#source: rock and riot
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Kat Bjelland, Babes in Toyland
#can’t find the source on this so if you know please lmk!#kat bjelland#babes in toyland#Lori barbero#Maureen Herman#1990s#riot grrrl#grunge#kinderwhore#alternative rock#punk rock#90s rock#90s alt rock#90s punk#rock and roll#90s aesthetic#grunge aesthetic#kinderwhore aesthetic
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Ekko: Jinx, can we talk? One ten to another?
Jinx: I'm an eleven but go on.
#incorrect piltover quotes#incorrect quotes#league of legends ekko#league of legends jinx#ekko#jinx#league of legends#riot games#submission#source: 30 rock
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— bikini kill, “I Like Fucking” 1995★
#source: https://pin.it/5lrviIH#bikini kill#i like fucking#riot grrrl#riot girl#grunge#alternative#punk rock#femenism
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Leona: Are you getting enough sleep?
Diana: Sometimes when I sneeze my eyes close.
#incorrect targon quotes#incorrect quotes#league of legends leona#league of legends diana#leona#diana#league of legends#riot games#source: 30 rock
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Hamilton simply wanted to become a doctor. Charlayne simply wanted to become a journalist.
Both agreed that the University of Georgia had the classes they needed to reach those goals.
Both applied to UGA for the fall 1959 quarter but were denied. Holmes was accepted to Morehouse College, and Hunter enrolled at Wayne State University in Detroit, but they continued to submit applications to UGA each quarter.
Eventually they became the first black students to attend UGA, but that is just the beginning of their stories.
On January 9, 1961, thousands of white people violently rioted because Charlayne and Hamilton registered at the University of Georgia, becoming the university's first Black students. Their enrollment came days after federal judge William Bootle ordered the university to admit them, ending a two-year administrative and legal fight to integrate the school.
When Ms. Hunter and Mr. Holmes arrived to register for classes they were met by nearly 100 white students opposing their admission. The crowd grew in the coming hours and the opposition escalated into full-scale riots, involving nearly 2,000 white students, local residents, and Ku Klux Klan members. The rioters set fires outside Ms. Hunter's dormitory, hurled rocks inside, and yelled racist epithets. At least one student in the dormitory was injured by a flying object. After several hours, campus officers, city police, and local firefighters quelled the riot.
In response to this violent white mob, composed of many white students from the university, officials forced Ms. Hunter and Mr. Holmes to withdraw from the university and Georgia state troopers escorted them home. White student leaders gloated at their victory, and one cited the University of Alabama's violent reaction to the enrollment of Autherine Lucy in 1956 as inspiration for their own demonstration.
Days later, Judge Bootle ordered the university to readmit Ms. Hunter and Mr. Holmes. They both completed their studies in 1963, becoming the first Black undergraduate students to graduate from the University of Georgia.
Source: African Archives
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SHOWS BIKINI KILL PLAYED WITH NIRVANA
yeah we all know bikini kill played a crucial role in aspects of nirvana. despite the fact that they're often very simply watered down to Kurt Cobain having a crush on Tobi Vail and (good fucking lord) Kathleen naming Smells Like Teen Spirit, it's not often talked about how Kathleen, in her feminist art space Reko Muse, hosted some of earliest shows, and is even the venue featured on their first 1989 album cover, Bleach. in media, often overlooked as well is how Kurt himself had been a very outspoken feminist and supporter of the emerging Riot Grrrl scene and its bands. you can find more on that under this blogs 'kurt cobain' tag🥰
moving on cuz it has nothing to do with this really. i wanted to document the very few shows bikini kill had with nirvana. fliers and dates, etc. under cut.
EARLY
REKO MUSE, OLYMPIA, WA: JUNE 16, 1989.
pictured on the left is a flier Kathleen Hanna had made for a benefit show at Reko Muse, dated for Friday, June 16, 1989. Nirvana opened for the band Lush, and the show was hosted by Tammy Rae Carland. Tobi Vail joined the stage with Nirvana. x.
REKO MUSE, OLYMPIA, WA: APRIL 1, 1989.
hosted by Kathleen Hanna at Reko Muse, Nirvana played with Tree House and Helltrout on April 1, 1989. the cover album for their 1989 album Bleach was shot here, by Tracy Marander.
THE MUSHROOM, OLYMPIA, WA: FEBRUARY 9, 1991.
scheduled to play with Giant Henry and Bikini Kill ("plus maybe a cool band too."), Nirvana ended up not playing at this show due to Krist not being able to make it. instead Kurt Cobain, Dave Grohl, and BK guitarist Billy Karen, played on stage with Kill Rock Stars' co-founder Slim Moon's band, Witchypoo.
BIKNI KILL:
OK HOTEL, SEATTLE, WA: APRIL 17, 1991.
Bikini Kill opened for Fitz of Depression and Nirvana. Nirvana played an early version of Smells Like Teen Spirit for (what i believe!) the first time.
THE PARAMOUNT THEATRE, SEATTLE, WA: OCTOBER 31, 1991 (HALLOWEEN SHOW)
Bikini Kill opened for Mudhoney and Nirvana.
information sourced from livenirvana & Tiger Bomb.
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I'd love to see more sources on black ppl in the punk scene :-)!!
Ya of course!!!! These cover more overall rock but here's a few books I still suuuuper recommend
Rip It Up: The Black Experience in Rock N Roll by Kandia Crazy Horse
A great anthology of articles and interviews with black rock artists and fans dating back to the 70s. One of the articles featured is White Noise Supremacists by Lester Bangs (originally published 1979) which is a really interesting look into early punk culture's flippant attitude around appropriating white supremacist symbols and being racist/homophobic/antisemitic "ironically." cw there's tons of slurs in this article
bookshop.org
thriftbooks
Black Diamond Queens: African American Women in Rock and Roll by Maureen Mahon
A very recent book! Each section looks into various influential women in Rock, including Big Mama Thornton (the original and far superior singer of Hound Dog,) Tina Turner, Betty Davis, and the Shirelles to name a few.
bookshop.org
thriftbooks
Be My Baby by Ronnie Spector
The late great Ronnie Spector's autobiography. The black girl groups of the 60s were a massive part of the genesis of "classic" rock as we know it, and the Ronettes in particular were INCREDIBLY formative artists. The Rolling Stones opened for THEM. Another cw: Ronnie was in an abusive relationship with their producer Phil Spector for much of their career, and this is discussed at length in the book so read with care.
bookshop.org
thriftbooks
A few relevant books I have yet to read:
Dreadnaught: King of Afropunk, by D.H. Peligro of Dead Kennedys fame
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?: A Black Woman’s Life and Liberation in Heavy Metal, by Laina Dawes (who wrote the article Why I Was Never A Riot Grrrl)
Here's a few online sources tooooooo
One of the last interviews with Poly Styrene before she passed
Trash Theory's video on Poly Styrene and her influence on riot grrrl
Why Bad Brains Were Banned in D.C.
A Band Called Death (Full Documentary)
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Going to go on a massive ramble about the absolutely wild dynamic with the Welsh OCs.
It's not very difficult to discern why Jones and Nite are attracted to each other. Nite sees someone who clearly enjoys spending time with him, pays him attention, seems to care about what he's interested in, or at least hearing about it. Moreover, he's a source of stability, a rock where the rest of his life feels like a wild current. He seems to have answers, in a situation where Nite seems to have so few, willing to teach him a language he only half remembers, tell him about a place he has no memories of. Jones, on the other hand admires how passionate Nite is about things. That he'll take a bet out of the blue, or try something completely new just to see what happens. It reminds him of the idealism he once had, back when he wasn't afraid to take risks, before prison had beaten him down. He's a spark in a cave, and that light is infectious, making Jones feel things he hasn't in years.
Nite and Roberts are fundamentally the same person, albeit with a lot of the context missing from the former. Which makes it wild to me how much Roberts and Jones would absolutely hate each other.
Jones came from a middle class merchant family, primarily exporting coal and minerals to England in one of the most populous locations in Wales. He was educated (and radicalised) in England. The fact that he sounds Welsh was a conscious and deliberate decision. His interest in politics, in changing the structures in which they live made him something of the black sheep of his family. Why are they sending all of their resources in one direction? Why are they still following policy set by London, when London's sunken into the earth? Such discussions never got him much further than a handful of heated debates after dinner with his brothers, but as the youngest son he was hardly in a position to affect the family business, so it was mostly overlooked. Nobody in his family knew quite how serious he was until the riot, where he was tried for sedition, and they cast him into the wind without a second thought.
Roberts, on the other hand, grew up working class in a village where the only industry was the mines. Its inhabitants were mostly homogeneous, save for the English managers. Unlike Jones' belief that the system can and should be changed, Roberts only saw an out in joining that seemingly-unchangeable system and trying to get the best life he's able. When his father died prematurely of a respiratory infection from the work in the mines, Roberts could only see a dark and bleak future ahead of him, and ran.
Of course the two of them would fight. From Roberts’ perspective, he had no future and no choice without abandoning everything Welsh about himself. He’d always be seen as a second class citizen, particularly because of his working class background in a village whose only jobs promise an early and miserable death. Meanwhile Jones had money. In fact, he got his money by taking those resources that people like Roberts’ father died extracting and shipping it to England. And Jones can go and put on an accent and act like he’s a patriot, but to Roberts he’ll never experience the actual consequences of that discrimination. He's shielded by his money and class.
Meanwhile, Jones sees a man who would abandon everything, including his own family in their moment of greatest need, who would contort and mutilate himself to fit into the standards that would grant him the most personal power (until the moment it no longer does), who would lick the boots of the very people Jones had once destroyed his entire life fighting.
What I'm saying is that the second anything about Jones not knowing what actual consequences are comes out of Roberts' mouth he's getting a fist to the face, and this will devolve into an all out brawl.
#roberts/nite#jones#rotating that old man in my mind again#jones specifically though i guess technically this is a multi-rotation
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On this day, 11 June 1919, racist rioting broke out in Cardiff, Wales, when white, mostly ex-servicemen attacked local residents of Afro-Caribbean, Somali, Malay, and Yemeni descent. Experiencing considerable hardship after the end of World War I, many ex-servicemen were in dire financial straits, and had been encouraged by racist media, as well as some unions, to see workers of colour as having taken some of "their" jobs and housing. Tensions erupted on June 11 after a confrontation between a group of Black and white men in the Butetown area of area of the city escalated. Mobs of whites then attacked houses where Black and Arab workers lived, smashing windows, wrecking interiors and throwing furniture into the street. People of colour then began to defend themselves, boarding themselves inside their homes and arming themselves with stones and rocks. One man, a ship's fireman called Mohammed Abdullah was attacked and soon died in hospital with a fractured skull. By the time the disturbances ended three days later, three other men were dead, although it is unclear if one of those deaths was related to the riots as such. The riots in Cardiff were just one of several such incidents around Britain in 1919. Other racist mob attacks on African, Chinese, South Asian, Afro-Caribbean and Arab workers – usually seamen – also broke out in cities like London, Glasgow, Newport, Liverpool, Salford, South Shields, Barry and Hull. Shamefully, in some cases the violence was egged on by union leaders like Manny Shinwell, later a Labour MP, who demanded "action" against Black sailors on the morning of an attack on sailors from Sierra Leone in Glasgow earlier that year. More information, sources and map: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/8319/cardiff-racist-riots https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=642481014591784&set=a.602588028581083&type=3
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BUNK BED JUNCTION PROPAGANDA MASTERPOST
Zuke has a masters degree, but the moment he's paired up with Mayday literally all his braincells go on vacation. They lose a music competition and find out it was rigged and unfair so they decide to care of the problem at its source: by taking out the entire government. They are so blinded by hate for unfair power imbalances and love for rock music and fucking shit up they ask 0 questions and follow some shady guy's orders to break a bunch of stuff, including a 6yo's piano. no thoughts heads empty.
Because they are different types. Zuke is socially a dumbass and Mayday doesn’t know what Pluto is
Mayday said ass on public tv, Zuke has a really long annoying rap battle which made 100% the game a pain in the ass. WHY IS DK WEST 2 9 MINUTES LONG?! ZUKE YOU ARE KIDDING ME RIGHT??? Mayday gets sad that a boyband became ugly (they were robots) and Zuke said "good". Mayday destroyed not one but two TVs. I made this a clip btw. This one scene
vote Bunk Bed Junction they started literal riots over something they could've just gave a formal request to fix
So, Zuke & Mayday didn’t need to send a guy into space, reverse mermaid hatsune miku, destroy a kids piano, and destroy not one, but several version of robot BTS. At the end of the game they learn “oh yeah, that wasn’t really needed, both types of music can power the city”.
Bunk bed junction started a whole artistic rebellion ON ACCIDENT because they couldn’t stand being rejected from joining the NSR. How do you make people rebel against the GOVERNMENT because you were unable to rock?!!?? I DONT KNOW BUT THEY DID! Reblog
#bbj literally started to destroy a company from the bottom up without knowing the consequences until they were like halfway thru#love you zuke and may tho
Fun trivia: zuke’s instincts tell him to eat FISH. Like just straight up FISH.
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16 March 1974, Queen performed @ University of Stirling, Stirling, Scotland
‘Queen ll’ Tour
Today we introduce England's new Supergroup "QUEEN"
THEIR SHOW WAS TOO HOT
For about four years QUEEN have worked as a warm up act for superstar bands. Now they join the circle - because of their hit "Seven Seas of Rhye."
Freddie Mercury acts wild on the stage, playing with his microphone, shaking his long black hair and sings "Seven Seas of Rhye." Then it happens - Queen refused to come on for a fourth encore, leading to a riot during which two people were stabbed and a couple crew members were hurt. The band were locked up in the kitchen backstage during the mayhem. Cushions, bottles and beer cans were thrown around amidst the chaos.
About one hundred fans storm the stage at this show. Freddie escaped with a jump off the stage. Roger Taylor and two roadies didn't have that much luck. The fanatic fans run over them and they get injured, so the show ends up in hospital for them.
“They apologise to their Midlands audience,” said a spokesman for the group. “But everybody was really shaken and disturbed.” The Barbarella gig will now be on April 2.
“That's crazy" said Freddie after the mob has calmed down. They couldn't go on with the show cause their sound system was heavily damaged in the riot. "We've played together for four years now, started in small clubs, and since about a year, we work as warm up acts for harder rock groups like "Mott the Hoople" ... but I've never seen anything like this. I have to be more gentle and not drive the people that wild - otherwise we'll get banned from British stages. And that we don't want."
Responsible for all that - Their hit "Seven Seas of Rhye” jumped nine places to number 20 in this week’s chart.
Within two weeks that song gave them the status as the new "QUEEN" of the British rock camp. "Now we want to get famous in Europe and America - but without any riots. We don't support that kind of thing. Our song is about peaceful and nice things in a fantasy land called Rhye" said Freddie.
The First headlining USA tour for Queen – begins on April 12.
Source: QueenLive
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My Chemical Romance, Hardcore Sexual Repression, and the Lemon Stealing Whore - SOURCES
The interview:
Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzAOmGe1S00
Transcript: https://mcr-transcripts.tumblr.com/post/17317559562/burning-angel-dvd-interview
Joanna Angel:
Complex: Interview: Joanna Angel Talks Alt Porn, Piracy, And Her Blow-Up Doll (Tara Aquino; Jul 29, 2011)
Turned Out A Punk #127: Joanna Angel (Burning Angel) (May 2017)
Hustlerworld Interview: Joanna Angel (March 2006)
'Each Time It's More Fun' in Haaretz (Shahar Smooha, Jul 12, 2007).
‘Wearing Nothing but Attitude’ in The New York Times (Robert Lanham, May 1, 2005).
‘A Woman On Top’ in New Jersey Monthly (Eric Levin, Dec 19, 2007)
Hardcore (NJ & otherwise):
Going Off Track: Geoff Rickly (2012)
Dark Blue Episode #4: Norman Brannon & Steve Pedulla (Oct 2018)
Geoff Rickly on Warped Tour 2004 discussing the meaning of the track Signals Over the Air from their 2003 album, War All the Time.
The Summer of Screamo in The New York Times (By Jonathan Dee, June 29, 2003).
Sellout: The Major-Label Feeding Frenzy That Swept Punk, Emo, and Hardcore (1994–2007) (Dan Ozzi, 2021).
Popular Music, Gender, and Postmodernism: Anger is an Energy. By Neil Nehring. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 1997.
MCR:
A ‘Great Romances of the 21st Century’ in Alternative Press #193 (Leslie Simon, Aug 2004)
Alternative Press: Frank Iero: The Oral History (Alt Press #389.2, Dec 2020).
Riot Grrrl:
‘Kathleen Hanna - Bikini Kill’ in Angry Women in Rock (Andrea Juno, 1996).
‘I Can Sell My Body If I Wanna: Riot Grrrl Body Writing and Performing Shameless Feminist Resistance.’ By Leah Perry. Lateral: Journal of the Cultural Studies Association 4 (2015).
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everything happens for a reason part 17 - zuko x fem!reader
And maybe I don't quite know what to say
part 16 | masterlist | part 18
a/n: finally getting into zuko's redemption arc as well as reuniting yn with sokka!! im so happy bc i really missed writing her with him, their relationship is so special to me. writing 3 chapters straight of prison feels kinda brings the mood down lol so at least its coming back up w/ suki and sokka
this was all gonna be one chapter but it started getting way too long so im splitting it in two. next chapter is their escape from the boiling rock baby !
wc: 6.5k
warning(s): some more angst but a fair amount of fluff as well (yn and sokka reunion!!<3) but mostly angst tbh. yn is very mad at zuko as she should be and sokka kinda gives it to him as well
chapter title comes from 'this is me trying' by taylor swift
“I can’t believe they’re keeping us inside all week,” Suki muttered, dragging the mop across the floor with more irritation than usual. “The only bearable part of this place, and they just take it away.”
“The warden certainly knows how to keep his prisoners miserable,” Y/N said, wiping at a stubborn patch of grease on the side of the wall with a wet cloth.
It had been a few weeks since Y/N had found her new home in the loveliest place in all the Fire Nation, and she was beginning to accept her situation. After what Suki pulled, defending her in front of their entire block, no one had messed with her since. And having Suki by her side in the first place, it made being stuck in the Boiling Rock a lot more bearable. They practically became attached at the hip — they were lucky enough to be in the same block in the first place, so during courtyard time, mandated chores, and any other time they weren’t confined to their cells, Y/N and Suki were always together.
It made a world of difference, having someone like Suki by her side after being on her own for so long. They talked constantly, Suki telling her what it was like to grow up on Kyoshi Island and her subsequent journey as a Kyoshi Warrior, and Y/N revealing the story of her upbringing to somebody else in full for the first time. It was the number one source of her shame, the amount of pain and suffering she’d caused both herself and her mother by trusting Zuko, but Suki offered nothing but support.
One thing, at least, had become clear: they may have gotten into this separately, but they were going to get out of it together.
“I mean, it’s the middle of the summer!” Suki complained, taking her out of her thoughts. “It’s hot outside, but it’s even worse in here. I would kill for some windows.”
Y/N’s eyes suddenly widened, and she looked at Suki. “The middle of the summer— I think I know why we’re stuck inside.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“When I was still with Aang and the rest of the group, we visited this secret underground library with all the knowledge you could ever want. Sokka discovered a Fire Nation secret, some kind of eclipse where all firebending is useless for a short period. It’s called the Day of Black Sun, and,” she lowered her voice, “we were going to invade the Fire Nation that day so Aang could take out the Fire Lord. I think the reason we’re stuck in here is because the eclipse is coming up. It’ll be easier to keep everything together inside than outside, especially if a riot breaks out.”
Suki huffed a laugh as she shook her head. “We’re guarded by a bunch of cowards, then. Can they really be the ‘greatest prison in the Fire Nation’ if they can’t do their job without bending?”
Y/N managed to stifle her laugh just as a guard walked past them, and she ducked her head as she quickly returned to cleaning the walls.
“Is something funny, girl?” His voice was gruff and demanding, but while it would’ve made her cower in her shell when she first arrived here, she had since become skilled in the art of keeping her head low.
“Not at all, sir,” she said, “I apologize for the delay.”
He stared at her for a moment before huffing in approval and walking away, and Suki just rolled her eyes.
“I can’t wait until we’re out of here and we don’t have to grovel at their feet anymore.” She shoved her mop back into the bucket of water and sighed. “Just one good punch to the face of every guard in here before we get out, and I think I’d be satisfied.”
Y/N grinned. “Throw one in there for me and you’ve got a deal.”
“I think I can manage that,” Suki said, smiling as she played along.
She laughed again, the mischievous twinkle in Suki’s eye lightening up the atmosphere effortlessly.
“About this comet though,” Suki said, her expression turning slightly thoughtful, “you’re telling me Sokka’s the one who discovered all of it?”
Y/N smiled knowingly as she turned away from the wall. “Yeah. You should’ve seen him in action, Suki — the whole library was about to collapse underground, a whole “we’re doomed” situation with no way to get both the information we went there for and get out alive. But then Sokka just jumps into action, he figures out when the eclipse is, and we manage to make it out by the skin of our teeth. If it wasn’t for Sokka, I think we would’ve died about… twenty times before I even had the chance to get here.” She elbowed Suki playfully. “He’s pretty smart, right?”
The pink flush to her cheeks faded as Suki turned away, a sheepish smile of her own blooming. “We can talk about that later. What I’m curious about is this: if all the guards don’t have their firebending for a period of time, doesn’t that mean it would be the best time to escape this place?”
“Theoretically, but it would never actually work.” She dipped the rag back into the bucket of water and continued scrubbing at the walls. “We’d never be able to get off the island; the gondola’s the only way out, and we’d be spotted immediately.”
Suki hummed, but Y/N noticed the gleam in her eye. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“I’m thinking about an escape route.
Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You’re thinking of an escape route out of the inescapable prison?”
“Obviously.” She turned to Y/N with a smile. “I don’t know how, and it won’t happen this week, but we’re gonna get off of this damn rock. And we’re gonna do it together.”
Suki’s words, somehow still earnest despite everything they’d been through, brought out a smile of her own. “You really think?”
“I know,” she clarified, and she took Y/N’s hand in her own and squeezed hard. “The Fire Nation only got us in our weakest moments. But with the two of us, working together? They won’t know what hit ‘em.”
Y/N bit her lip to hold back her growing amusement, and she nodded as she squeezed back. “Damn right.”
-
“Zuko?”
What had started as his attempt at an introduction quickly went south, and his eyes widened as he held up his hands and took a step backwards. It only took a second for the Avatar and his friends to get into their attack stances, and he gulped. He’d been on the other end of their wrath far too many times to underestimate them.
“I promise, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Then you made a mistake coming here,” Katara retorted, water hovering just above her hands. “What, did you decide you wanted a rematch? I’m happy to help.”
“No!” he exclaimed, taking another step back. Spirits— she was younger than him, how was she so scary? “No, I’m not here to hurt any of you!”
“That’s what you said last time,” she scoffed. “Y’know, before you tried to kill us all?”
“What are you doing here, Zuko?” Aang asked. “How did you even find us?”
“I know it has to be a surprise—”
“Not really,” Sokka muttered.
“—to see me here,” Zuko finished, trying not to let the interruption bother him, “but I swear, it’s for a good reason! I’m— I’m good now, and I think you should let me join your group. I left the Fire Nation, and I’m good now, and I can also teach firebending,” he looked at Aang, “to you.”
Aang’s eyes widened slightly at the consideration but Katara just laughed mirthlessly. “Do you honestly think any of us are stupid to trust you after all you’ve done? We’ll always have another option than you, Zuko. We’ll never be that desperate.”
“Where’s your firebending teacher then?” he asked. “If you have other options, then fine. But I don’t think you have any.”
Katara set her jaw. “We’ll find someone. Anyone but you.”
Aang looked at him for a good, long moment, and Zuko actually grew hopeful for a second, but it was all dashed when he glanced away and shook his head. “There’s no way we can trust you after all you’ve done. You should leave.”
Zuko visibly deflated at Aang’s words. “At least… tell Y/N that I was here. I need her to know I’ve changed.”
The mood noticeably changed at the mention of her, the steeliness to Katara’s eyes and the slight clench of Sokka’s fists the most obvious. They were angry at him, and rightfully so, for what he’d done to her. If only they knew how much turmoil Zuko had gone through over it all.
“She’s not here,” Katara spat. “I figured you would know that, seeing as you’re the one that got her thrown in jail.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Are you deaf?” He looked down when he heard the aggressive voice, and was shocked to see it coming from such a small girl. Toph, if he remembered correctly. “She’s not here, and it’s your fault. You should know better than any of us, seeing as she’s still in the Fire Nation.”
“If you cared so much, you should’ve broken her out,” Sokka said bitterly.
“I— I tried,” Zuko insisted, and he was quickly realizing how hard it was going to be to get these people to trust him. “Believe me, I tried to get her out, but when I went to her cell she wasn’t there.
It was somehow still possible as Katara’s glare turned even sharper, and when she took a step forward, he moved back on instinct. “What do you mean, she wasn’t there?”
“She wasn’t there,” he repeated, his eyes slightly wide as he held up his hands. “I— I asked a guard, and he said she was transferred to another prison by my sister, but I haven’t been able to find out where.”
“You know what the Fire Nation does to powerful benders.” Katara’s voice wavered, her blue eyes glimmering with tears. ”How could you let them take her?”
“I tried—” he started, but he didn’t get far.
“You didn’t try at all!” Katara shouted, her voice finally breaking as her hands clenched into fists at her side. “You are the one who did this to her! You are the one who did this to her because she refused to give up on you, and now she could be— she could be dead!”
Katara took a step back as her chest rose and fall with shaky breaths, and the glare she pinned him with was truly murderous. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave and never come back.”
She wiped at the tears streaming down her face and stormed off in the opposite direction, leaving Zuko standing there speechless, unable to do anything but stare with wide eyes.
“Katara!” Aang instantly ran off after her, and Toph took over.
“You heard her,” she said, her blank gaze not meeting his eyes but somehow able to carry the same steeliness in her tone as Katara. “Leave.”
And as she went off after Aang and Katara, Zuko was left with him and a tension that could be cut with a knife.
“I never wanted this to happen,” Zuko whispered.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sokka said coldly. “It still did.”
And he was right.
-
It was… strange, to say the least. Being here, with the Avatar and his friends.
Zuko had only managed to earn himself a spot in the group by near death bravery, but even his fight against the assassin was barely enough to secure it, what with how effortlessly Zuko was able to do the wrong thing in every single situation.
Telling them he sent the assassin after them in the first place, burning Toph’s feet, offering himself up as a prisoner, even just standing too close to Katara— he was constantly on thin ice with all of them, but especially her. Sokka was a frontrunner as well, but it wasn’t really a surprise. He remembered the way Y/N had spoken about them, how close they were — they had every right to hate him, but it still hurt. All he could do was hope to repair it.
And he was trying his hardest to do so. He regained his bending with Aang and the two of them came back stronger than ever in terms of firebending. Toph never really had a grudge against him — even though she ragged on him as much as he deserved for burning her feet — so she was mostly fine with him, and he gave Katara her space. He was going to fix that situation, but after the way she threatened him, Zuko figured a lot of time was needed before he even tried.
As far as Sokka, he didn’t know where he stood with the Water Tribe boy. He knew it would take some time, but what he didn’t know was that this was where he was going to end up not even a day after Sokka asked him about Fire Nation prisons.
“Pretty clouds,” Sokka observed.
On a war balloon. Alone, with only Sokka for company, and a deadly mission ahead of them.
“Yeah… fluffy.”
…It was certainly his most interesting vacation.
Zuko’s head jerked up when Sokka murmured something and his brows creased. “What?”
Sokka glanced up at him, that iciness back once again. “You know this doesn’t mean I like you now.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I… I figured.”
“I’m just doing this with you because you wouldn’t leave me alone and I needed your war balloon.” He crossed his arms and set his jaw. “I haven’t forgiven you for anything that you’ve done.”
“I know,” Zuko sighed, and for a moment the only thing that filled the air was the sound of his firebending. “At least I can help with this.”
“I know how to work a war balloon,” Sokka said, and he rapped his knuckles against the side of the wood. “My friend designed these things. I would’ve figured out how to make the fire if you weren’t here.”
Zuko raised his eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “No kidding. One of your friends designed these war balloons?”
Sokka looked up at him, his gaze calculating as if he was trying to gauge the truth of his interest.
“Yeah,” he said eventually. “I helped him polish it up, figure out how to control the hot air. It’s just a balloon, but for war.”
“Well, If there’s one thing my dad’s good at, it’s war,” Zuko muttered.
“Yeah, it seems to run in the family.”
Zuko frowned and his tone turned defensive. “Hey, hold on. Not everyone in my family is like that.”
“I know, I know.” Sokka gestured with his hand. “You’ve changed.”
“I meant my uncle,” Zuko said. “He was more of a father to me, and I really let him down.”
“Well… I think your uncle would be proud of you.” Sokka crossed his arms yet again and he looked out at the sky, not wanting to meet Zuko’s eyes as he actually said something nice. “Leaving your home to come help us? That’s hard.”
“It wasn’t that hard.”
“Really? You didn’t leave anyone behind you cared about?”
Zuko shrugged. “There was one girl, Mai. We were dating, but… it felt more like something forged out of expectations rather than love. It felt like we were putting on a front for the approval of our parents rather than being together for ourselves. I still care about her as a friend, though. Enough that I didn’t want to get her caught up in this mess.”
“And…” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his expression turned downcast. “There was Y/N. She was— she still is— the only girl I’ve ever loved, the way I love her. Ever since I was a child. But I ruined anything we could’ve possibly had together, and now… now, I have no idea where she is, and wherever she is, she hates me.”
Sokka hummed. “She has every right to.”
Zuko glared at him. “You’re really not good at this making people feel better thing.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better,” he said. “I know you’re trying to become a good guy or whatever, but you deserve to feel bad for what you did. For a pretty long time, too.”
Zuko braced his hand against his forehead as he turned away. “I know. I just can’t stop thinking about her— about how I treated her, and that the last thing I said to her was that…”
He trailed off, and Sokka raised his eyebrows. “What?”
Zuko sighed again and let his hands hang off the side of the boat. “I said that I never loved her.”
“Tui’s gills, man!” Sokka exclaimed. “Yeah, of course she’s gonna hate you for saying something like that. Geez, you go all in when you’re upset, huh?”
“I didn’t mean it!” Zuko defended as he whirled around. “I— I was just angry at everything, and I wanted to forget her, and I thought that if I said it then it would become true and I would finally be able to move on. But,” he heaved a weary sigh as he sat down, his gaze downcast, “I don’t want to move on. I just want to see her again and apologize for everything. I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough, but I have to try.”
The silence weighed heavily between them yet again, with Zuko staring at the ground and Sokka’s gaze softening ever so slightly as he looked at him.
“I think you still have a chance,” he said, and Zuko’s eyes widened slightly.
“What?”
“I think you still have a chance,” he repeated. “As much as I hate to say it, Y/N cared about you. A lot. Like, she talked about you constantly when we were all together, a lot. It was honestly kind of annoying.”
“So what’s your point?” he grumbled.
Sokka sighed. “My point is that you two had a bond— the kind of bond where she risked everything just because of how she felt about you. That kind of bond… it doesn’t just go away.”
“Do you think she’ll even care?” Zuko asked. “After all I’ve done, how can you know she’ll even want to listen to me? How do you know I haven’t completely lost her?”
Sokka was quiet for a moment before he asked a single question. “Do you still love her?”
Zuko answered without hesitation. “With all my heart.”
“Then there’s still time. You haven’t lost her yet.”
He gave him a rare smile and nodded. “Thanks, Sokka. That actually helped.”
He shrugged and looked away. “I mean, it could always be worse. My first girlfriend turned into the moon.”
“…That’s rough, buddy.”
-
Their mission was going about as well as one would think. They had crashed their war balloon leaving them with no way out, nearly gotten discovered seconds after stealing uniforms, and got caught up in a fight in the courtyard, but in the scheme of things they were still on track.
After dropping off a prisoner they had reunited on one of the balconies overlooking the courtyard, where Sokka was diligently scanning the entire field for any sign of his father.
“Sokka,” Zuko whispered, managing to grab his attention. “Listen, I asked around the lounge, and they said that there’s one Water Tribe prisoner here — a waterbender transferred here personally by my sister. Does that sound like it could be your dad?”
He shook his head anxiously. “No, my dad’s not a waterbender. Are— are you sure that’s the only one? Did you double-check?”
“Yeah,” Zuko confirmed. “I’m sure.”
“No,” Sokka muttered, turning away dejectedly. He banged his fists against the wall out of anger. “No! We came all this way for nothing. I failed again.”
“Um, what would Uncle say?” Zuko thought aloud as he stroked his chin. “Sometimes, clouds have two sides; a dark and a light, and a silver lining in between. So… when life seems hard, take a bite out of the silver sandwich!”
Sokka looked wholly disinterested during his whole monologue, but when he directed his gaze back to the courtyard he gasped, his grip tightening on the railing. “Maybe we haven’t failed after all.”
“That’s the spirit!” Zuko grinned. “I can’t believe that worked; I didn’t even know what I was saying.”
“No, what you said made no sense at all— but look!”
Zuko craned his head to see where Sokka was pointing and his eyes widened when he saw what was talking about it.
It was her.
Standing slightly off to the side idly chatting with another girl, a little worse for wear with a black eye, but alive.
“She’s here,” Zuko muttered, equal parts awestruck, relieved, and terrified.
“Y/N is the waterbender you heard about! And do you see who she’s with?” Sokka questioned excitedly. “She’s with Suki! Our girls are here, Zuko. They’re okay!”
As Sokka started to spout off his plan, Zuko listened dimly, unable to take his eyes off of Y/N.
Her eye looked like it was healing, but he gauged that at its initial stage it was something nasty. Seeing her in the red prison jumpsuit was strange — he wondered why she had been transferred here instead of somewhere more resistant to waterbenders, but he pushed logic aside and allowed himself to revel in the temporary relief.
She was here, and she was alive.
Zuko could only hope she was willing to try again with him.
-
Y/N heaved another sigh as she rolled onto her back, unable to get comfortable on the slab she called a bed. It was near impossible to fall asleep without the familiar presence of her friends; the soft sounds of their breaths, just the knowledge that they were there with her, was something sorely missed during her prison days. It didn’t help that her cell had been modified to constantly be pumping in dry air so she couldn’t bend — it was a constant reminder of what she lacked, but she suspected it was just in case it magically came back.
Princess Azula truly despised her.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, resigning herself to the fact that sleep wasn’t going to come, when her cell door was pushed open. As a guard stepped in, every one of her senses flared up in alert and she immediately darted up from her bed. This couldn’t be anything good.
“I didn’t do anything,” Y/N declared immediately, her voice carrying a bitter edge. She angled herself in such a way that if he did try something, she would hold the advantage. “Nothing that Pao says is ever true, and if you lay a hand on me—”
“What? No, I—“ He paused, and she swore she knew his voice. “Y/N, it’s me!” The guard took off his mask, and she felt her heart stop.
“Zuko?” She hated the way his appearance sent that familiar flutter through her chest but she forced her feelings down, instead focusing on the venom coursing through her veins.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Zuko winced at her harsh tone, his momentarily smile gone as quickly as it appeared. “Spirits, I can’t even get away from you in prison— what, did you come here to gloat?”
“No!” he exclaimed, raising his hands in an effort at placation. “Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know!” By now she was yelling, unable to contain her rage. “I guess anything is possible with the guy who completely betrayed me!”
“Y/N, quiet down!” he cautioned, casting an instinctive glance to the door. “Someone is going to hear you!”
“Oh?” By now her eyes were blazing, and she raised her arms up as if to challenge him. “Well, maybe I should just get even louder! Think everyone can hear me yet?”
“What are you doing?!” Zuko hissed, heat beginning to emanate off of him as his eyes darted back to the door once more.
“GUAR—“ she began to shout but Zuko lunged forward and clamped his hand over her mouth, an action that confused her into cooperation.
“We’re here to get you out!” he whispered frantically. “Now will you please calm down?”
The fire in her eyes died down slightly but she still batted his hand away and stood a step back. “‘We’?”
“Sokka and I.”
“You brought Sokka here?” she accused before mentally backing up. “Wait, how are you even with Sokka in the first place?”
“No— spirits, could you let me explain before you get on my case?” He took her silence as a sign to continue. “I left the Fire Nation, and Aang accepted me as his firebending teacher. Sokka thinks his dad is in here because he got captured during the invasion, so he wanted to come here to try and break him out. I came with him because I didn’t want him going on a suicide mission. We haven’t been able to find him, but we did find you and Suki. Sokka’s guarding the door right now while we talk, then we’re gonna find her and talk her through the plan as well.”
“If Sokka’s out there, why am I not talking to him?” She crossed her arms and Zuko sighed, averting eye contact.
“Because I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted quietly. “Y/N, no amount of apologies will be able to get across how sorry I am for what I did to you. There are so many horrible things that I’ve done, but I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you. I will spend the rest of my life regretting what I did to you. I—” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “I still love you. I never stopped loving you. And I’m so, so sorry that I ever made you think differently.”
Her fingers unconsciously found their way to the small scar on her forearm and her gaze turned downcast.
How long had she waited to hear those words from him? How many times, on her journey through the Earth Kingdom to the Northern Tribe, had she imagined him saying those words to her? Spirits, at some of her lowest points, the thought of seeing him again, the thought of hearing those words, was the only thing that got her up and moving again.
And here she was, four years later. Zuko standing in front of her, baring his heart for the first time since they were children. Saying that he loved her, that he had always loved her.
But despite his earnesty, Y/N could only think of what happened in the catacombs. What happened in the Fire Nation.
Why she was here in the first place. The things he said to her.
Y/N swallowed thickly as she took a step back, her arms wrapping tightly around her midsection. “Send Sokka in right now, or I will call the guards.” Her voice had lost all the fierceness it possessed moments ago, her words instead carved in a cold, unforgiving anger.
“Y/N—”
“Now.”
With one last desperate glance back at her, Zuko obeyed her wishes, closing the door quietly behind him where he met a concerned Sokka.
“That didn’t sound like it went well.”
Zuko shook his head, his attempt at stoicism failing as he took his place at the wall. “She won’t listen to me. She wants to talk to you, but we have to make it quick so we can make it to Suki before we get caught.”
Sokka swallowed and nodded, trying to prepare himself to go in. He was overjoyed that she was alive within their reach, obviously, but he had a feeling it would hurt a lot more to see what the past couple months at the mercy of the Fire Nation had done to her.
“It’s okay,” Zuko murmured, noticing his apprehension. “She’ll be happy to see you. I know it.”
Sokka nodded once more, and before he could question himself he pushed open the cell door and walked in.
Her eyes flicked up from the ground, her arms falling from their protective positions as a relieved smile tugged at her lips.
“You really are here,” he whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and pure happiness. “You’re—”
He wasn’t granted the chance to finish his sentence as she tore across the room and enveloped him in the tightest hug possible. Though it got a grunt out of Sokka, he immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her with the same vigor.
“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. “But this is the stupidest thing that you have ever done.”
Sokka laughed as he squeezed her tighter, and she had almost forgotten how much she missed that dumb little laugh after every bad joke he made, and the way that he always hugged her a little too tight.
(She didn’t think that would be a problem anymore — Sokka’s hugs always felt like a safety blanket, but now she felt like she could cry with how needed that comfort was. She was pretty sure she would annoy him, hugging him over every little thing, just to make sure she never forgot that feeling.)
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he muttered, taking a step back to look over her with concerned eyes. “Are you okay? What happened to your eye?”
“Neither can I,” she chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m as good as I can be, I guess. Still alive, which is all I can really ask for here.” She gestured to her eye lazily and sighed. “Let’s just say that people here don’t take too kindly to outsiders, especially when they work with the Avatar.”
“I’m so sorry that this happened to you,” Sokka said quietly. “I— I wish that I had been down there that night. Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten caught up in this whole mess.”
“It’s not your fault, Sokka. You can’t blame yourself for something you weren’t involved in.” She smiled weakly. “And besides, I’m still here. I’m okay.”
“Of course you are.” Sokka’s hands hovered over her shoulders, like he didn’t know how fragile she was. Like if he even looked at her the wrong way, she would break like glass. “The Fire Nation’s never been able to take you down.”
“I mean… I am in an inescapable Fire Nation prison. I think they got me there,” she said dryly.
Sokka snapped his fingers and took a step back. “Right! Except it’s not inescapable, because we’re gonna bust you out of here..”
“You— you are?” she asked, surprised. “How long have you been here?”
He shrugged. “Half a day, give or take.”
And for some reason, that was the thing that got her. Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled him back into a hug so tight she was sure he couldn’t breathe, but right now Y/N didn’t really care.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered, a watery laugh breaking through.
“I missed you too,” he said back, just as softly, and she didn’t even have to look at him to know he was on the brink of tears as well. “Azula— she used you against me. I thought you were dead, Y/N. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she… if it was true.”
She frowned as she pulled away. “She used— what do you mean?”
Sokka swallowed thickly. “She said you were a prisoner. That— that you were tortured, and through it all you called out my name. Like I should’ve been there, and— and I should have. I should have been there to protect you, but I wasn’t, and now you’ve been through all of this…”
Sokka shook his head again. “I am so sorry, Y/N. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
She smiled and laughed, a bit breathless. “No complaints here.”
“But I have been wondering,” Sokka said suddenly, “why did Azula put you here? It’s either really cocky or really stupid to put a waterbender in a prison surrounded by water, no matter how many guards there are. Have you tried to escape yourself?”
Y/N’s expression sobered and she turned away a bit. Her bending was still the sorest of subjects — every day, when she would be out in the courtyard, she would feel even more useless about not being able to do anything but stare out at the water.
“It’s… it’s gone.” She saw Sokka’s eyes widen out of her peripherals and she wrapped her arms around her midsection. “My bending is gone, and Azula put me here as one last way to rub salt in the wound that keeps growing.”
“What?” There was real concern in both his gaze and his voice, but Y/N couldn’t even stand to look at him. Not when she was incapable of even the most basic things. “Your bending— it’s gone?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a mirthless chuckle. “I— I don’t know. It happened after I was imprisoned in the Fire Nation— maybe it’s because I’m so weak, or maybe it’s because I haven’t practiced it in so long, or maybe it’s a million other things, but all I do know is that I can’t bend anything. So I can’t help you with that.”
“Y/N.” Sokka reached for her hand and she let him take it, a comforting warmth in it. “Zuko… he lost his bending when he first joined us. I know you don’t want anything to do with him, but maybe he could help you get it back.”
She scoffed as she pulled her hand away. “Sokka, I’d rather lose my bending forever than work with him. I don’t want to be around him— not after what he did.”
He sighed and gave her a look that could only be described as brotherly, the same one he gave Katara whenever she wanted to do something stupid.
“You’re hurting, Y/N, I know. And— and you’re allowed to be angry, and to hate Zuko, and to want absolutely nothing to do with him, but I won’t let you hurt yourself because of it.” At her silence, Sokka continued. “You need to get out of here, and you need to get your bending back. You’re gonna have to work with Zuko to do both of those things, and then you can go back to hating him. But just— hold out for a few more days.”
“He burned me in the catacombs,” Y/N whispered, and she held out her arm for him to see the scar from the attack. “He burned me just to get the upper hand, just like he did in the Earth Kingdom. I’m in here because of him. I’ve never mattered to him, not if he could just throw me away like this. So why should I give him even a second of my time?”
“Because hurting yourself will do nothing for you,” he said decisively. “If you want to get back at Zuko, then you have to get out of here first. And as much as I hate to say it…” Sokka sighed and shook his head, “my plan won’t work without him. So let him help me get you and Suki out of here, figure out a way to get your bending back, and then you can bring down all your fury on him.”
She glanced away, her gaze pointed towards the floor for a good long moment before she finally spoke.
“You really have a way to get out of here?”
Sokka nodded. “I just need maybe a little longer to work out the kinks, but it’ll be solid. It’ll get us all out of here; the two of us and you and Suki.”
Y/N sighed and looked back at Sokka. “Okay. I’ll work with him to get out of here, but nothing more.”
“I’m not asking you for anything more,” Sokka said. But then he smiled, and he chuckled a bit. “It’s so good to see you again. It’s… it’s been hard without you.”
She frowned. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s really taken a toll on Katara. She blames herself for what happened because she was down in the catacombs with you.” His voice got quieter. “We both do.”
“It’s not either of your faults,” she said. “It’s the Fire Nation’s fault. It’s Zuko’s fault.”
“I’m just glad we found you,” he said. “You and Suki.” Sokka smiled a bit. “Has she been keeping you on track?”
Y/N laughed. “I’d say so. She’s the reason this,” she pointed at her eye, “isn’t a whole lot worse. I owe a lot to her.”
“We’re gonna get you both out of here,” he said again. “And as much as I don’t want to leave—”
“You have to,” she nodded. “Go talk to her. I’ll be okay. I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”
Sokka chuckled again and nodded. “I know.”
He pulled Y/N into one last hug before he left, and she caught a glimpse of Zuko on the other side as Sokka closed the door softly behind himself.
Her cell felt a lot quieter, lonelier, colder without Sokka. She knew he would be coming back, but she missed him already. She’d always hated being alone, but it hurt more now than ever before.
But it gave her the chance to let her walls down. She collapsed onto her bed as the tears quietly wracked her body, forcing herself to stay silent as they trailed down her face. It was one thing to be heard yelling, it was another thing to be seen showing this much weakness.
Weeks, months of pent up emotions began to show themselves, greedy after finally being granted an outlet. Seeing Sokka on its own was emotional enough, but Zuko was a whole different situation.
Y/N thought that finally getting to yell at him would’ve made her feel better in some way, but it only succeeded in making it all worse. She didn’t feel happy, cleansed, righteous.
She felt nothing.
The hours blended together until the wells in her eyes ran dry, and somewhere along the path she managed to fall into a restless sleep. Some part of her was angry that he hadn’t fought back the way she did, that he hadn’t yelled back — she wanted something physical to hold against him, something to make it easier to hate him than the abstract betrayal. Maybe that was stupid. It was even more stupid of him to think he had any chance of a civil conversation with her after what he did.
Maybe she would have to work with him to get out of this place, band together under a temporary truce in order to officially cleanse herself of the prisoner brand. She could put herself through that if the reward at the end of it all was getting her life back.
But not anything more.
Y/N had vowed to never let Zuko in again.
And she never broke her vows.
-
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On the evening of October 29, a crowd of rioters stormed the Makhachkala airport and runway after a flight landed from Tel Aviv. Rioters waved Palestinian flags and chanted anti-Semitic slogans. One of the flight’s passengers told Mediazona what they saw. While the passenger gave her statement under anonymity, the outlet says they have the airline tickets and documents confirming her identity. With the permission of Mediazona, Meduza is publishing a translation of the text.
My family and I got a flight to Moscow via Makhachkala one week before departure, since we had a family emergency. It was cheaper to fly through Makhachkala and the layover was shorter. We heard the news on the way to the airport.
Before departure, while waiting to board, they reported that there was a malfunction, which caused a delay. Airline workers asked whether we have Israeli citizenship, and said that we’re flying partially at our own risk. I’m not sure what their exact words were. The flight was a bit delayed because of that. The plane was half empty.
We arrived [in Makhachkala] without any problems and got through the jet bridge without any issues. A guard was waiting [there]. Airport security was divided into people in uniform and those who you wouldn’t call anything else other than “looking like civilians.”
[They] waited to escort us separately, the situation was getting heated right in front of our eyes. At first, they wanted to take us through a “green corridor.” But there wasn’t enough time. Literally one woman went through the metal detector and X-ray, and they sent everyone outside to the bus.
There were around 20 of us, a few under 30 [people], no more. Many families. Just like the official sources say, there was a child on a ventilator.
The bus was very chaotic, all of us with our suitcases, children. It took a long time for the driver to be able to close the backdoor. It’s not clear whether he could see or not, whether he was afraid everyone was on board or not, but they were yelling loudly for that door to be closed.
He was initially taking us to a plane going to Moscow, but as we drove, a crowd ran after us. We drove for quite a while, but the people didn’t get tired and were running behind our bus. They ran with the Palestinian flag, yelling, “Brothers, brothers!”
People on the bus yelled out to them that we’re Russian, showing our red passports, yelling which cities we’re from: Ufa, Yekaterinburg, Perm, Moscow. Almost everyone was Russian, but many had dual passports. There was one person from Israel who didn’t speak much Russian.
At one point, the bus stopped and they surrounded us. They threw rocks and broke the glass. They were banging on the windows. It was very, very scary. I didn’t see everything since I was sitting in the aisle, and not by the windows. We covered part of the windows with dark curtains.
It felt [like] an eternity, and people outside didn’t listen to what was being said to them. They heard, but they were ignoring it. It was very scary.
At some point, a fire truck was following us. There was no police in sight, but the fire truck came. As if it was preparing in case we would need to be extinguished. [It was all] a bit of a blur. I sent my friends and partner voice messages telling them how much I loved them.
Then they took us to a VIP lounge in the airport. It was more like a two-story VIP building. For a while, they tried to divide us into groups: people going to Makhachkala and people going to other cities.
Somehow, the people in Makhachkala were mixed in with the crowd, and they managed to escape. At least that’s what I heard one of the people responsible for our security say. Out of those who were with us, almost no one was in uniform.
At first, they hoped that those going to Moscow would be able to get on the plane, while others would be given accommodation in the city while they wait. They ushered us to the second floor, we sat hiding from the windows. I couldn’t see how many people were downstairs protecting us, since we were above them.
The crowd was behind a fence — as those who saw it say. We sat there for a very long time. They made a list of everyone there. They photographed our passports. At one point, a group from the crowd was allowed to come to us. [State Duma deputy] Khizri Abakarov, who acted as a negotiator, went up to our floor with this group, with an assistant, I think. Three or four people, no more. They were shown passports and residence permits. They did not reach us on the second floor.
There were many siloviki [security officials] in front of us before we left for the helicopter, but I wouldn’t be able to say when they appeared in the building. At the moment the group of locals came up to us, there was no security. None at all.
[Then], they gave [us] something to drink, eat.
Much later they said, “Helicopter.” They separated us from the luggage, [saying that the luggage] “will come later.” They put everyone on the first bus, told us to duck down, and one of the women said she was told not to take pictures. I didn’t take pictures, but I saw a huge crowd.
The bus driver was again unable to close the middle door. I don’t know what’s up with them. This is where there were sounds of guns and automatic [weapons]. I think it was the security and military [personnel] ensuring that our bus could reach the helicopter. We were loaded into it like sardines. That’s how we got to the military base near Makhachkala.
At the military base, we were told to turn off our phones, and then they took them all away. They gave us a sheet, pillowcase, and rooms for two. Water and rations, which are a separate story altogether. The rooms, too. What can you do, [it’s a] military base.
Those who could, went to sleep. Wake-up call at 6:30 a.m., cold pizza for breakfast. They gave us back our phones, but they said not to take them out of the makeshift envelopes. They put us on two helicopters, 15 people each, so that the luggage would fit, and we flew together to Mineralnye Vody.
In Mineralnye Vody, there was a strange understanding of the situation at the helicopter area of the airfield. As if, despite the lists, endless photos, and almost half a day that had passed since the situation at the airport began, they didn’t realize that we weren’t going to Mineralnye Vody and we needed to go home. Reissuing the tickets took time, and we were pressed for time with our family [situation].
We quickly got tickets on our own, the earliest Aeroflot flight. Since we were the most urgent, they put us into a minibus and drove us to the departures hall and registered us. We sat in the VIP lounge. Almost everyone else us joined us after. We were waiting for the same flight as them.
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Ok just thinking about…
Carmy fucking Berzatto moving back to Chicago and tryna find new places to get produce, but he’s been gone so long and he’s seen so much new shit and now he’s a little bit of a produce snob sue him…he wants to know where to find the good shit, the fresh shit, the home grown basil, the passion fruit and the ethically sourced brown eggs and yeah alright the fucking kombucha too…and he’s in his office with his face in his hands rubbing his forehead raw tryna find a coherent thought through the roaring in his fucking skull thinking “where the fuck is a man supposed to find a good parsnip around here?” and Sydney is getting a cluster headache just watching him, so she blows past him muttering something about a farmers market on south street?
“Huh?”
She backs up, fixes him with one of her looks (part annoyed part wide eyed sincerity) and goes “Carmy, there’s a fucking farmers market in south street, they’ve got the good shit, just go up there and ask for Riot, OK?”
And he’s like what the fuck is a riot but she’s already done with this conversation so he sits there for half a second longer before he goes fuck it, plucks a cigarette from the pack and grabs his coat and hauls ass to south street cuz the way he figures, he needs the fresh air anyway
He makes it down to south and it’s familiar, he remembers the farmers market being a thing when he was a little kid, but the vibe is…different. It’s bigger, there’s more people, and younger people, not just nonna’s slinging pickled vegetables and butter pastries, but hippie mother fuckers with stands full of body butters and tinctures and shiny rocks. It’s less white too, which is a fucking relief, cuz the last thing he needs is some white dude with matted locs and shitty dream catchers tryna loop him into some incoherent hippie pyramid scheme…
He’s got his reservations, all right — sometimes organic doesn’t mean better quality, and he’s looking for new shit, something that’ll get him excited to get his hands on it, looking to speak to someone who knows what they’re talking about, and apparently he’s looking for riot, so he stops at the first stand that catches his eye — with wooden crates full of lush, firm peaches and basil so fresh he can smell it before he sees it, and (holy grail) a fat bunch red spring onion. There’s other stuff too, stuff he can’t quite place — jars of jams he’s never heard of, a bottle of “fire cider”, and yeah, a couple shiny rocks (must be a new wave he’s missed)
“Uh, ‘scuse me…” he mumbles out — the stall owner is facing away from him, rifling through a crate of something in a bunch of metal tins, looking for something “you know where I can find someone called riot?”
They pause at the name, straighten up and turn around and — Carmen’s brain stops working, literally just…operating system crashing, all programs shutting down, complete halt on brain activity…
It’s the deep brown skin, it’s the tattoos littered across the arms and the fingers and up the neck, it’s their icy blonde locs pulled up in a messy bunch atop their head secured with a white bandana, it’s the long black dress that they wear with the slit in the thigh and all the straps and cutouts and the way it’s a little see through so he can see this faint outline of their pretty fucking body, it’s their pretty fucking face with the plush lips and the barbells in their eyebrows and their fucking eyes—
Holy shit, he thinks. What the fuck, he thinks.
“You can find me right here, honey,” they say, voice a little bit low and smoky, like they’re a smoker or a jazz singer or both. Brown eyes, maybe a little amber in the sun — dark rum eyes, sizing him up, looking amused and unimpressed in a way that really shouldn’t be doing it for him, but—
Here he is, getting done up. Just his luck. Exactly what he needs — some new way to feel helpless and hungry…
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[One of the blackjack tables in the casino is crowded, overly so, and the people gathered around it are shouting and arguing over the game. Except this isn’t blackjack, that’s easy to tell even when the crowd is so thick that you can’t even see the table until you’re right up against it. Maybe it’s poker? But, really, it sounds more like an auction.
Right at the head of the table sitting cross legged atop it with a pair of sunglasses over his baggy eyes, the dealer grins and holds up a card, not showing the suit to anyone.]
Fifty chips for an ace?
[He can barely be heard over the general ruckus of the crowd, which only gets louder as they all start clamoring for the dealer’s attention.
It could be worse, the dealer figures. He isn’t dead yet. And he gets to gamble! This trip is amazing!
And this is what anyone would see upon walking into the casino: pure chaos.]
(@therealnoodleman)
(All he wants is a normal workday. Of course that's not gonna happen, right? Of course he has to deal with this shit. Even the casino's loyal staff has fallen to the chaos, craning their necks to get a good look at the source.)
Everyone back up. Back the fuck up!
(Nobody listens. For as loud as Quackity is, the crowd is louder. They continue to scramble, table rocking as the frenzy grows. A stray elbow slams into his stomach. Fine. Fine! He'll play by the riot's rules. Quackity does his fair share of shoving, violent kicks aimed at any visible ankles. Every bit of his patience is tested as he fights to the table's edge.)
What are you–
(What sits across from him has Quackity flinching as if he's been struck. It's worse than any elbowing he endured, worse than anything by far. Everything's the same, save the white streaks in his hair, not unlike Wilbur's. Is it the close proximity to way too many people, or is the room really spinning? Horror makes a home in his gut. He's not going to throw up. No, no, no. Not here, not now. Not in front of him. This can't be happening. No fucking way.)
Karl? Karl?
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