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googledocsdyke · 3 years

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Do you have any thoughts/recommended texts for Cas analysis? I genuinely love the dean gender studies and I just wanna know what people might apply to Cas.

yes absolutely!! while dean studies is my first love i also deeply love cas analysis (casnalysis?) and wanna strive to do more of it. here’s some stuff off the top of my head:

1. gender, sexuality, heavenly embodiment

this is much more theological and less psychological than dean’s whole Deal because there’s so much fascinating stuff around how the angels in general experience express and conceptualise gender (@autisticandroids has a good post about angel gender & lily sunder has some regrets) but for cas in particular there’s this fascinating kind of collective fandom agreement (which i DO also agree with) that cas’ own gender kind of is gay man, that he actively chose gay manhood, but also that he’s kind of..... lacking the Insane Genderishness that dean exhibits at all times, even though he actively chose to engage in male gendering and became so comfortable housed Within Jimmy that he, as some post i saw the other day that i can’t find anymore said, “became his own body” when jimmy died.

like on the one hand there’s an almost-canonical transness to the whole process but it also never feels fully written-into because 1) the supernatural writers for all their insanity are sometimes very boring and *most* of the time only feel interested in narratively expressing angels As Their Vessels anyways and just like leaving convenient spaces around these questions (boldest thing they ever did was hot girl cas which i WISH i had the range to unpack) 2) there’s a vague inevitabilist shrug to the whole thing since they obviously weren’t gonna recast misha collins (though they HAVE tried to get rid of him) and 3) something amorphous about cas’ entire..... personhood? makes him Empty Of Gender as a contrast to dean’s Full Of Gender (i believe it was @deanwinchestergender who said this) and like is it just the juxtaposition to dean/jensen’s whole insane Deal? or something else?

like he actively chooses the terms of his own embodiment and yet narratively it feels like a shrug. and we’re all like “well obviously even though he’s a celestial being he was always a gay man” and like WHY. i love it idk idk much to think about! and yeah just in general the theological questions of possession and cas genuinely Becoming a man as he iterates himself consciously towards humanity it almost feels like. by doing the most boring things possible with his gender they made it interesting? idk if that makes sense.

2. discipline, free will, metanarratives

cas is like a tool (“i am not a hammer, as you say”) held in constant discipline and surveillance by the system that enmeshes him and it’s really, really fascinating to watch the way the angels hold each other to conformity. especially pre-god they kind of produce each other as foucauldian disciplinary subjects (which i posted about here) in perpetual visibility through angel radio, generating their own and each other’s conformity rather than being directly ruled through like a single centralised source of power. only the spectre of a god. and obviously cas’ whole thing is that he has ALWAYS disobeyed and the narrative affords him this psychological interiority never given to the foucauldian subject, an internal will and desire for freedom in a way that fits more with the liberal subject (super roughly and not with the same pro-capitalist implications but he has this internal drive for self-liberation.

and that’s also where the metanarrative comes in ofc! i think it was @dykecas who said that cas is a real person written by people who hate him, and there’s this crack in the narrative (mirroring the crack in his chassis) where cas gets in, over and over, despite all the order imposed by the show’s authorfathergod. like we’ve all seen the analysis about how it was Never supposed to be this way they DID try to fire misha collins in 2012 and yet this gay man literally cannot be stopped! i think actually his appearance in scoobynatural is a neat little distillation of this — he drops into this animated world originally with a singular purpose (Save Sam And Dean) the same way he dropped into lazarus rising with a single 3-episode arc (Save Dean). huge hammer behaviour. his “utility” diminishes within the narrative (he finds that he can’t fly in the scooby doo universe) and so he is no longer a tool/means to an end that salvation moves Through. and in the process (and huge creds to @lesbianyuugi for this) he does something ENTIRELY unrelated to his original cas-as-tool aim, and learns, like, the meaning of laughter from shaggy and scooby. WHICH brings me onto the third point

3. love, queer kinship, family-making

HE’S GAY AND HE’S A DAD! i feel like a lot of tumblr throws around the term “found family” in a very flat and tropey way (which is fine it’s cute and fun no matter what!) but like . GOD there’s so much specific stuff going on here. like the way that cas (unintentionally) obliterates the midwestern white christian nuclear family (made incarnate in the novaks) which like could be uniformly portrayed as an act of deep malice and villainy but instead grows to serve as a surrogate (if imperfect/complex, but DEEPLY loving) father figure for the gay daughter who has now escaped that nuclear family/seen it destroyed depending on how you read it? like he remasters the entire concept of fatherhood and it’s a very interesting (if DEEPLY) unintentional subversion of the homewrecking non-nuclear gay trope. cas is so good because his character arc doesn’t say “look, gay people can be normal and have perfect settled families just like you” it says “gay people DON’T have normal settled families actually and they are full of love anyways! or Because of the abnormalcy itself!)

to cite ziz lesbianyuugi again he DOES queer fatherhood in his parenting of jack particularly because it really is one of the ONLY parent-child relationships in the show that breaks the incessant cycle of abuse and control and cold indifference perpetuated by the authorfathergod (a cycle reified in 15x20 lol). like god’s treatment of cas and his siblings mirrors john’s treatment of sam and dean (particularly dean) mirrors victor’s treatment of krissy and her crew mirrors dean’s later treatment of jack. there is a CONSTANT reiteration of the story of authorfathergod (often a father tightly entwined in biological kinship) treating a child as a mechanism or a tool or a means to an end. and cas looks at ALL that he has suffered and all that he is ever known and chooses constantly to reject it with every piece of love he expresses for his child. and not to sound like the kind of academic people make fun of on twitter but there is an INHERENT queerness to that. gay love will pierce through [the veil of death/the thick silence of abuse/the mechanism of godly control/hegemonic american masculinity] and save the day

anyways here are some very haphazard recs on everything above for further reading:

angels in america (tony kushner)

histrionics of the pulpit: trans tonalities of religious enthusiasm

the public universal friend: religious enthusiasm in revolutionary america

discipline and punish (michel foucault)

friendship as a way of life (michel foucault)

the genesis of blame (recommended by @pietacastiel who has GREAT theology content in general

all about love (bell hooks)

the chapter “when hated characters talk back” in anti-fandom: dislike and hate in the digital age (is actually explicitly about cas)

also cannot recommend enough following the ppl i tagged above!! most of the unlinked stuff is available through http://libgen.li/ and bookshop is a good alternative to amazon if ur american and want physical copies

#thank you so much for this ask it was a delight to answer #spn #casnalysis #making a tag officially #gendernatural #long post

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class1akids · 3 years

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I know most are angry at deku currently but can i just say I feel like the four frecking adults are just as much to blame, when not even more so? They litrally support Dekus mindset big time, none of them disagrees with him at all - at last not when he is around. I think this might be why he never talked to his classmates, cause from a writting standpoint - they would had disagreed with Deku, those four Pros? They do not. I dunno, I get being angry at Deku but we shouldn't ignore they full flashed hero enabling it also.

I don't think most people are angry at Deku - most complaints I see (and have) are exasperated about the writing. The lack of emotional focus, the cheap and convenient power-ups, lack of consequences, and dumbing down other characters to goat Deku rather than actually let him rise naturally.

I think what you are pointing out about the pros is true, but also feels like part of the writing problems.

Like, for example, take the leaks. Endeavor arrives and keeps yelling like an idiot instead of helping Hawks who is struggling to keep himself up. We saw Endeavor being competent and professional during the internship arc - so it's quite difficult to understand why he'd behave like that. So his behavior is written in a way as to enable Deku to show off his saving instinct to the last moment.

I think the pros defer to Deku because he's All Might's heir - the one with OFA, literally the most power. They were raised by this system where the one with the most power leads, so they are naturally putting him on a pedestal.

Plus:

All Might may see how self-harming this way of life is - but Deku does exactly what he used to do and I think he himself still thinks it's the only way.

Endeavor feels crushing guilt, because the downfall of society is his mess (or at least that's what it feels like), so he's determined to be as supportive of Deku as possible.

Hawks I think is still trying to figure out what the smartest play is, and he agrees with Deku that striking AFO before Shigaraki is complete is their best bet.

BJ is just tagging along to say jeans-jokes

I think the kids are definitely more likely to stand up to Deku, because they won't put him on a pedestal so easily. They know him well, they remember when he still struggled with his power, remember his embarrassing moments and stupid shit they did in the dorms. They relate to him as to a friend, even if he's stronger. Power differences exist already, and it never stopped the kids from teasing Bakugou or Todoroki.

And obviously, the one most suited to challenge Deku's mindset is Bakugou because he's known him for the longest - as a quirkless kid and also, because Bakugou doesn't back down from a power difference. He experienced getting the shit kicked out of him by All Might, and he smiled and decided he'd still surpass him.

Bakugou will go and punch the sun as many times as it takes.

#bnha manga spoilers #bnha manga leaks #bnha 316 #bnha critical #c1a asks

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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Doll Parts | tony stark x reader

i love him so much it just turns to hate // he only loves those things because he loves to see them break // and someday you will ache like i ache // Hole - Doll Parts

all hurt comfort. angst. no happy ending. big sad. tony could have been like this, you know. he was like this to pepper at some point. i don't know why i am like this today. rated M for themes of (implied) addiction & cheating and non-explicit mentions of intimacy. word count: 3,3k

It wasn't as if she was blind or dumb. She saw the way he treated everyone around him; whenever a single person got too close he'd push them away, consciously or not. The man loved pushing everybody's buttons as if he was playing Galaga for a living; rapidly, mercilessly, with intent. Tony Stark was not a man to whom a person would give their heart willingly.

It was her own fault she went and gave hers away, to him, of all people. And sometimes, it did feel like he loved her, in his own way. Tony would shower her with gifts and affection, cling to her whenever he wasn't away on SI business, and God, the sex was out of this world. Sometimes, she felt as if she would suddenly burst into a blinding flash of light, scalding and deafening, that would sprout from the invisible wounds his fingers left on her skin. Like fine china, she cracked little by little under his steady, tender hands.

The first time he'd ended their short, by average standards, but long - by his, relationship, it didn't come as a surprise. She had never held illusions on ensnaring the world's most notorious playboy. Younger and less jaded, she amicably agreed to get her things that very same day, blocked his number and left for an overdue vacation in the tropics. Being able to browse the gossip sites speculating on their lack of public appearances whilst sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri was a much better alternative to spending her nights holed up in rainy Manhattan, having to answer numerous "I told you so" calls from friends and relatives.

Maybe, three daiquiris should've been enough. But she'd quit smoking because he said the smell bothered him and she- well, she could do anything she wanted now. Being alone and not dating a very public figure definitely had way more perks than she previously had taken for granted in her much less exposed life. That's how the heartache began to recede: it was hard to mope when fun was calling for you by your name.

Some of Tony's character traits had migrated onto her. Which wasn't bad per se, she had been told she could use to loosen up. Her friends rejoiced in the newfound adventurousness, never missing an opportunity to go out, throw a party, go on a clubbing spree. She was game and she was enjoying it. Dolled up and eyes sparkling, the newfound confidence radiated off her like a beacon, attracting just about every single like-minded person in a five mile radius.

Tony's champagne he had sent to their table meant nothing. Her friends laughed and giggled and asked her all about the juicy details about the billionaire; as much as she searched the rowdy crowd for a familiar pair of baby doe browns, they weren't anywhere within sight. So she went back to talking and smiled as bright as the strobe lights, throwing down a whiskey shot to water the burning ache in her chest.

She found him on the dancefloor. Seconds after she stepped her foot into the mass of grinding bodies Tony was there, an equally happy and intoxicated smile on his face and arms wide open, as if they hadn't parted ways at all. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, she wanted to snide his frivolity and the possessive way that he had the audacity to treat her.

His eyes, they were her untold weakness. She hadn't seen him so happy in months. Just once, she agreed, she'd let it slide. And so they danced, bodies accustomed to each other in the way that seemed to be impossible for her to achieve with anyone since the day that she left Tony Stark.

A splitting headache and a cold, empty bed greeted her the next morning. Thankfully, her clothes were laying haphazardly on the floor of the bedroom - the bed that was not his own but, rather, as she assumed, one of the many guest rooms in his tower.

Not the one to usually harbour shame of her very human needs, she felt like a cheap whore when she got dressed and grabbed her purse, making a beeline for the door to the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted with a woman in a professional suit - tall, strawberry blonde and as cold as the Arctic, beautiful in the Vogue-magazine, unattainable way.

"Good morning," The woman spoke in a pleasant tone.

She wanted to retch from the false cheerfulness. "Good morning, ma'am. I was just leaving," Refusing to bow to her own shame, she flashed an equally cheerful grin towards the blonde.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal assistant, my name is Pepper Potts," They briefly shook hands, neither of them wanting to touch the other longer than it was necessary. "There is a car waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to take the left exit."

Internally fuming, she smiled slightly wider, seeing no need to introduce herself or prolong the awkward interaction longer than necessary. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, that will not be necessary. I have arranged my own ride. Have a nice day, ma'am," With that, she pressed the button once again, entering the elevator with the expression of polite contentment glued to her face like a persistent piece of dog shit she couldn't shake off the bottom of her shoe.

Ms. Potts' façade slipped slightly - she must've been new - as the blonde ran a sharply observant look over the woman in the elevator, pulling out her phone as soon as the elevator door was halfway closed. That was quickly forgotten, her head growing clearer with each second it was pressed against the cold window of the cab she'd called on the way downstairs.

It was a mistake, a perfectly human accident that happened to the best of them. Only it left a bitter residue somewhere south of her ribcage, something acrid and viscous that even alcohol couldn't melt. The more she drank, the thicker that ball of rolled up frustration became, bleeding into her work, her relationships with her friends. It was tiresome to keep craving something so far out of her reach.

The exhaustion grew day by day, until her chest felt constricted for most part of the day and all the oxygen in the whole wide world wasn't enough. Her heartache was saved, strangely enough, by aliens - they rained down on New York city like frogs during the Plague in the book of Exodus; as if God himself was angry at the state of affairs of his favourite pet earthlings. For a time, she couldn't afford to worry about her broken heart and focused on the dilapidated city, landing her resources and skills whenever, whenever she could.

Late at night, exhausted and drained, she allowed herself to flick through the news, eagerly soaking up the new details that seemed to pop up every other day. Aliens were real, Thor was one, Captain America was alive and her ex-boyfriend was now a member of the merry band of misfit superheroes.

She had never taken his hero sidegig too seriously. Tony had some good in him, he wasn't the attention-demanding supervillain-waiting-to-happen, but neither he was hero material. The Tony she knew was akin to a hyperintelligent kid left without supervision. Consequences were a slight setback, not a surefire deterrent for this man.

Her building remained mostly intact - some cosmetic damages that were repaired quickly and did not concern her apartment at all - so she stayed in the same place, much to everyone's dismay. A good chunk of her friends had moved away from NYC as soon as they could - not that she blamed them - but the calls of her family, consisting of begging and nagging her to move states, were beginning to climb over the annoying line very quickly. More often than not, she ignored all calls that weren't from her friends or work.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Tony showed up on her balcony one night - but the shriek that left her was utterly involuntary. His armored suit was noisy and clunky, just like was expected from a huge chunk of metal. Tony's face was a ghost of the man she used to know: he was pale, the bags under his eyes were fit to carry groceries in and he'd lost more than a few pounds around his middle.

Not that she had a glow-up. Work hours were long, volunteer work was by far more exhausting and emotionally draining. With her support system scattered across the country and free hours few and in-between, she'd acquired a shrink. Nightmares went away and the sluggishness, too, thanks to a couple of convenient prescriptions. It seemed like the professionals were as clueless as any in dealing with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

"You weren't returning my calls," Tony stated in the way of hello. It was so like him, to be skipping the pleasantries and glossing over the details.

"I have your number blocked," She replied unkindly, raising an eyebrow as the suit retracted and the man, wearing worn jeans and an oil-stained tee, stepped into the twilight of her home without an invitation.

"I wanted to make sure you are alive and your home is being rebuilt in case it was demolished. Stark foundation is shouldering most of the expenses," He offered in the way of explanation, beelining for the nice whiskey she kept in a tumbler in the living room.

The snort escaped her lips before she could help it; brain chronically overtired but medicated; Adderall and weariness. He was never a good liar, only a good faker. "Why are you here, Tony?" All of it: the damages, the casualties, all of it was public record, accessible 24/7. All he had to do was open Google.

He turned around, scanning her head-to-toe, in that not-quite-convinced way. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," He tried for nonchalant but his eyes were haunted. The whiskey glass he was holding empty in seconds.

She walked up to him, staying at an arm's distance from the man, before doing a slow, sarcastic twirl. "I'm fine. Not a scratch. Was in Staten Island that day."

He nodded, not at all convinced. "Good," Before slamming the glass down with such force, she was afraid the countertop now sported a rounded indent. Fingers twitching, he pulled the woman into himself before she could utter a peep, smashing their lips together without any grace, paying no attention to the way she froze as still as a statue. "God, I missed you. Couldn't bear the thought of you dying..." He mumbled in between harshly biting the plump of her bottom lip and steering the kiss towards his wishes, hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head.

He tasted like whiskey and desperation.

She couldn't not give in. She'd felt the same way when she watched his red and gold armor fly into that wormhole, missile in tow. She'd felt the same despair clawing at her ribcage when his lifeless body flew back from it before being caught by the rabid green monstrosity.

It wasn't graceful and it wasn't pretty; feeling like a monster herself, she responded the same way he did. She shredded his clothes, she clawed his back, leaving wet crimson streaks in the wake of her nails and whispered the ugliest, nastiest truths she had denied herself for so long. He left with the promise to stay in contact and for once, he did.

Nothing was the same. Tony was far from the careless, extravagant billionaire he used to be. These days he was a cynical, analytical asshole that one-upped people even before he had a real need to do so. Both of them had changed, really. She was not the tender uptown girl either.

The nights with him were rare and long; the nights alone with her work were recurrent and longer. The tower stood out on the NYC skyline like a sore thumb, beckoning with the unattainable snipe hunt of having something stable with the world's #1 superhero, Tony Stark. Each time they met, she felt almost as dirty as the time she stood in the elevator under the scrutiny of Pepper Potts.

Even if he didn't outright hide her. She'd ran into Black Widow and Clint Barton once or twice, each of them casting a glance at her Special Visitor badge before muttering niceties and moving on with their day. It was only slightly better with the Captain: he got in the elevator two floors below Tony's penthouse at 8 AM in the morning, just as she was leaving for work - dressed in a sharp pantsuit that was not-quite on Pepper's level. The soldier must've assumed she was a high-rank employee or a friend, the tips of his cheeks blushing as he spoke a quiet: "Good morning, ma'am," In that semi-formal tone of his.

Seeing a grown man get so flustered was quite adorable. "Good morning, Captain Rogers, sir," She replied in a matching tone, humoring him.

The elevator stopped suddenly and a few employees got in, staring openly at the national icon, who had his eyebrows slanted in confusion. The woman shared his sentiment: it was Tony's private elevator. She guessed all the other ones were too full in the mornings so the tower's AI put the underused one to work.

Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of anyway. It wouldn't be past Tony to get jealous over something as trivial as sharing an elevator car with Captain America.

The plateau of normalcy didn't last long. Just as she was opening her third bottle of wine for the night, laptop open on the kitchen counter and proudly displaying "Tony Stark and Pepper Potts - America's newest power couple?" article, she realised he was a coward, too. Slowly but surely, he had ghosted her, not even bothering with an explanation of his sudden unavailability, the several dates missed and even more postponed indefinitely.

They were never going to be a normal couple. She had made her peace with that, ugly and depressing - but it was real. She thought what they had was real. She finally had admitted to herself that she loved him, loved an impossible man, loved to the bottom of Hell and pitfire. The fireworks under her skin had never fully gone away, she realised as more and more ugly sobs broke from her chapped lips.

She blocked his number again and bought herself a new one, deleting the "Tony Stark" contact for good. There was more than enough work to do and the time to feel sorry for herself was sparse. And if she picked up a habit to make sure the time working was spent with proper efficiency, without soaking documents in saltwater that her eyes seemed to overproduce those days? It wasn't a big deal. She needed to get back on her feet somehow, without being dragged by a man who wasn't even present to actively be ruining her life anymore.

If anything, she thought she should feel grateful. The blinding light, the stars that exploded and shone inside her only for Tony, became something poisonous and vile. It wasn't the bitter taste of regret; rather, she felt a flash of ravenous, burning anger every time his name or his face popped up in a press article within her eyesight. Love and hate weren't that different when it came to the intensity: she basked in those newfound feelings, taking care to pick apart and neatly sort each of his perceived flaws on a cute little shelf in her overtaxed brain and fatigued heart.

It wasn't healthy. A convenient escape for the summer; a cabin far, far away from the busy New York city - she took up the offer and relocated there, being content with working remotely, drinking strawberry mimosas by the lakeside. Day by day, the clarity of her mind returned, lulled into a false sense of security by the tranquil trees slowly swaying in the breeze and wide ripples in the water.

Tony seemed to be enjoying bringing chaos into her life and making her miserable. The quinjet landed right on the neatly manicured lawn in front of the cabin, several obviously exhausted and wounded superheroes dismounting the vehicle, Tony looking sheepish but determined in the lead.

She wasn't completely unaware of the rest of the world and knew of the fiasco the Avengers recently had. Was it the half-dead, limping Widow or the baby blues of the Captain, she couldn't tell, but the woman ushered them into her house, gathering the tools needed for first aid with haste. Fate wasn't looking to give her a break.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen, alone, Tony was there, looking much like that time on the balcony, baby doe browns turned up to eleven and a groveling speech prepared on demand. He'd noticed her weight loss and the ashen tone of her skin, the prominent veins and the bags under her eyes. She was as obvious as a brick to the face with her vices.

She slapped him. He winced, but stayed quiet, preparing himself for the storm - and storm him she did, keeping quiet enough for most of the team to be able to tactfully ignore the scolding Tony was getting. "I despise, you, Stark. You're a coward. Do not dare to set foot in my house ever again."

Needless to say, the superheroes departed shortly after Natasha's injuries were stabilised and frowning, disappointed Thor and Steve (they'd asked her to address them by their first names) bashfully apologized for their sudden intrusion and any discomfort they might have caused. She smiled at Steve, wide and big; refusing to admit it was done just to spite Tony, she joked and blushed in response to the Captain.

Tony did not attempt to contact her again. For some time, she lived in fear - irrational one at that - he'd appear and wreck her life one more, final time, before admiring the destruction and leaving her a steaming pile of ashes on the floor. But seasons passed and all of it faded, like a vivid, terrible nightmare.

Piece by piece, her life was getting put back together. His name stopped invoking a swarm of feelings she needed to drown just to stay afloat; there were news regarding him, another violent altercation, and she simply flicked the TV back to adult swim. New friends and new hobbies were being made; the fine cracks made by his agile fingers were being filled with the gold of newer, better discoveries.

There was always something going on in the superhero world and finally one of the topics reached her line of work: mutant rights. She'd never stopped being a volunteer after that NYC invasion, making new connections in a domain previously unexplored, it paid off in spades regarding her career growth. The connections were vital to be able to climb the corporate ladder successfully.

Stark showed up at her door three days after half of his merry band of misfits were pronounced fugitives. This time, she expected it. She knew better than to expect him to assume responsibility by himself - a quick Google search and his relationship status was listed as once again single - the Virginia Potts she knew would not have let anything like that happen. Stark was on his own.

"They betrayed me," He'd said, from behind the door she had cracked open a few inches, to make him know he wasn't welcome in her home.

"I think you know now, how I felt then," She didn't falter, ignoring the way his still freshly-bruised face darkened. "As far as I am concerned, you deserve it. Goodbye, Tony." She shut the door without waiting for his response, hearing his footsteps slowly back away as she made herself another coffee.

Tony Stark taglist: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @rdjesus4ever @ladyeliot

Well um 💀 yeah. I'll go and attempt to scavenge some serotonin somewhere now. Thanks for reading! 💖✨

#tony stark angst #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bun writes: drabbles #bun writes #this is me tearing your heart out and having it for dinner 💚#it's okay i obsess over this scenario and send myself spiraling at least twice a month

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arllenn · 3 years

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Hey there, I rarely check on Tumblr nowadays due to work and stuff but I've played Dragon Raja for a while now so if it's not too troubling, I would like to request a fic of MC giving Osho and the others a well deserved verbal smack down during the final showdown (the MC didn't blame the Gen siblings for what happened to them and managed to save Erii from Osho). Bonus if MC cut ties from everyone after the mission... Sorry, I'm a huge fan of angst.

Tags for this chapter: angst, violence, all bitter no sweet, respawn system gets abused for angst Tw: cannon typical violence, graphic-ish descriptions of death, blood, suicidal thoughts and almost actions, wounds and the like

You’re clutching yourself as you shake knees getting weaker by the second, hiccuping and heaving the flood of tears that decorates both your face and the street under you with the weight of your emotions are the only constant for you. You’re drowning in your own emotions, phantom pains of all of your recent deaths and revivals clawing at you demanding your attention, demanding your time. You’re hugging yourself trying to mimic the comforting action that you remember from your childhood. “Why isn’t it working.” You choke out sobbing harder as you grip your arms. It’s too tight yet not tight enough, your limbs responding to your pleas is a sign that you’re still alive yes, but, but this is, this isn’t what you want.... this isn’t what you want at all. Your nails are far sharper than you remember them they tore through the flesh of your arms lightly. You could feel Herzog’s claws ripping through your flesh as well, everything hurt, you want to go home, you want to go home, you want to go home.....

But you can’t. Everyone was dead, at one point Caesar had said that Black Swan Bay had sunken, so the actual land was probably gone too, nothing left to remember that place but you Zero and Z. God you wanted to see them right now, the area on your head that he had patted earlier seemed warm giving you a small amount of comfort but also dealing even more damage to your psyche. You wanted to go back to those warm days in your childhood when none of this was known to you. When you weren't running around matchmaking and doing everyone else's work while also getting nothing in return, not a thanks, not even a small indirect amount of appreciation or encouragement. Your legs buckled under you your arms reching out as if to grab onto something to stop you from falling. Your knees met with the ground violently scraping at the skin there. You can't breathe, you can't breathe, youcantbreatheyoucantbreatheyoucantbreatheyoucantbreathe, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts, why is he doing this to you didn't he love you? That man, Herzog, had raised you. You had spent so much time at that orphanage, you were so happy. So why. whywhywhywhywhyhwhywhy. You recalled warm winter nights spent in front of the fireplace curled up with Zero on one side and Z on the other.

You remembered one day specifically. Back then you lot were young, so, so, so, young. You chuckled choking on your tears, that day Z and you had spent a solid hour arguing over who would run over to get Zero, that day it had started raining, then the rain had turned to hail mid hide and seek game. Z had found you moments before the storm started. You two ended up huddled under the ice bridge. The orphanage in sight but seeming miles away due to the storm. Zero had been caught first and had gone back to the courtyard as per the rules so she was probably fine. You needed one of you to go and get her so that she could bring back an umbrella for the other. Then you had heard it, the sound of thunder wolves nearby. Then Z, with no hesitation had, scooped you up put your head under one of the flaps or his jacket and ran back to the cottages. All while you could hear the heavy ‘thunk thunk thunk’ of wolf paws behind you. Looking back on it now those wolves were probably the result of Herzog’s experiments and not a naturally occurring species. The souring of your childhood memory made bile rise in your throat, the thought of looking at your early life through that lens rather than just christmas day made you want to scream. Z and Zero were so different from your seniors. If you had been with any of them back then you knew for a fact that they would’ve sent you to deal with the wolves, only coming in when you were a hairs breath away from dying.

But that hadn’t save you before, you can’t count how many times you’ve died sense meeting them. From your flesh being torn from your bones by death servitors to bleeding out in some nameless alleyway after being shot by hydra’s soldiers. You had also drowned at one point, that death had been the worst. You remembered clawing at the water begging for the chance to live once again, you remembered feeling your legs tear off after the submarine had exploded, you remembered reaching your mangled arms out, out, out towards the light that came from the surface of the water. You remember feeling the water force itself down your throat and into your lungs, it burns, it hurts, it burns, it hurts. You had been seeing flashes of reality as well as the last time you ended up in cold waters like those. It didn’t matter because in the end you had died. It never matters how hard you try, how many times you die, because you always end up failing.

You lay on the sidewalk screaming, there was no one nearby nor anything that you could hear other than the pounding of rain on the sidewalk and your own sobbing. Your hand burned with the new blood that flowed inside you. Your mind burned with the scars of the past that it never got to address, your heart burned with the open wounds this mission had left you with. You wanted to die right here, sink away into nothingness. Stay in the room with the grand piano and flowing waters. No one could bother you there, no one could make you do meaningless tasks without your say, there was no matchmaking, no pointless errands, no suicide missions, there was nobody but yourself there, just you, just you. Luminous wouldn’t be there to make you do his work, he wouldn’t be there swearing to be by your side to help you while simultaneously doing nothing at best and dragging you down at worst. There wouldn’t be a Caesar there to send you on every reconnaissance mission with no backup and no direction. Johann wouldn’t be there to demand information on your past like he had even earned the right to know it, like he didn’t need to earn that right because it should just be given to him. Just you in a place where no one could hurt you.

You looked up from the ground that you had been staring at, bringing your hands up to your neck you squeezed. It wouldn’t work in terms of killing you, you knew that, but it worked as an easy substitute, feeling the pressure of your own hands on your neck, the shortness if not complete lack of breath, the light headed feeling, it served as a less drastic solution for now.

“It’s great to see you all safe and sound!” Eva’s voice cut through the momentary peace that you had found, your hands reflexively letting go of your neck.

“Safe and sound?!” You repeated in disbelief, “What part of any of me seems to be safe and sound?” It felt like she was mocking you. The memories of Herzog’s claws slicing through your spine, through every part of you, flashed then the words ‘It’s great to see you all safe and sound!’ Played over them, those words were the last thing you wanted to hear right now. Why,why,why,why,why is your pain always ignored like this? Why is it always your job to make everything right? You can’t do this anymore! You won’t do this anymore.

Bringing your fist up you smashed at your communicator, “Cassell- will...turn th-this into- into no-nothing more th-th-th-then a dream for every- every- everyone” Eva’s voice though distorted still managed to snake its way out of the thing despite all the damage you had done to it.

"AGH, SHUT UP!" You yell slamming your fist down harder and harder, each time screaming, begging for her to "JUST SHUT UP" You're crying even harder now. The glass that made up the outer layer of the screen. The rest of her words came out broken and jumbled, and even if they hadn't been due to the damage your screaming and shouting would've drowned it out anyways. "STOP. TALKING. JUST. SHUT. UP."

"Caesar helping you to-to-to destroy- criminal underworld.... true story- believe." Your fist paused midair at those words. Caesar had helped to destroy the criminal underworld? That was the story that they were going with? Not even the whole team, just Caesar what kind of absolute bullshit was that. You had done 100 times more then the supposed hero of the story, hell Luminous had done more, fucking Erii had done more. So where did they get off on this- this- you didn't even have a word for it it was so stupid, so stupidly infuriating. Herzog had said that the people from Cassell had experimented on you, and while he wasn't one to be trusted you sure do feel so fucking dumb for defending them. At least Herzog had the common decency to put up an air of kindness. These people just treated you like a convenient tool, something to be used and dealt with as they pleased. Something that didn't need thanks or praise or a break because it was an object meant to be used and thrown away as they saw fit. "Re-re-re-return to takamagahara to say-say-say-say-saysay goodbye-bye-bye to-" Your fist swung down with overwhelming strength shattering the communicator completely. Broken pieces of metal and glass embedded themselves in your hand bringing a fiery pain that slowly destroyed all of you in its wake. You fell even further onto the concrete clutching your hands one in the other relishing a bit sickly in the pain that it brought. Your right palm glowed with the same light it first had when you had accepted Erii's blood. Then it started rejecting the pieces of metal and glass in both of your hands. Slowly pushing them out and healing the cuts instantly once they were out.

Chuckling you flipped over your hands looking at both perfectly healed sides. It was like you had never been hurt in the first place. You marvled at them, twisting them over and over again, bringing them to your neck once again you smiled and closed your eyes. You had no idea what you were. Had you always been like this? An undying freak with special powers? Had Herzog's experiments done this to you? It was obvious that your new healing ability came from Erii's and the light king's combined blood but what about everything else? Had you been born this way? Was it Herzog's half baked evolution pills? Had Cassell truly experimented on you? Z said you had the capability to become a dragon lord now, but what did that mean? What did that make you? Your chuckles turned into full of peels of laughter, your cheeks stinging at the feeling of both the semi dried tear tracks being pulled at as well as the force of your laughter. The peels of laughter soon mixed with pained sobs and you were once again back to crying. You weren't going to put up with this anymore. Dropping your hands you slowly stood up like a puppet on strings. Walking at a slow pace one second in between each step you started walking.

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

Anjou is in one of the VIP rooms with a man dressed like a pastor. You don't care what they're talking about, stepping in front of the pastor you look over at him. He takes steps back on his own, unprompted, it's a first but then again you suppose that you probably look like the walking dead, and in a way you were, not to mention that you also felt like it. A lukewarm apathetic haze settled over your emotions as you looked down at Anjou. He's the second person you met after waking up, he's the whole reason you, a freshman at his wacky school that you hadn't even been asked if you wanted to join, were on this mission. How stupid is he? He had sent you, a person who had what he described as 'little control' over your extra skill and who had just woken up after a freeze bath in Siberia on this mission, an SS ranked one that he was hesitant to even send his best students on already. So why had he chosen you? Why did you have to die over and over for a cause you didn't understand and people you don't know. "Freshman." he nodded as though prompting you to speak. He never broke eye contact or even showed any emotions other than a laid back and relaxed expression. It pisses you off. Why is this old dingbat relaxing, kicking back and enjoying his time while your'e such a mess? He gestures for the priest to leave and he does. Leaning forward elbows on his knees he looks you up and down before going back to making eye contact. "What has you so worked up?"

You want to cry, its the closest you've gotten to an 'are you ok' sense waking up but at the same time you wanted no part of a wellness check led by the man in front of you. "Herzog said that Cassell College experimented on me. Is that true?" You can almost make out a hint of surprise in his eyes before he starts laughing. You bight your lips pulling them into your mouth in a desperate attempt to hold back your anger wanting to get your answer first before you rip him a new one.

"Goodness no, why would you ever believe anything that old snake had to say, and here I thought you were a once in a decade genius. I suppose that title still belongs to Johann then." You ball your hands into fists. Its more than obvious that he's making light of the situation. Didn't he know that you had been raised in Black Swan Bay? Didn't he know that Herzog, a man who you had trusted, had experimented on you? Is he incapable of connecting the dots between your trauma and your current situation combined with Herzog's words? No he did know, he knew and he still chose to make light of everything you had gone through. Insinuating if not blatantly saying that you were an idiot for believing that what happened to you once could happen again. Slamming your hand down on the table you levied on him the worst glare you could, the burning behind your eyes letting you know that you probably looked less menacing then you wanted to.

"Where the fuck do you get off saying something like that to me." It's phrased as a question but its really not. It's a challenge for Anjou to defend his words, one he unfortunately takes you up on.

"I understand that this whole mission and especially today has been taxing on your team but that doesn't mean you should and can snap at everyone like that freshman. Take sometime to cool off, go outside and talk to your seniors, hopefully they'll be able to reach you in ways I cannot." He's getting up to leave after his mini lecture, essentially passing you off to be someone else's problem but you wont let him leave that easily. Your hand grabs onto his forearm stopping him in his tracks. For a millisecond you consider punching him. Beating him over the head with one of the glasses on the table, but the part of your brain that still, despite everything, says that you ca't do that to him because he had pulled you out of Siberia's ice who knows how long ago says not to. And it wins.

"I'm not going to apologize for my language-" He cuts you off with a tut of his tongue, now you have no regrets for the words you planned on saying next. Letting go of his arm you continued. "I'm entitled to be angry when an asshole says asshole things. And I'm allowed to curse said asshole out however much I want." You step in front of the exit crossing your arms, you catch a momentary glimpse of your face in one of the metal outlinings of the wall as you do. You truly do look dead, eyes lifeless and lightless, face twisted into a painfully weak version of the you that you wanted to portray. You know that in this position you run the risk of your conversation leaking out of the room but honestly you don't care, like at all. At this point you want to just scream and cry your emotions out. But you can't because you don't want to, you don't want to be any weaker in front of anyone than you already are.

"Freshman-"

"I was raised by Dr. Herzog for so so many years and the whole time he was experimenting on me and everyone I knew. And-and-and you expect me to just trust you when you say that you didn't do anything. You expect me to rule that out as a possibility when you've given me no reason to, not in terms of character or proof. So why would you say that me believing that random strangers who I've known for less then a month and who I, if I'm being honest don't trust, experimenting on me is a dumb fear?" You clutch at your heart bunching up the cloth that protects it. "I just- do you see why thats dumb? Do you see why it makes no sense to me? One day I'm celebrating christmas as normal with my friends the next minute I'm smacked in the face with the fact that the man that I considered a father," you gag a bit on the word, "has been experimenting on me and everyone that I love, that he's been killing all of us as soon as we turn 18 because we wont survive to 22 because of his experiments? Finding out that he thought of us, children he had been raising for years as nothing more then science experiments who had outlived their uses. Do you have any idea how much that fucking hurt? I had to watch everyone die around me while I wasn't able to do anything! Zero even sacrificed her life to save me and I still ended up dying so many times anyways." You're clutching at yourself again, seeking comfort in the only arms that you can trust right now, your own. You're glaring down at the floor trying to blink the tears away. It doesn't work. You're basically two steps away from dry heaving and sobbing. Anjou reaches out his hand, most likely to guide you to sit down but you slap it away. "Don't fucking touch me. You sent me, a freshman who hadn't really even enrolled in your school or been given the choice to do so on a suicide mission with other students and no adult supervision from the college itself. I've died so many times sense waking up. It always hurts, it's never been painless, I've never been thanked and yet you expect me to just what- put my blind trust into you? I spent more time around Chime then I did you and he spent half of the time as Ruri Kazama."

'"Freshman you're hyperventilating you need to calm down."

"I WONT CALM DOWN" You're yelling now, its not the same kind of painful shouting that you had done earlier on the street, this is loud as well yes, but its from a frustrated sadness rather than a devastated anger. "Why did it have to be me? Weren't there other students you could've sent? Adults? Why did it have to be me? You had no reason to trust that I wouldn't kill the others. I had justwoken up and you decided that I was your best choice? You didn't tell me anything you just threw terms out and expected me to understand. You didn't even give me time alone to breathe let alone ask questions." Your chest is tight, you can feel each of your deaths, piercing pain of claws slicing through flesh, the burning heat of bullets, the singeing of fire, being torn to pieces. You can feel it all and it all hurts so much. You want it to stop, you need it to stop. You don't want to hear these people talk like they're your friends like they care anymore. It's all too much, you're almost sobbing now, curling in on yourself to try and mitigate any pain that may come.

"Newbie whats-"

You turn eyes catching onto Caesar, Johann, Luminous and Finger standing behind you. When did they get here, how much did they hear. It burns and it burns devouring everything in sight. All the memories that you have with them that you've been trying to view in a happy light, all of them crumble to the ground in front of you the moment you see them. "SHUT UP, USE MY NAME FOR ONCE WILL YOU?! NEWBIE DO THIS, FRESHMAN DO THAT, YOU HAVE NEVER EVEN ONCE USED MY NAME!" Full on sobbing you bulldoze through every thought that comes to mind yelling them out at the people surrounding you. "YOU'VE NEVER ONCE ASKED ME IF I WAS OK. YOU;VE NEVER ONCE SENT ANYONE WITH ME WHEN YOU SEND ME ON THOSE STUPID SUICIDE MISSIONS. I'M A FRESHMAN A NEWBIE YOU HAD NO REASON TO TRUST ME WITH ANY OF THIS. WHAT WOU;LD'VE HAPPENED IF I HAD DIED AND STAYED DEAD? WHAT WOULD'VE HAPPENED IF I HAD BEEN CAPTURED? WHAT THEN?" You clutch onto yourself harder, seeking even the smallest bit of comfort from the feeling. Your voice has lowered in volume, you no longer have the emotional or physical strength to do anything other than keep your voice above a whisper. "Do you lot remember when Ruri had specifically said that even two of us couldn't handle Herzog alone? And yet you still thought that it would be a good idea to send me up alone, acting like you were tough for taking care of the death servitors at the entrance." You sigh, there are so many other examples you could go through but you also don't want to be here any longer. "What about you Luminous? I get that you had to watch Erii, but making me do everything and anything you could think of by myself while knowing that Johann and Caesar were constantly sending me on missions as well? You even complained that I took too long to do things. Maybe if you did something for yourself for once instead of just saying that you will then running away and hiding like a coward these things wouldn't happen. Maybe then Erii, Chisei and Chime would still be alive and I wouldn't have to deal with- with this fucking guilt!"

"Look I'm sorry about the Erii thing but listen, we had no idea you were feeling like this. You should've come to us-" Finger is trying to mediate, trying to comfort you, but it only makes things worse.

"And how could I have," You croak out, "How could I have trusted that you would listen, that I would get a break? You never even presented the option for me to have any kind of choice in how I carried out my missions let alone not do them at all. I had nothing I still have nothing. I'm presumed dead at best and no longer exist at worst in terms of my original legal documents. And even if I had access to them I'm still 20 years younger then I'm supposed to be." With a watery chuckle you continue, "Even if I did tell you if I was thrown away I wouldn't have any papers to do anything, to get a job, to live a life, I'm completely reliant on the college for everything. Not to mention the fact that I know nothing about the world. If Cassell had deemed me" You shudder at the word "a failure, then I would've had nothing, not information on the world at current, not even an identity." You shake your head walking in between them and towards the exit. "I don't care I'm not doing this anymore. Find some other freshman to be you dog."

You walked out and onto the streets of Tokyo. You glanced back once lamenting the fact that you hadn't gotten to say goodbye to Zero. You turned away glancing in the direction of the convenience store that Luminous would always make you go to to buy Erii's milk. You trudged down the streets of Tokyo back to that place. Hopefully you can buy paper and a pen to leave her a note with what little money you have.

The bell on the store door jingled when you opened it. The man was standing behind the counter as he always was. You're experience with father figures have been lack luster this far but you've always thought that this man gave off the air of one. It made you relax, seeing someone that while familiar wasn't from the orphanage or Cassell. He looked up at you wearing that same smile that he always did. You knew it wasn't for you specifically but rather something that he probably gave all of his costumers but still it made you feel a bit warm inside.

"Hey kiddo you look a bit rough, everything ok?" You take a few steps forward and nod a bit

"I think it will be now. Or at least I hope so." He hums and nods his head at your answer deciding not to pry, a decision you appreciate.

"So then you here for the usual?" You look back at him and glance around the store, you don't see paper or pens of any sort. It's a bit of a let down but you suppose asking wouldn't hurt.

"Ah no actually," Your voice is still raw, and a bit choked up from all the crying and yelling that you did earlier, you hope you don't sound weird." "Do you sell like, um... paper and pens or something like that? I want to write a note to a friend before I leave."

He scratches at his chin mumbling under his breath as he thinks for a few seconds before getting up and going around the store coming back with a bottle of warm milk in hand. He then returns to his spot behind the counter pulling a note pad and pen out from under it. He places the milk next to the writing utensils and pushes them towards you. "Here, milks on the house, I don't sell paper or anything but feel free to use that and leave the note with me. I'll give it to your friend."

You give him a small smile. It's all that you can manage right now. Your eyes burn with tears again. "Thanks, my friends name is Zero she's blonde has blue eyes and is about," you place your hand were Zero's head is about as accurately as you can, "This tall. She has a flat affect and seems kinda emotionless but she really is a sweet girl. Um, her hairs long and she has a big black bow tying it back." The man nods his head repeating your description back to you. After gaining conformation he sticks his thumb up and takes the letter from you promising to hand it to her the moment she walks through the doors of his shop. You thank him one last time and promise to come back there if you're ever in trouble before leaving.

As you walk through Tokyo's streets aimlessly, you repeat the words in your letter, speaking them into the rain. "I hope that we can meet again in a more peaceful time, preferably away from the bay and Cassell as I don't have the best impression of them. With lots of love, your best friend..." You laugh a bit, your words were supposed to be a parody of what Z said to you. You think its fitting for a farewell letter.

You meld into the raindrops after looking back one last time.

#me when respawn #dragon raja #dragon raja mc #caesar gattuso #johann chu #luminous lu #finger von frings #fanfic #writing #major character death #but they dont stay dead #its just alluded to #angst #hurt no comfort

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severusdefender · 3 years

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Hey so I'm the furby anon (that's an odd way to introduce oneself but oh well). This is so long I'm so sorry.

I think one of the insane things that I realized of the mauruader fanbase is what they stand for in a general sense but how much they really have tarnished that.

I think the mauruader fans should be proud that the story of the mauruaders is all about the rebellion of norms. Sirius and his family, lupin and his condition, James and Peter both driving and encouraging a friendship that lasted them what 7 + ish years (I'm sorry but I know nothing on Peter and I would love to hear a fucking narrative on James potters struggles from a Stan (to any stans that was sarcasm I realized you enjoy jumping into conclusions so I needed to be direct))

Anyways their friendship is basically found family and I think is okay to enjoy their story lines but I think it's when you only see them in a myopic lens where you acknowledge that they did pranks generally and not at the expense of someone in particular(snape) because of their existence. It's okay to celebrate their struggles of adulthood because they all have their own plots and yes! It's starts of with them being a dick that is how their growth starts. Look I can belive that James had some level of conscious to belive on what's good and also say he was a fucking asshole to snape and I don't think it's right to say he changed (because even though he joined the good guys team doesn't make him a good person because there is no evidence to say he apologized to snape or anything if it's not there it isn't there). I can celebrate lupin and blacks struggle on individuality but I can also critize them for their cowardice and arrogance and not excuse their behavoiur as well.

Snapes charecter is an example where if you only see him in a myopic lense you cant see him more than just a bully and part time deatheater. He has his faults you are right and he should be held accountable for his actions, but I think it's hypocritical that a fanbase that seems of reading between the lines to congratulate on their favs outstanding behavior that has little to no canonical evidence ( snape stealing James ideas, applauding James for saving snape during the werewolf attack (I'm not to sure how I stand with this because I think it's more fitting James being concerned over lupins state of being as in he knew that this was lupins fears that is being exploited at an expense of a joke but not snapes) , saying snape led them to their deaths by giving their addresses to voldermort, blaming him for dumbledores death, not freeing sirius black from Azkaban (we literally went through this no one knew each other to protect each other's identity except for voldermort himself what the fuck do you think the deatheaters are a multi level marketing scheme???), any fucking headcanon that starts with the mauruaders making an anti bullying club (that made me laugh so much), the whole hugging a deadbody scene that wasn't there also yall never seen any other movie apart from hp because that's shown in so many movies irrespective of relationship,,,, if your gonna go the whole only hug the ones you have a romantic love with then I have to ask so you ship harry potter with dobby the elf because that literally happened, him being evil because he hit Petunia with a branch)

Also I need to get this out of my chest,, of you think the only way of saying fuck the system because you feel like a little guy in a big boys club or whatever and then choose to attack a fucking minority I'm sorry but that sounds equally as pathetic as someone who is clearly the privileged person giving a shallow apology without any reparations. You have undoubtedly missed the whole point (as a poc it sounds when a yt person says they understand inequality (racism) because they experienced it when the Chipotle dude Stas someone who came way later) .

Second of all saying someone deserves x thing because in the course of their morally grey lives they do things that are a. Questionable and b. inexcusable, sounds like you are deeply rooted in purity culture where you only acknowledge retribution and redemption only of they are wholly right and all actions can be explained as a they didn't mean it and are a 'deeper' person (see above mauruaders and their anti bullying campaign).

People can change but they don't need to be nice about it, they can be bitter and angry but still do the right thing it may not be endearing or cute, but you can't not acknowledge their good because it isn't in a nicely delivered format. People can change what they stand for they don't need to be sweet about it if the people you support also caused you a lifetime of pain then you can support the cause not its members you are allowed to do that.

And this might sound like jumping into an extreme conclusion (I wanted to participate in extreme sports like the mauruaders fans) if you think that (you need to be nice and do the right thing) then I think you guys lack a certain level of empathy and not have kids. As kids have unsound logic and make mistakes and can be cruel, assuming that they cruel forever because of their unsound logic at one point and punishing them with a lifetime of guilt and ignoring them seems a bit insane to say loosely. (after all that was your response to a fucking fictional charecter who was punished for being different and whatever actions that followed in his miserable life was well deserved because of his actions to be a 'bad guy' . After all isn't that not your response to people who enjoy his charecter and then decided to belive that they deserve death and 'extermination' or was that just a convenient joke/comment at the expense of someone else's interest??? I have no sympathy for most yall your just cruel)

Good points

#Anonymous #severus snape #pro snape

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cinephiles-delight · 5 years

Text

The Killing Joke: What Arthur Fleck Finds So Funny

Just as any other film, television series, animation, or comic book produced after The Dark Knight, Joker (and specifically Joaquin Phoenix’s performance) will necessarily be held up against what has come to be accepted as the gold standard of Heath Ledger’s unsettling and timeless portrayal of the clown prince of crime. While I could argue the merits of both legendary actor’s turns filling the shoes of Mister J in terms of performance, technique, etc., what I find infinitely more interesting is to examine the shift in the philosophical stance of the character between the two screen incarnations.

The general consensus amongst fans and critics alike is that Ledger’s Joker was a searing satire of and critique on the orderly, structured world he saw around him: people behaving in manners that conformed to paper-thin ethical standards that would degrade in the face of overwhelming pressure. He claims–as the Killing Joke Joker did–that “all it takes is a little push” for people to abandon their moral sentiments and revert to sheer self-interest and chaos. Ledger’s Joker was essentially fulfilling the archetype of the trickster god, reminiscent of Bugs Bunny or Loki, who wants to demonstrate the absurdity of the rules to those who consider themselves beholden to them by trapping said people in logical and moral puzzles that are a direct result of the contradictions inherent in the system: loopholes, if you will. His fulfillment of the archetype is demonstrated by the final ferry sequence, the money burning, the Rachel/Harvey choice, etc.

Phoenix’s Joker, on the other hand, comes across as rather motiveless and random, denying us even an albeit twisted logic by which to understand his actions and thought processes: he kills for sport, for vengeance, in retribution for real or imagined slights, or quite simply because he thinks it’s funny. He rejects the idea that society even functions on a set of shared rules, and takes the absurdity of the system as grounds for refuting it’s existence entirely. In this Phoenix becomes the pure nihilist Joker: the archetypal drifter-killer with no agenda and no reason to explain his madness and violence–just rage, insanity, and a freedom from ties to any sense of morality at all. The degree to which this philosophy was brought to the character even on the level of acting cues can be seen in Phoenix’s tendency as Arthur Fleck to break into spontaneous and chaotic pseudo-dances at seemingly inappropriate or even random times–here, both the cause of the action and the action itself lack an internal logic by which to understand them.

While claiming to be the ultimate embodiment of chaos, Ledger’s Joker could never truly live up to that epithet, because in attempting to use the contradictions of humanity’s purported civilization and societal rules to prove their own absurdity, he reifies their existence. We see Ledger’s Joker engage in such behavior several times in The Dark Knight, for example in the scene where Ledger kidnaps the characters of Rachel and Harvey Dent, demanding that Batman make the terrible decision to save one and let the other die. Ledger’s Joker believes that he has constructed an impossible situation in order to demonstrate to Batman that making value judgements of one human life against another are ultimately arbitrary, and that no matter the outcome the agent’s choice cannot, by human standards, be a moral action. However in doing so he both acknowledges the role of the value of human life in public consciousness and seems to, by utilizing the contradictions of utilitarianism, reaffirm its salience. On the opposite side of the equation, Phoenix’s Joker simply denies the existence of rules or governing moral principles altogether, and quite simply doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

Ledger’s Joker fails in his own nihilistic agenda by adopting an agenda in the first place. By striving to win over others (namely Batman) to his point of view, he implicitly acknowledges that there exists a superior and objectively correct point of view: his. Whereas in Joker, we see Arthur completely forgo any intentionally malicious scheming designed to manipulate humans into defying their own moral codes; he instead simply chooses to ignore their existence altogether, operating as he wishes when he wishes with no thought as to the decency or civility of his actions (though paradoxically he does blame the lack of civility in society for contributing to his crumbling psyche). Arthur doesn’t try to convince anybody of anything, because ultimately he doesn’t think it matters. The only person he ever even appears to “lecture” to, Murray, he kills at the conclusion of his speech! This suggests that his entire ostensibly “rhetorical” outburst on the show was more of a twisted confession in search of or as a completion of his process of personal catharsis than any attempt to demonstrate to others the depravity of society.

For these reasons I–personally–think that Joaquin Phoenix and Todd Phillips delivered a much scarier and much more existentially horrifying Joker than Ledger and Nolan ever did. Ledger defied our understanding of right and wrong, but did so within a conventional framework, playing by the rules. Arthur Fleck simply refuses to even admit the existence of a system in the first place, playing a game unbeholden to a rule system of any kind, lacking even the slightest veneer of an internal logic. It is that which makes our blood run cold.

Now there are those who would claim that Arthur Fleck isn’t a proper nihilist, and that he’s actually just a depraved psychopath with an ill-formed mind and the means to kill. They would cite, for example, that almost all of his killings stem from personal slights against him: the boys who mocked him on the subway, his mother who did nothing to stop his father’s abusing him, Murray who mocked him on the show, Randall who tried to get him fired, etc. I think the answer to this protest boils down to the fact that while those may be the primary “motives” for his violent acts, this logic fails to comment on how Arthur perceives the morality of his actions.

While you could argue that Arthur feels “justified” in his killings because of the wrongs these people have inflicted against him, the more correct answer lies elsewhere. The impetus for his killing may very well be the instinctual feelings of indignation, rage, and hurt pride that accompany the pernicious acts of those around him, but he doesn’t view his killings as morally good. He doesn’t even view them as justified: he just thinks they’re funny. Consider the example of the drunk yuppie Wayne Enterprises boys that Arthur guns down on the subway. In his interview with Murray, Arthur admits that he finds the boys’ deaths to be incredibly funny, and as a principle reason for the humor he cites this: the boys were mourned and wept over because they were affluent, because they were Wayne employees, because Thomas Wayne mourned them on the news. But if it were Arthur that was gunned down on the sidewalk, he asks us to consider how many of us would simply walk right over him (a line written down in his journal right above the “cents” joke). What he seems to find so overwhelmingly funny about this is that it’s a crystallization of the fact that humanity is all tied up in a grand, cosmic joke that, because he is removed from it, Arthur can find humor in. The “joke”, in his eyes, is humanity’s use of moral codes as a way to define proper and improper manners of living. He posits that if such moral codes did, in fact, exist then they would command those obedient to them to answer Arthur’s question by stating that they would mourn his death just the same as that of the rich boys. But of course… this isn’t what happens. And so Arthur laughs. The parable of the drunk subway boys reveals humanity’s willingness to bend, break, and ignore morality when it is convenient for them to do so. The irony here is that the inescapable conclusion to be drawn from this malleability of right and wrong is that there is no such thing. But Arthur is the only one who can see this. So in his final line of the film, he very simply responds to the psychiatrist’s request to hear his joke with the only answer he can give: “you wouldn’t get it”.

Many critics have bashed Joker for coming off as meandering or even aimless, which I think is really a pointless criticism of a movie fundamentally about pointlessness. If we judge a film as “good” only by its slavish narrative devotion to character-driven causality, then a character piece about a fundamental moral nihilist with no reasoning or motivation to define his actions by must necessarily appear to be a slow, meaningless, or even boring movie. They claim that because Arthur seems to have an incoherent or rambling view of society which he is impotent to express–save for in the sad, impish ramblings of a madman masking profundity in a child’s vocabulary–the film lacks purpose and fails to take a definite stance on contemporary issues/state of affairs. This argument is nonsensical, like trying to use a ruler to measure the passage of time: it’s a faulty metric. The film, barring a few instances (everything with regards to the pharmaceutical industry and treatment of mental illness), on the whole isn’t trying to say anything about modern Western society: it’s a micro-level examination of how a man could come to completely abandon every moral tenet we hold dear, including belief in the existence of moral tenets at all.

Finally, I’d like to make an interesting observation with regards to the motif of that one particular staircase that Arthur must climb to reach his apartment building. At the opening of the film Arthur trudges his way up the staircase: it’s nighttime and the scene is lit with various cool, blue hues reflecting the depths of his depression and feelings of hopelessness. As he struggles to reach the top of the stairs he clutches in his hand a bag of prescriptions, literally weighing him down. What we’re presented with via this striking mise en scene is the portrait of a mentally ill man trying desperately to conform to the behavioral and emotional expectations of a society that was not designed for the mentally ill. His medications, representative of his struggle to maintain a normal life, become the literal and emotional baggage that he must carry through his days. As he writes in his journal: “the worst part about having a mental illness is that people expect you to behave as if you don’t”. However, when Arthur finally completes his transformation and adopts the persona of the Joker, letting go of his desire to fit into a world that never had a place for him, opting to remove himself from its laws completely, we see him return to this very same staircase and his demeanor is completely changed. This time it’s in the middle of the day: the sun is shining down brightly and warmly on Arthur–himself dressed in resplendent red, yellow, and orange hues–as he literally dances down the stairs, letting gravity do the work for him. A literal, visual interpretation of Heath Ledger’s Joker’s claim that “madness is like gravity”. This representation of insanity as a journey of mental emancipation is reflected in both The Dark Knight and the comic The Killing Joke, where in the latter the Joker specifically refers to insanity as: “the emergency exit on life… You can just step outside and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened”. The Killing Joke Joker frames insanity as a letting go, as a liberation from the difficulties of life and an induction into a new, unrestricted way of living. This is exactly the transformation that Arthur undergoes throughout the course of Joker–living is no longer a chore… it’s a dance.

#joker #joaquin phoenix joker #joaquin phoenix #joker movie #joker film #joker 2019 #joker 2008 #heath ledger #the dark knight #batman #movies #movie review #Movie Reviews #movie analysis #analysis #philosophy #nihilism #spoilers

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

Text

Tangled Salt Marathon - Not In the Mood

So at long last we’ve finally reached the last of the filler episodes for season one. Yes, I know the mood potion comes into play later and that Varian makes a cameo at the end, but the actual plot of the episode itself doesn’t add anything to the overall narrative and the elements that do come back are ones that could have been better introduced or written out altogether. Ergo making this another weak entry into the series.

Summary: Thanks to Max and Pascal's intervention, Rapunzel, Eugene and Cassandra inadvertently drink a potion that reverses their personalities. They turn to Xavier for his help in reversing their personalities to normal. Unfortunately, the elixir reverses everyone's character, making a mess of the royal visit.

So Why Should I Care About The Mains Fighting With Each Other... Again?

This episode wants to act like this sudden bickering is abnormal and a breakdown in their relationships but really, it’s the same plot we’ve had for nearly every episode the entire season. When has Eugene and Cassandra ever gotten alone? What plot hasn’t focused on Raps and Cass not seeing eye to eye? Like, this is nothing new and not a good inciting action for the plot to happen. If anything this episode only confirms to me that these people shouldn’t be wasting their time associating with each other, as I haven’t seen them actually being real friends and enjoying each other’s company before this.

Xavier, Why Do You Have a Random Magic Potion Just Sitting Around Your Workplace?

Once again we get no explanation as to how or why Xavier knows what he knows. He just so happens to have this mood potion ready to go and no one questions it. Given how this is a very dubiously unethical plan and his previous connections with two main bad guys, Zhan Tiri and the Saporians; I legit thought he’d be revealed as a villain later. But nope. He just there to get the plot going and nothing else. What a waste.

Oh Look, Cass is Getting What She Wants Yet Again.

Cass gets another guard assignment, running security detail for the upcoming banquet. It doesn’t go well because of the mood potion, but the very fact that she was entrusted with the job in the first place undermines her arcs in seasons two and three.

Poor Worldbuilding

Throughout the show we hear about these seven kingdoms. However, we never get any insight into what these seven kingdoms are. An alliance? A trade deal? Just the seven kingdoms that so happen to be the most powerful in this world?Regional stand-ins for the seven continents of the globe and not actual countries? A fantasy version of the Prussian Empire before the unification of Germany? Who knows. For we only focus on two of these ‘kingdoms’ in two episodes; Beginnings in season three and this episode.

‘Pittsford’ is the only kingdom to have an episode dedicated to it and all it amounts to is a nonsensical Napoleon Complex joke. Given the World War I inspired German uniform that the character above is wearing, the show can’t even keep its parodies and references straight. Like, that’s it. The joke is that everyone from this kingdom is short, grumpy, and wears that ridiculous helmet.

We never see this kingdom nor ever visit any of the other kingdoms. We get no insight into their cultures or way of life, despite Rapunzel’s desire for travel. And we also receive very little understanding of how these kingdoms relate back to Corona even when focusing on a possible war between them.

Unlike the mishmash of time periods I talked about earlier, this is a straight up failure in execution and not me merely being picky. It’s once again a lack of set up and resolve. The show builds something up only to never follow through with it.

Hypocrisy in Who’s to Blame Leading to Lessons Unlearned

Umm.. no, Cass is right. This is Max and Pascal’s fault. But mostly it’s Xavier’s fault for creating the potion in the first place and deciding it was a-okay to drug people with it without their consent.

But of course the writing lets them off the hook in order to make its point about the characters needing to grow. A lesson that the show will promptly forget come next episode, making it’s point, well pointless.

However the worst outcome here is the narrative letting Xavier get away without consequence while treating Varian as a villain for doing the exact same thing later on. The writers have double standards for how they treat the characters and use biased points of view to try and manipulate the audience into siding with the characters they want you to side with, rather than just presenting a conflict honestly and trusting the viewers to come to their own understandings.

Inconstancy is Left Unexplained

This is a joke, sure, but Griffin from Pittsford is also shown to be unaffected and characters conveniently fall in and out of the spell as the story needs it. There’s no explanation as for why the established rules of the potion are suddenly ignored.

Look, you don't always have explain where magic comes from or how it does what it does, but you do need an internal set of rules to act as parameters for your magic. That way when a rule changes or a person breaks a rule, it means something to the narrative and helps to drive tension. There’s no set rules for Tangled’s magic system. Things change on a dime for no given reason. Ergo the story winds up being confused in places and tension is diluted.

The Resolution is Weak

Griffin here just changes his mind about needing a peace treaty with Corona off screen with no explanation. He just does it so that the episode can end and reward the main character; so that Rapunzel won't have to face any consequences for her behavior. The universe just bends unnaturally to her will.

Her confrontation with Frederic earlier is an extension of this problem.

He snaps out of the spell just because Raps confronted him, despite the episode showing us earlier that that’s not how the potion works. Furthermore, her entire confrontation is supposed to be buildup to her becoming more assertive, but the narrative presents it like a ‘love saves the day’ deal; meaning she’s rewarded for the wrong reason. Last off she does not learn this lesson and it’ll be another three episodes before it sinks in. Even more than that if you watch the season in its intended order.

Oh Yeah, We’re Still Showing Things Out of Order and The Full Awfulness of How Rapunzel Treats Varian is Just Glossed Over.

So Pascal’s Story and Big Brother’s of Corona was suppose to come before this episode. The Wrath of Ruthless Ruth, Max's Enemy, and The Way of the Willow are meant to come after. This means that Rapunzel is still ignoring her duty, has been ignoring it, and will keep on ignoring it for several more weeks/months.

Varian’s Cameo Doesn’t Add Anything Here

Despite trying to tie into the main plot, Varian’s part in this episode is skippable. There’s no reason why he couldn’t have just made the truth serum from scratch. We didn’t need yet another run around just to establish the mood potion first. It’s slightly more forgivable than say, Monty, Willow, or Axel being introduced for next to no reason, but it’s still a mishandling of the time and resources given to the show.

Conclusion

I honestly found this episode kind of cringe. It has a lot of tropes that I personally dislike and reads like a bad 60s sitcom. It more well constructed then say Max’s Enemy, and it has more to do with the plot then Way of the Willow, but it still suffers from filler fatigue.

#tangled #anti-tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #varian #rapunzel #xavier

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retphienix · 4 years

Video

youtube

Ah. What a game this has been so far.

Now I had a million thoughts I wanted to share as this played out, lord knows I’ll forget a good portion of them but that’s the nature of my own ineptitude- plenty of things I’ll remember MILES after this post or only if prompted in a specific way and that’s just how it is.

To start- this isn’t the end of DQ11 for the blog just yet. I usually don’t dive into post game unless it feels right or people ask and I’m convinced- and more or less both happened this time. It does feel right- I have definite goals I want to tackle before saying I’m happy with what I did here- and more than one person has mentioned that the post game is worth touching so I’ll be doing that.

Also, for those unfamiliar with my long winded utter mess of a finale post style I go for- this is a lot of rambling as I try my best to touch on my thoughts on the game overall because I like to share. Feel free to just press “J” on your keyboard and skip right passed this- I know **I** struggle to focus my eyes to read long winded posts so I won’t blame you.

Also also, in order to try and spark some of those thoughts I had during this recording the first bit is gonna be me re-watching it as I wait on the video to finish processing and saying what comes up.

To start- really wish there was a save point there lol. I get that it’s a painfully easy backtrack to the save point at the start of the castle- but still, I like convenience.

The Dark Lord’s first form is a huge step up from his form before absorbing Yggdrasil and this first form fight was fun and had me itching to say some good things about it but honestly? I want to save praise for the fight that deserves it- phase 2.

PHASE TWO THOUGH!? GOD TIER RPG FIGHT.

I’ve seen better, sure, but come on, we’ve ALL seen better at all times on all things especially considering preferences coming into it- this was a 10/10 boss fight, top to bottom.

Design? Beautiful. Even continued the DQ obsession with puns with his tail being Mordragon, that is so PERFECT so ‘chef kiss’ flawless and it’s just a name. I LOVE how he looks. I LOVE how he moves around the arena changing which head you’re facing.

I love how each had different strengths to contend with (which I abruptly fucked up, don’t call me out, I’ll prove I know what was going on right here and right now-). The dragon had strong melee and breath attacks while the dark lord himself had magic aplenty.

I even utilized swapping out for the first time ever not because I hadn’t seen the value beforehand (I’ve spoken on how interesting a strategic option it was seeing as every unit has unique moves to bring to the table and it costs nothing but ATB for that unit to do).

Now, I fucked that up, but I did it purely because this is the first fight up to this point that felt right to do so. It’s the first time the tactical value of switching out to buff defenses with Hendrik outvalued ignoring that option and maintaining my ATB on whomever I would switch out. THAT FELT SO GOOD! And then I let my braindead fingers buff defense on a magic phase and you see the point. It was brilliant but I was not!

I did end up ignoring the option after a few turns not because the value wasn’t there, but because he ALSO spams stat neutralizing moves which made me reconsider focusing so heavily on buffs and instead focusing on maintaining steady heals (mostly with Hustle dance).

This fight? Beautiful. I loved every second of it. I loved adjusting my playstyle on the fly, I loved finding my footing. I just loved it.

Beyond that- the ending. I got a chuckle out of how abrupt the credits come in. It seems to wind up for an end sequence only for Erik to say “Well, let’s go home” and it cuts to the credits- but THEN the credits ARE the end sequence so it wasn’t ACTUALLY as abrupt as it seemed, but it got a laugh out of me.

Now those credit scenes? I’m a sucker for games that make you fall in love with the characters and this was an ending catering to those characters. Not too much to say outside of “I was smiling the entire time” which is true.

There were a couple moments in that sequence that I said aloud “JUST HUG HIM YOU COWARD” to various characters, like Hero and Rab, or the two dorks (hero and Gemma), etc.

And they played on the mystique of the post game’s content well enough to pull people in I’d say- certainly more than what I recall DQ8 doing with the dragon trials.

I am probably wrong, but I recall the game drawing next to no attention to that post game content aside from a few moments in the game dragging you to the location only to not let you access it (hinting at more being there).

Anyway.

Honestly, after rambling about the video itself I feel a lot of what I wanted to say about DQ11 was said during the playthrough just fine. I rarely feel that way.

DQ11 was fun.

As a DQ fan, you can best believe I had fun.

As a stick in the mud who is disillusioned toward the game industry and doesn’t like a lot of the filth that accumulates within it- I obviously have a few negative thoughts on the game, but there really aren’t perfect games so much as perfect experiences based on how it affected you.

And I’ve voiced those annoyances plenty I think. For completion sake there are cut corners on animations that seem off when other places have a ton of attention to detail, that’s like bottom rung “I don’t actually give a shit” stuff though.

The bigger problems were Sugiyama is a horrible piece of human garbage and the game is lesser because of his influence on it. There are plenty of reasons behind that both big and small. Big- it feels gross having a human shitsack touching this game after having been so vocal for years- there are replacements at the ready and we still have his LGBT hating, war crime denying fingers handling the music? Shameful.

Small (but man did it fucking suck) being that every five minutes I was annoyed at the music in this game. It sounds Bad. And I mean both orchestral and midi, it’s not great compared to anything he made before for DQ, but the fact that it’s midi in this is EAR BLISTERING.

I’m not one to listen close to most music while playing for whatever reason- and I admit that knowing who’s responsible is half of why my ears tuned it in instead of tuning it out, but man I couldn’t help it and it sucks.

The same 3 second ear rattling loops are ALL OVER THE PLACE. Grandiose moments are cut short by bland midi tunes. MAIN STORY MOMENTS ARE LACKING MUSIC ALTOGETHER FOR SOME REASON? When the hero gets the flute and plays it for the first time it just DIDN’T MAKE A NOISE? Subsequent uses of the flute made a noise, but not the main first cutscene?

It’s a whole thing.

And don’t make me get that dirty capitalist pain in my chest over the fact the S version was released 2 months after this and includes so much content that SCREAMS “This already existed and we diced and quartered it specifically to create the illusion of ‘value’ for this release”. Disgusting, man. :/

Gameplay wise, the biggest complaint I have is so loaded and half hearted but I have to say it anyway.

DQ is good because it’s simple.

DQ can also be a little lacking because it’s simple.

This was the second most fun I’ve had playing a main series DQ game (DQIII just hits right), and it definitely has better gameplay (so my opinion is subjective) than the one I prefer to this. But it was also a bit too simple... But you can’t change that and be DQ, it’s complicated.

To just say it- other than the final boss every encounter was a bit too easy. And I know I overlevel, I know that’s the point, I know there’s a hard mode modifier- I KNOW, but the final boss was REALLY GOOD AND still not too hard, so the fact that most every other encounter did the minimum or the minimum +1 is a little tiny (just a bit) disappointing because the gameplay could have been that much better.

But. That could just be my head spinning tales and being a biased asshole especially since I’m not offering any solution here and I’m admitting it’s both “better than my favorite gameplay in the main series” and “probably can’t be made more involved without losing DQ simplicity”.

But I’d kill for some different or new systems on top of this- dual and triple techs from Chrono instead of RNG pep, bosses with more varied strategies instead of “stun 2-3 and do raid wide attack”.

A reason to care about elemental damage (both incoming and outgoing), plenty of little things that would just make the already solid as hell combat more interesting to participate in.

Story was honestly fantastic. I didn’t know how I was going to end that until I just let it come. It was. This is the best DQ story thus far, and not to limit it to that scope- this was a GOOD DAMNED STORY overall and I’ve played a fuckload of games with good stories.

Before this I was a sucker for the original trilogy’s overarching story, which is unfair because that’s 3 games and that’s an old story and it’s only “good” because it’s unprecedented. But this is just plain great.

It writes such beautiful characters- it tackles a variety of conflicts both big and small- you have Sylv and his dad, you have a possessed king declaring his daughter Jade dead and Jade knowingly betraying him without knowing he’s possessed, you have Erik giving up on life and only putting himself so deeply into this adventure as a means of escape, you have Hendrik’s loyalty being- I can’t pretend Hendrik fits in he’s fucking stupid and needs to ask questions because loyalty for the sake of loyalty isn’t interesting at all lol.

You have Rab believing the world is doomed and doing all he can with Jade up until they find you are alive. You have the INCREDIBLE story of Veronica and Serena- you have all these intensely lovable and understandable characters (and Hendrik) and the story is so much more about them than just about the dark lord and the hero.

It’s so much more about each of their conflicts and growth because all of that is HOW the hero will defeat the dark lord.

It’s just so much more... investing than any of the stories I’ve had in DQ before and strong as hell amongst stories beyond just DQ.

I loved this. It was emotional at times, it was downright depressing at times which I wouldn’t expect DQ to successfully hit, it was downright rewarding getting to know these characters and I feel fantastic having beaten this.

This game is fucking good. I finally understand why some people have told me this is their favorite DQ now. It... yeah I think it might be mine too.

I’d be much more likely to revisit DQ3 than this because it’s shorter and has a specific kind of RPG (class based with freely recruited partners instead of named party members) I find more fun to revisit, but yeah, I think I agree.

I think for main-series DQs this is it, this is my favorite. It has to be, right? It’s got so many INCREDIBLE story moments and it’s pretty and it plays great- yeah. Hell, Sylvando as a character and Serena and Veronica’s arc BY THEMSELVES convince me of that.

Still got nothing on DWM and DWM 2 on the GBC, WOOOOT! Didn’t expect this post to divert from a serious closing thoughts (despite there being a few more posts to come) topic to posting this did you?

Behold the true faces of DQ perfection.

#RetPlays #Dragon Quest 11 #Dragon Quest XI #Dragon Quest

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years

Photo

(未定事件簿) EVENT!「消失的黄金」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: The Lost Gold Translations (Chapter 1-01: NXX Base)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist is under construction. *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event *(y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC.

I was blindfolded as the sound of the engine finally stopped after having travelled on the sea for quite some time.

Staff Member: Participant No.131——Miss (Y/n), this will be your stop.

Staff Member: I'm going to be taking off your blindfold now.

MC: Oh...Okay.

I was instantly hit full-force by the dazzling sunlight.

MC: ......!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Beach

I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light, vision clearing after a couple of seconds.

A salty sea breeze blew as palm trees swayed in the blue sky. The white bubbly waves of the sea chased the sand as the sea lapped at the beach, stretching out to form a curved coastline.

MC: (This Nosta Island that Lu Jinghe is hosting the event on is really breathtaking!)

I thought, as I carefully climbed down from the Motorboat, imprinting a couple of footprints down on the wet, fine sand.

The Staff Member that brought me here smiled at me.

Staff Member: I shall go first then. I wish you all the best for the "Deserted Island Treasure Hunt"!

MC: Yes, thank you.

The Staff waved at me before driving the Motorboat back to the Private Cruise Ship that sat waiting a distance away.

The "Deserted Island Treasure Hunt". The reason why I came to this Island was precisely because of this event being hosted by Lu Jinghe, himself.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: NXX Base

Half a month ago, the NXX members and I conducted various discussions and deductions about the recent suspected cases, as per usual. During our break, Mo Yi spoke to Lu Jinghe.

Mo Yi: Give me an invitation to your Event next week.

Lu Jinghe: My Event next week?

Lu Jinghe: No. Why do I have to invite you?

Mo Yi: ......

The temperature in the Conference Room plummeted in an instant, at a rate that could be sensed. I looked around and saw both Zuo Ran and Xia Yan working on sorting through their documents, completely indifferent toward the situation that was unfolding before them.

MC: (Here they go again...They have to quarrel over a couple of lines every time they finish talking about business...)

MC: (Thank god Lawyer Zuo and Xia Yan aren't joining the "battle" this time round...)

I heard that people tend to be more polite when someone of the opposite sex is present while socializing... With that in mind, I tried interjecting between them.

MC: Dr. Mo, you want to participate in the "Deserted Island Treasure Hunt" event held next week, correct?

MC: And Lu Jinghe, I'm supposing this is also the event you've invited me to participate in yesterday?

Not long ago, major media and public journalists rushed to report that Lu Jinghe had spent an enormous sum of money to Renovate and prepare an entire island, as a holiday and entertainment destination. He had deliberately organized this "Deserted Island Treasure Hunt" for the sake of publicity and even invited many Treasure Hunters for this event.

All participants will receive a Treasure Map prepared by the Organizer at the start of the Event. And, the first person to solve the secret of the Treasure Map and finds the treasure will receive a 5 million bonus.

Lu Jinghe: Wait a——

Whatever he had wanted to say was cut off by Mo Yi's words as he spoke to me.

Mo Yi: He invited you to participate in the event?

MC: Urk...yes...?

MC: (Uh oh, looks like I said something I shouldn't have.)

Lu Jinghe invited me, but denied Mo Yi an Invitation. Now that he knows, wouldn't it only serve to make him even angrier?

MC: This is actually just a coincidence! I've just recently closed a case and wanted to go on holiday since I've got a couple of days off.

MC: We just happened to talk about this on-call yesterday and I ended up being invited.

Mo Yi: Is that so?

His smile only seemed to deepen.

MC: (Why do I feel like I'm making things worse the more I speak...?)

Lu Jinghe: Mo Yi, you're better off changing destinations if it's a Vacation you want.

Lu Jinghe: Outdoor Adventuring requires a large amount of physical exertion; it's something that doesn't suit you in the slightest.

Mo Yi: I have business there.

Lu Jinghe: Business? Find a better excuse if you're going to be making one.

Lu Jinghe: All the people participating in this "Deserted Island Treasure Hunt" are Treasure Hunters who have experience out in the Wilderness...

Lu Jinghe: Taking your physical fitness into account, do you wish to embrace the "Wilderness", or do you have a cause for "Adventure"?

Mo Yi: Don't bother. Entering the Island in the name of the event is only for convenience sake. Or...

Mo Yi: I could always just ask your father for one.

Lu Jinghe: ......

Lu Jinghe's face twisted uglily. Eventually, after glaring "venomously" at Mo Yi for a while, he conceded.

Lu Jinghe: Guess I can.

Lu Jinghe had only just finished speaking when I heard another voice call out from the side.

Xia Yan: Great, then how about you give me one too, while you're at it? This "Deserted Island Treasure Hunt" sounds fun.

I didn't know when Xia Yan had stopped reading through the information he was previously holding, but he walked up to me.

Xia Yan: Lu Jinghe, I assure you that I'm more than eligible to participate, given my abilities.

Lu Jinghe: Xia Yan, you're a Professional. Aren't you embarrassed to want to participate in an event "for normal folk"?

Lu Jinghe: Are you that lacking in cash?

Xia Yan: Rest assured; I'm only there for a vacation.

Xia Yan: About that Treasure Map you're preparing, I won't be going after the treasure even if I did figure it out.

Xia Yan: And it won't be for free, either. I can help you upgrade the Electronic Security System you have running for the event.

Xia Yan: Least it becomes like the Big Data Lab, easily by-passable and casually broken into by some mere kid out there.

Lu Jinghe: ......

Lu Jinghe wasn't able to formulate a reply before Zuo Ran walked over too, joining in the fray.

Zuo Ran: I'm going too; I've got business there.

Lu Jinghe: Now you've done it, Zuo Ran. The two of them still had the gall to make their own excuses, but you're just directly copying from Mo Yi's homework?

Zuo Ran: Can't I?

Lu Jinghe: Forget it. There's no difference in giving you one at this point.

MC: So, looks like everyone's going?

We have a full team if we're all going!

Sister Zhai Xing said that Team-building is conducive and enhances understanding within the team while bridging the gaps. Although the five of us work smoothly with each other...It's still not there yet! In short...Team-building Activities are necessary!

MC: Brilliant! This makes the first Team-building Activity for our Investigation Team!

They all turned to look at me when I said that. The silence continued on for a while.

MC: (Did I say something wrong again...?)

⊳ Choice: Xia Yan

I looked to Xia Yan for help.

MC: (Xia Yan, hurry and come help me round the field!)

Xia Yan was momentarily stunned before he was quick to the uptake.

Xia Yan: Oh yes, Team-building...Right, we've not had any Group Activity before as an Organization!

Xia Yan: That was an awesome suggestion!

⊳ Choice: Zuo Ran

I looked at Zuo Ran for help.

MC: (Save me, Lawyer Zhuo...)

Feeling my gaze on his being, a slight smile broke on his icy façade.

Zuo Ran: You've always been working tirelessly on Investigations ever since you joined and never really had a chance to relax.

Zuo Ran: I suppose we should also have a Team-building Activity as an Organization at least once.

⊳ Choice: Mo Yi

I looked at Mo Yi.

MC: (Dr. Mo...)

He smiled the moment he met my gaze

Mo Yi: I've never experienced Team-building Activities before. When the event starts...

Mo Yi: Could I ask you of you to watch after me?

⊳ Choice: Lu Jinghe

I looked at Lu Jinghe.

MC: (Lu Jinghe, it's that event of yours to blame...)

He looked at me with a grin.

Lu Jinghe: Okay, okay. King doesn't need to listen to anyone and all, but he'll definitely always listen to you.

Lu Jinghe: So this time's trip to the Deserted Island shall be our Team-building Activity!

And now, NXX's first Team-building Activity—— Start.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────��───⋅…⋆⋅☆

Next Part: (Chapter 1-02: Private Cruise)

#Tears of Themis #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #陆景和 #Lu Jinghe #左然 #Zuo Ran #夏彦 #Xia Yan #莫弈 #Mo Yi #消失的黄金 #The Lost Gold #Tears of an Event

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painted-crow · 4 years

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Submission time!

-----------

Primary mess

Hello!

So, can I ask you to say what you think? Once you said it would be convenient to put some ambivalent and vehement answers in the asks about sorting. Can I ask you to look at these and say what you think if and when you're not to busy and if you even care. It's okay if you don't, I get that this is kind of invading you time and space.

Ambivalent answers - (the strongest ones):

What's your top priority?

This one could go to vehement answers too. The ‘myself and my family’ answer makes me feel like I’m a bad person, because I know if I’ll choose this one it would be a lie. Though I don’t really have goals per se, and the things I do care about you could probably add to the ‘myself’ category, it’s more focused outside of myself. I want things, to have and achieve, though I’m more lazy than ambitious, but to reach something outside myself is more important than to care, value that self. Like, for me a so called goal could be that I want to read a book today, or a goal to make a delicious dinner.

Would you lie to an acquaintance to save their peace of mind? Would it make you feel grimy to do it?

I hate to hold information from someone. I hate to be seen as dumb and unreasonable, so the thought of someone hiding information from me when I need it or when I’m making a decision.... I hate it if someone tried to use or manipulate me. Maybe it's this, or it's just the simple fact that I would feel a bit icky, just because. I don't know if this is the reason, but it would bother me a little, but I'd do it. But then again, if I had to lie to save myself from someone, not physically I mean, but emotionally and just to safe myself some trouble, especially if somethings is unreasonable and imposing hard rules, I wound’t feel bad about it. I’d be really afraid what would happen if they'd find out that I lied and how much trouble I’d be in.

You're at a crossroads in your life. You've made your pro-con lists. You've talked to people you respect. Choice A looks like the right choice. It's the one everything is telling you is the right choice-- your lists and your advisers tell you it's the right choice, but it just feels wrong. So you choose Choice B.

Oh I'd love to feel and listen to something like this/ Yes, I would be so afraid of everything that could come after that, and this could make me feel bad, afraid, stupid, a moron. And this is where I come about the next answer — what if it wasn’t the right choice, what if it was selfish and come back burning my life down to the ground? In this one I could also mention the first question — do you listen to your community when they disagree with you? Of course, I do, what if I'm not seeing something? I know that whatever I feel and have inside, it's my biases and nothing more. That's what feels as a Ravenclaw Primary for me. Going back to the original point... Who are you to choose what made you feel better is also an option. This is especially why I don't like and don't understand Gryffindor Primaries. There are just so many situations where you really can't choose what you feel, it is wrong. But the truth is, my feelings can be that strong, I know that. The ‘I made a choice’ answer never made me think about it.

Would you feel worse abandoning a stranger in need or turning your back on your closest friend?

This one is hard. Rather than a friend I'd put a family member here, and I'd still wouldn't know the answer. I know that I'll probably be there with my family member, but I maybe would feel a bit sad and mad that the world is in such shape, that I can't really help someone. I think that turning my back on my closest friend or family member is not that bad, like it might be their wish or something, but if they would both need help, it would kill me. It's okay if a person is a figure, a fact, an imaginary person you need to learn first aid to help or something, it's not that important (it is, of course), but something in my mind wonders why should I? Why should I prioritize a person, a stranger I never met, who is a fictional character in these stories of things I should know for them? Would you help me, my family? Or would you run? Would you blame me for something? Would you let my life crumble and brake it yourself? But when a person is in front of you, that's a different story completely.

Vehement answers:

Does your internal moral compass know something you don’t?

This one’s weird but only because of the answers. It’s true that it’s just a bundle of biases, but it’s also true that you can’t separate me and it that easily with one sentence. I’ll still listen to it if I can, if my situation allows it.

Does disagreeing with your closest friends about something important to you make you love them less?

It's hard to really disagree on something so important, as I really take these things in mind when I'm choosing friends, when I'm choosing who to allow into my life. ‘It matters what they do not what they think.’ Or I'd loose a bit of respect. As long as our views won’t hurt and go against each other, it’s okay. Just as long as these are not hurting anyone, we might be good. But that involves me too. I loose a little faith in you if you leave me after you told me you'll help me, if you can't see that I need you and in what situation I'm in. If I have to lie to you, what's the point in this relationship? It's about two people sharing who they are and their minds and life experience, if I feel in some kind of way you'll see it as bad, broken, not interesting, I don't want to have you around. Honestly, if I'm a Slytherin Primary, my friends are not where you'd see it. I know what people can do and I'll never give so much power to a friend.

You can’t help everyone in the world who needs it, but you wish you could.

Sometimes I do wish I could help everyone, other times I don’t, it might depend on my mood. I know I want to save all the animals, to me, if I'd be a Hufflepuff Primary, they'd be like plants to Poison Ivy — I can see the pain, I can see helplessness, and I know it's not their fault but ours and the world that they were born in. But I think that's universal, although I knew people who don't feel any empathy to animals and that's so strange. You can be afraid or annoyed by them, but not see them as things. But I'll easily choose ‘I can live with the fact that I’m helping (when I can and) everyone I can (at that moment)’.

Which of these statements is more true for you?

This one is a no brainier. ‘At the end of the day, some things are right and some things are wrong. You don't turn your back on the people you love.’

When you sit down and consider the terrifying lack of objective truth in our reality, how do you feel?

I’d like to say when I think about it, when I think about it making decisions, it’s awful. There is nothing actual and true in this world, you, me, we can do whatever, and the only thing there is, is the systems that humans laid out.

Would you rather be truthful or kind?

This one’s easy and I don’t really see the difference. It’s either ‘why can’t I be both’ or ‘if you make me choose, I’d want to be kind’. They are both true. If you really really made me choose, that it’s kindness, if not, than it be nice to be both. I put it here just because I think to me it means the same thing.

The most important things in my world and my life are the people I love.

Now this one is the question I hate the most, together with the top priority question. Because no, people I love are not the most important things in my world. I’d lie if I’d say that. I have no idea what is the most important thing, maybe it’s just all about me and what I want, but it’s not the people I love. I will probably almost stand by them, I'd be devastated if I had to lose them, if I couldn't help them or would be made by someone to turn my back on them. It’s not a choice for me, but it’s not the same for me as what this question is asking about. Nothing is THAT important to call it the most important thing, I’m just getting by, day by day.

Do you think you're a good person?

My answer should be ‘No, I don’t’, but there isn’t anything like that. I’d usually go with the ‘No one’s a good person. I tried’, although I don’t resonate with the 'tried' part. I don't really think about it, about being a good person, but I know I'm not one. (Define good is a very nice answer, but I don’t ‘feel’ like it.)

Loving people is a lot of trouble.

True. They are not worth it, but I have no other choice, no other possibility. That's just how it is.

When you forgive someone who has wronged you or others, do you do it because you believe they’ve changed?

I don't believe people change, that's Gryffindor of me. I think deep down they stay the same, the principles that they do things stays the same, they just learn to hide them, deal with them, their impulses and thoughts. I don't forgive, I don't forget. I something happened that big to remind me of this, why would I forgive anyone who wronged me? I don't have energy and time for someone like this.

Oh my god this is so long! If you want, please ignore this. But if you're a bit curious, I'm so thankful.

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

Hello there!

I think you're a Stripped Gryff. You distrust yourself, you seem pretty nihilistic, and you keep going back and forth about your views on loyalty and people. Loyalty is important to you but you feel weird about prioritizing it.

You might be modelling Slytherin. You might even be modelling Petrified Slytherin? I'm not 100% on that one way or the other.

I don't think you're a Ravenclaw. There's just not that much about a system here, and the inconsistent way you feel about Loyalist values would REALLY bother a Ravenclaw. The whole post would be about you picking that apart if you were.

I don't think you're a Hufflepuff, burned or otherwise. I think you're empathetic but exhausted, and trying to protect yourself.

It's like you're really really done with people, but then in the moment, you do care and it feels right to act on that... but you've maybe been hurt enough times that you're pretty jaded about the whole situation.

It sounds like you think you only value and prioritize yourself, but then you keep mentioning little bits of your ideals, and they feel very much like Felt ideals.

I think loyalty is coded as good to your Gryffindor compass. You don't trust it, but you can't let it go--maybe it's one of the few ideals that's still hanging in there.

I don't think you're a Slytherin, burned or otherwise--because not trusting people or not having people you trust would bother you if you were.

I think you seem more unsettled by the lack of solid ideals to strive for: your loved ones aren't the most important thing to you, but you don't know what is, and that seems to bother you more than the things that would bother other burned Primaries.

You wish you had more truth to grab on to, but you seem more resigned than a Fallen Ravenclaw (who tend to be a little... er... desperate?). You don't seem terribly upset about not having a community or not being able to help everyone. You're really ambivalent about loyalty, but not in an "I wish I could trust someone--the core of my life is missing" kind of Slytherin way.

You want a cause--something outside of yourself that's worth striving for. Right now maybe you feel like you don't have that kind of energy or motivation, but I think it would make you feel better to know that a worthy cause exists somewhere and that you could, even just in small ways, be part of it.

Anyway, that's my two cents! Hope that helps ^^

#sortinghatchats #burned gryffindor primary #sorting yourself #asks #paint speaks #submission

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duhragonball · 4 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (138/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[23 November, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

Through his mastery of the alchemical arts, King Rehval III Trismegistus had conquered the universe. The Saiyan had merged his life essense with the Planet Nagoka, making both impervious to any attack. The bulk of the Saiyan species had bound themselves to his will, and any galactic powers who dared to defy him would suffer the wrath of giant earthen creatures that he could control like puppets. The cult of Saiyans who served him had been in high spirits. Their greatest enemy, the Super Saiyan Luffa, had failed to destroy them, and she had fled the Nagaoka System, disgraced and alone.

Then she returned. King Rehval believed she had come back to die in a blaze of glory. For all her power, she was no match for him, or his army of alchemically powered Saiyans. He expected his warriors to hunt her down within a matter of hours.

Eight days later, Luffa was still at large, and the morale among Rehval's followers had declined sharply.

What frustrated everyone was that no one understood Luffa's plan. If she only wanted to die in battle, then there was no need to drag things out. Whatever she was trying to do, she needed at least eight days to make it happen, and in the meantime, Rehval's cult had been powerless to figure out what it was or how to stop it. The two prevailing sentiments among the cultists were:

"Why doesn't Trismegistus do something?"

And:

"Trismegistus has it all under control. Trust the plan."

Because of these contradictory opinions, the growing list of Luffa's victims were viewed both as "heroic martyrs" and "unfaithful losers".

From her lowly position in the cult, Lesseri heard it all. Scrubbing the breeding pits, she would catch parts of a conversation from passers-by. Trimming wicks for the candles, she would overhear idle chatter from the barracks. Disposing of diapers in the nursery, she would see how frightened the children were when they could sense Luffa's ki on the attack. There were a multitude of perspectives, but it boiled down to just two. Either their omnipotent leader couldn't kill Luffa, or he was allowing this terror to continue for unknown reasons.

Lesseri's own thoughts were usually focused on binaries like these. Strength and weakness, acceptance and rejection, good and evil. Of all the cultists, she had actually trained under Luffa during a brief period in her former life. The cult had a dim view of this past association, and Lesseri had been struggling to redeem herself ever since. She found herself awed by their grace, but also frustrated with the way they punished her for something so trivial.

For Luffa, that training camp had been a passing fancy to try to teach other Saiyans her ways. For Lesseri, it was just an opportunity to get close enough to kill her own mother. Vigurd had abandoned Lesseri and her sister in a gestation facility, and Lesseri had been bitter about it ever since. It seemed strange to Lesseri that the cult approved of her ruthless assassination, but not of the way she had manipulated Luffa to achieve it. It wasn't as if Luffa had passed on forbidden knowledge to Lesseri and the others. Mostly, Luffa had nagged them all for not being "Saiyan enough". Lesseri had dismissed Luffa as a hypocrite a long time ago, but the cult still demanded more contrition from her.

But now that Luffa was here, and Lesseri could sense that immense Super Saiyan ki once more, she was reminded of just how deeply Luffa's harsh words had cut. Luffa accused other Saiyans of cowardice. On Nat-Chezz, they had encountered a pair of aliens with the ability to to fool ki senses. They used this power to bluff stronger warriors into surrendering without a fight. Only Luffa had the courage to stand up to them, not because she saw through the deception, but because she alone wanted to fight enemies stronger than herself. The lesson of that incident had been lost on Lesseri that day, but now, Lesseri was experiencing it all over again. Nagaoka was supposed to be an invincible stronghold of power, and yet Luffa had dared to attack it all by herself. Rehval's followers had the advantage, and yet they were still anxious about what would happen to them. None of them were eager to die when they were so close to achieving final victory.

It hurt Lesseri to think about it. She had given herself over, body and soul, to Trismegistus, and yet her old frustrations and doubts still lingered. It had been convenient to blame everything on Luffa, but now she wondered if Luffa's only crime had been to point out the problems that had always been there. And now, she had come to Nagaoka to pass final judgment on them all.

Lesseri didn't know or care who would win in the end. She only knew that, no matter what happened, that Lesseri would surely lose...

*******

The surface of Nagaoka was desolate, but not completely uninhabitable. The persistent cloud cover made the scenery especially gloomy, but enough sunlight made it through to support some vegetation. Most of it was inedible, although Luffa had discovered some roots that were nutritious enough to justify the effort of picking them. Game was scarce. The apex predator in the grasslands of Nagaoka was a small, four-legged dinosaur that chased after rodents. It took patience to catch them, but that was no problem. She needed something to pass the time anyway.

As she chewed on the raw carcass of a fresh kill, she walked back to her latest campsite, which was little more than a small fire and a Saiyan skull she had been using to carry her stone tools. The only other item was her prisoner, a cultist she had captured on one of her raids, three days ago.

"I killed six more," she told him as she slung the carcass by the fire and picked up the skull. "They sent more after me, but it didn't help much. I think Rehval's trying to do a pincer thing this week."

The man lay helpless on the ground, his arms and legs fractured in several places. Luffa had hurt him so badly that he lacked the ki energy to be sensed by his comrades. She estimated that he would die in another day, if not sooner. She kept talking to him anyway.

"Pincer. You know what I mean? Spread out his forces across the planet, then when one group is close enough to engage, some of the others can come in from the other direction and cut off my escape. What he doesn't get is that it just gives me a bigger target to shoot at while I run away."

The man groaned, either from the pain of his injuries, or from hunger, or terror, or delirium, or from all of these. Luffa ignored him and began carving up her kill.

"Funny, that's the same thing Jerk Number Seven said when I killed his six buddies," Luffa said. "You should have seen it. They tried to surround me, but I rushed right into a group of them, like I was trying to slip between them. Then I set off an explosive wave right in the middle of them. The six died right off, but the seventh was far enough away that he just got hurt really bad. He's probably still alive, though. For now."

"Triis... mej... isssss..." the man tried to say.

"He's not here and he's not coming to save you," Luffa said. "You can pray to him all you want, but he doesn't give a damn about you. Idiot. You sold your pride to that fool, and he doesn't even know you're still alive. I doubt he'll bother giving you any medical attention, not after that stunt I pulled on their hospital ward a few days ago. No, he'll want to conserve his supplies for the healthiest troops. The ones who stand a chance of pulling through in time to defend his sorry ass. That won't be you."

She put the bulk of the dinosaur on a spit she had fashioned from a spear she had taken from one of her victims, and carefully positioned it over the fire. "Ahhhh," she said. "This is really gonna hit the spot. It's like the old proverb: hunger is the best seasoning. So how was your day? Anything cool happen while I was gone?"

"Wh-wh-why... are you... doing this?" the man whimpered.

Luffa lay down on the ground, propping her head up on a pile of brush she had gathered. "Really?" she asked. "I mean, we've been over all that, haven't we? I told you all about it. How Rehval's a monarchist fool. How he took my son from me. Twice. He wrecked my marriage-- although I'll take partial responsibility there. And he even showed me that my own species is a worthless band of hooligans that deserves to die. Oh, and he's trying to conquer the universe, which wouldn't bother me so much except for the rotten way he's going about it. Magic potions. Really, what is that?"

"Nooooo..." the man whispered. "Not that... Why...... why... keep me... alive?"

"Oh, that," Luffa said. See, it's actually pretty simple. I learned this when I was a kid. I guess your parents never filled you in on it. See, when you're up against a superior force, you can even the odds with some psychological warfare. Wreck their morale, they start making little mistakes. Before they know it, their advantage starts to fritter away. That's why I hit their medical supplies. I'd like to taint their water supply too, but I haven't planned that out yet. I may not have time to get around to it, actually. Make sure you tell Rehval that when you see them."

"See...?"

"Yeah, they should track down this camp before too much longer. If not, I'll just transform and they'll come running. I'll be long gone when they get here, but they'll find you. And you can tell them everything I've been telling you this whole time. Every last word. Or as much as you can remember. I think the message will get across."

"M-message...?"

"Yeah," Luffa said. "See, I'm not 'keeping you alive'. You'll die eventually, no matter what. But I want the others to see what I've done to you, and hear what I've said to you, and I want them to realize exactly what it is they're dealing with."

She reached into the pockets of her yellow pants and pulled out a wooden stick, about five inches in length. There were several notches cut along its length. As she spoke, she stared intently at it.

"I think a lot of them see me as some sort of ultimate foe, and they get to have this big epic showdown with me, or at least they can die for their master, quick and clean. Makes sense. I'm the Legendary Super Saiyan, and Rehval's taught them all that I'm the devil or something. They want a big dramatic battle, like in a movie. A few of them might get their wish. But not you. No, you get to suffer. And I want them to know that any one of them might get the same treatment as you. Or not. Some of them might luck out and take a Vengeance Cannon through the brain and die painlessly. Some choice, right?"

He shivered, either due to the cold, or the onset of some infection he had contracted, or perhaps simply because Luffa's words horrified him so. Luffa simply did not care. She watched her meal cooking, monitored enemy movements with her ki senses, and then carved another notch on her stick with her thumbnail.

*******

[25 November, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

"The water supply? You're absolutely certain that's what he said?"

The cultists who found Luffa's prisoner bowed low to the ground as they murmured in the affirmative. "He was insistent on this point, Master," said their leader. He rambled like a madman, repeating everything she had said, including many unspeakable insults towards you and your ancestors, but--"

"Enough," Rehval said. "Return to your duties. No, wait. You three." He gestured to the trio of men on the right side of the group. "Go and help the repair efforts on tunnel six. Dismissed."

Normally, he spoke to his followers in more parental tones, closing with words like "Let my triple-blessing be upon you," or "Go with Jindan, my children." But Luffa had been laying siege to his planet for ten days straight. He no longer felt the mood to keep up his role as Trismegistus, the almighty Alchemist Supreme. Even the easy diplomacy of King Rehval seemed to escape him these days. Nearly two thousand of his followers had been killed since Luffa had arrived on Nagaoka, and with each hit-and-run attack, Luffa always found a way to hint that this was only a warm-up act.

"Having trouble, dad?"

He had begun to find a measure of comfort in his daughter, the Princess Seltiss. In his heart of hearts, he had always viewed her as more of an apprentice in statecraft, or a great bridge he had engineered to lead the way to the future. Now that she was back in his life, and now that they were stuck together on this planet, he finally began to appreciate her as family. Of all the Saiyans on the planet, she knew him best, and was never afraid to speak her mind.

"You saw the man they brought in this morning," he grumbled as she walked into his chamber.

"Yeah, I just came from the infirmary. They just pronounced him dead," Seltiss replied. "I came over to tell you. His last words were something about the water resevoir--"

"I already know," Rehval said. "It's bait. It has to be. There's fresh water all over Nagaoka. Even if she does poison our wells, even if she takes out our geothermal stills, it would only be a minor inconvenience."

"Like the spaceport," Seltiss said. "And the medical supplies. And Tunnel Six. She's not interested in striking decisive blows. She's wearing us down, a little bit at a time."

"It's more than that!" he insisted. "She's... building towards something. She threatened to kill us all, even me, when she already knows that's impossible!"

Seltiss shrugged. "She probably thinks that if she kills enough of your followers, then you'll lose the power you took from them, and that'll weaken your connection with the planet," she said. "Could that work?"

"Not well enough to do her any good," Rehval said. "I need the Saiyans. Without them, my work has been in vain. But there are other Saiyans in the galaxy. Weaklings, and not many of them, but enough for me to begin anew. As for this planet, my connection to it is complete."

"Cool beans. Then you have nothing to fear," Seltiss said. "It's like you told us before. Luffa's no threat to you anymore."

"That doesn't matter!" Rehval shouted. He rarely raised his voice. He considered it one of his more admirable qualities. What surprised him more than his outburst was the way he had slammed his fist on the armrest of his throne. Without thinking, he had pulverized it, and sent cracks running down the right side of the seat.

Seltiss had never seen him like this before, and though she tried to mask the shock with cool indifference, he knew better. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his forehead. "She is the serpent in my garden," he said. "Rebelling, even when there's no possible way for her to win. I have to kill her or control her, or my authority will never be absolute. Her defiance proves that I can never tame the Saiyan heart, no matter how completely I control the others."

"So control her," Seltiss said. "You keeps saying you have the power. Find her, and put an end to this."

"She can mask her ki, and somehow use it at the same time," Rehval said, more despondently than he meant the reply to sound. It was unseemly for him to whine before his own child. "I suspected that she could do something like this, but I didn't realize to what extent. The squads can't find her."

"Then take away her hiding places," Seltiss said. "We know she's living off the land. Like, you keep saying you are the planet now. You can do with it as you please, right? Take the land away from her, and what does she have?"

Throughout this crisis, a thin beard had begun to grow on Rehval's face. He had been too preoccupied to shave. Now, he rubbed the stubble thoughtfully as he considered his daughter's advice.

*******

[30 November, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

Luffa waited for the squad of cultists to fly directly overhead, and then she attacked, transforming into her Super Saiyan form so quickly that none of them had time to react. There were twenty of them in all. The first died instantly, and she used an explosive wave to kill two more, and throw the rest off balance. Then she flew away, leaving the other seventeen to wonder what had gone wrong.

As she flew into the clouds that covered the Nagaokan skies, she took a moment to admire the destruction taking place on the surface. Rehval had finally grown impatient enough to order a carpet bombing of the wilderness. As before, there were groups of twenty or more Saiyans spread out across the planet, but instead of hunting Luffa, they were now scouring the land with ki blasts. This suited her perfectly. With so much Saiyan energy being tossed around all at once, Luffa could fly much more freely across the planet without being detected.

Adjusting her trajectory, she propelled herself directly into the path of another squad two hundred miles away, and powered down so they wouldn't sense her approach until it was too late. Then she transformed again, and tore through them like so much paper. Just as they began to get their bearings, she flew away again, leaving them completely disorganized.

She repeated this trick again and again, picking off targets across the entire planet. It would have been glorious, if she wasn't so furious with them all.

"It's not like it was in the Federation, is it?!" she screamed as she impaled a warrior on his own short spear.

"Boxing me in, forcing me to jump from planet to planet to keep you from hurting innocent people!" she screamed as she broke another's neck three thousand miles to the southeast.

"You thought you could wear me out! Well I'm still standing!" she yelled while blasting four of them with a barrage of energy needles.

"And now you're the ones on the back foot!" she roared. At the equator, one of them managed to get off a decent shot at her, but she pulled one of his teammates into the line of fire.

"You've got nowhere to run!" Her boot slammed into a Saiyan's back at twice the speed of sound, and she grinned at the wet snap she heard on impact. Nearby was Nagaoka's fourth-tallest active volcano.

"This time you're trapped here with me, and I've got nothing and no one to protect!" Near the south magnetic pole, her Vengeance Cannon technique cut through five of them in one shot.

She doubled back to the fourth-tallest active volcano and shoved a woman face-first into a lave floe. "You all move so slow you might as well be standing still!"

She found a beach and decided to stand her ground for a few minutes. This wasn't for sport, but just to remind them that she could. The squad she attacked seemed almost grateful for the chance to try to fight back, but they soon found that their numbers weren't as effective as they'd hoped.

"I've been fighting you clowns for months!" she screeched as she slashed her nails through a Saiyan's throat. As he fell back and clutched his bloody neck, Luffa rolled forward and caught one of his partners with her legs. She flipped him over and sent him crashing down to the surf below, and then fired ki blasts down at him, then towards a third Saiyan who was trying to catch her off-guard.

"All that ganging up you punks do? It doesn't mean anything to me anymore! I've seen all the routines a dozen times! Hah!" She suddenly flung her left hand under her right shoulder and fired backward to catch a Saiyan coming up from behind. "Six? Ten? Twenty? It won't save you!"

One of them had the good sense to focus his ki on protecting his vital organs. Luffa punched him in the forehead and was surprised that he withstood the blow. She kept on punching him, like a jackhammer, until his skull finally gave way.

Before long, she had finished them all off. She sensed reinforcements coming, and by the time they arrived, they found her in a half-squat position, charging her power. Once they were within range, she unleashed it all at once, creating a massive explosion all around them.

"Still alive..." she observed as she flew towards handful of survivors. She rose up into the air above them and swung out her arm at the ground. "Now that's what I like to see!"

Her follow-up fused the sand into glass, but could not penetrate more than a few feet into the ground, thanks to Rehval's mystic power that tied him into the planet. Instead, the energy Luffa released was reflected back upon her targets, and they were helpless to resist the intensity of it. A few survived, and Luffa slaughtered them, lopping off their heads by using the edge of her ki-charged left hand like a knife.

"Enough, Luffa!"

She turned and found a familiar face, and she grinned savagely at the sight of it.

"Well, well," she said. "Look who's finally come out to play."

The ground behind her had swelled up, forming a hill, which gradually shaped itself into the image of a man: King Rehval.

"I'll say this for your stupid alchemy powers," Luffa said, "You've made this planet a lot sturdier than anywhere I've ever been before. I can't destroy it, but that's kind of handy too. It's nice to know I can cut loose while I fight your lackeys, and not have to worry about the whole planet exploding out from under me."

"I command you to stop this immediately!" he shouted.

Luffa responded with a Gallick Gun to his stony face.

"You can't harm me in this form!" he said. Indeed, the attack had left his earthen avatar completely undamaged. Luffa didn't find that very disappointing.

"Don't worry," she said. "That Gallick Gun was just a baby, Rehval. When I'm ready to hurt you, you'll know it."

"Damn you, woman!" he seethed. "You know this is pointless!"

"Sure it is," Luffa said with a grin. "And you came all the way here to remind me, just in case I'd forgotten how pointless this is. Very thoughtful of you."

"If you already know that, then why do you persist in this--?! Arrgh!"

As he had spoken, she gathered her energy and plowed directly into the avatar's body, then released it in a massive explosion. The surrounding area was reduced to charred wasteland, and Luffa alighted near one of the largest fragments of the rock-Rehval she had destroyed. Slowly, it merged with the ground below it, and rose up again to form a new body.

"Will you--! Stop that?!" Rehval seethed.

Luffa laughed again. "What's wrong? If what I'm doing is so pointless, what does it matter whether I do it or not? Don't tell me the almighty god-alchemist, his royal majesty King Revahl the Third is getting flustered over little old me."

"I'm not!" he shouted, and then he attempted to regain his composure. "I just... I don't like when you... when you flout my authority. I wish you would... not do that."

Luffa raised her hand high over her head and extended her middle finger. "And I just don't like you. I don't like your authority much either. I don't think anyone else on this planet likes it much either. I'm just the only one around here with the guts to do something about it."

"I'll kill you," Rehval said. "You won't be able to avoid my forces forever, Luffa. There's only so much habitable land on this planet, and there's less of it each day. Once you run out of hiding places, you'll have no choice but to face the full force of my power."

"It's a date," Luffa said. "You're going to rue the day you first heard my name, Rehval. But right now, I gotta go. See you real soon!"

With that, she shot into the sky like a rocket, just as another squad of Rehval's followers arrived.

"My lord," gasped their leader as she fell prostrate before his earthen likeness. "We came as quickly as we could..."

"The Saiyans who joined us," the rock-Rehval said. "Seltiss's band, the Free Companions. Have they received the Jindan power yet?"

"N-no, Master," the leader said, now rising to an upright position. "There hasn't been time for them to complete the initiation rites, and--"

"I don't care about the rites!" he snapped. Go back and prepare them immediately. I want them as strong as possible, so that I can crush that vile little throwback once and for all!"

The leader was gravely disturbed to hear this, but she was too loyal to question the command. "Yes! It shall be done right away, Great One!"

Then they flew back in the direction of their base. Having no further use for the rock-creature, Rehval allowed it to collapse back into the ground.

From her hiding place in the sky, Luffa saw all of this while she listened in on the comm-link she had stolen from one of Rehval's soldiers. She made a grim smile, then cut another notch in her stick.

*******

[3 December, 233 Before Age.]

As Trismegistus, Rehval had established a lengthy series of rituals and trials for initiates in his cult. He claimed that these were necessary to make the applicant worthy of receiving the potion that granted the Jindan power. In truth, their actual purpose was to brainwash the cultists and erode away their sense of independent thought. Now, as Rehval became more desperate to put an end to Luffa's rampage on Nagaoka, he chose to skip the protocol and dispense his potion to the newest recruits into his fold.

His daughter, Princess Seltiss had assembled a band of independent Saiyans, with the idea of establishing a new Saiyan nation in her father's absence. She had allied this Free Company with Luffa's Federation, but then switched sides, rejoining her father once it became clear that he was unstoppable. Seltiss considered herself a pragmatist above all. In her mind, joining her father in his moment of triumph was completely consistent with turning against him during his apparent madness. The decision was simple. There was no hope in opposing an invincible enemy, one who held every card and offered no weaknesses to exploit. And yet, she still feared for his sanity. The decision to join him had been a simple one, but it was by no means easy for her.

On the other hand, convincing the Free Companions to accept the Jindan potion had turned out to be very simple and easy. Luffa had killed over three thousand Saiyans since she arrived on Nagaoka's surface, and most of these had been Free Companions. The Jindan-empowered cultists were stronger and faster, and while Luffa had killed plenty of them as well, the Free Companions made much easier targets. As much as Luffa despised the cult, she had a real talent for driving Saiyans into Rehval's open arms.

In her quarters, Seltiss contemplated the bottle containing her own dose of the Jindan elixir, the last one. The cultists seemed to trust her to drink it, or perhaps they didn't see her empowerment as a high priority, since Seltiss didn't have a high power level to begin with. There was really no point in anyone checking to make sure she took her medicine. It was a matter of survival now. The curious red liquid might be the only thing that would save Seltiss' life during Luffa's next attack. And even without Luffa rampaging in their midst, she had already resigned herself to drink when she ordered her ship to surrender and land on Nagaoka. Things were happening faster than expected, but the cold equations had not changed. Her continued survival depended on swallowing her father's concoction, and then washing it down with whatever was left of her pride. What was she waiting for? Seltiss herself didn't seem to know.

And then, just as she brought the bottle to her lips, she sensed that terrible ki once more. Luffa was on the move again. Startled, she dropped the bottle, and so great was her dread that she didn't even notice it until the glass shattered on the stone floor. All that remained of the potion was a strange discoloration on the rock, and some maroon stains on her pink Montablanian leather boots.

Seltiss wasn't sure whether to be relieved or afraid. As she sensed the rising powers of her father's followers, she realized that it might not matter how she felt any longer.

*******

There were no names for the places on Nagaoka, and even if there were, Luffa wouldn't have known them. She had chosen a particular location to make her stand, but mostly for aesthetic reasons. It was a dry lakebed surrounded on all sides by buttes and mesas. It reminded her of some of her favorite hunting grounds on Dorlu Prime. More importantly it offered the best of both worlds for a battle: The lakebed was a wide-open space for fighting, while the surrounding topology allowed plenty of nooks and crannies to hide behind for ambushes. Luffa didn't expect any of this to matter, but she had a sentimental reason for choosing her battleground.

She expected it to be her last.

Rehval's forces had destroyed most of the terrestrial life on the planet by now. His hope was to cut off Luffa's supply lines by taking away the flora and fauna that she fed upon in between her hit-and-run attacks. But he had utterly failed to consider the seas, which were abundant in edible wildlife. While his followers had scoured the land in a desperate attempt to flush her out of hiding, she had been diving under glaciers for aquatic mammals. In the lakebed, she now chewed on a piece of blubber while she prepared herself for what came next.

The skies of Nagaoka were perpetually overcast, but on this night there were peals of thunder that hinted at a storm. It was completely dark, save for an occasional faint flicker of distant lightning in the clouds. Luffa took the stick out of her pants pocket and felt the notches that she had made in the wood. Satisfied with the count, she cut one last notch with her fingernail, and then tossed the stick to the ground. The time was right.

She transformed. Since coming to this planet, she remained in her Super Saiyan form only long enough to attack or to outmaneuver an enemy. This time, she stood and waited, letting the yellow glow of her aura illuminate the desiccated ground. She could sense Rehval's minions all over the planet, searching in vain for her. Now that they could sense her power, now that she was staying in one spot, they all began to converge on her position. Within minutes, she was surrounded. Thousands of Saiyans stood on the rocky outcroppings in all directions, all of them dressed in dark red uniforms, and carrying short spears, which seemed to be the signature weapon of the cult. The tips of the spears glowed a pale blue color. Luffa had been dealing with these weapons for some time now, and could only guess that there was some trick to making them work. Every time she had taken one for herself, it only behaved like an ordinary spear.

They all kept their distance. Luffa might have accused them of cowardice, but she couldn't deny that it was the smart play. Anyone who might have broken ranks to rush at her prematurely was probably already dead from all of the previous skirmishes. Those that remained knew that best hope of defeating her was to put their combined might into a single, concentrated force. If they could cut off her escape, if they could keep her surrounded and attack her on all sides, then they would have the power to overwhelm her.

Or so they believed.

At last, King Rehval himself showed up, after a fashion. She could still sense him staying behind at his underground compound on the opposite side of the planet. She had expected as much. He was a coward, above all else. Instead of appearing in person, Rehval used his avatar again. By whatever mystic alchemy he used, he formed a mass of earth and rock to rise up from the ground and assume the shape of his own body, more or less. The eyes of this two-hundred foot tall creature glowed purple as he glared down at her.

"Enough, Luffa. This time, there will be no escape," he announced.

"That's what I was about to say to you," Luffa replied.

"I thought you had some plan," Rehval said. "But I see now that you really did come here to die, after all. You just decided to drag things out for as long as possible. You wanted to kill some of my flock to get a measure of revenge, but now you've run out of hiding places, haven't you? Why else would you stand still and raise your power level? You practically summoned us here to destroy you. You've clearly given up hope."

She turned her head and spat on the ground. "You don't get it, Rehval," she said. "I already gave up hope before I came to this stupid planet. Everything since then has been rage. And patience. The waiting is over, Rehval. I'm ready to kill you all now."

"You don't have the power for that," Rehval said. "And even if you did, you could never kill me, Luffa. I have transcended beyond the mortal realm. I am more than anything you could imagine. I have the power of this entire solar system behind me. What do you have, besides that garish transformation?"

Luffa smiled. "Let me show you," she said.

And then, she began to yell.

Rehval and his forces held back, unsure of what to expect. Luffa's body glowed brightly, and for a moment, some of them expected her to attack, but instead she fired a ki blast straight up into the sky. The energy dissipated into the clouds, and for a moment the thunderheads turned yellow from the light. Then they parted, opening up a hole of clear skies directly above Luffa's head. For the first time in untold centuries, starlight shone down upon the surface of Nagaoka. The hole expanded in diameter, until at last, the clouds had retreated to the horizon, leaving only a panoramic view of outer space.

And there, high above the battlefield, was Nagaoka's moon.

It was full.

Luffa looked straight up to admire it. Her lips curled into a wicked smile, and her green eyes suddenly turned blood red in the moonlight.

"No..." Rehval said quietly as he realized what was happening. Panicked murmurs could be heard among his troops, as the ones who understood explained it to the ones who didn't. Luffa could barely hear them over the pounding of her heart in her chest.

"The tail!" Rehval shouted. "Destroy her tail! Now, before she has a chance to--!"

But it was already too late. Luffa began to laugh, and then a wave of golden energy spread out in all directions. Then another, and another. The Saiyans attacked, firing their own energy in unison, but none of their ki blasts could penetrate through to Luffa herself. They couldn't even see her.

But they could hear. The lakebed echoed with the giddy laughter of a Saiyan woman with nothing left to lose. And they heard this laughter gradually transform into the low, feral growl. Bolts of yellow lightning arced out across the lakebed, dancing from one mesa to the next.

At the epicenter of this terrible disturbance, Luffa continued to stare up at the moon. Her heart beat harder and faster with each passing moment. She let the transformation carry her away, neither knowing nor caring where it would take her. Normally, her body was only sixty-three inches tall. Now, she expanded with each breath, swelling to ten feet, then twenty, then thirty, and more! Her limbs and torso changed proportions as she grew, and a thick coat of fur sprouted from her skin. Her face contorted, warping her nose and mouth into a savage muzzle lined with sharp teeth, and her ears formed slight points on top. Her clothing was ripped to shreds by this awesome change, but this was the furthest thing from Luffa's mind. In that moment, all she cared about was power, and the retribution it would bring.

At last, when the transformation was complete, and her enemy could finally see her clearly, she loomed over them in the form of a giant ape. The Saiyans knew the Oozaru form well, but this was different. For Luffa's Great Ape had glowing yellow fur instead of the usual dark brown. Her blood red eyes glowed with murderous intent, and her bestial lips twisted with fury as she looked down upon them all.

By now, Rehval's followers had been fighting Luffa for some time, and they had allowed themselves to believe that they were used to the idea of what Luffa had become. Now, as each of them felt their blood run cold, they realized that they had no idea what to do. They all stood transfixed at the sight of this new horror, unsure what would happen next.

Luffa threw back her head, and began to pound her fists upon her chest. And then, she made a deafening roar.

NEXT: The Golden Oozaru.

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #luffa #lssjluffafic #trismegistus #lesseri #seltiss #nagaoka

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thebeautyofdisorder · 4 years

Text

The Undone & The Divine (BBC Dracula) - Chapters 1 & 2

A/N: Okay, I am rusty - very rusty, so feel free to give me some notes. This will be multiple parts - maybe 4 or 5 - and will remain open ended for future additions. It will be a snarky, confused occult monstrosity with a lot of thus far unresolved sexual tension and I'm not sorry. Takes place after the end of The Dark Compass. I will be posting this on AO3 eventually, but for now...

Rating: T, currently just for some blood and maybe language

Pairing: Dracula & Zoe/Agatha

Can be found on AO3 - Right HERE -

“Wherever this shadowed path might lead, we were both irrevocably committed to follow it to the end.” - Susan Kay, Phantom

Chapter 1

The first thought that arose in Zoe’s mind was simply that she shouldn’t be having any. No, an inward argument seemed to be countering, but that she had been growing accustomed to. Faith was an inner struggle she was stubbornly coming to terms with, given that there was a very literal opposing force in her ancestor that enjoyed prodding at her modern, atheistic convictions. Not even in religious fervor, nun’s habit notwithstanding, but just for amusement’s sake. She could see where she inherited her argumentative nature from.

Head swimming, potential psychosis or no, she had expected at least death to be final. A distant bell of alarm jolted somewhere in her mind, as some sense of memory and consciousness began to return to her, soon followed by sensation seeping back to her body. She expected the worst, but what she experienced instead was simply…nothing. The pain which had been her constant companion for the last few months was gone. She didn’t even feel the typical stiffness of a woman pushing forty waking up on a cold, hard surface should rightly feel.

Cold, hard surface…

Her eyelids shot open, and she sat up so quickly she felt immediately dizzy. At least there was still blood to rush to my head, she mused dimly, though luckily her legs hadn’t gotten the fight or flight message quite as quickly, or else she would have tumbled straight onto the floor. The hard, polished marble beneath her, still sticky with her blood, brought the events of the morning, however distant they were, rushing back to her.

If this wasn’t some twisted form of coma dream, and she wasn’t actually hooked up to some machine at the hospital, she was going to have to have a chat with Auntie Agatha about consenting to suicide by vampire. Mostly due to the fact she was very much alive – or at the very least, moving and conscious. Her hand pressed to her neck, feeling nothing but dried blood surrounding a slightly raised scar at the crook of her shoulder.

Not always equivalent, she reminded herself with barely repressed panic. Or maybe Agatha reminded her. It was becoming harder and harder to tell the difference.

But what of the vampire?

Half freezing in the semi-darkness, Zoe waited what felt like a decade, searching for any sound or sign of movement in the room…in the flat. Nothing. Silence.

The natural curiosity of the scientist, refusing to lay dormant any longer, pushed past her fear and uncertainty, and drove her to slide off the edge of the table on shaking legs. There was no sign of Dracula, dead or alive that she could see. Instead her eyes sought out a light switch.

She half expected to see a large pile of dust and ash, or worse – some sticky pile of blood and skin, like a B-horror film she’d seen as a teenager, but aside of what remained of Lucy, the floor was immaculate, in only the way the living dead could maintain.

Strangely lacking any sense of urgency, she paced through the rest of the flat, observing the dark modern decor with a distant amusement that belonged more to Agatha than to herself. The washroom was almost entirely unused, save for the large standing shower, more of a luxury than a necessity, she assumed. The kitchenette seemed to be only taking up space, and while there were a few stray tea bags and a chipped mug, likely belonging to some human help – the lawyer probably, the rest of it was barren. Finally reaching the bedroom, she found the curtains still fully drawn, and the bed large and vacant.

If he survived, he was gone. Some unknown part of her felt a pang of disappointment, and an equal echo of triumph. She wasn’t sure which one to blame Agatha for, and she was left no hints.

Well, that was one mystery solved.

Collapsing on the mattress, Zoe closed her eyes, and did something she never thought she’d have to do: she fell silent and listened for her own heartbeat. At first there was an unnerving stillness. Finally, after approximately 15 seconds (she had been counting), she heard the first soft thump in her chest. Half relieved, she let out a breath, and began counting again – she heard it once more. Faint and very slow, but present, yes!

Fascinating. Agatha’s quietly accented tone was one of clinical fascination, something Zoe could ascertain easily as it echoed through her mind.

Zoe quietly agreed. Somehow, she…they were now something more than undead, but less than fully alive.

Something like the count himself.

------

There were times that the highly illegal nature of the Harker Institute was a damning thing, and one that caused Zoe great inconvenience. This was not one of those times. A woman previously dying of cancer showing up to work to get a full range of clandestine tests was not something to be trusted to the general public. If she hadn’t been so amazed, she was sure her predecessor would’ve been highly disappointed to see her.

She had left Dracula’s London flat exactly as it was, and headed straight to the Institute. It wasn’t exactly a police matter, and now that Agatha had destroyed the vampire’s …agoraphobia? Whatever it was she had done, there wasn’t anything they could really do to ward him away. The sun was no longer a viable weapon, and while she was sure his distaste for Christian imagery wouldn’t just vanish overnight, his need to be invited into a location was gone and probably easily forgotten when convenient.

The dirt…well, that was a different story. She found no trace of it in his flat, save for a musty residue in the corner of a now empty closet. That was the one part of the puzzle she had yet to figure out. Was that just another part of his self-ordained folklore, or did it actually have some restorative power. Did it contain some needed mineral or compound? Surely there was a scientific reason behind it if so.

As scientific as why you’re walking around with half the blood you need to function? Or that you haven’t eaten in 36 hours and have no appetite. You can drink water, at least, that’s a blessing.

She refrained from voicing her annoyance aloud – last thing she needed was for her colleagues to think she was undead AND crazy. Neither of which was entirely true… or entirely false. At least they weren’t locking her up. Not yet.

“Dr. Helsing?”

Zoe shook herself from her thoughts to look up at the lab tech who’s just entered the room, giving the girl a distant smile.

“Yes?”

“Dr. Bloxham wants to see you downstairs…it’s about your test results.”

Which test results she wanted to ask, but didn’t, merely got up and followed the girl who was taking great pains to keep a healthy distance between them out of the room. She didn’t blame her. It had taken Jonathan Harker a month to show any vampiric urges. They saw her as a ticking time bomb.

------

“Well, for the positive, any trace of cancer seems to have…vanished from your system.”

Zoe had guessed as much, and perhaps her lack of reaction was what brought the look of concern to her colleague’s face.

“And for the negative?”

The other woman silently bit her lip for a moment, and instead of immediately responding, she stood from her chair and gestured for Zoe to take the seat in front of the computer.

Pointing from over her shoulder, Bloxham indicated two files in the folder in front of her. One was labeled with Zoe’s name, and the other was data collected from Dracula’s blood sample.

“What’re you trying to show me?” She sounded tired, and perhaps she was. It was hard to tell anymore. The enfeebled exhaustion she had felt constantly up until the night before was gone, but the memory lingered like a bad taste in her mouth.

“Open them.” The comment was clipped, but more in anticipation than impatience.

Zoe did just that, and looked over the standard blood analysis results. To say the differences were minimal was almost too generous.

“I don’t know what happened to you exactly – given you won’t tell me…,” she began, eyeing Zoe with a meaningful look, “But your DNA is...I don’t want to say mutated, but...altered. You’re alive, don’t get me wrong – but your readings all look as though they should come from someone on the verge of death – in a coma at the least! And well…look at you.” It was rhetorical, Zoe knew, but she still found herself seeking out the nearest reflective surface, just to ensure she saw her own face as she knew it looking back at her.

“I can’t force you, but I’m going to strongly recommend you stay here so you can be closely monitored for any further….changes.”

Zoe, never one to be a victim of circumstance, rolled her eyes with a casual scoff. If she was going to be anyone’s lab rat, it might as well be her own.

“Well, obviously. I want every even minimal change documented to the fullest,” she agreed, immediately standing to her feet and stalking over to a microscope she knew without needing to ask contained a slide of her sample, rerouting her focus. “Have you compared the saliva?”

The other woman’s relief was palpable. Or maybe she could smell it? Zoe shook that possibility off, quickly, refusing to jump to that particular conclusion quite so quickly.

“Still waiting for the full analysis, but what I do have is Dracula’s sample, which is frankly…fascinating,” Dr. Bloxham stated excitedly, eyeing Zoe with a curious expression as she approached, her caution taking a backseat to her excitement.

“Oh?” A woman after her own heart.

“Yes… take a look,” she offered, changing the slides quickly and offering the scope back for her perusal. “It contains some almost psychotropic like compound. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Zoe felt her body temperature rise for the first time since she’d awoken in London. She wasn’t sure if she had the circulation to blush, but she dearly hoped not. For once, there was no snarky Dutch echo in her mind – in fact, aside from a flash of orange light, and blink of another memory she couldn’t latch onto, her mind went suspiciously quiet.

“Yes. Fascinating.”

Chapter 2

Frank Renfield considered himself a generally normal man, by all intents and purposes. In fact, he had always been considered normal to the point of being right boring, so it was he himself who was most surprised how easily he had adjusted to playing personal assistant, in matters both legal and practical, to a blood drinking supernatural entity. On that note, it was with only minimal confusion that he found himself returning to his residence after a resolutely boring day at the office, to find his front door broken half off the hinges, and a trail of thick, congealing blood leading through his sitting room straight through to the loo.

“Master?” He called, uneasily, taking care to hop over a particularly dark pool seeping out from under the door.

He was met with silence, save for a subtle gurgling sound that brought a wince to his face, though it was not coming from his loo any more, but from the spare bedroom directly adjacent. He used to have a flatmate, but he’d moved months ago. The room now contained nothing but junk, some gym equipment he never used, and a few large crates that Count Dracula had asked him to store, though why he had no idea.

“C-count?” Renfield stammered, his hand turning the knob. Taking a deep, staggered breath, he finally pushed open the door.

The treadmill in the corner of the room, heavy and outdated as it was, was toppled and resting almost completely upside down. A box of heavy and expensive law tomes had been dumped out across the floor, and the box was now leaking a dark liquid which had soaked through the cardboard. The lid of one of the large wooden crates was splintered, and half-resting against the back of the door, making it impossible to push all the way open, though Renfield could see well enough from the hall that the crate was now overflowing with some sort of dark soil, and it was the tall form of what he assumed to be his master that was splayed at an unnatural angle inside of it, though he did not look like his suave and put together self.

His shirt was torn, and stained almost entirely in various shades of black, red and rust brown. His hair was graying in reverse, as though the color had dripped out of the roots, plastered around his aging face.

“Renfield…”

He heard the name whispered inside his mind, Frank realized with mild horror, because the sound that came from the creature in front of him was too much of a croak to contain any proper syllables. Finding the strength to force himself into the room, he rushed to the vampire’s side only to realize with a strange sort of amusement that the entire mess seemed to be due to Dracula vomiting all over his flat much like he had after his first college party. A stomach ache for a vampire, apparently was much worse than for a hungover teenage boy, however.

“Master! You seem to have eaten someone very unhealthy for you…. One moment.”

Dodging around the pools of what he could only assume was half-digested blood, Frank squeezed back out of the room and came back with a sterile bag of B-positive that he cautiously presented to the weakened form.

“Picked it up from the blood bank this morning… nuclear physicist, visiting from Sweden…seemed to be a wasted opportunity,” he offered, weakly, but he needn’t have bothered. The vampire had already punctured the bag with one of his ghastly sharpened nails before he’d opened his mouth and was sucking it down with a sharp and unsettling growl, and Renfield didn’t stay around to watch.

“I’ll go and…fetch something more lively, hm?” And with that he scuttled out of the room, before the count could regain the strength to seek out the next source of sustenance in sight…mainly him.

-------

“How are you feeling?”

“Indestructible.”

Indestructible. That had been the word he’d used, just before the ship had sent him to his century long sleep. He never thought for a moment that it would be true, nor that he would have any reason to lament that fact. And yet… here he laid. Weak, indeed. In pain, surely. But very much alive… as alive as he could get anyway. He had forced himself to ingest the poison, and he had waited for death’s sweet embrace. Nothing. He just laid there, the sun beaming directly into his eyes, his stomach roiling like it hadn’t done since he was an insipid mortal, and yet he never even lost consciousness! For once he had sought out oblivion, instead of fighting it, and it wouldn’t take him! The nerve! He had given death hundreds…thousands over the years! And she would still turn him away like some sort of petulant beggar.

It was hours before he decided that if death wasn’t going to be quick about it that there really was no use waiting around. Zoe’s body lay stiff beside him, and though he knew the likelihood was slim, the sick ones rarely did more than rot, he left her there just in case. If he were any less…himself, he would’ve labeled it a blind, potential hope that she would rise again. That if he were going to be stuck being alive (not that it wasn’t her bloody fault he was suddenly so aggravated by that!), that maybe she would be stuck with him. Would serve them right… the Van Helsing women, the biggest inconveniences he’d had in his whole un-life.

He couldn’t stay there…that boy knew where he was, and would no doubt send someone to look for him, or return himself. He considered, of course, waiting around, but honestly he didn’t even know if a stake to the heart was worth bothering to test at this rate. All of his other beliefs were useless… his fears. Why would he think just because it’s worked on some half-mad fledglings it would even work on him? Luckily he knew better than to keep his potentially useless dirt all in one place, at the least. Would he eventually regenerate without it? He didn’t know anymore. All his memories seemed to twist and deform. And with five centuries worth, that was an awful lot.

A chance he decided not to take. If he survived this, he would need to buy his lawyer new carpet. He would need to do a lot of things. Perhaps venture south of the equator.

------

It was fascinating how much the lack of needing to eat and sleep as often, nor attend five different doctors, affected her time management skills. Zoe felt like she never ran out of time, for research or reading or…well, that was it really. That was what she devoted her time to – not just for the sake of others now, but for her own future. So much so that not leaving the institute didn’t really seem like a confinement at all, even though that was precisely what it was.

As the days turned into a week, the other doctors – her friends, her colleagues, became even more unsettled by her presence. Not because she looked, or behaved like a walking corpse, but just the sheer lack of human ‘distractions’ she participated in. Also the constant shifting of vocal inflection didn’t seem to help.

Apparently Sister Agatha Van Helsing was not going anywhere. Either she wasn’t able to, didn’t want to, or had permanently infected her mind. She was beginning to get used to it. She had to wonder if Dracula himself ever had issues like this with anyone. Did Agatha hound him to? How much of his personality is his own and how much is taken from his victims? One had to assume it was the superstition of his victim pool that had tainted his own beliefs – that and the fact that even he refused to embrace the art of being a predator with limitless power.

She sincerely hoped that wherever he’d gone to, he’d kept that in mind. Something told her, however, that he wasn’t actually that far. It wasn’t a voice, or any particular deductive reasoning that gave her that knowledge. It was just something she knew, however unsettling that fact was.

“Zoe!”

She frowned, blinking out of her daze. Dr. Bloxham was blocking her from pacing back to the computer where she’d been unconsciously headed.

“Love, you have got to get out of here for a while. You haven’t slept longer than 3 hours a night since you’ve been here, you barely eat. You need to take a break.”

Zoe sighed, reluctantly relenting her attention.

“My body’s becoming intolerant to certain...things, I’m currently trying to find out what it isn’t intolerant to. And what it’s desperately lacking – iron, for starters. Does that help?”

“Great. We’ll figure out what it’s intolerant to at the pub, before you drive yourself batty… no pun intended.”

“I don’t drink,” she protested, but found herself shrugging out of her lab coat anyway.

“You stopped drinking because you were ill, which you no longer are,” the other woman protested, quite logically unfortunately, taking the coat from her. “Besides, there’s food there as well, which you desperately need, and sunlight would do you good. Have you even tried to eat anything but crisps and Chinese take away? Maybe you need something a little more tangible, that’s all.”

She sincerely doubted it, but anything – even tossing up her guts at a pub – was better than everyone looking at her like some sort of foreign contagion. She wasn’t a vampire. Not yet, and if she could help it, she never would be.

---

Edited to add tags for the people on this hellsite that have been keeping me from writing this by posting their own undead content that I’ve been consuming instead - be it fic or gifs or playlists or just thirsty shitposts. Ha, I have defied your attempts at distraction, but I honor you all the same: @my-fanfic-library @ohveda @imagineandimagine @wannabebloodsucker @hoefordarkness @mymagicsuitcase @crazytxgradstudent @itendedbadly @theplumsoldier @gatissed @allfandoms-writings @littlemessyjessi @punk-courtesan @vampiregirl1797

I’m sure I’ve forgotten many of you, but I legit just scrolled my last week worth of likes, and now I have to go to the dentist, then hope I’m not too whiny to finish my fanvid.

#bbc dracula #dracula bbc #dracula 2020 #dracula fic #agatha van helsing #zoe van helsing #claes bang #dracula #my writing #the undone & the divine

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