we're later than we already are."

Hiccup had accidentally forgotten his notebook at home, only to discover that fact twenty minutes later in the car. Hiccup had claimed that he absolutely needed to have it at camp, causing them to have to double back and retrieve it. They had arrived at camp a half hour later than they were supposed to.

Stoick steered Hiccup on through the arch that led into the camp. The parking lot was outside of the boundaries, as Camp Dragons didn't need anymore campers accidentally run-over (yes, it had unfortunately happened once before).

Hiccup was met by a bustling racket of noise one could expect at a camp. Kids tore by, laughing and chasing after each other. Camp counselors tried to get the campers under control, imminently failing. Even though Hiccup was inside the camp, he could see that they were surrounded by a vast wood of rich green trees. There were also some cliffs lining the top of the forest. This caused his mind to wonder if the camp made the kids go in the woods for the activities. Hiccup wasn't bothered with being outside- in fact, he loved it- but too much physical exertion tended to exhaust Hiccup, and he didn't want to look weak in front of the others.

"Hadley... Hadley."

Hiccup whipped around to where Stoick was staring down at him, looking faintly annoyed. Hiccup had the impression that his father had been calling his name more than just a few times.

"Yeah, Dad?" said Hiccup, pulling himself back to reality.

Stoick pointed a meaty finger to a giant wooden building. "You need to get going to the Great Hall. There will be a list with your name on it, and also what cabin you're in. I bet your cabin mates are already there, so hurry on now, lad. I'll see you at the introduction ceremony later."

Hiccup nodded. "Alright. Well, I'd better get going, then. I'll see you la-"

But Stoick had already walked off to talk to a couple of counselors, leaving Hiccup alone.

He sighed, and shifted his backpack. His other luggage had been sent to camp ahead of time, but Hiccup had some personal items that he wanted to bring himself. He glanced down at his attire. He hoped he was dressed properly for camp. Was a green T-shirt, a brown jacket, and jeans alright?

Of course it's alright, Hadley, he chided himself. Stop worrying. Just go in there and find your cabin. Things'll turn out fine. Right?

He couldn't muster a truthful answer, so he stepped forward and began to walk to the Great Hall, the place where all campers first stopped to see if they were on the A-team or the B-team, what cabin they were in, what counselor had they gotten, etc.

As soon as Hiccup came inside the doors, he was nearly knocked over by a swarm of workers who had just ended their lunch break. Hiccup was nearly trampled upon considering the size of these men and women. Since Hiccup was on the smaller side, these sort of things happened a lot, and he managed to squeeze by without too many additional problems. The workers didn't even know he was there.

Panting, Hiccup pivoted away from the group and looked around for the papers that Stoick had told him would be stapled on the wall. Where is it, where is it…

He then saw some white on the wall to his left and turned to it, hoping he had found the right thing.

Fortunately, he was correct. They were the right papers that would tell him where to go. He hurried closer to them and studied them until he found his name underneath a cabin called 'Blacksmiths.'

...

A-TEAM (Leader: Gobber the Belch)

BLACKSMITHS' CABIN (partnered with WEAPONS)

Counsellor: Gobber the Belch

Campers:

Finnegan Ingerman

Hadley Haddock

Spencer Jorgenson

Timothy Thorston

...

Hiccup couldn't stop staring at the list. Spencer was here? He shivered, hoping he had misread the text, but it was still there. Spencer Jorgenson, Hiccup's not-so-dear cousin, was in his own cabin.

Hiccup had known Spencer was going to Camp Dragons, too, but he had hoped that he would be in a different cabin than him. He had prayed that his cousin would be placed far, far away from him. But, no. Hiccup's rotten luck was shredding up all of his hope.

And who was 'Gobber the Belch?' Whoever he was, he didn't sound too friendly… not too friendly at all…

Hiccup prayed that maybe he would be allowed a little bit of luck this time. Just a little that would let his counselor not favor Spencer above the others- like every other time this sort of thing happened. Just the smallest drop of good fortune that would get him through Spencer's abusing this summer.

With yet another heaving sigh, Hiccup checked the list again to see who else was on the A-team with him. There were two cabins per team, after all. Maybe he would recognize a name from the other list.

He read,

...

A-TEAM (Leader: Gobber the Belch)

WEAPONS' CABIN (partnered with BLACKSMITHS)

Counsellor: Spitelout Jorgenson

Campers:

Astrid Hofferson

Rachel Thorston

Heather Oswall

...

Hiccup gaped.

Astrid.

Fireworks could've gone off in his head for the exhilaration he felt.

She was on his team? The beautiful, tough, incredibly talented teenage girl was on his team? Hiccup could hardly believe it.

Astrid Hofferson went (or used to go, as school had ended) to Berk Middle School with him, along with Spencer. Hiccup had had a hopeless crush on her since the third year of Berk Elementary School that had carried on for many years. And he was to be on the same team with her? He fought off a grin, but it eventually shone through. Maybe his luck was turning after all! Now he was really determined to prove himself this summer. Because maybe Astrid would look at him at just the right time… and maybe she would be impressed with him… and maybe that would lead to a friendship… which might grow into something bigger…!

But before he could get too excited, he remembered something: the Weapons' Cabin's counselor's last name was Jorgenson. Just like Spencer's. Hiccup prayed that it wasn't Spencer's father, Sidney Jorgenson. It was just a coincidence that they had the same last name…

However, deep down, Hiccup had the feeling that it was his uncle. And that wasn't good news. Not at all.

Hands gripping the straps of his backpack, Hiccup turned away. He could worry about that later. After all, this Spitelout wasn't his counselor. He wasn't even the main counselor. Gobber was. So... maybe he shouldn't be that concerned after all.

Distracted, Hiccup stumbled over to the exit. He was so lost in his thoughts that he ran into a gigantic man who was strolling by outside.

"OOF!" said Hiccup as he crashed into the guy. The man acted like Hiccup was a feather. In other words, like the boy hadn't had any impact at all.

"Whoooo, slow down there, laddie," said the man, straightening himself as Hiccup pulled back. "Yeh could hurt yerself if yeh don't."

Hiccup's head snapped up in surprise. He knew that accent! But, why... how...? "Mr. Gerald! What- what are you doing here?"

Mr. Gerald was Stoick's best friend since boyhood. He ran a mechanics shop in Berk Town Square, and Hiccup often helped out there on the weekends. He was, as Mr. Gerald called him, his 'apprentice.' That suited Hiccup just fine. And Hiccup was surprisingly very talented in the forge, which was a plus. He was at last skilled at something, which made those sweaty hours all the worth it.

"Mr. Gerald? Who's that?" the man asked. "I'm Gobber. Gobber the Belch, camp counselor of the Blacksmiths." He scratched at his big blonde mustache.

Hiccup stared up at him in disbelief. "Wait, wait, wait- you're Gobber?"

It wasn't that he was disappointed... he was more shocked than anything else. He tried to gather this new information… So… basically, he would spend his summer in the company of the man he had worked for through the entire school year. Well. Wasn't that great…

"'Course I am," said Gobber cheerily. "And I believe yeh're in my cabin. Well, welcome to Camp Dragons, Hadley. I was just on my way teh the Blacksmiths' Cabin. Yeh can walk with me."

"Erm- alright."

The two continued walking in the direction of the Blacksmiths' Cabin, Gobber as merry as ever, and Hiccup slightly uncomfortable at the situation.

"The other boys are already unpacking," Gobber told him, "as yeh got here a wee bit late. But not teh worry, yeh still have time teh catch up... well, hopefully."

"That's comforting," Hiccup muttered.

"Well," said Gobber. "It's not so much what yeh brought that makes a difference... it's how yeh're built. I mean... do yeh really have enough strength and efficiency to unpack everything yeh have within ten minutes?" He looked over Hiccup's scrawny figure. "I mean... looking at all of..." He made a vague gesture towards Hiccup's body. "This."

Hiccup threw his hands up. "You just gestured to all of me!" he complained.

Gobber gave a noncommittal shrug. "Now, Hadley, yeh're thinking about this all wrong... at camp, it's not what's inside that counts, but outside."

Hiccup made a face. "Thank you, for summing that up."

"No problem!" smiled Gobber. "Alright, back teh the cabin... yes... the reason I'm not there already is that there was a slight mix up in the Weapons' Cabin, our partner cabin on the A-team. Yeh'll meet them in just a little bit. Anyways, one of the girls- Heather, I believe- was promised to be on the other team. Her brother- one of the counsellors on the B-team- refused to have kin on the 'enemy' side. Enemy side, as if... heheh... Well, it's all fixed up now! It did take a little bit to sort out, though. The paperwork part Camp Dragons can be a bit disorganized, and that's where the problem probably started. But, there's nothing wrong with a little messiness! It's what makes us Dragons! Proud teh be called one fer five years now. Yeh will be too, Hadley, I just know that yeh'll like it here. All boys do, I know me and yer father did. Yeh'll do well here, too- ah, here we are!"

Not even breathless from his monologue, Gobber strutted up to their cabin door and pulled it open for Hiccup. Hiccup nodded in thanks, then stepped inside.

Three other boys were making a ruckus inside, whether it was fighting over the top bunk or whose pillow was whose. They didn't even stop when Hiccup came in.

However, they did stop when Gobber shuffled in behind Hiccup and yelled, "Alright, now, settle down, boys!"

The three immediately froze mid-argument and turned to their counselor. Though they didn't know who exactly Gobber was, they could tell that he had authority over them. Hiccup studied each boy. There was Spencer, his cousin, who was on the beefy side; a skinny guy with really long dreadlocks; and an anxious-looking husky boy with blonde hair. Hiccup recalled everyone's names- Spencer, Finnegan, and Timothy- but he didn't know who was who, save Spencer.

"Alright, then," said Gobber. "Since we're all here, I think we can start making introductions teh each other..."

"But we already have," the guy with the dreadlocks said dumbly.

"No, yeh haven't. See this fishbone here?" He nudged Hiccup, who gave him a horrified look at the nickname. "Yeh haven't met him yet. Me either, come teh think of it. Well, I'm Gobber, yer counselor for these next few months at Camp Dragons." There was a slight pause. "Well, go on, then, introduce yerselves... and properly, boys, no more shoving each other around. Fer tonight, at least."

Spencer stepped up, smirking. "I'm Spencer... nice to meet you, Hadley." However, his sneer suggested that it was not nice to meet him at all.

The skinny boy looked stunned. "Woah! How'd you know his name was Hadley? You have got to teach me your secrets, Spence."

"That's Timothy," the husky guy said, inclining his head towards the other guy. He had a squeaky, nervous sort of voice. "I'm Finnegan." He stuck out a hand, which Hiccup gladly shook. Finnegan looked the most sane out of the three, and Hiccup decided that if he had to be friends with any of them, Finnegan would be his first choice.

"Hadley," said Hiccup, and Finnegan nodded in acknowledgement.

Gobber rubbed his hands together. "Well, now yeh can just forget those names, boys. Because here at Camp Dragons, we have nicknames for everybody. Fer example, my name outside of Camp Dragons is Gerald, not Gobber. But, at Camp Dragons, my real name is Gobber the Belch. See?"

Spencer crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Do we get to choose our own new names?"

Timothy bounced with excitement. "Ooh, yes! I'll choose something like Sleuther or- or Conqueror of All, or-"

"I've already picked out yer names," Gobber cut in, ignoring Timothy. "I think yeh'll like them fair enough."

The boys started to stir excitedly, turning over ideas in their heads. Hiccup was truly exhilarated at the prospect of another name. He had always hated his own name, as it could also be used as a girl's, which earned even more teasing. But with a new name, he could be a completely new person. A better person. A more popular person. He could do anything. He loosened his grip on his backpack straps, feeling a little less nervous. This would turn out great, he could almost feel it… Fate was finally shining the spotlight on him…

"Timothy," began Gobber, facing the said boy, who straightened in his excitement.

"Yessir!"

"Yer new name is..."

Gobber placed a dramatic pause.

"TUFFNUT!"

Timothy- or Tuffnut now- cheered. "Woo! Sounds dangerous."

"Yer twin sister, Rachel, I think, is now called Ruffnut, just fer reference," continued Gobber. Hiccup's heart fluttered at those names, and he hoped that he'd get as cool a name as Tuffnut did. "And now, Finnegan..."

The boy swallowed. "Uh... yes? Sir?"

"Yer name is now... Fishlegs."

Fishlegs gaped, making an undeniable similarity to his name. "F-Fishlegs?!" he spluttered. "But- but-"

Tuffnut sniggered. "More like Guppylegs..." That earned a laugh from Spencer, making Hiccup set his jaw. He had had more than enough experience of being laughed at, and knew that Fishlegs must've been feeling awful at the ridicule.

"Spencer," said Gobber. "Yeh're now known as Snotlout."

The boy nodded after a moment, smiling a little. "Pretty cool."

Gobber turned to Hiccup, who was now watching this in slow motion. He heard his heart pound so heavily, it could've exploded with the tension. But it didn't. Not yet. He needed to hear his name first.

"Hadley..."

His shaking fingers crossed.

"You are now..."

Hiccup's eyes squeezed shut in prayer. Please, please, please, please, please…

"...Hiccup!"

And just like that, every hope and dream for this summer crumbled to pieces.

Gobber's voice rang in his ears.

"Hiccup!"

Hiccup.

As his fuzzy mind sunk back into reality, he became distinctly aware of Snotlout and Tuffnut jeering at him. Even Fishlegs wore a pitying look as he glanced over Hiccup.

"Hiccup?" Snotlout howled. "Hiccup? HA HA HA HA HA! You do realize that a hiccup is a mistake?" He laughed some more. "Well, there's nothing more fitting than that for- ah- Hiccup the Useless."

Tuffnut grinned in response, doubling over with his snickers.

Hiccup couldn't keep a miserably shocked expression off of his face. Out of all the names, Gobber had chosen Hiccup. Hiccup. Out of every... single... one... He would've even gone with Guppylegs. After all, it was better than a name that literally meant 'mistake.'

Hiccup distantly turned away to the last vacant bunk. It was underneath his cousin, Snotlout's, bed. Oh joy, thought Hiccup sarcastically. Today must be my lucky day. Ignorant fathers, embarrassing nicknames, and I probably won't even be able to sleep well tonight.

Forget what he had thought earlier. He had absolutely everything to worry about.

#httyd #fanfic #modern au #camp au #camp #hiccup #gobber #snotlout #fishlegs #tuffnut #astrid #ruffnut #animalsarepeopletoo #httyd fanfic #fanfiction.net

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davidastbury · 5 years

Text

April 2019

Old Bank Street

Someone once told me about Old Bank Street - he knew all about local history. I nodded politely and let him ramble on.

I did not tell him that it is part of my history too - that I have a claim to a modest proprietorial pride. That some fragments of my happiness are still pulsing in the atoms of the brickwork. I can look at the paving stones - the same paving stones - and hear the quickening sound of her shoes - getting louder!

It’s a pleasant conspiracy. Old Bank Street, narrow, undistinguished and gloomy, remembers with pleasure, how it was once lit up by her smile.

How it was

5.30 pm - Friday - 30th September 1955 - California - Junction State Route 46 and State Route 41.

Porsche Spyder in collision with a 1950 Ford Tudor. The aluminium bodied Porsche shredded like flaky pastry.

5.281 miles away a ten-year-old secretly kept the newspaper articles and tried to imagine the speeding car and what the crash must have been like - the low sun, the blinding metallic shine and then the silence afterwards.

He imagined the empty highway to Salinas, the loneliness of death and James Dean in a box.

On the Plane

Cool kid slumped in window seat. He had to be told by cabin crew to fasten seatbelt - slow blink and then a slow smile. Sour black hoodie, grey trackies, hi-tech watch with rubber strap, reversed baseball cap. He slept for an hour or so and woke with a jerk. Waived for the stewardess, the one who told him to fasten his seatbelt - asked her for a bottle of Bell’s whisky. He doesn’t look eighteen, but she gets it for him.

There’s a girl looking at him and she fancies him something rotten - but she’s wasting her time, he’s so cool - he doesn’t give a flying fuck.

All at Sea

A beautiful day - a cloudless sky marked only by the crumbling white trail of a vanished jet - freshly rinsed ochre beach; but the sea (I was the solitary swimmer) was cold. I only lasted ten minutes or so and my hands became numb.

As I came out of the water I was approached by a young black woman. For a second I thought I had drowned and was caught up in some sort of afterlife. She moved with the fluidity of a dancer or athlete - much taller than me, slapping the sand from her shoes, wearing only a turban and a green bikini.

'L'eau est froid?'

'Oui, bien sur'

'You are English'?

'Yes'

'You are a strong man.'

So we had a chat! Everyone on the beach was watching. Vanity of vanities; illusion is everything. Elderly, sun-tanned film producer - hillside villa in Positano - the girl laughing, showing perfect teeth, her shiny shoulders, her sand peppered legs.

And I breathed the beauty of this perfect day - the locals repairing the damage of Wednesday's storm, the barbecue smoke drifting over the railings and the white-jacketed waiter holding my drink on a steel tray.

Mother's Day

A Kurdish friend once said to me that love, like water, runs downwards; it flows downwards through the generations. I didn't fully agree with him but the following (totally true) story would appear to substantiate his theory.

The daughter said to her mother - 'I am thinking about a family holiday'.

'That would be really nice' replied the mother - 'Do you have anywhere in mind?'

'Yes - the Seychelles'.

Next day the mother eagerly made enquiries - which airports, dates, flight times, choices of hotels etc.

She telephoned her daughter and started to give her the details. The daughter interrupted her - 'Oh - I didn't mean you coming. I said we wanted a family holiday- you misunderstood me.'

The mother got through the next minute or so - put down the phone - not sure what day it was.

Overheard in restaurant

We slightly know the woman at the next table - she more or less lives here in the hotel and the waiters are planning a birthday surprise for her next week; she will be eighty.

Woman: ‘Where’s my water? You’ve taken away my water!’

Waiter: ‘No problem Madame, I’ll bring you some more’.

Woman: ‘That’s no good - I had dissolved my tablets in that water.’

Waiter: ‘I am sorry Madame ’.

Woman: ‘If I get pregnant it will be your fault!’

My hearing started to crackle and fizz as it was buffeted by the noise in the hotel swimming pool. The cacophony of screams and shouts and splashes all melding into a mangled mess.

Until, like sunshine bursting through clouds, my brain soothed the jagged tangle of impulses and I began to hear the massed Red Army Choir singing 'The Volga Boatmen'.

The Beach at Night

And so we talk of our happiness and fears; sometimes glancing at the sea and sky - at the lights in the sky! The individual brightness and the glowing smear of distant billions.

Mathematicians and prophets fail to impress; I am lost by page four and then return to my narrow wisdom - the victim - the rejected parent - the girl fussing her hair - the eyes of the hooked fish - the purring of a pregnant cat.

On the Beach

Young couple. Looking a bit incongruous in formal clothes; he fair-haired French; she dark Berber or Arab. The woman was holding a plastic cat basket; both of them looking down at the sand; both of them clearly upset. We walked towards them; the woman was wiping her eyes. I could see a beautiful white cat peering out through the basket grill.

Pat spoke to the man in French and he told his story.

They visit the spot because it is where they buried their pet cat. She was about to give birth to kittens when she died. They regularly visit her grave, as often as they can - and they bring their other cat with them. The two cats were devoted to each other and it seems right that he should come too.

The man, seeing that I wasn't properly following his French, said in English - 'She was going to have kittens but she died. That is why I am crying now.'

# 5 ... Winter 1965

They spent the winter of 1965 in that cold room in Whalley Range. They didn't need anyone else - it was always just the two of them and no matter how often they did what twenty-year-olds in love tend to do, they could never get enough of each other.

She once knelt beside him and said - 'Is there anything that you want? Is there something that you'd like - something you have never asked for? I will do anything for you - anything - you only have to tell me - I will do anything.'

And sadness choked him - sadness and pity.

She put a hand to his face and whispered - 'I've never said that before.'

#4 ... Winter Nights ... 1965

She was frightened of the man downstairs. Sometimes they came face to face in the hall and she would try to be bright and friendly but there was something about him that made her shiver. Sometimes at night she would lie awake listening for sounds outside her door; certain that someone was putting on gloves before working on the frail lock. There was one particularly terrifying night when a burglar was on the fire escape - she could see him through the side window.

Everything was better when her boyfriend stayed. The fears didn’t exist when another person was around. It didn’t matter that her boyfriend would have been pretty useless in a fight - all she wanted was someone with her - someone who would take away the dread of being alone.

#3 ... Winter Nights ... 1965

The boyfriend wanted to go out for a drink but she didn’t feel up to it. He asked her why she had an aversion to pubs; why she never appeared to be comfortable in them. She replied that she didn’t have an aversion - she just did not feel like going out - as simple as that.

Their conversation became a bit testy. He began to probe her past and she said more about her upbringing than she had ever done before. She mentioned her father’s oppressive, controlling nature; how she had tried to please him, but nothing seemed good enough. Strangely, the boyfriend defended her father; this totally amazed her; knowing that despite there being no chance of mutual liking or respect, there was some sort of masculine bond that over-rode everything she said. She became angry and cranked up the dispute until it became heated. The boyfriend grabbed his coat and stormed out.

Later at the pub, things looked different. He began to think that he shouldn’t have upset her. She was right and he was wrong.

Back at the flat, she regretted what she had called him - she had been unfair - she was wrong and he was right.

#2 ... Winter Nights ... 1965

Her boyfriend brought a Dansette record player and an armful of his favourite albums - mostly blues, Muddy Waters, Big Bill Broonzy and protest songs from a young Bob Dylan.

Every Friday evening she’d be invited to friends houses but, a bit guiltily, she’d refuse. Instead her boyfriend would turn up at the flat and he would break up cigarettes and sprinkle stuff from a little packet. He would re-roll them; they would share the smoke and sit listening to Leadbelly slapping his 12 string guitar.

But when her boyfriend was wasn’t around she didn’t play Leadbelly. She would brush her hair and put on a 45 she brought from home. She kept the record hidden amongst her books, so that her boyfriend didn’t see it.

(The record is in the link in the comments below)

Winter Nights 1965

Cheap rented room in Whalley Range. She’d tried to fix up curtains - tried to make it nice. No TV and burglars had stolen her radio. It was a large room; a leftover from a different world; you could see it in the high ceilings, the double dado rails, the missing interior shutters; the grandeur of the chalk coloured fireplace with its florid carved scrolls, now reduced to housing a sad little electric fire.

These were nights of twilight and shadows; when it seemed as cold inside as out. When the yellow streetlights leaked through the draughty windows and the twigs of the giant chestnut tree scraped across the glass.

And they huddled together. They couldn’t have been happier. Nights of cider and cigarettes - of sour metallic kisses - nights when he couldn’t get enough of her - nights when he was insatiable for her quick mind, her breath, her hair, her voice, her face, warmth, smell.

And the world could not offer anything better to him - nothing compared with their nights in that cheap rented room in Whalley Range.

Russell

I will never know how he navigated the perilous seas of adolescence. How he got through the deep waters - the rocks - the currents - the sharks! I will never know what became of him ... but of this I am sure :-

He was, and would always be a friend to every creature; he would never harm or be cruel to anything. He lacked (lamentably, according to at least one teacher) a competitive component in his character - he didn’t mind losing. Although his parents had spent a small fortune on musical instruments and lessons, the piano etc would only be items of fun and amusement. He was splendidly un-neurotic - pleased with his own genial personality and his dark, beetle-browed face. Things might not have been as rosy as I am painting them; there was a stammer and he chewed his finger nails down to the stumps; but that was all - he didn’t appear to be worried about anything and the stammer and twitches were just ... well, what Russell did.

In my little stories I have tried to describe Russell and what it was like being with him. Of course I cannot get near to it. He was extraordinary in his simplicity - he wouldn’t cheat you or try to get the better of you - he would listen to what you told him and wouldn’t repeat it to others - he wasn’t critical about things he couldn’t understand, such as my fondness for his sister; or why the grinning gardener at home was always putting an arm around him.

But the definitive image for me is when the two of us were once crossing a field. The grass was long and the sun burned our necks and legs. And Russell was ahead of me - he turned round, laughing, arms windmilling, falling backwards into a future where I would no longer know him.

Dreams and fantasies are vivid for as long as they remain dreams and fantasies; once they become realities they shrivel into the mundane.

A book unwritten can be a source of joy - it will be a masterpiece!

Think of Tolstoy - still in his thirties; having completed ‘War and Peace’ and ‘Anna Karenina’ - instructing the staff on his country estate to hide all the farm ropes. Despite knowing that he was the greatest living writer, despite his adoring wife and family, despite his wealth beyond reckoning - he could not trust himself alone with a piece of rope.

Ava and Andre

Andre Previn, as a naive seventeen year old, was playing the piano at a Hollywood party; melodies by Rogers and Hart, Kern, Gershwin.

He spoke of how Ava Gardner came across to him - ‘She sat on the bench next to me. She listened to me play, quite attentively, and then asked an incredible question: “Would you like to take me home later?”

The innocence Previn missed the subtext and declined. Two years later, and more worldly wise, he was at another party playing the piano. Spotting Gardner once more he finished playing, ambled over and asked: “Can I take you home later?”

As he recalled: ‘She gave me a radiant smile of pure sweetness, patted my hand and said - “Go fuck yourself, kid”’.

home in Missoula,

home in Truckee,

home in Opelousas,

ain’t no home for me;

home in ol’ Medora,

home in Wounded Knee,

home in Ogallala,

home will never be.

(Jack Kerouac)

The Drugs Bust 1966

Ian had been drinking in the Town Hall Tavern when the police did one of their periodic raids. I’m sure he didn’t do much in drugs, other than the occasional smoke, but he knew a lot of people who did. His girlfriend Lorna kept him on the straight and narrow, but she wasn’t with him on this particular night.

Ian was bundled with all the others; they were forced to stand in a line and wait to be questioned. And this is where he took up the story - and he loved telling it. He was a natural mimic and relished imitating the policeman’s accent and facial contortions. Lorna would fall about laughing even though she had heard it all many times.

The policeman asked Ian where he had hidden his drugs. Ian replied that he didn’t have any drugs. The policeman said he wasn’t happy. Ian said he was sorry.

‘I’m not happy at all!’ - said the policeman.

Ian looked at him sympathetically.

‘I am not satisfied ... and I am going to have to take down your particulars.’

(Lorna would be snorting with laughter)

Policeman - ‘Name?’

Ian - ‘Ian Smith’.

Policeman - ‘Address?’

Ian - ‘33 Orchard Grove, Heald Green.’

Policeman - ‘Occupation?’

Ian - ‘If you had asked me that question on Friday I would have said “subscriptions manager for American scientific journals. And if you ask me that question next week I would tell you that I have launched my own magazine.’

Policeman - ‘A magazine eh? What sort of magazine?’

(Everyone fell about laughing)

Russell and the Ambiguity ... 1957

We were all squeezed into the back of the car. Russell was sprawled and taking up too much room. Caroline’s friend was proprietorial with Russell - she was quick to push him, give him little slaps, rumple his hair etc.

So Russell was sprawling and the girl had flipped her bare legs across his lap; he looked back at her and giggled as the dog, wriggling with suppressed excitement, licked his face.

Caroline pretended to be bored and reaching back slid the glass panel which isolated the driver. And then she looked at me - and I looked away, and then looked back at her and she was still looking at me - and then I looked away again and didn’t look back because I knew she was still looking at me.

When we arrived we ran on the beach. There wasn’t much wind and our kite wouldn’t stay up. The tide was out leaving the sand ribbed, mile after mile; the sea glittering far away. Russell got sand in one of his eyes and Caroline’s friend offered to get it out with her tongue. He refused her offer and she approached him on all fours like an animal. Russell was lying on a striped beach towel, hands over his eyes. She pounced on him and they were both laughing.

Caroline was trying to pull a soggy ball from the dog’s mouth. He was shaking his head and growling. I was confused about what was happening - I was confused by Russell’s unsuspected maturity - his easy way with the girl - something totally unknown to me.

So I write about the ambiguity I felt that day - the medley of delicious confusion, which even now, all these years later, still evokes an image of innocence melting into the thick broth of adolescent lust.

Party 1965

It wasn’t such a nice evening - nothing special at all. It only figured in his memory because of two events. Earlier he had visited a city-centre barber’s shop and requested a new hairstyle. The man himself - whose walls were covered in photographs of smiling famous clients - did the cutting. He was made to understand that the maestro only accepted him because of a cancellation - but the price was still high. Anyway, the young man was pleased with the haircut which he considered very cool.

Later, he turned up at the little after-work party - someone was getting married or leaving or someone was arriving or having a baby; all that is forgotten. But the memory of the girl hasn’t faded at all. How she stood - how she held her drink in both hands - how cleverly her tight chalk-striped skirt and jumper contrasted with her dramatic eye make-up. Perhaps emboldened - perhaps drunkenly overconfident with his new haircut - he gulped down his second drink and went across to her.

He got it all wrong. She wasn’t having any. She muttered something and turned away.

So the evening remained in his memory. The friends who didn’t much interest him; the drinks he didn’t want - and the girl who turned away, leaving the immortal image of her pharaoh eyes, black jumper and tight, chalk-stripe skirt.

From 2016

He came in on Interstate 26, through Jamison and Sangaree - Goose Creek off on the left, and finally Charleston. He had a beer overlooking the Wando River; the waters sparkling in the afternoon sunshine, reminding him of his girlfriend's eyes - the girl he loved - the girl back in Volunteers Ridge, Daufuskie Island, just east of Savannah.

Summer in the City

There was high anxiety in Princess Street - sharp words at the junction with Mosley Street West. It was as if the sky was closing and the world was ending. But eventually the right words were said and they kissed for a long time - two lovers in the doorway of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers.

A concert consisting of three movements - a play in three acts - a triptych of three paintings - a third volume to conclude the story - the Three Graces - the Three Dancers - the Three Wise Men - the three aspects of the Trinity - something so satisfying about ‘three’.

But HE wants four! He wants to smash the first three into pieces and emerge totally free of shape, colour, sound - free of thought and reason - free of childish maturity - drunk with the bliss of knowing nothing, saying nothing, desiring nothing except the certainty of endless displacement, loss of self - loss of folly.

Everything has been said better by the ancients. Show me any modern author who can match this ....

‘This was Argos, trained as a puppy by Odysseus, but never taken on a hunt before his master sailed for Troy. The young men, afterward, hunted wild goats with him, and hare, and deer, but he had grown old in his master’s absence. Treated as rubbish now, he lay at last upon a mass of dung before the gates – manure of mules and cows, piled there until fieldhands could spread it on the king’s estate. Abandoned there, and half destroyed with flies, old Argos lay. But when he knew he heard Odysseus’ voice nearby, he did his best to wag his tail, nose down, with flattened ears, having no strength to move nearer his master. And the man looked away, wiping the tears from his face...’

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