#Could you make Soothing and Rioting devices?????????

[cosmereclysmic]

If emotional pain feels like physical pain could you replicate Odium-numbing-Moash levels of numbing with a Painrial? 🤔🤔🤔

[puckrph]

‘ JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR ‘ STARTERS

taken from the andrew lloyd webber & tim rice musical. i changed some pronouns; feel free to change others as you see fit. most songs are under the cut!

HEAVEN ON THEIR MINDS

‘ my mind is clearer now. ’ ‘ at last, all too well i can see where we all soon will be. ’ ‘ if you strip away the myth from the man, you will see where we all soon will be. ’ ‘ you’ve started to believe the things they say of you. ’ ‘ you really do believe this talk of god is true? ’ ‘ all the good you’ve done will soon get swept away. ’ ‘ you’ve begun to matter more than the things you say. ’ ‘ listen, i don’t like what i see. ’ ‘ all i ask is that you listen to me! ’ ‘ remember, i’ve been your right hand man all along. ’ ‘ you have set them all on fire; they think they’ve found the new messiah, and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong. ’ ‘ they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong. ’ ‘ i remember when this whole thing began. ’ ‘ believe me, my admiration for you hasn’t died. ’ ‘ every word you say gets twisted ‘round some other way, and they’ll hurt you if they think you’ve lied. ’ ‘ you should have stayed a great unknown. ’ ‘ you should have stayed a great unknown. like your father, carving wood: you’d have made good. tables, chairs, and oaken chests would have suited [name] best. ’ ‘ he’d have caused nobody harm. ’ ‘ do you care? don’t you see we must keep in our place? ’ ‘ don’t you see we must keep in our place? we are occupied! have you forgotten how put down we are? ’ ‘ i am frightened by the crowd, for we are getting much too loud, and they’ll crush us if we go too far. ’ ‘ please remember that i want us to live, but it’s sad to see our chances weakening with every hour. ’ ‘ all your followers are blind, too much heaven on their minds! ’ ‘ it was beautiful, but now it’s sour. it’s all gone sour. ’ ‘ he won’t listen to me. ’

WHAT’S THE BUZZ / STRANGE THING MYSTIFYING

‘ what’s the buzz? ’ ‘ why should you want to know? ’ ‘ don’t you mind about the future. don’t you try to think ahead. save tomorrow for tomorrow, think about today instead. ’ ‘ why are you obsessed with fighting times and fates you can’t defy? ’ ‘ if you knew the path we’re riding, you’d understand it less than i. ’ ‘ let me try to cool down your face a bit. ’ ‘ that feels nice. ’ ‘ you alone have tried to give me what i need right here and now. ’ ‘ it seems to me a strange thing, mystifying. ’ ‘ i can understand that she amuses, but to let her stroke you? kiss your hair? ’ ‘ it’s not that i object to her profession. ’ ‘ it doesn’t help us if you’re inconsistent. they only need a small excuse to put us all away. ’ ‘ who are you to criticize me? ’ ‘ if your slate is clean, then you can throw stones. ’ ‘ i’m amazed that men like you can be so shallow, thick, and slow. ’

EVERYTHING’S ALRIGHT

‘ try not to get worried. try not to turn on to problems that upset you. ’ ‘ don’t you know everything’s alright? everything’s fine. ’ ‘ i want you to sleep well tonight. ’ ‘ let the world turn without you tonight. ’ ‘ sleep, and i shall soothe you, calm you and anoint you. ’ ‘ relax, think of nothing tonight. ’ ‘ that could have been saved for the poor. ’ ‘ people who are hungry, people who are starving matter more. ’ ‘ you’ll be lost, you’ll be so sorry when i’m gone. ’

THIS JESUS MUST DIE

‘ the council waits for you. ’ ‘ you know why we are here. we’ve not much time and quite a problem. ’ ‘ he is dangerous. ’ ‘ tell us that you’re who we say you are. ’ ‘ they’re right outside our yard. ’ ‘ we dare not leave him to his own devices. ’ ‘ how can we stop him? ’ ‘ i see bad things arising. ’ ‘ i see blood and destruction, our elimination because of one man. ’ ‘ you have no perception! ’ ‘ the stakes we are gambling are frighteningly high. ’

HOSANNA

‘ won’t you smile at me? ’ ‘ tell the rabble to be quiet; we anticipate a riot. ’ ‘ this common crowd is much too loud. ’ ‘ they are fools, and they are wrong. ’ ‘ nothing can be done to stop the shouting. ’ ‘ if every tongue was still, the noise would still continue. the rocks and stones themselves would start to sing. ’

SIMON ZEALOTES / POOR JERUSALEM

‘ you know i love you. ’ ‘ i believe in you, and god. ’ ‘ what more do you need to convince you? ’ ‘ i am with you. ’ ‘ i am on your side. ’ ‘ there must be over fifty thousand screaming love and more for you. ’ ‘ you’ll get the power and the glory for ever and ever and ever. ’ ‘ if you knew all that i knew, you’d see the truth, but you close your eyes. ’ ‘ to conquer death, you only have to die. ’

PILATE’S DREAM

‘ he had that look you very rarely find; the haunted, hunted kind. ’ ‘ he never said a word. ’ ‘ next the room was full of wild and angry men. ’ ‘ they fell on him and then they disappeared again. ’ ‘ i heard them mentioning my name, and leaving me the blame. ’

THE TEMPLE

‘ roll on up, for my price is down. ’ ‘ come on in for the best in town. ’ ‘ you, at least, are still alive. ’ ‘ name your pleasure, i will sell. ’ ‘ i can fix your wildest needs: i got heaven, and i got hell. ’ ‘ my time is almost through. ’ ‘ i’ve tried for three years. seems like thirty. ’ ‘ i believe you can make me whole. ’ ‘ will you mend me? ’ ‘ there’s too little of me. ’

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE HIM

‘ i don’t know how to love you. ’ ‘ i don’t know how to love you. what to do, how to move you. ’ ‘ i’ve been changed. ’ ‘ in these past few days, when i’ve seen myself, i seem like someone else. ’ ‘ i don’t know how to take this. i don’t know why you move me. ’ ‘ you’re a man. you’re just a man, and i’ve had so many men before. in very many ways, you’re just one more. ’ ‘ should i bring you down, should i scream and shout? should i speak of love, let my feelings out? ’ ‘ i never thought i’d come to this. ’ ‘ don’t you think it’s rather funny i should be in this position? i’m the one who’s always been so calm, so cool. no lover’s fool. ’ ‘ you scare me so. ’ ‘ if you said you loved me, i’d be lost; i’d be frightened. i couldn’t cope. i’d turn my head, i’d back away. i wouldn’t want to know. you scare me so. i want you so. i love you so. ’ ‘ i love you so. ’

DAMNED FOR ALL TIME / BLOOD MONEY

‘ if i help you, it matters that you see these sordid kinds of things are coming hard to me. ’ ‘ it’s taken me some time to work out what to do. ’ ‘ i really didn’t come here of my own accord. ’ ‘ just don’t say i’m damned for all time. ’ ‘ why are we the prophets? why are we the ones who see the sad solution, know what must be done? ’ ‘ cut the protesting, forget the excuses. ’ ‘ we want information; get up off the floor. ’ ‘ i don’t want your blood money! ’ ‘ think of the things you can do with that money: choose any charity, give to the poor. ’ ‘ this isn’t blood money. it’s a fee, nothing more. ’ ‘ well done, [name]. ’

THE LAST SUPPER

‘ look at all my trials and tribulations, sinking in a gentle pool of wine. ’ ‘ till “this evening” is “this morning,” life is fine. ’ ‘ the end is just a little harder when brought about by friends. ’ ‘ my name will mean nothing ten minutes after i’m dead! ’ ‘ cut the dramatics! ’ ‘ why don’t you go do it? ’ ‘ you want me to do it? ’ ‘ to think i admired you! now, i despise you. ’ ‘ you liar! you judas! ’ ‘ what if i just stayed here and ruined your ambition? christ, you deserve it! ’ ‘ hurry, you fool, hurry and go. save me your speeches, i don’t wanna know. go! ’ ‘ see where you’ve brought us to: our ideals die around us, all because of you. ’ ‘ get out! they’re waiting for you! ’ ‘ every time i look at you, i don’t understand why you let the things you did get so out of hand. you’d have managed better if you’d had it planned- ’ ‘ will no-one stay awake with me? ’

GETHSEMANE

‘ i only want to say - if there is a way - ’ ‘ i have changed. i’m not as sure as when we started. ’ ‘ then, i was inspired. now, i’m sad and tired. ’ ‘ surely i’ve exceeded expectations? ’ ‘ could you ask as much from any other man? ’ ‘ why should i die? would i be more noticed than i ever was before? would the things i’ve said and done matter any more? ’ ‘ if i die, what will be my reward? ’ ‘ can you show me now that i would not be killed in vain? ’ ‘ show me there’s a reason for your wanting me to die. you’re far too keen on “where” and “how,” and not so hot on “why.” ’ ‘ why, then, am i scared to finish what i started? what you started! i didn’t start it! ’ ‘ your will is hard, but you hold every card. ’ ‘ break me, bleed me, beat me, kill me, take me now. before i change my mind. ’

THE ARREST

‘ they’re all asleep, the fools. ’ ‘ put away your sword. don’t you know that it’s all over? ’ ‘ why are you obsessed with fighting? ’ ‘ that’s what you say that i am. ’ ‘ what more evidence do we need? ’ ‘ stay a while, and you’ll see him bleed. ’

PETER’S DENIAL

‘ i recognize your face. ’ ‘ i tell you, i was never, ever with him. ’ ‘ i don’t know him! ’ ‘ you’ve gone and cut him dead. ’ ‘ i had to do it, don’t you see? or else they’d go for me. ’

PILATE AND CHRIST

‘ who is this broken man cluttering up my hallway? who is this unfortunate? ’ ‘ you are so small, not a king at all. ’ ‘ you’re deep in trouble, friend. ’ ‘ how can someone in your state be so cool about your fate? ’ ‘ you had everything. where is it now? ’

KING HEROD’S SONG (TRY IT AND SEE)

‘ i am overjoyed to meet you face to face. you’ve been getting quite a name all around the place. ’ ‘ you are all we talk about, the wonder of the year! ’ ‘ oh, what a pity if it’s all a lie. ’ ‘ i’m dying to be shown that you are not just any man. ’ ‘ aren’t you scared of me? ’ ‘ you are nothing but a fraud! ’ ‘ get out of my life! ’

JUDAS’ DEATH

‘ my god! i saw him - he looked three-quarters dead! and he was so bad, i had to turn my head. ’ ‘ i know who everybody’s gonna blame. ’ ‘ i’d save him all this suffering if i could. ’ ‘ i’d save you all this suffering if i could. ’ ‘ i don’t understand why you’re filled with remorse. ’ ‘ all that you’ve said has come true with a vengeance. ’ ‘ you’ll be remembered forever for this. ’ ‘ pretty good wages for one little kiss. ’ ‘ i only did what you wanted me to. ’ ‘ i’d sell out the nation! ’ ‘ i’d sell out the nation! for i have been saddled with the murder of you. ’ ‘ i have been spattered with innocent. i shall be dragged through the slime and the mud. ’ ‘ when you’re cold and dead, will you let me be? do you love me too? do you care for me? ’ ‘ my mind is in darkness now. ’ ‘ i am sick! i’ve been used! ’ ‘ you knew all the time! ’ ‘ i’ll never ever know why you chose me for your crime. ’ ‘ you have murdered me! ’

TRIAL BEFORE PILATE

‘ we have no law to put a man to death. ’ ‘ do you have the first idea why you deserve it? ’ ‘ i’m through, through, through. ’ ‘ there may be a kingdom for me somewhere - if i only knew. ’ ‘ i look for truth, and find that i get damned. ’ ‘ but what is truth? is truth unchanging law? we both have truths - are mine the same as yours? ’ ‘ he’s done no wrong - no, not the slightest thing! ’ ‘ why do you not speak when i have your life in my hands? how can you stay quiet? ’ ‘ everything is fixed, and you can’t change it. ’ ‘ you have a duty to keep the peace. ’ ‘ don’t let me stop your great self destruction! ’ ‘ die if you want to, you misguided martyr. ’ ‘ i wash my hands of your demolition. ’

SUPERSTAR

‘ don’t you get me wrong. i only want to know. ’ ‘ who are you? ’ ‘ what have you sacrificed? ’ ‘ do you think you’re what they say you are? ’ ‘ did you mean to die like that? ’ ‘ was that a mistake? ’

THE CRUCIFIXION

‘ they don’t know what they’re doing. ’ ‘ who is my mother? where is my mother? ’ ‘ i’m thirsty. i’m thirsty. ’ ‘ it is finished. ’

[night-rook]

Sinful Delivery | Feitan Porter x Reader |

Word Count: 2709 Reader Type: Neutral Gender, Media Influencer, Model Story Type: Modern AU setting Beware: Sexual thoughts, BDSM, Curse words Summary: Reader is doing some media distancing due to harmassments. Feitan just happens to be the delivery guy on the day they wanted takeout.

Key terms: (Y/N) = Your name (H/C) = Hair Color (S/C) = Skin color (E/C) = Eye Color (F/F) = Favorite Food (S/F/F) = Second Favorite Food (S/N) = Screen Name (B/T) = Body Type (B/H) = Body Height

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A pair of empty eyes stared at the grimy ceiling. The pools of (E/C) reflected a blank canvas as they laid on the large bed. Their body felt frozen to the touch, almost as cold as a corpse. Taking in small breathes to fill their lungs, they closed their eyes and listened to the white noise of the room.

Their name is (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). Yes, That (Y/F/N). The infamous media influencer who specialized in dark styles of romance. Hacking to the fetishes that everyone is too scared or embarrassed by and bringing it out with their photos. Posing and modeling from all levels. If there was something out there, they were the first to act on it. Taking photos for the eyes of the dark. From innocent acts of bondage in bed to heavy blood draining, (Y/N) had a photo for the media.

Then, why were they laying in bed? Why were they alone?

There were numerous rumors that the model was faking their stats. Editing everything to where it looked realistic. Each photograph was nothing more than a scam of a freak who sought attention. As the rumors spread like wildfire across the internet platform, (Y/N)’s publicist advised them to stay away from the media until everything settled down. Their whole career was on hold because some people thought they were posers.

So, here they are laying in their loft condo and keeping a low profile. The (H/C) would go out for the usual grocery trips and daily exercise. Despite the dark cloud of their career, (Y/N) was a humble person and had a simple lifestyle. They just happened to have an interesting career path that differs from the norms. Boredom had become unavoidable these past few weeks, taking a toll on their adventurous spirit.

“Maybe I should have taken Gon’s than the Troupe Café,” (Y/N) mumbled and slowly sat up. “But, I’m kinda tired of the usual (F/F).”

Finally getting up from the bed, they stretched their limbs out into the air as they let out a huff of breath. Shaking off the sleepy dust from their body while walking down the stairs. (Y/N) looked at the clock that hung by the staircase. Its second hand ticking away while the minute hand was just barely moving.

Knock Knock, knock

Three rapid yet vigorous knocks caught their attention from the time. A smile broke across their (S/C) face as they walked to the door. Turning the knob, (Y/N) was greeted by a rather gloomy looking male. Being (B/H), the model was puzzled by the rather short male. His grey eyes stared at them, waiting for them to make a move. An austere expression was painted on his pale face.

“Are you gonna take it or not, dumbass. I don’t have all day.” the monotone voice seemed to match his demeanor. He held up a black bag that contained (S/F/F).

Shaking their head, the model took the delivery bag and left the door open. They got a whiff of food before setting it down on the living table to get the money. (Y/N) hummed happily at the thought of eating the heavenly meal but also for the change.

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As (Y/N) was gone, the male’s eyes narrowed slightly as something felt odd about the whole situation. The customer looked strangely similar to someone he followed online. He dug his hand into his pocket just as his phone vibrated. Pulling out the device, he internally grunted at the notification from Phinks. He pressed the text chat to read what was sent, probably a stupid excuse for not wanting to work. Reading the text in the grey bubble, the gloomy dressed male blinked before realizing what was said.

Lazy Fucker, 2:55 pm

Dude! Feitan! I remember where I saw that name. Ya know the model whose fan base is rioting? THAT’S THE CUSTOMER WHO ORDERED!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING LUCKY YOU SCORED?!?!

*read

Feitan felt a slight flinch in his gut. The universe had randomly granted him the opportunity to come across his favorite pastime. He knew of (S/N) and the alleged rumors against them. The short man didn’t care for what was said about the photoshopping because he knows real authentic torture when he sees it. Every drop of blood that dripped from their (S/C) (Y/H) body. Each cut that is made on their (B/T). He never doubted the reality that (S/N) performed.

When he heard and read about the accusations made about their work of art, his anger hit sky high. His blood boiled like magma, the more absurd every claim got. The day (S/N) went offline, Feitan’s hunger became unsatisfied. His entire Trevor Brown collection couldn’t fill the craving that rested deep inside his coal heart. There was just something in the model’s performance that made him growl in pleasure. His irritation followed him from home to work every day for the past couple of weeks.

“Here you go! I’m so sorry for making you wait this long. I misplaced my wallet.” they laughed and rubbed the back of their head due to the embarrassment.

He only grunted and took the payment, counting the bills to ensure it was correct. Underneath his bandana, an eerie smile made its way onto his apathetic face. Their voice was just so soothing and light, the perfect pitch to hear moans from in private. The more he stared at them, the stronger his desire grew. Feitan slipped the money into his pocket before deciding to speak.

“You’re (S/N), correct. Why haven’t you said anything about the bullshit,” he asked. Well, honestly, it was more like a demand than asking.

(Y/N) was about to close the door until he spoke up. Blinking at his bold words, they were confused about what told of them. Oh, he’s a fan…  they realized. Placing a hand on their hip, the model gave his words some thought. They were surprised the delivery guy knew who they were, giving they weren’t exactly in costume. They were only wearing a plain (F/C) shirt and shorts while their (H/L) (H/C) hair wasn’t styled.

With a smile, (Y/N) answered, “I can’t change anyone’s mind on what they see. Our perspectives are different, so I rather just let them believe what they want to believe.”

Feitan frowned at them. Their answer didn't sound convincing to him. His grey eyes stared at them more, searching for something. “It’s obvious that those scumbags are just picking for a reaction. Probably waiting for a suicide announcement about you.”

This time, his words did make their stomach turn. It was unnoticeable when their account got negative comments or when their inbox was spammed with death threats. (Y/N) did their best to avoid them and ignore the pessimistic thoughts that came with every troll. Yet, the words aimed at them did hate their self-esteem. It was when the rumors started to take effect did they finally get time to feel peace. The media distancing helped the depressing cloud clear up above their head.

“Want to join me for lunch? My legs are standing to ache from just standing and the food is gonna get cold,” (Y/N) smiled while pointing at the couch behind them, “ I can ask all your questions while we eat if that’s okay with you.”

Feitan nodded and walked inside the apartment. He took a few glances around the place and took notice of how moderate it looked. If he could bluntly say it, the place looked like a boring image in a magazine you could find in an office. Taking a seat on the leather armchair, the gloomy male sat and waited for the other to join him.

Getting some plates and drinks from the kitchen, the (Y/H) model went to the living area and served him some (S/F/F). The two ate in silence for a bit and got acquainted with each other’s presence. Feitan observed them some more, his eyes never leaving their body.

"Well, are you going to talk or not." Feitan scowled, glaring menacingly as his patience was going thin.

(Y/N) sweatdrop at his impatience, but took a drink of their soda. Their mind playing back the beginning of the chaos and the events leading to isolation. Recalling the confusion when their publicist instructed them to make the accounts private and go offline. The devastation they felt later followed when they read the article claims against them. The model simply felt their heart crack from the madness.

"I was told to sit and be quiet until things settle. These few weeks haven't been great. The assaults are still going and I can't do anything," (Y/N) sighed and stared at their drink. "I am- sort of- at a breaking point. No matter how strong the bubble I'm in, the insults make me crack and it hurts. I had ideas! I was going for approval but then got told to be quiet so the adults can talk."

Feitan leaned back into his seat and listened to them rant out their pinned up frustrations. From what he saw, it seemed to bother them that they were seen as a fraud. He watched the way their arms moved as they spoke and how their clothes would reveal the hidden story. His grey eyes took in the faint scars and discoloration on their (S/C). Fighting back a growl, the gloomy male set his plate down and got the model's attention.

"Fuck what those bastards say. Do what you want and show them everything." he smiled at the visible shiver they had.

(E/C) eyes glanced up to meet with metal eyes. Despite the coldness in them, the model could see just a small flicker of light. It was a small light, small but it was enough to make something in (Y/N)'s mind snap. The small click of gears before complete clockwork began to shift inside them.

He was right! Why did they have to be put in the corner when all they were doing was their passion?! Why were they being punished?!

(Y/N) looked straight at the short male. Their eyes reflecting the newfound determination and that same emotion cause him to smirk with interest. What he heard did catch him and made his inner desire water with hunger.

"I want a tape of real-time punishment. So, seeing as you are well aware of my work, I take you to know what to do?" they innocently smiled.

The gloomy spider leaned forward from his seat. His eyes darkening with a cloud of cruel lechery with every passing moment he stared at them. His mouth watered at all the methods that came to mind with how he will have them beneath him. To hear their cries, witness their tears, the expressions that cute face can make... Oh, how fate gave him an angel in a devil's clothing. Pulling down his bandana, he smirked at the model.

There it was again!

The cold chill when he smiled at them. (Y/N) might have picked the perfect candidate for a partner. At least for the project... maybe. Getting up from their seat, they grabbed his hand and led him upstairs.

"Let's get started, shall we."

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Upon the release of the video, four months had passed by. The video had gained a couple of million views and thousands of comments. Whether the attention was positive or negative, (Y/N) had no clue but Feitan did. He read through the comment section and was amused by the words.

Feitan was on his break and sitting at a table, a cup of forgotten tea sat in front of him. He scrolled through the section with an entertaining smile on his face. His eyes squinted up as he grinned with each passing comment. The spider worker enjoys the memory of that evening. It was his absolute favorite and it was something he looked back to whenever he watched the video.

He can recall how he felt with each scene as it plays out. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins with burning aspiration. How he wanted to make (Y/N) submit and to feel those agonizing vehemence. He wanted to keep hearing the moans and cries they made with each whip. The lewd face they made when he flogged their bareback. The way their body tense and pull on the restraints when he made a deeper cut.

Phinks and Shalnark were a bit disturbed when the short man came back to their shared apartment into the next morning. He was grinning menacingly while his clothes were covered in blood. Who's blood exactly, that was unclear. Both males watched him enter the apartment before vanishing into his room for the rest of the day. Endless to say, they shrugged it off and believed some poor stranger just wasn't lucky.

"Hey, Feitan! Can you take my shift real quick? I need to use the restroom, please. Please! Please!" The blond whined a bit.

The gloomy male grunted before heading back into the kitchen to tag him out. As he worked, he didn't hear the bell chime of the front entrance. He cooked until a soft voice caught his attention.

"Ello! I'll like small grey ice cream with a dash of sadistic sparkles." they happily chirped. Smiling as brightly as ever from the other side of the bar window.

Feitan looked up from the stove and hummed in acknowledgment. He turned his attention back to the food as (Y/N) took a seat on one of the stools. Their (E/C) eyes shined with the same happiness while watching him cook. The comfortable silence around them was pleasant and neither wanted to break it too. Until Phinks came back and stared at the new face before realizing who they were.

"FEITAN!! It's that model!!" he managed to shout despite the small space.

The short man remained stoic while (Y/N) giggled at the blond's reaction. Feitan grabbed the blond's shirt collar and pulled him into the kitchen to take back his job. Feitan grabbed two drinks and walked out of the kitchen. Handing one drink over to (Y/N), the short man took a seat by them.

"What brings you here." he finally asked after a few sips of beer.

Setting their glass down, (Y/N) turned to face him before tilting their head a bit. They were a bit confused by his questionable demand but then sat up when they remembered the reason for their sudden arrival. Turning to pull out a notebook from their bag, the cheerful model set it on the counter and turned to the desired page.

"I got another idea and wanted to see if you could help. I was thinking of an ice bath this time, but I want your opinion since your nasty little mind was the brilliance behind the video," they showed the page to Feitan and slid the notebook to him. "The agency will cover the cost if you have something else in mind. They even want to ask if you wish to apply. Seeing as you like a natural on camera and how fans reacted."

Feitan looked over the information on the page while listening to the (B/H) model. He could get paid for tormenting them with his dark fantasies. He smiled at them and slid the notebook back to them. Nodding, he finished his drink and looked at them with the same eyes as the day they met.

"Yes! You're the absolute best! I'll text you when the due date is and we can meet up this weekend to see when you got." (Y/N) grinned before jumping off their seat.

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Feitan's smile vanished after they said goodbye. He returned to his expressionless husk and decided to clock back in. When he was about to get back to work, his blond roommate finally spoke up and questioned the gloomy spider on what had just happened.

He simply shrugged and went back to his job. His eyes squinted as a grin hid under his bandana. "Just my pet wanting approval."

The blond nodded but quickly snapped his head to look behind him and stare at the man in shock. Since when did he manage to hook up with someone before Shalnark or himself?! Turning back around, Phinks frowned and grudgingly had to pay Shalnark when they closed the café for losing the bet.

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[healnsoothereview]

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[cyberneticlagomorph]

On the second day of the apocalypse, in the darkened silence of this endless and frozen night, there came a great shattering noise like the bones of soldiers against cold steel.

And from that shattering came a voice across the airwaves. 

Soothing and soft, comforting and kind.

On every screen, and stream, and audio app, there was a man. A man in a crisp, black suit, with eyes as red as the ever present moon. 

A newscaster that seemed like a stranger and an old friend at the same time.

He had no pupils, no irises, just a sea of deep bloody red that made viewers sweat and squirm, but they dare not look away. What if they missed something important? 

His teeth were too straight, too white, too perfect, and his face seemed to swim and change at a moment's notice. One second a ravenous beast, and a familiar face the next. 

He spoke of the horrors going on outside, of disease rampant in the streets, of riots, murders, and suffering. He spoke of safe places in the bowels of frozen cities, and Conglomerate-issued evacuation orders to secret bunkers buried in the snow.

"Available spaces are limited, and only available to the healthy and able bodied. Anyone sick attempting to enter a municipal bunker will be turned away, or worse… please note that you will be screened for disease at the door, no use trying to lie about it, so stay home… even if one member of your family tests positive, you will all be treated as if you are infected and will be turned away." 

Unbeknownst to the public, Cardboard Fish (the mega corporation responsible for all media) was desperately trying to shut this stranger down. 

This was not an authorized broadcast.

Who the fuck was this guy?

Why did looking at him feel like nausea and anxiety and fear given a shape?

The bunkers and horrors were true, yes, but turning away the sick and disabled was a blatant lie. Anyone sick would be quarantined and used to help find a cure to whatever this new plague was. The disabled were people too, the CEO knew that as well as anyone, they'd grown up sickly and blind and had a special place in their black heart for kids like them.

They'd never turn away someone like that.

The newscaster's feed seemed to be alive and fighting them, crashing their tech every time they thought they had a handle on things.

"Hungry?" Said the newscaster, "Eat rats! Studies have shown that due to the sudden cold snap, millions of cold, hungry rats have entered human homes in search of food and warmth." 

The CEO of Cardboard Fish gagged at the thought, skin crawling as they remembered the report they'd received from a scientist on staff. Rats were a vector for this new disease, not just their fleas this time, but their blood and saliva too. Cooking wouldn't kill the infection, you'd have to reduce the entire creature to ash… and they weren't even sure THAT would work. 

Doctors and scientists watched in horror as the newscaster continued, "Don't share your supplies with vermin, eat them and save the good stuff for later." 

Viewers watched, and listened, and obeyed. 

They stayed glued to their screens as they caught rats for their meals, and culled anyone they thought were sick. 

A cough or a sniffle or a sneeze was a death sentence already, but murder at the hands of a loved one was mercy… that's what the newscaster said, so that's what they believed.  

The man spoke in the soft, dark voices at the back of everyone's mind and wore the faces of people close to them. He told them secrets, and lies, and dark truths that were never meant to see the light of day… 

And people RAGED.

They'd hear the newscaster speak, and suddenly they'd be covered in blood, not knowing why.

What did they do… where are the neighbors?

Mom?

Dad?

Honey? 

The dog?

The kids?

The broadcast refused to go down and stayed on at all hours, on every channel, on every device. 

There was no escape. 

Even just turning things off didn't work, you'd only last a few minutes before the paranoia sank its teeth into your skull and made you feel like you were missing something important. And you were… you always were. 

With the second seal broken, the newscaster named War sat in his studio, straightened his bowtie and spread his propaganda as far as it would go. The waxy air was thick with blood and smoke and suffering, and he loved every second of it. 

Pestilence took the form of a worried mother and sat beside War, speaking of sickness and death. 

She warned of tainted facemasks, and poisoned vaccines. 

She called doctors murderers and said that this was all their fault. 

She prescribed oils, and crystals, and washing your weeping wounds in vinegar. 

Nothing you could not make or steal or find was to be trusted. The plague would run its course, just stay home and have a bowl of rat soup.

You'll feel better in the morning. 

[sosei]

Commentaries on the Epigraphs of Rhythm of War - Part 1

The first set of epigraphs are transcriptions from a lecture on fabrial mechanics by Navani, presented to the coalition of monarchs in Urithiru. While it does not contain any Big Sweeping implications for the Cosmere as a while, like some of the later ones do, it does present some interesting information.

I will not be avoiding spoilers for RoW, or any other cosmere works published as of December 2020.

"First, you must get a spren to approach. The type of gemstone is relevant; some spren are naturally more intrigued by certain gemstones. In addition, it is essential to calm the spren with something it knows and loves. A good fire for a flamespren, for example, is a must."

A good place to start to set a tone for the lecture, both in and out of universe. This is well known and established from the previous book. But as its been a few years since then, it doesn’t hurt to refresh the audience.

"Next, let the spren inspect your trap. The gemstone must not be fully infused, but also cannot be fully dun. Experiments have concluded that seventy percent of maximum Stormlight capacity works best. If you have done your work correctly, the spren will become fascinated by its soon-to-be prison. It will dance around the stone, peek at it, float around it."

"The final step in capturing spren is the most tricky, as you must remove the Stormlight from the gemstone. The specific techniques employed by each artifabrian guild are closely guarded secrets, entrusted only to their most senior members. The easiest method would be to use a larkin—a type of cremling that feasts on Stormlight. That would be wonderful and convenient if the creatures weren’t now almost entirely extinct. The wars in Aimia were in part over these seemingly innocent little creatures."

"To draw Stormlight out of a gemstone, I use the Arnist Method. Several large empty gemstones are brought close to the infused one while the spren is inspecting it. Stormlight is slowly absorbed from a small gemstone by a very large gemstone of the same type—and several together can draw the Light out quickly. The method’s limitation is, of course, the fact that you need not merely acquire one gemstone for your fabrial, but several larger ones to withdraw the Stormlight. Other methods must exist, as proven by the extremely large gemstone fabrials created by the Vriztl Guild out of Thaylenah. If Her Majesty would please repeat my request to the guild, this secret is of vital importance to the war effort."

"If the Stormlight in a gemstone is withdrawn quickly enough, a nearby spren can be sucked into the gemstone. This is caused by a similar effect to a pressure differential, created by the sudden withdrawal of Stormlight, though the science of the two phenomena are not identical. You will be left with a captured spren, to be manipulated as you see fit."

This set of epigraphs establishes how spren (and other things) can be trapped in gemstones, as well as how one can move Stormlight (and as we learn later, other invested lights) between containers. 

The theory behind the former former employ what is effectively a magical pressure differential in order to trap the spren, which I personally find quite interesting. The Thaylen method for the latter becomes important later on in the book in multiple ways.

Finally, the last sentence feels like it has an unintended bite to it. Which comes into play later, as humanity’s usage of capturing spren and using them for their own gain is brought into question.

"With a captured spren, you may begin designing a proper fabrial. It is a closely guarded secret of artifabrians that spren, when trapped, respond to different types of metals in different ways. A wire housing for the fabrial, called a “cage,” is essential to controlling the device."

Here is where the real interesting bit begins, as metals are a big part of the Scadrian magic systems. Beginning a trend in this book of tying into whats going on in Mistborn moreso than ever before.

"The two metals of primary significance are zinc and brass, which allow you to control expression strength. Zinc wires touching the gemstone will cause the spren inside to more strongly manifest, while brass will cause the spren to withdraw and its power to dim. Remember that a gemstone must be properly infused following the spren’s capture. Drilled holes in the gemstone are ideal for proper use of the cage wires, so long as you don’t crack the structure and risk releasing the spren."

The applications of these metals and their differences are perfectly in line with the allomantic properties of zinc and brass. Zinc being a “pulling” metal that riots emotions and brass being a “pushing” metal that soothes them. As such they “pull” and “push” on the properties of spren, a sizable category of which are drawn towards emotions.

"A bronze cage can create a warning fabrial, alerting one to objects or entities nearby. Heliodors are being used for this currently, and there is some good reasoning for this—but other gemstones should be viable."

Once again: this lines up with the metal’s allomantic usage. Allomantic bronze allows one to detect the usage of allomancy nearby. Supposedly a person burning allomantic bronze could also detect other investitures, but the specifics of this have yet to be discovered.

I can extrapolate that a copper cage can be used to hide oneself from detection from the bronze version of these fabrials.

"A pewter cage will cause the spren of your fabrial to express its attribute in force—a flamespren, for example, will create heat. We call these augmenters. They tend to use Stormlight more quickly than other fabrials."

Lines up with the allomantic usage of pewter quite well, as its a pushing metal that increases one’s physical capabilities when burned. Makes one’s body able to do More.

"A tin cage will cause the fabrial to diminish nearby attributes. A painrial, for example, can numb pain. Note that advanced designs of cages can use both steel and iron as well, changing the fabrial’s polarity depending on which metals are pushed to touch the gemstone."

This one, sadly, does not work as well, as tin sharpens the burner’s senses in allomancy. But as its the pulling metal to pewter’s pushing, it makes sense that it would have this effect in fabrials. Perhaps if you interpret the pairs allomantic effects as “strengthens/weakens the body’s capability to resist external stimuli” it makes more sense? But that’s kind of a stretch.

"An iron cage will create an attractor—a fabrial that draws specific elements to itself. A properly created smoke fabrial, for example, can gather the smoke of a fire and hold it close.

New discoveries lead us to believe it is possible to create a repeller fabrial, but we don’t yet know the metal to use to achieve this feat."

Allomantic iron pulls on nearby sources of metal, so it makes perfect sense that attractor fabrials work the same way. 

I remember sitting up straighter in my chair when I read the second bit, because any reader of Mistborn should be able to tell you which metal would be iron’s opposite. The answer is steel, which in allomancy pushes nearby sources of metal.

Sidenote: I’m surprised there is no comment that these metal pairs are always “natural metal and alloy”. Though I suspect that that might be in party due to Rosharans getting a lot of their metal via soulcasting as opposed to traditional metallurgy...

"One of my pleas is for artifabrians to stop shrouding fabrial techniques with so much mystery. Many decoy metals are used in cages, and wires are often plated to look like a different metal, with the express intent of confusing those who might try to learn the process through personal study. This might enrich the artifabrian, but it impoverishes us all."

The sharing of information is a Theme this book, and this is expressed fairly early.

"Advanced fabrials are created using several different techniques. Conjoined fabrials require a careful division of the gemstone—and the spren inside. If performed correctly, the two halves will continue to behave as a single gemstone. Note that rubies and flamespren are traditional for this purpose— as they have proven the easiest to divide, and the quickest in response times. Other types of spren do not split as evenly, as easily, or at all."

I suspect this has to do with how fire spreads, and thus how we view it.

"All gemstones leak Stormlight at a slow rate—but so long as the crystal structure remains mostly intact, the spren cannot escape. Managing this leakage is important, as many fabrials also lose Stormlight through operation. All of this is tied up in the intricacies of the art. As is understanding one last vital kind of spren: logicspren."

"Logicspren react curiously to imprisonment. Unlike other spren, they do not manifest some attribute—you cannot use them to make heat, or to warn of nearby danger, or conjoin gemstones. For years, artifabrians considered them useless—indeed, experimenting with them was uncommon, since logicspren are rare and difficult to capture. A breakthrough has come in discovering that logicspren will vary the light they radiate based on certain stimuli. For example, if you make the Light leak from the gemstone at a controlled rate, the spren will alternate dimming and brightening in a regular pattern. This has led to fabrial clocks. When the gemstone is tapped with certain metals, the light will also change states from bright to dim. This is leading to some very interesting and complex mechanisms."

Oh hey, an explanation on how the fabrial clocks work! Neat.

"My final point of the evening is a discussion of Fused weapons. The Fused use a variety of fabrial devices to fight Radiants. It is obvious from how quickly they’ve fabricated and employed these countermeasures that they have used these in the past."

"The simplest Fused weapon against us isn’t truly a fabrial, but instead a metal that is extremely light and can withstand the blows of a Shardblade. This metal resists being Soulcast as well; it interferes with a great number of Radiant powers. Fortunately, the Fused seem unable to create it in great quantities—for they equip only themselves, and not their average soldiers, with these wonders."

This metal is aluminium, a metal we’ve known for a while messes with every magic system in the cosmere. It is also called ralkalest both by the Fused and on Sel, which has interesting implications for the languages in the cosmere. Especially with how the herald Shalash’s name lines up with certain Aons.

"The Fused have a second metal I find fascinating—a metal that conducts Stormlight. The implications for this in the creation of fabrials are astounding. The Fused use this metal in conjunction with a rudimentary fabrial—a simple gemstone, but without a spren trapped inside. How they pull Stormlight out of a Radiant and into this sphere remains baffling. My scholars think they must be employing an Investiture differential. If a gemstone is full of Stormlight—or, I assume, Voidlight—and that Light is removed quickly, it creates a pressure differential (or a kind of vacuum) in the gemstone. This remains merely a theory."

I originally suspected that this was one of the enhancement metals, perhaps duralumin, given its placement after aluminium in this lecture. But was eventually proven wrong. Which is good, since what the metal ended up being was way more appropriate.

The pressure differential theory is interesting, but ultimately incorrect. But it goes to show that these people are making an assumption based on how their tech works. A sound one based on their knowledge, but ultimately an incorrect one.

"The world becomes an increasingly dangerous place, and so I come to the crux of my argument. We cannot afford to keep secrets from one another any longer. The Thaylen artifabrians have private techniques relating to how they remove Stormlight from gems and create fabrials around extremely large stones. I beg the coalition and the good people of Thaylenah to acknowledge our collective need. I have taken the first step by opening my research to all scholars. I pray you will see the wisdom in doing the same."

Another mention of the Thaylen secrets, to hammer in that they have them before they become relevant. Once again bringing up the theme of sharing knowledge.

[meganshinsou-tm]

Vermilion. (m)

↳ chapter thirteen: coming clean

❧ genre:  pro-hero’s bakugou/kirishima, poly, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: none

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

You stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. It was humid in the bathroom so you opened the door to let in some cool air. Your hand wiped the fog from the mirror and saw your flushed cheeks, strands of your (h/c) locks sticking to your damp skin. Eyes rimmed red that seemed to glisten from your quiet crying in the shower. Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink as you looked down and got lost in thought.

You were falling in love with two different men. Two men who meant so much to each other.

However they were both falling for you in return, you weren’t blind to that but - how could that even work?

“(Y/N)!”

A raspy yet bright voice broke your thoughts and you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked back up at the mirror and saw Kirishima in it standing next to you. You looked at him with a blank expression from being pulled out of a daze.

“I’m sorry what?” You asked searching his handsome features.

Kirishima’s eyes widened and he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, uh yeah I’m fine Red,” you faked a smile and walked past him, heading towards your room.

The hero grunted in aggravation as he followed behind you and grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry but I call bullshit, your eyes are red.”

You rolled said eyes, “ What a perceptive bastard,” you thought and jerked your wrist from his hold.

“I need to get dressed Eijirou, so can you just give me a moment?”

Your change in attitude seemed to set off the red-head, his sweet and calm demeanor now changed to upset and annoyed. You made it to your door, opening it and tried to slam it in his face but he hardened his foot and stopped the door, his hand hardened as well and gripped the wood, crushing it.

“Shit,” he murmured to himself, now opening the door wider as he walked in your room. “What the hell (Y/N)? Talk to me - what’s wrong?”

Kirishima questioned as you looked through your clothes and found some underwear and slipped them on under your towel.

“It's nothing, just forget it!”

You pushed past him again and went back down the hall to his room and started to look through his clothes.

"Look, either you tell me or I'll annoy the fuck out of you about it, I'm pretty damn persistent so make a choice!"

Turning to face Kirishima, you glared at him and rolled your eyes, making him growl, it was usually a cute thing but at the moment it was infuriating. Finally you gave up, knowing damn good and well that the red-head would in fact annoy the ever loving shit out of you until he got his answer.

"Look - I'm just tired of being turned down constantly lately alright? It - It doesn't feel great you know!"

“Babe, it’s not what you think, I swear. I’m interested - really fucking interested, if you haven’t noticed I’m fucking nuts about you and so is Bakugou!”

You heard what he said, but it was hard to believe at the moment with how emotional you were becoming, exhaustion was making you irrational. You sighed and found the shirt you were looking for. It was just a plain black shirt that said 'Red Riot' on it. You’d steal it every chance you got, especially to sleep in. It was big and comfy on you, hanging mid-thigh, and it smelt like Kirishima. The piece of clothing instantly soothed and calmed you as it fell down your body, the softness of the worn fabric feeling like a hug.

“Then tell me what the fuck is going on because I don’t know how much more I can take of it, of any of this. Kiri … I’m stuck in the middle here, I don’t know what to do! I want you both so bad, I don’t want to choose and I know it's my own fault and that it's wrong but … I - I just love you both so much. And then I see that neither of you really have any bitterness towards the other even though it’s very obvious the shit that goes on between all of us and it’s like it’s a game or something between you two.” You paused briefly, taking a breath and trying to gather your now jumbled thoughts as every single feeling and concern was bubbling to the surface and dying to be heard.

“A-And neither of you want to even have sex with me, I know it’s fucking dumb to bring that into this but fuck I’m really pent up here and you both flat out turn me down and at first I could take it but now, it’s like, is something wrong with me? Am I gross or something? This is all so stupid, I’m just trying to tell you my feelings because I don’t want secrets between us and I want to be open and honest. I - I’m sorry if I’m all over the place right now and being weird I’m just really fucking tired too and well you know how I get.”

You finished ranting, feeling lighter but also shitty at the same time. You wrapped your arms around yourself, wanting to be held but not wanting to ask for it. You couldn’t bear to face Kirishima at the moment, you hated confrontation and avoided it until it overwhelmed you and caused you to blow up like you just did.

The sound of Kirishima’s feet shuffling across the floor made your eyes move to watch them go towards the bed and disappear. You felt alone suddenly, regretful. Fuck - you shouldn’t have said all that dumb shit.

“Come here mama.”

That soft, warm voice finally spoke and you looked up to see Kiri sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard and his hands held out to you. He didn’t have to tell you twice, your body acting on its own, bolting towards the hero and longing for comfort as you crawled into his lap like a child and curled up into his chest. His strong arms towered around you, holding you close and tight. Kirishima pressed a kiss to your head and rubbed his cheek against your hair.

“None of this is a game to us babe and none of anything you said is stupid. Your fucking feelings matter to us and I’m glad you said something. There’s something we need to tell you but we want to do it together. I’m so sorry that we’ve let this go on as well, it’s not just on you, in fact none of any of this is on you. I’ll admit, we do get a kick out of teasing you and getting a reaction but we didn’t stop to think how it could affect you in the long run and that’s fucking shitty on our part, I’m so sorry.” Kirishima sighed and squeezed you tighter in a hug that was asking for forgiveness. “So - I called Bakugou while you were in the shower and he said something about taking you out on a date once he got back and I think we should use that opportunity to come clean but do you think you can wait until then for more answers?”

His hands rubbed your back and arms, warming your body and keeping you calm as you mulled over his words. Wrapping your arms around him, you nuzzled your face into his strong and warm chest.

“Y-Yeah, I think I can handle that.”

Kiri sighed and placed more kisses on your head, starting slowly before they picked up a faster pace, peppering loving silly pecks all over your head and face. You wanted to stay emotionless but you couldn’t help but crack a smile and giggle as his nose nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his lips tickled your skin as he covered every single spot he could.

“Alright, alright! You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute Kiri!”

The red-head gleamed and hugged you tight, earning a hug back. He looked down at you and smiled, “How about we get some sleep mama? You need some rest.”

You nodded and agreed, he got up to turn off the lights as you crawled under the covers and waited for him. Kirishima removed his shirt and shorts before getting into bed beside you, you quickly snuggled up to him and brushed your face against him like a cat leaving its scent on its favorite toy, rubbing your nose to his and across his cheek. It made him chuckle as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him. Your legs intertwined with his and your hands traced his chest.

Kirishima caught your lips as they brushed close to his and kissed you sweetly, making you melt and hum as your eyes fluttered shut and you kissed back. Once the loving kiss broke you rested your head on his chest and nuzzled even more, burying your face under the covers. After a good cry in the shower, your tiny blow up and now being warm and cozy in bed with Kirishima, exhaustion was quickly lulling you into unconsciousness.

“Goodnight Eijirou, I love you.” You softly and quietly spoke.

The red-head felt his heart swell in his chest from your declaration. He smiled and kissed your hair, resting his face on your head. “I love you too baby girl.”

Kirishima laid awake in bed with you still wrapped in his arms and bundled up in the blankets. He watched as your parted lips took in deep and slow breaths of air and how you’d crinkle your nose when a strand of hair would tickle it, making him gently brush it to the side. You made little noises in your sleep and your foot would twitch every now and then, making him quietly snicker. He observed you like this for at least the past ten minutes, he was so mesmerized and in love with you and wanted to stay in that moment for as long as possible.

Until the ringing of his phone decided to ruin the tranquility and he cursed under his breath as he quickly reached for the device, his eyes never leaving you. Your body stirred and you let out a tired moan, Kirishima softly pet your hair as he answered the phone, making the ringing stop.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, please go back to sleep,” he cooed.

You snuggled closer, your lips brushing his chest as you inhaled deeply and mumbled.

“Hello?”

Kirishima quietly spoke into the phone as he started to rub your scalp and play with your hair, a thing he knew would put you back to sleep and just like magic it did, making him chuckle.

“The fuck are you laughing at idiot?” Bakugou's brash voice rang through the speaker.

“Nothing, just watching her sleep, she twitches her foot like Thumper, and makes these grunts and sighs! You could’ve just text me asshole, you almost woke her.”

The blonde on the other end of the line was now jealous as he wished he could be there, he slept like shit the night before after the phone call he got from Kiri and since you weren’t with him; so maybe he had gotten spoiled to sleeping with you but he wasn’t going to let anyone know that.

“Tch, god forbid I wake the little brat. I just wanted to let you know, I should be wrapping this shit up tonight and then I’ll be headed home. So tell her we’ll take her out tomorrow but that it’ll be a surprise.”

Kiri’s eyebrows raised, Bakugou agreeing to take you out on a date was one thing, but the fact that he was actually putting in effort to make it somewhat special like a surprise shocked him but also made him smile.

“Aww Bakugou! Good idea man, what do you have planned?”

“Shut up shitty hair! And nothing yet, so text me what you think she might like and I’ll try to think of something too. Huh? – okay, hold the fuck on!” Bakugou screamed at someone in the background.

He growled into the phone and let Kiri know that he had to go and hung up. Kirishima shook his head and went to put his phone up until his text alert went off.

➥ BLASTY! : Don’t forget to feed the gremlin when she wakes up, you know how she gets hangry and stupid, and give her a fucking kiss for me!

➥ YOU: Roger that captain! Kick some ass!

You woke up and stretched, letting out a high pitched yawn as your fingers clutched the comforter instead of warm skin or red locks. All the warmth that you were so cozily nestled in suddenly vanished at the realization that you were alone in bed.

“Kiri?” You pouted with a tired voice and lifted your head.

Before your eyes could fully investigate, the smell of food assaulted your senses, making you perk up a bit and smile.

“Why do they insist on spoiling me so much,” you sighed and stood up in the bed before hopping off of it and made the trek downstairs. 

Upon entering the kitchen you could smell something sweet and salty and saw a shirtless Kirishima plating food. With a smile etched your face, you tugged on the front of his shirt that you wore and stretched as you walked over to him and poked your head under one of his arms.

“What are you doing Red?” You asked and gnawed on his side, feeling your stomach eating away at your spine.

Kirishima flinched a little at the sudden contact and chuckled as he lifted his arm, “Making you breakfast mama, I know how hungry you get when you wake up. So I made some waffles and bacon, there’s some strawberries and bananas sliced as well for you to top your waffles with at the table. Go sit down and I’ll bring everything else.”

You pulled back and kissed the back of his shoulder, let go of your shirt and went to grab a cup to make yourself some strawberry milk.

"You're an angel Kiri.”

The red-head beamed and walked over to the table you now sat at with the food, placing a kiss to the top of your head. You crossed your legs in your seat and salivated over the beautiful breakfast he cooked for you as you started to pile fruit on top of your waffles. Kirishima sat down next to you and did the same.

“So cuteness, Bakugou should be home sometime late tonight. He said that we’ll take you out tomorrow, that sound good?”

You nodded as you shoved a few slices of bananas into your mouth and poured syrup.

“Where are you two taking me?”

Kirishima crunched on some bacon and smiled, shaking his head.

“I can’t tell you that babe, it’s a surprise!”

Your eyes rolled but you decided not to press any further, you liked surprises. After swallowing a giant bite of waffles you turned to look at Kirishima who was staring and smiling as bright as ever, happy that he knew this ‘surprise’. Soon he felt the sticky points of your fork on his cheek, both of you giggling as you settled into a comfortable silence and ate together.

“Alright then Kiri, keep your secrets!”

The red-head snorted and shook his head, gently squeezing your thigh under the table as he leaned over and placed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. You hummed and leaned into the hero, heads nuzzling together like a couple of loving lions. Turning to meet his gaze, your lips met in a sticky sweet kiss, sugar from syrup and the playful bite from sharp teeth, waking your still sleepy senses even more. The entire moment was sweet, calm and you could stay in it forever - at least until the red-headed shit decided to chomp on your cheek before swiping a long and slimy lick to it. What ensued after was a messy fight of fruits and other breakfast foods.

Yeah, you liked surprises.

[chrysalispen]

xx. a head hangs, weighed with snow;

AO3 Link here

She was not summoned the next day, or the next, or even the sennight after that.

Watching the growing anger and uneasiness of the townsfolk as rations continued to dwindle, Aurelia was reminded of that final, fatal summer drought just before her uncle had taken her wardship. Precious little of Gyr Abania was arable; it was a land with brutal and punishing summers, and dry, cold winters. That had ever been the state of things as far as she was aware, and her father said there had been little in the way of proper industry of any sort before the occupation. 

However, she recalled the drought and its fallout all too well. 

It had all started the year of her thirteenth nameday, when the imperial air dreadnought Agrius had set off on her maiden voyage into Mor Dhona’s skies. Legatus van Baelsar’s gamble had not seemed to be one at the time. After all, Eorzea was known to be a wild frontier with no real means to counter imperial might- but none had expected resistance to come in the form of Dravanian tooth and claw. 

Victory against the dragons had come at the cost of the Agrius itself and crippled the war machine so thoroughly that the survivors were forced to retreat back beyond Gyr Abania’s borders. It was not merely a defeat but a shocking rout, the consequences of which had a nigh-immediate ripple effect throughout the whole of the Empire. 

To offset his disastrous incursion into Eorzea and shore up the subsequent border wall construction, the viceroy had levied a hefty per annum tax upon the inhabitants of not only Ala Mhigo but every household in the province. Anyone who owned property had to pay the increased rate, even pureblooded settlers and wealthy landowning nobles like Julian rem Laskaris - who had, of course, grumbled incessantly about the drain on his family’s coffers. But as ever the lion’s share of the burden fell upon the aan, and few if any allowances were made for the lack of food and water even under drought conditions.

The Ala Mhigan people, never wont to labor willingly beneath the imperial yoke, had grown angry and restless in a manner very like unto this one. Riots in the aan districts. Stones and worse thrown at city patrolmen. A memorable - albeit failed - assassination attempt.

She doubted the unrest would be nearly so dire or so long-lived in Gridania as it had been there, for the Elder Seedseer was a much-loved figure and people here believed in the will of the elementals with a fervor that in some cases bordered upon open worship. So long as they felt the outsiders’ presence was accepted by the forest itself, Kan-E-Senna herself was in no danger. 

But she was not fool enough to believe that the better natures of man would serve as any sort of protection. Spring couldn’t come soon enough.

As Aurelia waited upon E-Sumi-Yan’s word, she resolved herself - in between her work in the field kitchens and in the training yards - to make preparations where she might. Today she had chosen to complete the rest of the entry pages in her botany journal - it was an herbal, really, at this juncture, containing all the information she had added to her notes over the past months. 

...And it had really been months now, since Carteneau, she realized. She had once owned a wrist-chronometer, a graduation gift from her uncle (one that, so far as Aurelia herself was aware, had been lost in the barracks of the castrum where she’d been stationed). The Empire ran itself strictly on kept minutes and hours so such contrivances had been vitally important in the context of day-to-day life in the capitol. 

It felt strange, realizing she’d not missed that strictly scheduled and segmented existence. Time had passed all but unnoticed in the relative calm of a pastoral routine.

Aurelia swayed in her desk chair, musing over the notion. Copying her own shorthand into the empty pages of the book was soothing but tedious work and the relative warmth of the room and the quiet were making her drowsy. 

She paused, blinked furiously to dispel the doze that had come over her, and set the quill in its shallow inkpot so she could rub her eyes. Her hand was beginning to cramp unpleasantly as well, fingers protesting against the work to which she’d set them. Hells, what she wouldn’t give for a proper fountain pen about now, she thought, pressing the heels of her palms against her aching cheekbones. 

Maybe she should pause her work and give herself a break. Just for a moment.

She had only rested her eyes for what seemed like a few heartbeats when she heard a rap upon her door. Aurelia ignored it at first, hoping that her visitor might realize they had come at an inconvenient time- but the knock came again, and in a few moments, repeated a third time. Resigned to the interruption, she pushed back her chair and made her way to the door only for it to be shoved open almost as soon as her hand touched the latch. 

Keveh’to shouldered his way into the room without preamble, his tail lashing fitfully. What was he doing? He knew full well he was supposed to knock before entering her bedchamber-

Her angry protest died on her lips at the sight of his face: a taut mask of anxiety. “Grab that ruddy bag of yours and aught else you can carry,” he ordered abruptly, the words sharp as shards of broken ice. “We’ve got to get you out of here. Get your shoes on.”

“What? What’s going on? What about the Guildmaster?” Bewildered she fumbled for the book, shoving it in her pack before seeing to her pattens. “What’s happening?”

“There’s no time to explain! We’ve got a unit out there holding them back but four men won’t be any bloody use against a mob that size. Hurry!”

As if his words had prompted them, muffled and angry shouts drifted into her ears from the other side of the window glass. She could make out a heavy throng of people clustered about the half-reconstructed entrance of the inn, and felt a moment’s misgiving-- there were surely not that many people in Gridania-- and then there was no time left to ponder it. Keveh’to was grabbing her arm, dragging her out the door before she could do more than grab her staff--

They both froze in place at the bright, scintillating sound of breaking glass. The mob had breached the Canopy’s main hall.

"Go!" Keveh’to shouted. 

He shoved her towards the stairwell leading to Miounne’s larder moments before the crowd-animal surged into the common room, roaring and baying as one. Stones and bottles sailed across the room and crashed into the back of the bar with a truly appalling accuracy, and when she tried to look for her minder again she could no longer catch sight of him or his yellow surcoat within the surging tidal wave of the riot.

Wincing against the stitch in her side, she ran for the exit as she was bid, dodging stones as her feet crunched over broken glass and spilled trenchers. The stairs were strangely dark, the well descending deeper than she had ever remembered it. As she continued downwards the light behind her grew dim, and with each step she began to feel her belly clench with apprehension. 

Surely she should have arrived at the exit by now-

Black anxiety speared down her spine, sudden and instinctive, third eye’s proprioception yammering a primitive and frantic warning. Someone - or something - was in her space. 

She wheeled about to meet her attacker, only to lose her footing on the edge of a stair step, and would have tumbled down the endless stairs and into oblivion if the figure had not grabbed her. A gloved hand clamped with brutal force over her mouth before dragging her back into the shadows, and up against her attacker’s larger, cowled frame. 

Something heavy and solid slammed into the back of her head before she could make a sound---

 ==

----and with a violent spasm of her arms Aurelia wrenched herself back into wakefulness, hastily snatching up her papers as the overturned inkpot made a small and rapidly surging flood across the desk.

“Bugger,” she cursed, “seven swiving hells below-”

There was a rap at the door, then another when she didn’t answer.

“Damnit,” she grabbed a handful of discarded draft parchments and crushing them onto the desk’s surface in an attempt to staunch the ink before it could drip onto the carpet. A third knock. “Yes, yes, a moment, pray!”

“Aurelia?” Keveh’to’s voice, its note of concern obvious. “Is aught amiss?”

She was unable to stop herself from casting a furtive glance out the window, overcome with a strong sense that perhaps she still might not be fully awake. But there was no mob crowding the entrance to the Carline Canopy. The street was as empty as it had been most of the winter, dusted white and grey with half-thawed patches of ice. 

Relief blossomed in her chest and she allowed herself a soft sigh. 

“All is well, come in.”

With an effort she concealed her trembling hands; her heart still raced with adrenaline and half-remembered fear. Keveh’to blinked at her.

“The Guildmaster is on linkpearl asking after you- Twelve, what happened in here? Did that book of yours finally try to eat you?”

“Very funny. Can I have the linkpearl, please?”

With a shrug, he deposited it into her hand. “You know how to-”

“I think I can figure it out.”It took a moment of maneuvering - the small device was fashioned for a Miqo’te’s ear - but she was able to hold the linkpearl to her ear with one shoulder and press the button quickly before returning her attention to the pile of soiled papers. “Hello?” she ventured. “Guildmaster?”

E-Sumi-Yan’s smooth voice. “Aurelia. I take it the Sergeant is there with you? Did you-”

“Keveh’to hasn’t debriefed me yet, I’m afraid,” Aurelia said, gathering handfuls of paper and shoving them in the small crate she’d appropriated as a wastebin. “Guildmaster, I appreciate the abundance of caution, all considered, but why not a summons?”

There was no response, but that was not so very unusual. E-Sumi-Yan was not a man to waste his words, a quality she knew her uncle would have appreciated. He would speak in time- once he had gathered his thoughts to his liking, as he always did. In the meantime she scrubbed at the ink on the desk, realizing as she did so that her efforts were largely futile.

Miounne will have my head, she thought ruefully.

Finally there came a long humming sound on the other end of the connection and once again Aurelia remembered that lucid dream, this time with a sharp pang of unease. 

“At the moment,” E-Sumi-Yan began, “I fear it would be very unwise to summon you to the Fane even with your minder present. I am told this line is not entirely secure, but Commander Heuloix assures me there is little concern for eavesdroppers.”

“Go on,” Aurelia said slowly.

“There’s to be a town meeting at the plaza site tonight. I shan’t bore you with the details, but the people of the city are demanding the Elder Seedseer remove all foreigners - adventurers as well, just so you know - for the duration of the winter. If not permanently.”

“What? Surely they must know Kan-E-Senna would never agree to such terms.”

“She would not, no. Council or no, she ultimately abides by the word of the elementals as do all of our order. Unless they tell her the city can hold no more souls, she will take them in.”

“...I hear a ‘but’ in that statement.” 

The guildmaster sighed. “This morning, while you were about your rounds in the refugee encampment, one of your former comrades, was injured on a work site. Someone in the street threw a stone and struck him in the head.”

“Oh, hells.” The ruined desk was all but forgotten. Aurelia threw the last handful of soiled parchment into the crate and adjusted the device at her ear. “Is he badly hurt?”

“No, the wound was mostly superficial. The Wailer on site called a conjurer to see to the prisoner after dispersing the crowd. He’s shaken, of course - very frightened to leave the Fane without an escort, but he has otherwise recovered. Which brings me to my business with you.”

She already knew what he was about to say. “I am to leave the Fane.” 

“Yes. I saw fit to reach out to Hearer Ewald in light of the news. The young man whom you are to replace shan’t leave his post for another few moons, but he confided to me that with the influx of refugees into other settlements the two of them are in need of additional hands. Sergeant Epocan will be escorting you to Willow’s Bend and will remain there with you until you are called back to the Fane. It’s a few malms out from Quarrymill, well off the main roads.”

 “I see.” 

“Under different circumstances, I would have bid you wait until the last snows have passed before attempting the journey, but after today’s incident I think perhaps the sooner the better.” A pause. “Can you make ready to leave at first light tomorrow?”

He’s worried about me, she realized suddenly. 

“I... yes. That shan’t be a problem. Aside from my medicines and my gear I’ve very little in the way of personal possessions.”

“Thank you, Aurelia. May I please speak to Sergeant Epocan?”

“Of course. One moment.” Keveh’to’s expression was quizzical as she passed the linkpearl back to him. “Your turn.”

“What,” he began, then hastily interrupted his query, “Ah, Guildmaster, I-... what? Tomorrow? But... yes. Yes, but the Commander will need to-... oh, he’s already... oh.”

Aurelia wasn’t privy to the other half of the conversation, of course. But it was hardly necessary. Even were she not staring at his face, she could watch Keveh’to’s mood by his flattened ears and the irregular lashing of his tail. It was souring by the second.

“The White Wolf postern gate. Yes, Guildmaster. Understood. Thank you.” The small pearl hanging from Keveh’to’s ear blinked blue to black as he cut the aetheric link.

“You don’t look well pleased,” she said wryly. 

He didn’t smile. An awkward silence descended as he stared at her, then the door, then back at her before he finally spoke. “You know I’m a Keeper of the Moon.”

“Yes...?” 

“Aye, well. Problem is, to a Garlean lass like you that don’t mean a godsdamned thing. I’m just another savage at the end of the day.” At her attempted protest he raised a hand, palm outwards. “Not picking a fight, mind, just... Well, that’s how far too many Shroud folk see us. Savages. Poachers who threaten the whole wood by just taking what we want when we want it.”

“Wait, but that’s not... I mean, I don’t-”

“I’m not done. See, the thing is... the Gridanians have their way of life. And that’d be fine, ‘cept they expect every bloody one else to abide by it too, and woe betide any who refuse. Lots of Keepers still, well, keep the old ways. They hunt and gather, take what they need, and the elementals don’t bother them. You can’t convince these people, though. They see me and think they know what I am.” 

“But you wear the colors of the Twin Adder.”

“That doesn’t mean as much as you might think. A goodly number of us are adventurers. And when a Gridanian notices it’s a Keeper wearing the yellow, you can see it in their eyes- the second they decide you aren’t worth what small respect they might have for the Grand Company. It’s like watching a door slam shut in your face.”

Aurelia hesitated, then reached out an ink-stained hand and squeezed his shoulder. “I understand more than you might think,” she said. “But not all of it. I’m sorry.”

“Villagers in my experience are insular fools. They’ll see you as an interloper and me as a craven thief. But I have my orders.” He shrugged, then smiled at her, a smile that did not meet his eyes. “I’m guessing you do as well.”

“So it seems. We’ll have each other for company, won’t we?”

“...That isn’t reassuring, Garlean.” At her saucy grin, he continued accusingly, “And don’t you smile at me like that, lass. The last time it was just the two of us, you threatened to singe off my tail hairs.”

“Aye, because you walked in on me while I was using the bloody chamber pot.” 

He laughed, finally, some of his irritation dissipating. “Well,” he said, “suppose I’d best go inform Mother Miounne we’ll be taking our leave of Gridania for a time on Guild orders- assuming she doesn't already know. If you haven’t already started packing your things, now would be a good time.” 

Without waiting on a response he turned on his heel and exited the room, the door-latch clicking softly shut behind him. Aurelia squared her shoulders and looked down at her hands, smudged with ink. 

She reached for her black bag, loosed its clasps, and took one last cursory glance of her stock. Most of the daily-use items at this point were long gone. The synthetic analgesics and anticoagulants, local anesthetics and antipyretics that were commonly used in the imperial army’s medical pavilions required reagents that one could not obtain in Eorzea. Short of raiding a castrum, of course- which she doubted anyone was willing to do. 

Carefully she put away the phials and refastened the clasps, then paused in thought before reaching for her travel pack and digging through its contents to produce a spare strip of linen. The imperial insignia with its scarlet-and-ivory tripartite links was clearly visible upon the strapping, and while she didn’t think anyone in a remote village would find it to be of any significance, it was best to be safe. 

Wrapping the fabric somewhat hastily about the strap, she knotted it in place, then set the bag next to her staff and began to tuck her few articles of clothing into the travel pack in tight rolls to make extra space. The journal was next, and she realized with some dismay that two of her draft pages had been ruined by the spilled inkpot before she could copy them to the leather-bound book. Naught to be done for it today.

She placed both bags next to the door, her training wand on top of the side table.

“There,” she murmured. She was as ready as one reasonably could be; might as well join Keveh’to in the main hall and take tea and an early supper. 

Hand on the door latch, Aurelia glanced over her shoulder and out the window one more time. Once more there was nothing to see.

Resolute, she turned her back on the desk and quit the room.

~*~

Grey shimmered at the window between the branches of the trees when the knock came on the door. She had already roused herself, donning her traveling clothes and tucking the wand into her sash before opening the latch- but it was not Keveh’to whom she saw when she opened the door. It was Miounne. The Elezen had a small cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands, and she was smiling ruefully.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as one truly can be, I suppose.”

“Good. Grab your things and follow me. Try to keep quiet. Most of my patrons are still abed and I'd rather not have them stirring before I can start the hearth-fires. Too many inconvenient questions.”

Aurelia blinked at her curiously but didn’t press the issue. They slipped out the exit towards the reconstructed plaza. 

“Keveh’to will meet you at the aetheryte. There’s a chocobo waiting for the two of you at the White Wolf gate. I’ve closed down the Guild’s leves and enrollments for a day or two,” Miounne said, a hand on Aurelia’s back between her shoulder blades to hurry her pace along. “There was an open meeting yesterday evening.”

“The town meeting? E-Sumi-Yan mentioned it when we spoke.” 

“He would not have told you, but it didn’t go well. Things are very tense just now; the townsfolk have worked themselves into a right fury over the lack of wintering supplies. They’re looking for anyone to blame for their woes."

“I know. They see us as a drain on resources.” Aurelia shook her head. She wasn’t surprised; she’d seen the hostile glares shot in her direction, after all. “It’s easier to blame outsiders, I suppose.”

“Yes, it is, which puts all of my freelancers at risk. And...” Miounne shrugged. “Well. I’ll let Sergeant Epocan explain, shall I?”

The plaza was as silent and empty as the Canopy’s main hall. Keveh’to awaited them as promised. The Keeper was fidgeting in place, his expression tense and his body language betraying his nervousness. It did little to set Aurelia’s mind at ease.

“You weren’t followed, were you?” he asked the proprietress as if Aurelia weren’t standing right there alongside. Her brow furrowed in momentary irritation, and Miounne scoffed.

“You worry far too much, Sergeant. This is hardly some daring midnight escape under cover of darkness."

"I simply don't want any trouble to come to you. If-"

"Too late to worry about that. But if anyone asks after my whereabouts, I was simply fetching my own firewood for the hearth for want of any strapping adventurers about.” She held out the package she’d carried with her when she had met Aurelia at the door of her inn room. “This is for the two of you. Eel pies for the road.”

The pair exchanged shocked glances. Miounne was famous in town for her eel pies, but many of the ingredients would have been very difficult to source this time of year. It said more than any words she might have uttered.

“What- Mother Miounne, you didn’t have to go to that trouble,” Keveh’to began.

“No, but I did. Now you mind yourself on the road, Sergeant Epocan. The guildmaster will have my head if you two don’t reach your new posting in one piece. And you,” she turned to look at Aurelia, “all the luck in the world to you. Matron keep you safe, girl.”

“I... yes.”  Unaccountably, she found herself flushing. “Quite.”

“Didn’t think I’d ever in my life find myself wishing an imperial well.” Miounne’s expression softened into a maternal smile. “But stranger things have happened - and you’re worth that much. There’s hard times ahead for all of us and folk will be starved for compassion as much as any rations. So don’t you ever let yourself lose that kindness of yours. All right?”

Aurelia nodded. Unbidden she felt a pang of sadness. It was true enough that the Elezen woman had not wanted to house an imperial prisoner under her roof at first, but she had been mindful to treat the Garlean woman as she would any of her adventurers.

Miounne looked as if she wanted to say something else, but whatever it might have been Aurelia would never know. Once she saw that they had accepted her parting gift, she pivoted swiftly on one heel and made her way back in the direction she’d come, toward the Carline Canopy to begin the day’s routine. It was just her and her minder. 

Keveh’to cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said, “this way. We’ll want to be shut of the main thoroughfare as soon as possible.”

She followed him, shifting the weight of her two packs from shoulder to shoulder, free hand at the small training wand on her belt in case of trouble. No trouble came. The only soul that stirred other than the night watch winding down for the shift change was the odd woodland creature, and the sounds of birds stirring in the trees.

As Aurelia had been told, there was a chocobo awaiting at the north gate. The Duskwight man holding the reins of the massive destrier wore the colors of the Twin Adder just as Keveh’to did, and he acknowledged them with a slight tilt of his chin.

“Javier,” the Miqo’te said. “Thank you for waiting.”

The man’s expression did not change. “Pray send word to the Commander upon your arrival. The Wailer outpost has been notified of your arrival, as has the Hearer overseeing the care of the region.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

Keveh’to yanked Aurelia’s packs from her shoulders and slung them over the chocobo’s broad back, lashing them in place with the heavy leather straps that dangled from the double saddle.

“How am I supposed to-” she began but faltered when the Keeper all but hopped into the saddle and held out one gloved hand. She slipped a foot into the stirrup alongside his and reached for him in return, and found her weight guided upwards with surprising ease.

“Hold on,” he ordered curtly.

Aurelia wrapped her arms about his waist. Keveh’to barked a short command and dug his heels into the chocobo’s sides. They were off, crunching through the powder snow and fallen leaves, the cold wind whistling in her ears. It was beginning to snow again, and powder flakes and ice bit at their exposed cheeks as they ventured deeper into the wood.

After a good quarter bell of tense silence, she deemed it safe to lean forward and tap him on the shoulder.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Well, what?”

“Why all the secrecy and grim faces? I’m just leaving town for a guild posting.”

“It’s not the posting itself, it’s…” Keveh’to growled, the tip of his tail lashing against her leg where it had curled around her calf. “...I don’t know how it happened and nor does Commander Heuloix. The Grand Company is investigating the source of the leak but-”

“Leak?” Aurelia said, feeling slow and stupid. “Leak, what do you-”

“The Wood Wailers had security present at that township meeting - to make sure things didn’t get out of hand, you know people have been on edge as of late - and someone in the crowd asked Brother E-Sumi-Yan why the Hearers are sheltering a Garlean. Not an imperial, mind. A Garlean. Someone knows about you. Or knows of you.”

“....Oh.”

“For a mercy no one said more than that. It might even be a rumor that happened to be closer to the truth than they realized. But we’re taking no chances.” 

She felt her belly clench.  But I’ve been so careful. How could anyone have…?

“Cooler heads seem to have prevailed for the time being,” Keveh’to continued, “although Miounne will be facing a fair bit of spite, methinks, as will her adventurers. It’s just as well the guildmaster decided to have you shipped off to the Arbor early.”

“Wait, but what- what about the conscripts? I can well understand why the townspeople would be upset about  me, but surely they aren’t...”

“Aught to do with you lot is classified knowledge, and it’d be beyond the likes of me. I was asked to mind you abide by the terms of your sentence until it’s done and that’s what I mean to do.” His jaw was tight. “The villagers won’t like me any more than they do you, but no use whinging about it, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” she echoed. 

“Hey.” This time he glanced over his shoulder, spared her a quick smile. “It is what it is, aye? We’ll make do. Mother Miounne can handle that lot. You worry about yourself.”

Sazha would have said the same thing, that one phrase that could sum up the entire situation, everything that had happened to Aurelia since the fall of Dalamud. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t ideal- but that changed nothing. 

It was what it was. All they could do was make the most of it.

A curtain of white quickly blanketed the forest floor, concealing the immediate signs of their passage beneath the Shroud’s winter-bared boughs. Within a bell, there was no sign to the casual eye that there had been travelers on the roads at all. 

[themurphyzone]

Absolutely Disastrous Ch 6

AN: Welp I’m done with my Secret Santa projects! Now back to this story! Happy 2019 everybody!

Ch 6: Standby for Battle, Diogee and Mudkip! Milo’s First Rival!

The first twenty minutes of traveling without adult supervision were going incredibly well.

“Don’t worry, Zack! I’ll use these suction cups to get you down!” Milo shouted, attaching the cups to his hands and feet. He tested them against the trunk, picking up speed once he was sure the cups would stick to the bark.

Of course, ‘incredibly well’ was a relative phrase.

“Hurry! I think my cardiovascular system is making a new home in my brain!” Zack demanded, swinging desperately to free his trapped foot from the vine. His actions only tightened the vine’s hold though.

“Hang in there!” Melissa shouted from the ground. Diogee’s claws scrabbled on the tree I worry, but he couldn’t get a grip.

“Seriously, Melissa?” Zack complained. “Your puns are terrible anime dub worthy, and that’s not a compliment.”

Milo shook his head. “All we need is a rimshot, and it would be perfect! You can improve anything with the right percussion beat.”

He crawled onto the branch the vine hung from, approaching Zack at a steady pace. Below them, Melissa inflated an air mattress. Milo hauled Zack onto the branch, then freed his ankle from the vine.

“Thanks,” Zack said, rubbing his ankle to get some feeling back. Before they could crawl back to the trunk, a Taillow landed in their way. It pecked at the wood curiously. Then it hopped onto Milo’s hair, smacking him several times with its beak.

Milo swatted at the bird Pokémon, but he only made it angrier. Taillow squawked angrily and slashed at Milo’s hand with its feet.  Milo yelped, almost losing his balance on the branch.

“What’s going on up there?” Melissa shouted.

“Wild Taillow’s mad at us!” Zack called back.

Diogee growled and tried to shimmy up the tree, but Melissa held him back. “Sorry, but you’re a little heavy to climb trees,” she said.

“Hold on, Milo!” Zack exclaimed as he sent out Treecko. The Grass-type took note of his surroundings, spitting out the twig in his mouth. “Treecko’s great at fighting in foliage like this. It should make up for the type disadvantage. Alright, let’s try a Pound!”

Because Treecko was more interested in selecting a new twig, it took several seconds before he was satisfied with his choice and followed Zack’s command. Taillow hopped off Milo’s head, retaliating with a Tackle. Treecko blocked Taillow’s advance with his tail. Then Taillow’s beak elongated, and it barraged the poor appendage with a series of Peck attacks.

Treecko drew his tail back, wincing in pain. His hesitation allowed Taillow an opening, and it tackled him off the branch. Treecko landed on the air mattress, and Melissa rushed over to check for injuries. Crowing in satisfaction, Taillow flew away.

“That could’ve gone better,” Zack muttered.

“Hey, don’t let the first day get you down,” Milo soothed as they climbed down. “In the first five minutes of my Dad’s journey, he managed to shut down the Cable Car for two months because he broke their generator while trying to get a candy bar out of a vending machine! Besides, you just need to find your groove with Treecko. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it in no time!”

Zack didn’t seem convinced though. He walked over to Treecko, whose arms were crossed as he tried to be nonchalant about hiding his tail. “You okay?” he asked.

Treecko nodded.

“Don’t hide your tail, Treecko,” Zack said sternly. “I know Taillow got you pretty good there.”

Treecko slowly drew his tail out, wincing as he let Zack examine it.

“I have salve,” Milo said, handing Zack a small jar. “It works on just about every Pokémon.”

Zack applied the salve to the abrasion, and Treecko’s eyes twitched as it sunk into his tail.

“It stings, but it’ll heal in no time,” Milo promised.

“Worked wonders on Elliot’s Watchog after the Camerupt Incident,” Melissa quipped. “Remember how Elliot was convinced your salve would force Watchog to do your evil bidding? That was a riot.”

“Wasn’t he Lavaridge Elliot’s dad?” Milo asked.

“No, that was his uncle. Mossdeep Elliot is Lavaridge Elliot’s dad. All the Hoenn-based Elliots have that mole on their jaw, remember?”

“I have no idea how you two manage to tell the difference between Elliots,” Zack shook his head. Treecko was feeling better, so they began packing up the air mattress.

“It’s easy once you know what to look for,” Milo said. “Rustboro Elliot has a badge advertising a local waffle shop. Fortree Elliot tends to camouflage himself as a tree to catch those who dare disrupt the tranquility of the rainforest. The younger generation is a little harder to tell apart at first glance. For example, Violet Elliot and Azalea Elliot both look alike, but the key difference between them is how they sound when they’re yelling at you….”

There wasn’t much to Oldale Town. It had the basics for starting trainers, but no tourist attractions or gyms. Milo appreciated the effort that went into making the flower-lined paths. The flora was perfectly spaced apart so each plant would have room to grow, and there were multiple signs warning visitors to mind the flowers or pay the consequences.

Melissa sneezed, burying her nose into her jacket to avoid the aroma. An old woman glared at her as they passed. “No sneezing on the cosmos!” she called, waving her cane threateningly.

“Got it,” Melissa mumbled.

After a quick detour to avoid a crotchety old Elliot, they entered the Pokémon Center. The lobby was full of young trainers, each of them proudly boasting about their Pokémon and experiences on the road so far.

“Shorts are comfier!”

“Nuh-uh! Skirts are way easier to wear!”

“Shorts!”

“Skirts!”

Well, most of them anyway.

“Hi, Chansey!” Milo exclaimed to the Pokémon behind the counter. “Is Nurse Joy in?”

Chansey smiled, signaling Milo to wait as she waddled to the back area. Moments later, Nurse Joy came out. “Chansey, could you check on Surskit while I’m out here please?” Nurse Joy asked.

Dipping her head politely, Chansey closed the door that separated the patient rooms and lobby.

“Welcome to Oldale Town! How may I help you?” Nurse Joy asked.

“I want to be registered for the Pokémon League please!” Milo exclaimed. He pulled out his Pokédex, but before he could hand it to Nurse Joy, it fell out of his hand and landed on the floor. The impact caused the device to open. As Milo picked it up, it scanned a nearby Shroomish.

“Shroomish, the Mushroom Pokémon. Remove stems, dirt, and gills before cooking. Marinate the mushrooms for ten minutes. Add seasoning and serve.”

The room went silent as Milo awkwardly placed his Pokédex on the counter. “Um, it malfunctions a bit,” he admitted. Nurse Joy gingerly slid it through a scanner by her computer.

“My Shroomish isn’t for dinner,” a boy snapped. His dark hair flopped into his eyes as he marched up to Milo. His clothes were dull and boring by Hoenn standards. The region had a reputation for being brash and in-your-face, which also included fashion. “And you won’t get far with a Pokédex that malfunctions with such basic information.”

“You could at least tell us your name before you start harping on my friend,” Melissa said. “Besides, Zack and I have Pokédexes that he can borrow.”

“Fine, if you’re going to be all insistent on formalities,” the boy complained. “It’s Bradley. May want to remember it, because I’m going to compete in the Pokémon League soon.”

Melissa smirked. “Alright, Bradley. How many badges do you have so far?”

“None. I registered this morning,” Bradley scoffed. “But that’ll change. Unlike your friend, I don’t make rookie mistakes like having a malfunctioning Pokédex.”

He marched off, interrupting a group of younger trainers as they compared their Wurmple.

“Rude,” Zack muttered.

Nurse Joy returned Milo’s Pokédex along with a red and white case. “Your registration is complete,” she said. “This is your badge case. Eight badges are required for entry into the Pokémon League. Good luck!”

“Thanks so much!” Milo exclaimed, storing the items in his backpack. “League, here we come!”

Diogee’s rump wiggled as he pranced around Milo.

“So what gym are you challenging first?” Zack asked.

Milo shrugged. “In the order we come across them, I guess. But I’m definitely not starting with Mr. Chase. I’d need to train a lot to beat him!”

“Thanks for putting that off, cause I’m procrastinating on our next little talk,” Melissa said, flipping through a guidebook. Milo was surprised that she brought up her father so soon after their argument, but he didn’t draw attention to it. Melissa paused, holding up her book so Milo and Zack could see. “We’re close to Petalburg City, which has a Normal-type gym.”

The picture of the gym reminded Milo of the training dojos in Sara’s favorite anime.

“Then we’ll go there first!” Milo declared.

While they prepared to leave the Pokémon Center, Bradley was trying to command attention from his peers. “Well, my Shroomish already knows Wake-Up Slap,” Bradley boasted to a crowd of skeptical trainers. “He’s already starting to break rocks with it.”

Shroomish looked just as proud. If he had arms, they would certainly be on his hips.

“Yeah, sure,” a girl rolled her eyes. She turned to her companion, who was feeding a berry to his Wurmple. “That’s a lie, Travis! Wurmple evolve depending on the time of day!”

“It’s random!” Travis retorted.

“Time!”

“Random!”

“Travis is right,” Melissa cut in, unable to resist showing off her knowledge of Pokémon. “The belief that Wurmple evolve into Silcoon by day and Cascoon by night was disproven by a research team in Sandgem University back in the ‘80s.”

“Ha! In your face, Brenda!” Travis crowed, much to the girl’s displeasure.

Bradley coughed, trying to get their attention back on him. “Don’t you wanna know how Shroomish can learn Wake-Up Slap?”

Then Brenda caught sight of Diogee, and she couldn’t help but stare in awe. “What kind of Pokémon is he?” she asked.

“An Absol,” Milo said. “You wanna pet him? He’s friendly.”

Brenda and Travis ran their hands through Diogee’s fur, giggling at how soft it was. Diogee nudged their shoulders playfully, making them gush over how cute and awesome he was.

“Um, guys? Shroomish is awesome too!” Bradley complained.

Brenda rolled her eyes. “But they’re so common! Absol are way rarer and cuter!”

“I think your Shroomish is adorable,” Milo said as Bradley folded his arms in defense. “And any Pokémon can be a good partner. Doesn’t matter how common or rare they are.”

But his words didn’t seem to have any effect.

“You think you’re so high and mighty because you walked in with a rare Pokémon,” Bradley scoffed. “Battle me and I’ll take you down a peg.”

“No problem! Single or double?” Milo said.

“Double,” Bradley replied. “See you on the battlefield.”

He stomped outside, leaving Milo to wonder why Bradley was so upset with him. Maybe he just didn’t like being interrupted.

Milo and Bradley positioned themselves on opposite sides of a battlefield next to the Pokémon Center. Zack sat on a bench to watch, sending his Treecko so he could learn through observation too. Melissa agreed to act as referee, her Torchic agreeing to act as a second set of eyes.

“Alright, this is a double battle, so first one to knock out both Pokémon on the opponent’s side wins the match! Whenever you’re ready, send out your Pokémon!” Melissa yelled, slashing her arms in a downward motion to signal the beginning of the battle.

Bradley released two Poké Balls, not bothering with any fancy maneuvers. “I choose Shroomish and Minun,” he said.

His Pokémon let out battle cries as they popped out of their balls.

“Do your best, Diogee and Mudkip!” Milo shouted. Diogee charged in excitedly.

Milo threw Mudkip’s Poké Ball into the field, though he overcalculated and the ball whizzed past Bradley’s head. Bradley yelped, hitting the ground as the ball bounced off the wall of the Pokémon Center and several trees before lodging itself into an unsuspecting Elliot’s bike.

Elliot immediately lost control, shrieking and crashing into a flowerbed. An old woman shrugged, watering his shoes nonchalantly.

“Sorry!” Milo said. “Mudkip, over here!”

Mudkip trotted back to the field, oblivious to the strange looks he received.

“Battle, begin!” Melissa declared. “Without more people crashing preferably!”

Bradley rolled his eyes. “A Water-type? Seriously? Did they not teach you type effectiveness in school?”

“Water Gun on Minun!” Milo ordered.

Mudkip complied, and Minun was blasted back several feet. He shook himself off, squeaking indignantly at Bradley.

“I think you’re supposed to battle, not complain about type charts!” Zack yelled.

Melissa blew her whistle. “No heckling the trainers! Final warning before I give you a red card, Underwood!”

She produced several colored cards from her jacket.

“You don’t have the power to do that,” Zack pointed out.

Melissa held up a card. “Certified Pokémon referee. I took an online class and got my card a few weeks ago. Came with the nifty whistle.”

“She takes her job seriously!” Milo warned. Since his attention wasn’t on the field, Bradley bounced back from his error and Shroomish was able to get several Tackles on Diogee.

Diogee slashed at Shroomish with his horn, flinging the Mushroom Pokémon away.

“Minun, power up Shroomish with Helping Hand,” Bradley said. “And get away from Mudkip.”

Breaking off the odd Tackle and Quick Attack dance he’d been doing with Mudkip, Minun cartwheeled backward and clapped his paws. His entire body glowed, releasing a blue bolt of energy that zigzagged towards Shroomish. Minun cheered as Helping Hand made contact, and Shroomish lowered his head. Several brown seeds formed as Shroomish continued to store energy.

“Leech Seed!” Bradley yelled.

“Dodge!” Milo countered. But Diogee wasn’t moving. Milo squinted, realizing that yellow sparks were dancing around Diogee’s body. Diogee growled, unable to withstand the barrage of seeds that quickly sprouted vines to entangle his legs.

Bradley smirked. “Your Absol triggered Effect Spore when he made direct contact with Shroomish. Should’ve stuck to ranged attacks.”

Milo grinned back. “Great strategy! You’re pretty good at double battles!”

“It wasn’t a strategy. I just wanted to use his ability. That’s all,” Bradley flicked his hand dismissively. “Minun, Thundershock on Mudkip. See if you can knock him into the vines too.”

“Diogee, try to get out of the vines! You can do it!” Milo encouraged. Diogee wasn’t moving as fast as he normally did, but he powered through and tried to chip away at the vines with his horn.

While Milo was distracted, Mudkip had gotten tangled in the vines that littered the ground. Minun scored a Thundershock on him while he was trapped. The Cheering Pokémon waved his paws triumphantly.

“They’re nearly finished,” Bradley said. “Minun, hit Mudkip with Spark. Shroomish, Wake-Up Slap on Absol.”

Shroomish slowly charged at Diogee, tripping over his own vines.

“We’ll work on it,” Bradley muttered.

Mudkip braced himself as Minun rocketed towards him, blue sparks flying off his body. A white aura enveloped Mudkip as Minun crashed into him.

“Mudkip, are you okay?” Milo shouted above Minun’s pained cry as he was launched backward by a white beam. Mudkip panted, grinning at Milo before collapsing.

Minun crashed into Shroomish, the sheer impact sending them careening to Bradley’s side of the field. The Cheering Pokémon released a Thundershock, which hit Shroomish point-blank. While the two struggled to their feet, Diogee finally cut himself free from the vines.

“Get them with Quick Attack!” Milo exclaimed.

Diogee slammed into Shroomish and Minun, and they skidded several feet from the lines that marked the battlefield. They struggled to their feet, but exhaustion won out and they fell to the ground.

“Mudkip, Shroomish, and Minun are unable to battle!” Melissa declared. “Since Absol is the last Pokémon standing, that makes Milo the winner!”

“That was a fluke,” Bradley muttered as he gathered Shroomish and Minun into his arms. “You didn’t even order that Bide.”

Milo shrugged. “I didn’t know Mudkip had that move. But I had a lot of fun battling you. We should do this again!”

“I hope not,” Bradley said as he took a side entrance into the Pokémon Center. Then he paused, tossing something small and red over his shoulder.

After a brief fumble, Milo caught the object.

It was a Cheri Berry.

“Effect Spore paralyzed Diogee,” Melissa recalled. “Guess Bradley’s a good sport after all.”

“He called Milo’s win a fluke,” Zack said, folding his arms. Treecko mirrored his actions.

Milo fed the Cheri Berry to Diogee, and the paralysis wore off instantly. Diogee nuzzled Milo’s face, still excited over their victory. “The timing was pretty lucky,” he admitted.

“I wouldn’t mind battling Bradley myself,” Melissa said. “He knows how to utilize abilities and status moves, something plenty of trainers don’t take advantage of. And he’d make a pretty good antagonist for our adventures.”

“He’s going to be the archetypical rival, isn’t he?” Zack asked.

“I’ll think up a tragic backstory for the book. Readers eat that stuff up. Besides, I didn’t say it would all be factual.”

A/N: Bradley is now introduced! Whoo-hoo!

Shroomish’s Japanese name is Kinococo, which literally means Mushroom Child. I kinda wish we kept the name cause it’s so cute.

Shroomish can learn Wake-Up Slap via breeding. I find it hysterical when Pokemon learn moves they don’t have the body parts for.

Bradley has a Minun cause he’s so negative. Plus he could do with such a happy Pokemon!

[imagine-loki]

The Sound of Silence

TITLE: The Sound of Silence CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 17/47 AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are mute, and Loki comes to Avengers tower for the first time. Loki asks you a question and you answer through sign language. Loki looks at you crazy and thinks your making fun of him, he starts yelling saying that you should respect him since he’s a god and prince.  RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 Click here

    The mission went exactly as planned…for once or so you’d been told. A clone of Loki stayed behind to keep you company. That’s what he said anyway. You were pretty sure he was guarding you instead, but you didn’t mind the company.

    “Siren, you’re up!” Cap called over the comm device in your ear. You got up from your seat on the jet and made your way to where the battle had been with Loki’s clone at your side. He was definitely guarding now, especially as you looked like a civilian.

    The Hulk was looking desperately for something else to smash now that the bad guys had been defeated. Loki’s clone vanished when you were close enough. The Hulk hated Loki. Hulk’s attention caught on you and he relaxed some; he liked you. You were pretty sure you were his favorite person. You smiled at him and began to sing. His attention focused entirely on you and he sat down to listen to your song. A minute later the Hulk was gone and a dazed Bruce was in his place. You rushed forward with the robe in your arms to wrap around him. His pants had survived the experience, but Bruce was shy and appreciated the gesture.

    “Thanks, Y/N. Are you ok?” he asked as you steadied him with an arm around his waist. You nodded and walked with him back to the jet. Neither of you were needed here anymore.

    “Great job today, Y/N,” Cap said after everyone was back on the jet. You nodded in reply. Everything had gone according to plan today, until Jarvis made an announcement.

    “Sir, someone took a video of Siren singing and posted it online,” Jarvis told Tony. He always addressed Tony first unless someone spoke to him directly.

    “Shit, can you pull it?” Tony demanded.

    “I’m sorry, sir. All of the news outlets have already received the video and they are airing it,” Jarvis replied. You blanched. That should not have been posted. Tony and Cap started planning out damage control, though in reality it wasn’t so bad. The world had to know about your powers if you were to continue living with the Avengers anyway. The ability to calm the Hulk was the most palatable of your powers.

    The video remained popular for weeks. Even a recording of your voice kept a very small piece of your power. You heard that a lot of parents had started using the video to get their kids to sleep.

    *

    School got better after the first day. People began to respect your silence, though it took a few weeks before they’d stop asking you to sing. Your grades were good and you earned the respect of your teachers with your work and attitude.

    *

    You went on more missions with the team over the next few months, mostly keeping back and soothing Hulk at the end of the battle. Once you used your singing for crowd control; the crowd was helpless against the siren’s song holding them in place. Once you used your newly found power of persuasion to get all of the bystanders to go home. Once you’d had to knock out the entire battle, the rioting was too bad for the team to do anything and singing wasn’t working.

    *

    Your 18th birthday came with a huge party thrown by Tony. The party room of the tower was filled with your friends and family, laughter, and fun. Plus way, way too much food and way too many presents.

    *

    You took Loki to the homecoming dance a couple weeks after your birthday. It was so much fun to dress up with him. Your dress was gorgeous and his suit was perfectly tailored. You danced with him all evening, and traded teaching him the electric slide for him teaching you to waltz. The DJ looked perplexed as to why a waltz was playing, but the kids were giddy and thought it was a silly bit of fun as they tried to do the dance.

    *

    It was all going so well until a mission where you were fighting enhanced. Hulk looked excited to see you at the end of the battle and sat down patiently waiting for your song. You smiled at him and began to sing. No one else was paying much attention. The enhanced were all contained, the battle over, and the white noise from Jarvis over the comms kept them from being affected by your song.

    None of you saw one of the enhanced fight through the haze of your song. They were all too slow when he grabbed one of the SHIELD agent’s guns and fired off a single shot. You shrieked in pain as the bullet went through your side. The wound was just a graze, but even a graze was a lot of pain, and bleeding. The entire team whirled at the sound of your shriek. The Hulk roared in rage, lunging for the enhanced who had hurt his favorite person, but even he was too late. Loki caught you before you hit the ground, cradling you to him while he threw daggers at the enhanced, killing him instantly for daring to injure you.

    Loki lowered you gently to the ground and lifted your shirt enough to see the wound. “It’s just a graze,” he said, relieved as he placed a bandage against your side. The rest of the team had run over to help. You touched Loki’s arm, your teeth clenched as you fought against the haze in your mind. He saw the glazed look in your eyes and the blood on his hands and he understood. “Fight it, darling, not here, not now, there are too many eyes,” he bid you softly, urgently.

    “Fight what?” Cap demanded, slower on the uptake of what your bleeding meant.

    “Get her to the jet. Now! We can patch that wound up there,” Nat snapped the order, understanding what Loki had and what Cap had not.

    It was too late, though. You couldn’t fight it, couldn’t fight the haze of visions, couldn’t fight the pain demanding you speak. You tried. You really tried, but the visions overtook you and you had to speak what you saw.

    You were laying on a bed in one of the medical rooms of the tower when you became aware of your surroundings again. Your mind was so hazy and fuzzy and it took a lot of blinking and way too much focus to finally realize where you were. “Easy, darling,” Loki’s voice came from beside your bed as you struggled to sit up. He rushed over to help you as you bit back a curse at the pain in your side.

    [What-?] you started, not remembering much of what happened after you’d been shot.

    “You’ve been trapped in visions all night, love. Lady Natasha had to stitch that wound closed,” Loki told you softly. That explained why your brain was so fuzzy and why you woke up so exhausted. Every puncture of the needle would have driven you to more visions.

    [How bad is it?]

    “The wound will heal in a couple weeks. The media…” he trailed off and you blanched. This was exactly what they wanted to make sure didn’t happen.

    [How bad?] you demanded.

    He offered you a hand in reply. “Let’s go to the living room and you can watch the footage for yourself.” You looked around the room concerned about leaving before someone told you that you could. “They said you could leave as soon as you woke,” Loki explained when he caught your expression. You nodded and with his help slowly got to your feet. He bit back an offer to carry you when he saw your determined expression. You weren’t weak just because you’d been shot. Hell, Clint got shot nearly every mission and he didn’t just lie in bed afterwards.

    It was a slow walk to the living room, but it was worth it to see the relief on everyone’s faces that you were up and moving. You tried to reassure them that you were ok.

    You curled up on the couch between Loki and Thor to watch the footage.

    It was as bad as you were expecting. The news had shown up to film the Avengers as usual. The public ate up anything involving the Avengers, so the news showed up to any battle involving the team as fast as possible. They had gotten a close up on you when you appeared in the battle and made your way to the Hulk. They’d wanted to catch your song. Instead they had closeup footage of you getting shot, Hulk’s rage, Loki’s rage and obvious love and concern, the team running toward you, Cap’s and Nat’s orders.

    There was even more close-up footage of you speaking prophecies and visions of the future. Your words were clear, the meanings behind them not always clear, but your attention kept shifting during the clip, to various teammates, so you figured your words were for them. It wouldn’t have been even that obvious, until you looked directly in the camera and clearly announced the Powerball numbers.

    You were so doomed.

[forcebaby732]

Why Didn’t You Kill Me, Part 5

“AGAIN!” Kylo Ren roars as Rey hauls her battered body off the grassy floor, spitting blood at her feet.

They have been fighting viciously for hours. No punches pulled, no slices of his ragged saber delivered with anything less than the intent to kill. He would not insult her power by holding back, nor underestimate her ability to deal him a deadly blow, even without a light saber in her hands.

They both are long past the point of exhaustion, pulling fully from the force to keep fighting.

Rey screams, charging him. Her body bends unnaturally as he hacks at her torso. She drops, springs from her hands, and with a fierce spinning kick finally dislodges the saber from his hands. With a focused blast of the force she sends it flying over a rocky cliff, while her other foot kicks him mercilessly in the face. 

Ren falls with a gasp of pain flat on his back.

Rey uses the last of her strength to straddle the winded Kylo Ren. Balling both her fists together she punches him as hard as her screaming muscles will allow.

Ren tries to bat away her blows but his arms are like lead, not effective at stopping her completely,

There’s panting and grunting and groaning and the smacks of her punches. With the very last of his will Ren grabs her narrow wrists, and with a mighty thrust of his hips, sends her flying over his head.

She lands with a crunch on her back. Now head to head they lie gasping for breath.

And Rey finally lets go, slipping out of consciousness as the sun peaks over the horizon.

...

Pain brings her back to reality.

Everything hurts and Rey thinks she must be dying. Opening her eyes slowly she tries to assess the damage. Breathing appears to be the most painful.

Blinking away the harsh sunlight Rey tries to orient herself to her surroundings but her head is swimming. Finally an image takes shape.

Kylo Ren is sitting up in the grass overlooking a black, rocky slope. The wind is blowing through his wavy black locks, sunshine gleaming off his sweating muscular shoulders. He’s discarded his torn outer clothing, sitting in a black tank top and ripped leather pants. His expression is peaceful as he turns a page of one of the giant tomes from her pack. He’s reading the ancient Jedi texts.

Rey forgets her body, totally taken in by the sight of him. 

So beautiful, she thinks a little deliriously. But she can’t help but admit how handsome and vulnerable he is when his face is not twisted in rage, and how comfortable his posture is, almost like they could be friends. Like they could be more than that....

He could have slain her in her sleep, but here he is, reading in the morning light by her side, like they’re the only two people in the galaxy. Like there’s no war, no First Order, no death, no hurry, nothing but this.

He turns his head slightly over his shoulder but does not meet her eyes.

“You’re alive,” he says simply, controlling any emotion in his voice.

“Mmm” is all the response she can muster, still drinking in the sight of him, relishing in his peaceful closeness after the violence of last night.

His ears and the back of his neck start to go red under her intensely appraising gaze. Is it the sun or... she thinks but then he speaks again.

“Follow me.”

He places the books back in the pack, slings it over his shoulder and rises. A large calloused hand wraps around Rey’s upper arm and pulls her up to standing. She winces and gasps in pain. Hands on her shoulders, Ren steadies her, then lets go. He begins to walk down the hill and Rey limps slowly behind, a hand grasping at her side. She definitely at least has some broken ribs.

There’s a strange device in his hands but Rey doesn’t have the strength or the will to question him.

They walk on for half an hour, sliding down steep slopes and taking a turn into a more wooded area. Before long they come to an obsidian-like cave. The walls are black, but the deeper they go, the more the rock begins to glow. Bio-luminescent life lights their way. 

They descend deeper. She doesn’t know how long they walk before they come upon the spring.

“Here,” he says, pocketing his device that likely led them to the water.

Crystal clear water shimmers, allowing you to see clear to the bottom, maybe five feet below. Their cave is illuminated by veins of blue glowing light in the rocks above, and the gentle light of the creepy crawlies that called this place home. It’s one of the most beautiful natural formations she’s ever seen.

Rey shuffles to the waters edge and, grimacing, scoops handfuls of refreshing water into her mouth. It’s heavenly on her poor split lips and dry throat.

She feels Ren step up beside her and hears a soft thud. She looks up to see that he’s shed his tank top. Her mouth goes slack as his hands unfasten his high waisted pants. Her eyes bulge and her mind catches up with what he’s doing. She gasps and turns her head away just in time as he pulls his pants down, under garments and all.

“Ben!?”

This man has no shame!

She hears the splashing and lapping of water as he lowers himself into the spring. She doesn’t dare look back up until she hears him moving away.

“What in the name of... you don’t give two bantha ticks do you?”

He’s swimming backwards, just his head above water.

“There’s no time for something as frivolous as shame. It’s a body. We have more important things to do.”

Hmmf, Rey puffs trying to suppress her burning blush. Easy for him to say. She could never stay on an even footing with him, Ben was always throwing her for a loop, especially with that DAMN body of his. His was the most she had seen of any man. Growing up on a back water world with few humanoids, she didn’t really know much about biology, except that she was good at fending off the advances of the few men who had dared tried come on to her with her iron staff. 

But Ben Solo was something completely different, putting himself on display, disarming her in strange ways. He was her greatest enemy for Kriff’’s sake! And yet, her body had never reacted this way to any one else before, though she didn’t quite understand what it was. Rey tries to clear her confusing, conflicting thoughts and instead focuses on her anger at what a complete asshole he is.

She hears a low chuckle from the water.

“What,” she spits.

“You think too loudly, we’ll have to work on that.”

Her blush turns into an inferno on her face, remembering how her singular thoughts earlier had been on how beautiful he was. Had he heard it all??

“As amusing as this is,” Kylo says carefully, “I need you to get into the water. Just you.”

Oh, he means I need to be naked.

Her mind blanks, then races with anxiety. But before she can put words to what’s running wild in her mind, he anticipates her concern.

“I’m a monster,” he whispers, “but I’m not THAT kind of monster,” he finishes more forcefully. “Please... get in the water.”

For some reason this assuages all her fears. Despite it all, she knows that he is about the only person in existence who has never lied to her. She trusts that there’s a reason behind this madness. 

She swings her sore legs over the side of the spring. Ben, who is up against the far wall of the spring, maybe 100 feet away, turns his back to her. With a deep, shaking breath she scoots her bottoms off, then pulls her tunic and wrappings over her head. Finally, she unwraps her breast band leaving it on the water’s edge. Rey slides into the deliciously warm, clear water, softly moaning her content as her wrecked body was momentarily soothed.

Something pulses through the force bond making her heart skip a beat, but it’s gone as fast as it came.

Ben turns back around and speaks quickly.

“We need to heal if we’re going to accomplish anything else. There is a technique, in the texts, that should help us.”

“You were able to read it?” She asks across the water to him.

He considers this and realizes for the first time that she hasn’t actually been able to decipher any of the writing.

“Ahh, I see. You need me so much more than you realize,” he croons.

“We’ll see, at the end of this, whether I want what you’re offering... or whether you’ll have to kill me.”

His demeanor darkens and he frowns.

“Enough. Listen. We’re going to heal each other.”

She pauses. “I’m listening.”

“Close your eyes and reach out. Feel the life in this cave.” She does as he says, focusing on his impossibly deep voice. “Let your consciousness roll over it all, find yourself and find me. Wrap tendrils around the energy, of everything healthy and growing, down to the tiniest microorganisms. Everything feeds into each other. Harness the life and the light that you see. Now look over me and I’ll look over you. Find every wound, feel every hurt, every bone, every organ, every muscle. Pull the threads into the water, let it be your medium. Fill the water with life, weave it into every hurt...”

He speaks like a chant, a gentle constant flow of words that leads her energy around. The gentle glow of the cave grows in brightness. She feels his pain. A broken nose, torn ligaments, bruised intestines. She senses he’s taking a risk by using a light side technique, but he’s desperate. He’s desperate for time, desperate to sway her, desperate for an end to his conflict.

And before she realizes what she’s doing, subconsciously she’s pulling the dark wounds from his mind as well as his body. He stops speaking, shaken to the core, feeling her in his head.

“Stop,” he whispers. But it’s too late. She’s flying through every memory, feeling every fear, every betrayal, sees every night crying afraid of his own power, not understanding why his parents feared him, fighting the voices in his head, the terror of Luke standing above him, the longing for the light, his pure screaming rage and need, his total consuming darkness, the security he feels in his hate, his righteousness, his regret, his longing, his devastating and consuming... love.

Rey gasps and floods him with light, the cave is a riot of brightness like a star suddenly blinked into existence inside. She feels herself almost levitating, enriched and energized in a way she could have never imagined, like every cell was new and brilliant. 

When the blinding light subsides she stands in the water feeling renewed like a goddess. 

But then she looks across the way, and sees Ben sinking below the surface.

She gasps and swims towards him.

“Ben!” she cries.

He sinks further and dives under the surface, wrapping her arms under his and kicking hard off the bottom of the spring. They break the surface gasping and she hauls him up to the rocky edge, letting Ben cough against the stone, just half his torso out of the water.

“Ben, what happened,” she asks, totally forgetting their nudity and focusing her concern on him

He coughs and spits, not looking at her. She reaches a hand up to touch him but he bats her hand away.

“STOP”

She freezes, then sinks back under the surface wrapping her arms around her chest.

Something is different, but she can’t tell what. She only feels his confusion and fear.

Ben turns and swims back to the other side of the spring where their clothes lie. He hauls himself out of the water unceremoniously and this time she doesn’t look away, more concerned than embarrassed now. She stores the image of his smooth, toned behind to process later.

He dresses quickly and starts trekking out of the cave without a word.

Rey swims back to her clothes and after fumbling into them, runs to catch up.

She’s not sure what has happened, but knows that it could change the future of the galaxy.

-----

ON Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990587/chapters/32436621

------

Part 1: http://bit.ly/2IdHDTN

Part 2: http://bit.ly/2Ie5q5G

Part 3: http://bit.ly/2oVTDRD

Part 4: http://bit.ly/2HztYF7

Part 6: https://bit.ly/2GfN5YH

Part 7: https://bit.ly/2upJMJa

Part 8: https://bit.ly/2JbkYaW

Part 9: https://bit.ly/2GZFflF

Part 10: https://bit.ly/2HnC9FF

Part 11: https://bit.ly/2HucNsb

Part 12: https://bit.ly/2vt5sED

Part 13: https://bit.ly/2HvMiDH

Part 14: https://bit.ly/2KxOWGN

Part 15: https://bit.ly/2Kt5r6l

Part 16: https://bit.ly/2x5QLYR

[anarchistnewsdaily]

News Highlights: January 29 2018 - February 4 2018

In case you didn’t see, hear, or do it yourself these are some events that took place or were reported during the last week.

Smashy

Zurich, Switzerland: Arson Attack Against the Turkish Consulate

“We set fire to a car on the grounds of the Turkish consulate on Weinberg street in Zurich. We are in solidarity with Rojava and the canton of Afrin, which is currently being attacked by the NATO state of Turkey and allied Islamist militias.”

Paris, France: Incendiary Attack Against a Diplomatic Vehicle in Solidarity with Anarchist Prisoners

“We were walking through the rich neighbourhoods on Monday night looking for a way to ruin their sleep. We do not wait patiently for a hypothetical revolution to come when we really don’t know when, and we don’t really know how, as if it is going to fall down from the sky. A revolution that will probably not happen if we just wait for it patiently. We decided we wanted to attack now and destroy a small part of what destroys our lives little by little by imprisoning our desires. Consumed by these thoughts we came across a big BMW with Diplomatic Corp plates at the start of Cardinet street. Needless to say, the luxury vehicle was on fire within minutes!”

Berlin, Germany – Six Securitas cars covered in paint |

“On Sunday night unknown people covered six Securitas cars with red paint. For years Securitas has been responsible for the siege at GHS (ex-school occupied by refugees since 2012) and ID control at the gate.“

Solidarity Actions for Hambi 9 in Germany | Earth First! Newswire

Banner Drop “In solidarity with the imprisoned activists and all people facing repression by the state a banner was dropped in Tübingen, southern Germany, saying “freedom for Hambach prisoners, war against everyone who destroys the earth and confines our comrades”

Railway Sabotaged “The behaviour of RWE and government is disgusting, so we decided to come to NRW and switch off the coal-railway. The burning short circuit that we caused on the electricity-cables should teach them one thing: For every action, a reaction.The principle is easy: From the top of a bridge let down nylon strings with weights on them on the left and right side of the cables down to the rails. Throw down the metal wire that is connected to the nylon strings and allow the short circuit to happen! Remember to close your eyes!“

Pumping Station Burnt “In the night of the 26.1.2018, we sabotaged a pumping station of RWE with several incendiary devices. With that, we sent first smoke signals to the 9 fighting prisoners of the Hambacher forest movement.“

Shooting Towers Burnt “We discovered that the sand and stone exploitation by the forest is allowing hunters to create meadows for shooting stands, attracting wildlife to the area to then murder animals without compassion. We destroyed dozens before deciding to send a clearer message, so overnight and with only one security guard in the area we set multiple shooting huts and towers on fire, making sure that all were standing in the clear ground without risks of creating an uncontrollable fire.They burnt rapidly and our anger calmed, but only shortly. We then decided to send a letter to the mine, allowing them to know our intentions. If the shooting towers aren’t destroyed by them, it won’t just be the hunting equipment that will burn, but their entire machinery will be a ball of fire. We believe to have been successful as all stands have been either demolished or taken away.“

Cancún, Mexico: Explosive Attack Against the PRI Municipal Management Committee by ‘Attack Cells Against Devastation’

“An explosive device was left at the gates of the Municipal Management Committee (CDM) of the PRI* in Cancún. There was no news coverage about it or any reports as during this time it does not suit them to have any kind of bad reputation, but the attempts continue; against them and against all those who participate in the destruction of the earth. With this attack we send a fraternal gesture of solidarity to those who remain in clandestinity and are on the run from the jaws of the prison system, to let them know that they are not alone, we are also in solidarity with all actions for total liberation.”

Banner Drop

Banners Dropped at Super Bowl Media Day - UNICORN RIOT

“Two banners were dropped inside the Xcel Energy Center on Monday, January 29, 2018 during Super Bowl LII’s Media Day. The banners read #SBLIIBlackout and #WeReadyWeComing. They were deployed while thousands of press attempted to ask questions of the New England Patriots football team during the NFL’s “massive primetime TV spectacle“, which also featured the Philadelphia Eagles. No arrests were made.“

Melbourne, Australia: Banner Action in Solidarity with the Hunger Strikers in Sofia Prison, Bulgaria

“A small group of anarchists and antifascists gathered in Narrm / Melbourne, so-called Australia to express their solidarity with the ongoing hunger strike by the prisoners in Sofia Prison, Bulgaria. 30 prisoners have been on hunger strike since January 27th in response to the policies of the corrupt prison director Peter Krestev who is trying to stamp out symbolic protests for basic human rights.

Indigenous Liberation

Hundreds Turn Out To Back Hawaiian Occupiers Of Famed Coco Palms Site

“Five days after a judge ordered a pair of Native Hawaiians out of a 2,000-tree coconut grove that is the namesake of the famed Coco Palms resort, a Sunday night eviction deadline sparked the opposite of the intended effect. Several hundred supporters joined Coco Palms occupiers in a ceremony Sunday during the hour at which a judge’s order to evict a pair of Native Hawaiian activists from the property took effect. In a show of solidarity, about 200 people joined dozens of men, women and children who have occupied the property sporadically over the last 10 months, with about 20 of them routinely sleeping there in makeshift housing.”

Earth Liberation

B.C. Creates More Uncertainty for Trans Mountain Pipeline with Bitumen Restriction | Earth First! Newswire

“The British Columbia government is creating more uncertainty around Kinder Morgan Inc.’s Trans Mountain pipeline expansion project with a proposal to restrict any increase in diluted bitumen shipments until it conducts more spill response studies.”

Young Colombians File Lawsuit Against Government Over Deforestation | Earth First! Newswire

“A group of young Colombians, one as young as seven, filed a lawsuit against the Colombian government on Monday demanding it protect their right to a healthy environment in what campaigners said was the first such action in Latin America.”

Hong Kong Votes to Ban Domestic Ivory Sales | Earth First! Newswire

“The amendment will phase out the trade in three stages, a time period some conservationists say could be exploited as a loophole and too late for African elephants which continue to be killed in huge numbers.“

Antifa

Patriot Prayer Tried to Rally at Planned Parenthood in Olympia; Leaves Humiliated and in Tears - It's Going Down

“Triggered by someone shining a flashlight in his eyes, he reacted by lunging toward the crowd and was quickly covered in glitter and a light dusting of pepper spray. Melting like the Alt-Right bro-flake that he is, Joey stumbled back to his car and took his shirt off with tears streaming down his face. He quickly called on the Daddy State for help, which arrived in the form of cops and paramedics to hold his hand and soothe his bruised ego and tear-filled eyes.”

Toronto: Report Back for January 27th Action Against Anti-Muslim Far-Right Groups - It's Going Down

“The opposition’s turn-out was pathetic, at their peak having maybe 20-30 people, while anti-fascists outnumbered them 3 to 1. At one point, annoyed at those handing out anti-fascist information behind their group, they decided to turn and attempt to march down the side-walk, only to be preceded by comrades who took the opportunity to pamphlet and warn every passer-by what the group was attempting to do. Their small attempt at a march was embarrassing and quickly halted by other groups of anti-fascists. Between the attempted march and the end of the demonstration some conflict broke out between overzealous police and anti-fascists, over, for example, the use of chalk on a public sidewalk or the obstruction of traffic for crossing the road during the fascists’ attempt to march. Several arrests were attempted but all were prevented. At the end, amid humorous mocking and public disgrace the remaining racists slinked away while the anti-fascists cheered and celebrated their victory.”

Hundreds in Portland Come out to Rock Against Fascism - It's Going Down

“R.A.S.H. NW (Red an Anarchist Skinheads) with Red and Black Subculture Club held our first Rock Against Fascism event in Portland Oregon. This event had some very amazing performers. Estimations are that nearly 300 or more people attended the show in this small cider brewery. We anticipated disruption from local fascists and Alt-Right groups but none showed and the night was a blast.”

Workplace Organizing

6,000 Uber Drivers Have Joined Anarchist Union in Indonesia - It's Going Down

“Kommunitas Uber Mainstream, abbreviated KUMAN which means ‘bacteria,’was formed by three Uber motorcycle drivers in the Spring of 2017. They have since crafted a list of 14 demands, led four one-day strikes and have grown to a membership of 6,000 drivers.”

Foodora and Deliveroo Riders protest in Berlin

“The drivers dumped a big pile of used bike parts in front of the Delivery Hero office in Mitte to protest against this fact: “Some of you could throw your whole bicycle onto this pile: They are so worn down.”

Fast Food Workers in Portland Launch Strike at Burgerville - It's Going Down

“We are on strike today because every worker deserves a voice. We have the right to organize, but Burgerville has waged an intense union busting campaign. They have fired us, intimidated us, and threatened us, even resorting to physical aggression. This cannot stand. We are on strike today because Burgerville needs to stop ignoring us. They need to recognize the poverty its wages have forced workers into. They need to acknowledge that health care, consistent scheduling, and basic dignity on the job are all necessary parts of living a full, human life. They need to realize there’s nothing it can do to bust this union.”

Burgerville Strike Spreads Into Second Store, Pickets Continue - It's Going Down

“Yesterday, fast food workers and members of the Burgerville Workers Union (BVWU), a part of the revolutionary anti-capitalist union the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), launched a strike at the Burgerville USA chain in Portland, Oregon. Today, they announced that the strike had spread to yet another store.”

Super Bowl Protest: Tackle Corporate Greed - UNICORN RIOT

“An action at the Home Depot called on corporations to stop supporting oppressive immigration policies and create better wages and benefits for janitors.“

Other Actions

Police Divestment Activists Blockade Minneapolis Mayor's Residence During Super Bowl Week - UNICORN RIOT

“With Super Bowl LII three days away, dozens of community members blockaded the streets around Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey’s condo to implore the mayor to divest resources from the police and invest into communities. Protesters dropped a banner that read “Frey, Cops ≠ Safety” and left signs encouraging police divestment in front of Frey’s residence.“

Transparency Activists Sue Chicago Over Refusal To Release Amazon HQ2 Bid - UNICORN RIOT

“transparency organization Lucy Parson Labs filed a lawsuitagainst Mayor Rahm Emanuel and the City of Chicago over their refusal to publicly release offers made to entice Amazon to build their second corporate headquarters (‘HQ2’) in the ‘Windy City’.“

Repression & Prisoner Activity

Raleigh-Durham IWOC and Friends March on Abusive Residential Reentry Center - It's Going Down

“Given this situation, and the ongoing oppression of DeMarcus’s comrades inside the RRC, Raleigh-Durham IWOC traveled to Winston-Salem to demand to speak to the program director, Melissa Burgess. After not letting us inside the building, we were met by a public relations rep for the Salvation Army, someone who doesn’t even work for the halfway house. We told him we weren’t leaving until we spoke with Melissa Burgess. After it became clear to him we weren’t going to leave from outside the front door – and despite, by the way, him saying he ‘supported what we were doing’ – he called the cops. We had previously judged our capacity not able to provide adequate jail support outside our Raleigh-Durham base, so when the cops came we moved to a moving picket strategy on the sidewalk outside of the RRC.”

Murder at the Ramsey Unit, Texas: Prison Administration's Repression of Whistle-blowers - It's Going Down

“Jason Renard Walker is Deputy Minister of Labor for the New Afrikan Black Panther Party and one of the contributors to the Fire Inside zine. He writes here about a recent murder of a fellow inmate at the Ramsey Unit, the negligence that contributed to the death, and how the administration has sought to take control of the situation and punish him for his attempts to expose the situation.”

Bologna supporters fined for anti-police brutality protest

“Supporters of Bologna football club have been fined for their protest during an away game at Napoli on Sunday to commemorate the violent murder of a teenager by police officers in Ferrara, Northern Italy.”

Fighting Back Against Police Raids in New Orleans Strip Clubs - It's Going Down

“On Friday evening, January 19th, agents from the Louisiana Office of Alcohol and Tobacco Control, the 8th District New Orleans Police Department, and the Louisiana State Police raided four strip clubs in New Orleans’ French Quarter, suspending the clubs’ liquor licenses, shuttering their doors, and confiscating internal surveillance footage. The raids appear in tandem with the City Council and City Planning Commission’s (CPC) recent production and upcoming review of an “Adult Live Performance Venues Study,” (ALPV) which recommends both separating and limiting the number of strip clubs in the Vieux Carre Entertainment District, the pedestrian mall section of Bourbon Street.“

Minneapolis Unrolls Corporate Red Carpet & Largest Security Op for Super Bowl LII - UNICORN RIOT

“Super Bowl LII and its corporate partners have begun their 10 days of events in and around Minneapolis. The National Guard, federal agencies, and law enforcement from across the country are patrolling festivities in the Twin Cities from January 26th until February 5th. Super Bowl LII (SB52) has been labeled a National Special Security Event (NSSE) SEAR-I by the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). “

Chile: Urgent! Anarchist Prisoner Tamara Sol Transferred to the Maximum Security Section in Santiago |

“Tamara Sol was transferred once again, this time from the prison colony of Rancagua to the Maximum Security Section in Santiago. The reason for the transfer is due to her attempted escape from Valpraiso Prison.The maximum security section is inside the High Security Unit (CAS) a punishment division inside a prison for men, with a strict disciplinary regime. This section began receiving women prisoners with the imprisonment of Marcela Mardones in June of 2017. “

Support anarchist and antifa prisoners in St.Petersburg and Penza!

“Fundraising for lawyers working on cases about police raids and arrests of anarchists and antifascists in St. Petersburg ans Penza, Russia has begun. At the moment two persons in St. Petersburg and five in Penza have been arrested, more are connected to the case as witnesses. Raids and repressions are likely to continue. Arrested are charged with part 2 of article 205.4 of russian Criminal Code (participation in terrorist organisation) at the request of court from Penza.”

Chile: Lies, Dam Lies and a Mapuche Activist Murdered

“It has taken nearly a year-and-a-half of fighting the authorities, and a second autopsy, to confirm what the family of Macarena Valdés Muñoz already knew – she was hanged after her death. There was no suicide.”

Time on Ice: Florida Officials Torture Prisoners With Freezing Strip Cells - It's Going Down

“In only three months—October 2017 to January 2018—I witnessed and documented so many instances of this abuse that it would be unfeasible to list them all here. Therefore I will give just a random sampling.”

Mountain Valley Pipeline Construction Start OK'd in West Virginia | Earth First! Newswire

“The federal government gave its go-ahead Monday for construction of the Mountain Valley Pipeline to start in West Virginia.“

“Bio Warfare”: How Prisons Help the Spread of Hepatitis C Behind Bars - It's Going Down

“Here of late, my work has been primarily about the Hepatitis C epidemic (HCV). Hard to leave that subject well enough alone due to the fact that it appears to be the number one threat to the life and longevity to all those who find themselves behind the wall. It also appears intentional, if not deliberately disregarded.”

Argentina: Freedom to the Anarchist Prisoners in Buenos Aires!

“Artistic intervention and anarchist protest at the door of the naval prefecture building in Argentina in the city of Zarate for the two months of the murder of Rafael Nahuel, the disappearance on the part of the state of Santiago Maldonado, the murder of Luciano Arruga and the political prisoners of December 14 in protest against the labor reform.”

Court Overturns Decision to Deny Endangered Species Protection to Bison | Earth First! Newswire

“In a fantastic victory, a federal judge ruled yesterday that the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service illegally denied Endangered Species Act protections for the Yellowstone National Park bison population. The ruling overturns the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s negative 90-day finding, which concluded that there was not substantial information supporting the need to protect the bison under the Endangered Species Act.”

Ramsey Orta, Imprisoned for Filming Eric Garner's Murder, Placed in SHU for 60 Days - It's Going Down

“Ramsey Orta, the man who filmed the brutal murder of Eric Garner, has been placed in the SHU (Secruity Housing Units, essentially prisons within prisons) for 60 days, the latest in a pattern of targeted harassment and abuse. Orta is currently serving a disgusting four year prison sentence after he was targeted by the NYPD for filming the death of Garner at the hands of the NYPD back in 2014, sparking riots, protests, and uprisings across the US. Garner himself was harassed over selling loose cigarettes, a murderous example of broken windows policing”

Almost Four Environmental Defenders a Week Killed in 2017 | Earth First! Newswire

“The toll of 197 in 2017 – which has risen fourfold since it was first compiled in 2002 – underscores the violence on the frontiers of a global economy driven by expansion and consumption.“

Round Ups

VANDALISMS: New Year - It's Going Down

“We called this an irregular column so that it’s not a big deal if one doesn’t get published for over nearly two months. In this time a lot has happened so let’s not waste any time with words.”

For further news check out: Anarchist News Daily

For anarchist podcasts, lectures, and audiobooks check out: F Yeah Anarchist Audio

For anarchist videos check out: F Yeah Anarchist Video

Current news sites include: itsgoingdown.org insurrectionnewsworldwide.com earthfirstjournal.org unicornriot.ninja anarchistnews.org contrainfo.espiv.net actforfree.nostate.net libcom.org

[theforgottengn]

Brother Sweet Brother

Characters: Victor, Kilo, Papa, Juliett, Sierra, Holly Wallchester

Word Count: 2,698

Trigger Warning: Violence. Blood. Slight Swearing.

Parts: X

A/N: So here’s an attempt at a part two of this little Sierra Company adventure. I tried my best to write something but I don’t really know how to write these things… (I have no idea why I keep writing these things without fully developing all that good ol’ background stuff anyway.)

Summary: Victor has been abducted so the others scramble to find clues and him. But the one person on the team who actually can is overcome with guilt. Can the team figure out what’s going on before it’s too late? Click the read more if you feel like it.

XXXXX

Victor was laying on Wallchester’s queen sized bed with his laptop open in front of him. Everything in the room matched with the precision only someone obsessed with appearances could achieve but he didn’t care. He was currently trying to complete the Bear Necessities side quest in WoW. Hunting bears in real life was definitely harder than in the game. Not that Victor could really attest to that since he has never hunted anything in real life. But he could imagine. Kilo had already ducked out for a snack run so he was completely alone. Just him, his laptop, and the game.

Suddenly he hears the door open with a slow creak. Victor’s years of training and field experience taught him the only thing the noise could mean. The thought runs through his mind like a police siren.

That isn’t Ki.

He quickly reaches behind his back for the gun that rests in the holster there. He doesn’t bother putting his gloves on. This is not the time to worry about fingerprints or possibly breaking one of the many HERACLES rules. Not to mention that, depending on what happened next, he could be breaking probably the two most important rules of all.

Never leave a trace.

Never acquire a rabbit.

Sitting on his knees and pointing the gun directly at the closed door Victor barely breathes. He sits so still, his chest hardly rising and falling, that he looks like a statue. If the second rule was broken, as it seemed to be, that wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything that could’ve set anyone on the team’s trail. Victor had to admit that he wasn’t the best Cobbler in the business but he was pretty damn good. And he had a secret weapon.

As the doorknob turns Victor smoothly takes a hand off the gun and presses three specific keys.

Esc + F12 + 7

That’ll show ‘em.

Five men storm into the bedroom and two more crash through the windows; all armed. Each one was dressed in all black from their gloves to the balaclavas under their riot helmets. Each of them moves like they have received intense military training, but, they seem a bit rusty. To the Cobbler it was obvious they were ex-SEALS turned hired guns. Bad ones it looked like.

Looks like I’m a bit outnumbered… Not that it matters.

Instead of putting up a fight Victor starts to lower his gun. He gently rests it on the bed. Then Victor does the one thing HERACLES operatives were trained not to do. He puts his hands in the air and opens his mouth.

“I surrender,” he shouts loudly.

Just as the words leave his lips one of the men behind him opens up a pair of handcuffs. The click of metal is louder than normal in the quiet room. Victor agreed to go with these guys, but, that didn’t mean he was going to come quietly. And he definitely wasn’t going to go in handcuffs.

“Looks like you need a break,” he says before thrusting his arm back and upwards in one fluid motion. Victor rams his elbow right into the guy’s nose. The all too familiar sound of cartilage breaking fills the room and is followed by the clang of metal on a wood floor.

Turning his attention to the trigger happy idiot who had begun spraying bullets all over the room Victor groans. Rolling off the bed and sliding underneath Victor hides out until the bullets stop flying. When they do he rolls back out and swipe kicks the man's leg. And kicks hard. The force isn’t enough to make the burly man fall but is just enough to catch him off guard and make him drop the rifle.

He punches the guy in the throat.

As the man staggers backwards in pain Victor sends another kick his way. Finally the man falls to the floor. Victor quickly takes the twin 9mm black Beretta pistols from the ankle holsters and points them at two of the remaining five guys. He knows that these men are wearing protective gear so he aims for areas that aren’t covered by bullet-proof vests or helmets. Shooting at the men’s arms and legs Victor empties a clip from both guns but doesn’t land many of the shots. He was never that good of a shot in the first place. But he lands enough of them to send both men to the floor in pain.

Four down. Kinda... Three to go.

Victor drops the empty guns and makes a dive for the gun on the bed.

But one of the remaining thugs bum rushes him and pins him against the wall before he can stick the landing. The guy is similar in height and weight to the spy so Victor wouldn’t have a hard time getting the man off him. But the guy has his hands wrapped around the blonde’s throat in an attempt to strangle him. Scratching at the man’s arms and wrists Victor doesn’t think. He just kicks. But he doesn’t kick in the direction of his assailant. He kicks backwards against the wall. The sudden pressure against the back of his boot heel activates a mechanism which releases a hidden knife blade. He kicks forward with all of his might and stabs the guy in the thigh. Holding onto the thug for support Victor turns his foot slightly, sharply turning the blade inside the wound effectively deepening it, and then pulls the blade out with a backwards jerk. The blade releases with a gushing sound and a burst of blood just as the man goes down screaming in pain.

“I got a kick outta that. You? Probably not.”

The very last guy starts to make a break for it.

The man ran to the window and started climbing up one of the ropes while Victor was busy with the other one. But he wasn’t going to get off that easily. Victor makes it over to the window just in time to grab the guy by the leg. He starts to pull the man down but he’s met with a ton of resistance. Kicking as hard as he can the guy tries to shake Victor off him. He succeeds and the swings back; kicking Victor in the face as hard as he can. He falls flat on his back but on the shattered glass from when the guys crashed through earlier. He may be down but he’s not out. Victor gets back up quickly enough to see that the guy changed his mind about making a break for it. Just as he is about to punch the last guy in the face Victor is struck in the back of the head by the butt of a rifle.

He falls to floor with a thud.

That was almost half an hour ago. And now Victor sits tied to a chair in a seemingly empty room. His head hung down and his chest moved up and down slowly. A thick rope ran across his thighs and wrapped around two, three, times. Sections of the same rope were tied tightly around his wrists and ankles. The black combat boots had been taken off his feet and so had his socks. His captor had already used his comm to contact his team, to threaten them, and destroyed the device.

Victor was slowly coming to so he didn’t know any of this. Not yet.

Suddenly a shot of cold ran down his back waking him with a jolt.

“Someone’s awake,” a voice next to him said.

The person, to whom the voice belonged, walked around Victor and stepped into the light. The man wore a black suit jacket, matching pants, and a cornflower blue dress shirt. A thin, bridge lead to a pointy nose. His eyes matched his dress shirt to a T and the smile he wore underneath those eyes added to his creepy demeanor. His hair was thin, light brown and balding.

Victor grit his teeth against the cold as the ice continued to run down his back.

“Ice to meet you, too, Bouvier.”

“Looks like it likes puns boys,” the man said to goons Victor couldn’t see.

“Let’s see how it likes the feel of hot iron.”

XXXXX

Papa lay on the bed, on top of the covers, a good space away from Holly Wallchester’s naked, sleeping, form. The Swallow herself only wore a black lace bra and matching panties. They had just finished having relations which meant that Papa was done with her work. She got everything the team needed and the lawyer was none the wiser. Stretching her hands over her head Papa happily sat in satisfied silence. Her brown, green-flecked, hazel eyes closed as she sighed happily.

But then the calm, collected, voice of her fearless leader suddenly erupted in her ear.

Vic’s been abducted.

The Swallow practically jumped out of the bed and ran to the bathroom. Closing the door and locking it she shielded herself from possible listening ears. Her long, curly, jet-black, hair spun, with her upper body as she turned away from the door, and fell over her shoulder. Papa pressed a finger to her ear comm and responded in the only way she could.

“What the hell?! Who could’ve gotten the drop on us?!”

We don’t know. But I’m betting everything it’s Wallchester’s client.

“What makes you say that?”

Ki. Play it back.

A short pause followed Sierra’s request. Then a voice Papa couldn’t recognize flowed through her comm. The voice was male, soothing yet authoritative with a dash of creep, and with a painfully obvious Swiss accent. A voice that threatened the group and then spoke of the defense lawyer by name.

“That’s got to be Yves Bouvier. What an idiot using his own voice to make a threat like this… Ki’s working on finding Victor, right?”

Of course but you know…

You tell that Holly bitch, Juliett said suddenly cutting off the conversation, that when I see her I’m going to stab her in the trachea.

Jule. This isn’t the time for stabbing threats, Sierra responded with a sigh.

Of course it is!

“I’ll bring her over and find out what she knows. Papa out.”

With that she double-tapped her ear comm and took the small, practically invisible device, from her ear. She laid it on the edge of the fake marble sink and then left the bathroom. Sneaking over to where she had thrown the clothes, and shoes, she wore the night before Papa quickly grabbed them and returned to the bathroom. She was quiet enough on her feet to not wake Wallchester. Once Kilo had changed into the sleek, black, sheath dress with cut outs in both the front and the back, she ran her hands down the front and sides of the garment to smooth out any wrinkles.

Before she did anything else she returned her comm to her ear and tapped it back to life.

Then she bent down onto the tile floor and reached up under the tiles nearest to the bottom of the sink. Removing the false tiles was easier than one would expected. It did help that the team had been in the area for a few weeks prior, preparing, and that Juliett had already switched the real tiles with the false ones. And carved out a large cubbyhole in the floor. Which meant that all Papa had to do was store her goody-bag inside and replace the false tiles.

“Goody-bag come to Mama,” she said to herself as she grabbed the handle of her small, black, duffle. Just as the words left her mouth she realized what she said and stopped herself.

“Oh my god I’m turning into Jule!”

Shaking the thought off Papa removed the duffle. Reaching into the bag, after unzipping the zipper, she rooted around blindly for a few seconds. Then she stretched the sides of the duffle so she could get a better look inside. Eyeing what she was looking for she grabbed it, zipped the bag, grabbed the handle and walked out of the bathroom.

Once she was out of the bathroom she saw Wallchester sitting on the bed and pulling a white blouse over her head.

Papa dropped the duffle bag on the floor and climbed onto the bed, carefully hiding something behind her back. Snuggling up behind the other woman Papa began to nuzzle her face against Holly’s neck. Slowly she snuck the hidden object closer to its intended target. Grabbing Holly’s face with her free hand Papa kissed her passionately.

And while the woman was distracted Papa brought the needle of the syringe into her thigh. Then she pushed down on the plunger.

“Ah!” Holly screamed, “What the hell was that?”

“Ketamine. You should be feeling its affects in a few minutes.”

The Swallow scowled at the criminal defense lawyer as the sedative worked its magic.

XXXXX

Sierra and Juliett sat on Holly Wallchester’s ruined black leather sofa.

Hotel had dropped them off a few minutes or so after Kilo told them what happened. But he didn’t stay to freak out with the rest of them. He did what he always did when things got a little too stressful. He drove. And since Echo wasn’t needed on this mission and was back home that left the knife-loving-slight-pyromaniac and half-inspirational speaker half-mom to help calm things. Problem with that was Juliett was the last person to calm any situation. The woman just sat and watched Kilo pace as she spun one of her many knives in her hand, throwing it up every few seconds, with the expertise one only gets from years of practice. The team decided to leave the place in the disarray that Victor’s captors left it in. The destruction would make the Cleaners’ job a lot easier. Especially if Papa was bringing the criminal defense lawyer back to the apartment.

But none of that information calmed Kilo at all. While the two women sat she paced worriedly, biting her lip and, muttering to herself. After telling Sierra what had happened the Musician suffered a bit of a freak out. She screamed loudly and threw her tech with all the angry strength she had. And now all her equipment lay scattered about the room. It was busted but not broken.

It would work if Kilo wanted it to.

When Sierra and Juliett arrived they entered to a scene similar to the one that played out in front of them. The only difference was that Kilo was up and pacing not crumpled on the floor. She wasn’t crying anymore either. But her long hair was still a slightly tangled mess, her eyes were still puffy and red-rimmed, and her voice still scratchy.

“It’s all my fault. Vic is gone. Who knows what these dudes are doing to him. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”

“Kilo. If you just sit down and put your mind to it you’ll find him,” Sierra said in the most reassuring voice she could manage.

“I can’t.”

“Then Vic’s dead. And we’re also dead. Great going Ki, you killed us all,” Juliett stabbed the blade of her knife into the only standing wooden leg of the coffee table for emphasis.

Sierra shot Juliett a death stare and then turned to Kilo. They really needed Kilo to be on her A game if they wanted to find Victor. Which meant that Sierra had to do what she did best; lead.

“Don’t listen to Jule. She’s crazy. But we really need you to do your job.”

Kilo continued to pace as if she was contemplating what Sierra said. As she paced she bit her bottom lip. In fact ever since she entered the penthouse apartment to find Victor gone she hadn’t stopped. The skin began to split and bleed from her nervous habit. But Kilo had a right to be scared since she was the one who got that blonde, pun-loving-game-obsessed, idiot into this mess in the first place. Whatever happened to him was on her.

After a few minutes she stopped and sighed.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m doing this for Vic and nobody else.”

[sp00kworm]

Morphine (Oneshot)

Reaper and the Talon squad are a supportive bunch when one of them is injured.

Archive Link

Bullets ricocheted off of the walls under the hail storm of gun fire, pinging along the walls and blasting through plant pots and dustbins. Reaper growled, misting around the corner of a wall in the small reprieve of fire as the goons reloaded and flicked the firing mechanisms of their semi-automatics. The operation was supposed to have been easy. Get in, steal the information about LumériCo's clean energy cores, and get out without being seen. He'd brought Sombra along to help, the hacker useful for getting in and out by getting rid of the fire walls and security system. Cameras, drones and turrets were easily disabled and Reaper had slipped in easily through the air vents, quickly dealing with anyone who strayed in his path before accessing the data and burning it onto a drive.

The mercenary gripped the small, thin drive in his hand and growled as Sombra chattered in his ear, nonchalant despite the situation. She was safely a good mile away from the compound, and guided Reaper to the transport, or into a nice dead end. Glaring at the wall, Reaper hissed into his communicator, shying his mask away from the corner of the wall as bullets sent pieces of bricks flying.

“Sombra! This is a dead end!” Glancing around the corner, he caught sight of riot shields being prepped. Cursing he listened to Sombra's nails tapping against a keyboard, ducking back around the corner, opening his palms to summon two shot guns from his pocket dimension.

“Can you teleport to the top?” Sombra's voice quivered as she swipped through the screens of her computer.

“And make myself a bullet bag? Sure.” He drawled the last word and peered up at the top of the wall. If he went now he'd make it. “Fine.”

Reaper glanced at the top of the wall and focused his powers, opening the portal on the flat top of the wall. Diving through, the brief silence enclosed his ears, and the swirling darkness of the nether blinded him until he felt his body shift.

“Él es un monstruo!” The guards shifted their focus to the top of the wall and the clicking of the safeties was all Reaper heard, finally coming out of the stationary position he had to use to teleport. Then the gun shots sounded.

Bullets snapped through Reaper's abdomen with ease, cracking against the body armour on their exit. Blood trickled from the wounds and Reaper howled as one connected with his back plates. The electrical currents from the top plate ceased, and he felt his control over his form wane slightly. Smoke oozed from his shoulders and face, pouring out of the mask. As the bullets hailed, he finally regained enough of his sense to partially mist himself. He collapsed towards the ground and grunted, clutching at the bullet wounds dripping blood down his leather outfit. Blood never came out completely.

“Gabe? You alive out there?” Sombra's crackly voice sounded in his ear and Reaper growled, applying pressure to his injuries as he scrambled up, off the floor.

Struggling to breath with his punctured lung, he growled as the healing factor started eating and repairing the damaged flesh of his body, “Just...tell me where to go next...”

“Head towards the side of the church. The pilot has just landed to get you out of there. Gabe...are you...”

Reaper snarled into the communication line, “Bleeding out? Yes I am Sombra.” and clutched his belly once more, slowly making his way towards the whirling noise of the transport engines. The guards that had tailed him were screaming on the other side of the wall, and Reaper snorted as one poked his head over the top. Summoning a shot gun he pulled the trigger and watched with vengeful glee as the man's head exploded backwards towards his posse. The body collapsed against the top of the wall and slumped downwards blood gushing from the remainder of the bottom of the skull. Reaper grumbled and quickly moved on as the men and women began screaming and shouting again, the sound of running footfall evident. The transport was within his sight when the guards appeared at the end of the road. The pilot screamed at him to close the airlock as he finally dragged himself into the cargo hold, bullets whizzing past his head. Grunting, he slumped against the wall and grasped the lever, qucikly pulling it up with the last of his energy. Reaper's sight darkened. He watched the group of guards after him become the size of ants as they flew away from Dorado and eventually, he closed his eyes.

Gasping awake, Reaper instantly recoiled at the harsh white light of the medical bay. As his vision focused, he became aware of the ventilation mask over his face and the glass casing around him. Smoke trickled from his skin and Gabriel gazed up out of the glass enclosure to see two doctors scribbling on clipboards and talking to one another. Trying to move made pain shoot through his legs and stomach, and Gabriel looked down to see the bandages wrapped around his middle. A drip was connected to his arm, and he reached over, plucking it out, much to the distaste of the doctors hovering over the isolation unit they had him in like a coffin. A doctor leaned over and pulled a small radio off a stand before speaking into it.

“Subject thirty one, it would be advised that you leave that isotonic solution alone please. We don't need you collapsing from low blood sugar. We've replaced and altered your back plates, so that might be why you're experiencing some pain at the moment as they stabilise and are incorporated into your spinal cord again. We will release you at the end of the day.” The radio was placed back on the stand, and the doctors moved away together, leaving Reaper in the enclosed bed to struggle through the pain of his nerves knitting themselves to the back plates again.

It was the evening when he was finally escorted to his small room on the other side of the base by two large burly goons. They were not impressed about having to carry the mercenary down the halls, but complied to the doctor's wishes with the threat of having them castrated should 'the subject' come to any harm or further damage. Without an inch of grace, he was unceremoniously laid on his bed and left to his own devices, as the men quickly scuttled away before they could be subjected to any damage that would come from the short tempered mercenary. Reaper growled as his back twitched, the skin raw around the new back plates and tight where his factor had healed the bullet holes. Light coloured scars peppered his abdomen and legs, tight and sore when he moved too quickly. Rubbing at his legs, Gabriel sat up and felt around under his bed for the electric blanket. Finding the soft felt top, he tugged it free and shoved the plug into the outlet before spreading it carefully over the bottom half of his body and stomach. Notching the heat up, he waited for it to soothe the aches and pains. He never even remembered falling asleep.

Groggily, he opened one his eyes when a careful knock sounded on the door. Grumbling, he rolled over and pulled the blanket back over his legs.

“Gabriel. I can 'ear you moving.” Widowmaker tapped her fist on the door again and Gabriel sat up in his bed.

“Its open.”

Widowmaker glided into the room with the grace of an assassin, or dancer, light on her feet, she was quickly by his bed side, offering him a mug, “I made coffee. I thought you might want some after the drama of your last mission.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow and Widow sighed, “Its black, do not worry.” With a small smile, he took the mug in his hands, letting the warm seep through them before he took a sip, grateful for the caffeine. Widow nodded, patting his shoulder before leaving the room, her purple pony tail swinging behind her.

A couple of minutes later, a very boisterous Mexican burst into his room, a plastic bag clutched in her hand. Sombra grinned at him, pink finger nails waving at him in greeting.

“Hey Gabe. I just picked you up some things as an apology for-”

“Sombra. Don't eat yourself up about it. It wasn't your fault.” He placed the empty mug on his night stand and waved her over. “But, I am interested in just what you've got for me.”

Sombra snickered and pulled out a large bar of chocolate, “What do you say we watch some dramas, Gabe?”

“You know more than I'd care for you to. But fine. Lets see if the latest episode is out.” Gabriel plucked the chocolate from Sombra's fingers and pulled out his holopad.

[badcowboy69]

Drive

Something small I whipped up today to take a break from the insanity of something else I’ve been working on.  

Anyway, enjoy this one.  It’s short and sweet and wrote in my fave of first person.  It was also inspired by a song I heard today by Brad Paisley.  

And as always this features my courier six Travis Blackfox and the love of his life Riley White who belongs to @zoey-and-dakota

Comments are always welcome.  Enjoy!

It’s hot.  Hotter than I expected.  I’m out of water and covered in desert dust, but I have to get home.  Pausing to wipe the endless sweat out of my eyes I look up towards the sun and frown.  I’ve been out way too long, but getting reclaimed weapons sold to Gun Runners was a necessity.  All caps I get from salvage I send off to the Followers of the Apocalypse to fund their medicinal needs.  

Still...it’s hot.

Swallowing what little saliva remains in my mouth, I trudge forward back towards home.

Home seems so far away and only farther knowing no one cares about my situation.  I could fall over right now and no one would even notice.  Well, that’s a lie.  I’m sure some scavenger would notice...take my prized rifle, take my elite riot gear.  Hell, they’ll probably even take my black cowboy hat just because.  You would think the caps would be enough...enough to buy a dead man some dignity, but not everyone in this world is concerned with that.

As for me, I live the high life.  Pristine home, guards, tons of caps, alcohol, food...shit I have it made!  I will never have want for anything for the rest of my life if I so desire.  Yet that doesn’t really entice me.  Being out here, sweating my ass off to do some good is what I try and strive for.  Still, not many people care.  

I’m not looking for recognition or even a reward.  I am looking for people to learn from my generosity, to take a little bit of kindness and spread it.  It doesn’t take much.  In fact sometimes kindness can be downright free with a simple smile.  A simple wave to someone might let them know someone sees them.  Maybe that simple wave saved their life.  All some folks want is a little recognition.  A smile.  A wave.  All things that might seem pointless to you might mean millions to someone else.

It’s all I try and do.  The wasteland is a rough place.  I stamped out a lot of bad and am trying to do good.  I’ve given people hope and motivation.  They strive harder now and it’s obvious how things have changed in my rein all these years.

Still...it’s hot.

I should have brought more water.  I should not have left the building without eating first.  I should have used the caps I got for my sale to buy something at the diner in Freeside.  But, I didn’t.  

People milling around on the streets barely see me in fact.  As famous as I am around here I can also be just as invisible.  Today is one of those days. My weary, dusty body blends in perfectly with the citizens of Freeside.  No one sees me or pays me much mind.  No one cares.

Years ago all I had to do was pass through these streets and someone from the Kings would run up to me.  They’d thank me for my help and give me some random goodie.  Water.  Caps.  Ammo.  Food.  Not anymore.  They’re not dicks, don’t get me wrong.  They are still forever grateful that I helped them so much.  They’re forever thankful I fought for them and support them.  I helped them survive and flourish.  Now they can pass on more help to others in need. They learned first from the best, the original king, Elvis Presley.  Now they added me to the list on whom to admire.  I’m flattered, but will never match what Elvis has accomplished centuries ago.  

Now my leg cramps up.  No doubt my body’s rebelling from the lack of water. Groaning and wincing, I lean against a building and rub my aching leg.  Once again I have to wipe the sweat from my eyes with my free hand.  

I tilt my head back and see my casino, the Lucky 38, looming closer.  I’m almost home.  It would be a shame if I were to pass out now, scant feet away from my sanctuary.  Inhaling deeply, the arid heat of the desert burns my lungs and my parched throat.  I have to press on.  I am so close.

I pass by my robot guards.  They drone their greetings to me and it takes all I have to wave at them.  I’m beat, but they hardly notice my delima.  They won’t care if I give up right now and fall in a crumpled heap at their wheels.  No one would care.  I certainly won’t either.  It’d be so easy to do right now, but I can’t.

I’m limping now.  My leg basically said “fuck you” to me and it’s cramped and done.  I’m almost there, just a few more feet to go.  

The lighted stairs leading up to my home guide me.  My eyes are blinded by the sweat that seems to continue to pour out of me.  I don’t understand where all the moisture is coming from.  I should be dried up by now, but yet it continues to soak me.  I pass by the robot guard who gives me a cheery “Howdy.”  I feebly wave to him and push open the door.

I’m hit in the face by a blast of cold air.  I’m so thankful for air conditioning.  I’m so thankful that Mister House was able to retain the knowledge for such a device to work in this wonderful city of ours called New Vegas.  All the casinos and hotels have it.  It’s a wonderful thing even though it sends a shudder down my sun-baked body.

I stumble to the elevator and jam my thumb against the button marked with a 6.  As the doors slide shut I catch a glimpse of the robot guarding the elevator. The cowboy image on his screen almost looks worried about me, but I know that’s impossible.  The image is forever in its dopey smile.  Even if it were possible, I doubt it’d really care anyway.

On the ride up my hazed mind wonders why do I bother.  Why do I continue to strive to do what I do on days like this?  I could have very well have waited another day or two.  I could have went out closer to the night when the temperatures would be cooler.  I could have done a lot of things differently, but I didn’t.

Days like this bring me down, days I screw up and not think.  Again I wonder why do I bother?  What difference does any of it make?  Does anyone even care?

The elevator stops and the door slides open.  At that moment all my self-pity and misery is washed away.  All my bitching and all my complaining are gone as the arms of my savior embrace me.  My redhaired lover, my purpose for living and striving so hard is there for me.  He’s always there for me.

He guides me to the kitchen while talking soothingly to me.  He scolds me for going out in this terrible heat without water no less, but he means well.  As he presses a cold bottle of water in my hands I feel him remove my black cowboy hat and rake his fingers through my sweat-soaked hair.  Giving me a gentle kiss atop my head I hear him walk to the sink.  The sound of running water hits my ears and before I realize a soothing cold cloth is pressed against my head. He keeps it there for a few moments before gliding it along my neck. Pressing the cloth against my eyes is like euphoria.  Hell, just being with him is euphoria!

He is my world and my everything.  I don’t know what I would do without him. He keeps me focused, keeps me happy.  He satisfies me in so many ways and the sex is completely mind-blowing.  He makes everything worth it and is always there to bring me up when I’m down.  Of course doing stupid things like I did today do earn me a scolding, but it’s always out of love.  He’d be a goner without me just like I would be without him.  

Removing the cloth from my face I manage to open my bleary eyes and look up at my handsome man.  He smiles at me and once more tells me not to do something foolish like this ever again.  I nod numbly and feel his fingers peel the duster from my heated body.  He asks if I’m ok and I nod as I reach up to touch the side of his face.  The scratch from his beard makes me smile.  Hell, everything about him makes me smile.

Pressing a soft kiss against my parched lips, he lifts me from the chair and guides me to our bedroom.  Setting me down on the bed he removes my boots and pauses to give my feet a gentle, brief massage.  I sigh and feel myself slipping from the waking world into the soothing one he’s setting up for me. Putting his hands on my shoulders he slowly pushes me backwards until I come in contact with the mattress.  

I feel like I’m floating.  Floating in a world of intoxicating bliss, but yet I try not to give in yet.  He mutters that I need rest, but I need him first.  Using the remainder of my strength, I reach up and grab him by his shirt.  I pull him down to me and kiss him.  I hear him again tell me to relax, but yet he doesn’t pull away.  I feel his fingers in my hair, massaging over my skull while he presses his lips against mine.  

As our tongues entwine in an invisible dance I feel myself slowly starting to drift away into slumber.  I’m safe, content and cared for.  I am happy and I am in love.  Hell, I am loved.  There is no better feeling than that and nothing else gives me as much purpose or drive and I wouldn’t trade it for all the caps in the world.

[yumekuimono]

[WinterFrost] Everyone But Yourself Pt. 1/5

Bucky came back to himself huddled in a grimy alleyway underneath the rain. His clothes were sodden and it stank of wet trash. Taking a few deep breaths, he wiped his hands off the best he could on his jeans and then dragged them down his face. He had no recollection of how he had ended up here, only that he’d been talking to Steve and something had set him off, he didn’t even know what, and he’d had to get away. His heart was pounding, and he took several more breaths, trying to focus on the sound of the rain. He glanced around the alley and found several dumpsters, various emergency exits and backdoors, some flattened cardboard disintegrating in a puddle. No other people. He was alone, no one had found him. He needed to get back to the Tower. He would be safe there.

A plaintive meow at his elbow startled him. Tucked under the meager shelter of a fire escape with him was a black cat, equally soaked but seeming not to notice, looking up inquisitively at him. Bucky found himself leaning towards it.

“Privyet kotyenok,” he whispered. His voice was rough. He couldn’t tell if he’d been crying since everything was wet with the rain. He hoped he hadn’t been screaming.

The cat sniffed his fingers cautiously when he held them out, nose bumping against the metal. Its tongue flickered out to lick them briefly. Bucky reached out to scratch it under the jaw and it let him, leaning into the pressure slightly. On impulse, he reached out and picked it up, cradling it against his chest. It didn’t resist, resting passively in his arms and getting wet fur all over his shirt. Bucky hugged it close, another living thing in the here and now, warm and real.

“Okay, kotyenok,” he told it. “We’re going to find the Tower. It’ll be safe there, and dry.”

He got to his feet and edged closer to the end of the alley. What few pedestrians there were on the sidewalk beyond hurried past, their heads bowed under black umbrellas. No attention was paid to the scruffy, soaked man standing off to the side holding a cat. Bucky made his way to the corner, found a street sign. He wasn’t too far away from the Tower, and sure enough, glancing up he could see its sleek profile rising from the buildings around it. He started walking, the black cat secure in his arms. A block from the Tower, Natasha found him.

“Oh thank goodness,” she said, touching her earpiece. “Steve, I’ve got him.”

Bucky cringed a little, feeling guilty.

She took him around to the back entrance that led directly to the Avengers’ private elevator. Only once inside did she seem to notice the cat.

“Where’d you find that?”

“Alley.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t already belong to somebody?”

Bucky glanced down at the animal in his arms. It wasn’t wearing a collar. “I don’t know. I’ll find out. I just want to dry it first.”

Natasha nodded. “You alright?”

“Fine.”

She left him at his floor, and Bucky carried the cat into his bathroom, setting it down and closing the door behind him so it wouldn’t escape. He peeled out of his wet clothes, hanging them over the curtain rod for the shower. He could probably just put them in his dryer, but it didn’t feel right when it wasn’t a whole load. His boots went against the heating vent, and he dried himself off with one of the Tower’s superfluously fluffy towels, grateful for it just this once. Grabbing a hand towel and seating himself on the floor, he dried off the cat too. Again, it let him without complaint, merely shaking itself a little when he was done. Bucky let the cat out of the bathroom and then pulled his stuff out of his wet pants pockets and went into his bedroom to change into dry clothes.

Steve called while he was getting dressed, and Bucky deflected his offer to come by. He didn’t much feel like company at the moment, avoiding his reflection in the mirror as he pulled on fresh jeans.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be okay, really, Steve. Listen, if you’re still out, can you find a pet store for me? I brought back a cat. No… No, I just need some food or something. A brush maybe, ’s all. Thanks.”

He hung up and wandered into his living room to find the cat curled on top of the heating vent asleep. He dropped onto his couch, staring at nothing in particular. The next thing he knew JARVIS was telling him Steve had arrived with his pet supplies. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

-

Loki hadn’t meant to end up back in Stark Tower. He hadn’t meant to end up in New York City at all, really. He’d seen his chance on Svartalfheim, faking his death and teleporting himself to Midgard, where they would be unlikely to look for him. He’d taken the form of a housecat, small and unassuming, and a good enough disguise to throw off any magical searches for him. Only then did he realize that he’d arrived in Midgard at the same place he’d left it. He’d considered going somewhere else, to another city where he’d never been, but he couldn’t seem to be able to muster up the energy for it. He was so tired. He couldn’t be bothered to count how many days he spent scrounging in back alleys, sleeping under dumpsters and slinking away whenever another stray or even a particularly large rat challenged him for the scraps of food he’d found. Even that felt like too much work, and more than once he’d gone to sleep with hunger gnawing at him rather than look for anything to eat. He would still rather die than return to Asgard, but now that he was safely away, he found himself aimless and drifting. Eventually he was forced to admit that he’d be better off if he found some soft-hearted human to impress himself on.

It was dumb luck that the man darted into the same alley in which Loki was huddled underneath a dumpster to avoid the rain, his movements trained and controlled but apparently half-blind. The man’s shoulder hit the brick wall, and he slid down to sit on the filthy ground, knees pulled up and body shaking. Loki crept out to sit next to him. He knew that he should make himself look pitiable to increase his chances of being taken care of, but he’d played so many games lately, put on so many masks and been versions of himself that he didn’t really mean. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than watch with detached curiosity as the man hyperventilated, sobbing out half-intelligible phrases in Russian and English and a smattering of other languages, his hands scrabbling at the ground and the fabric of his jeans and up to cover his head. When it seemed he’d calmed somewhat, taking notice of his surroundings for the first time, Loki meowed and the man startled. He held out metal fingers, and Loki sniffed at them as a real cat should, tasting when he was unable to get a good scent. The man picked him up, and Loki let him. He got up and started walking without putting Loki down and that was good. He hoped he was being taken somewhere good.

When the man was met by the Black Widow and guided into Stark Tower, some distant part of Loki’s mind noted that there was no way this situation could end well. He was an enemy of the Avengers and they would surely turn him over to Asgard if they found out who he really was. He was so tired, though, deep and heavy in his bones, and he couldn’t seem to care. The man took him into an apartment and toweled him off, leaving his fur uncomfortably rumpled. He didn’t have the energy to groom himself. When he was let out of the bathroom, he explored only far enough to find a vent in the floor through which hot air blew, and he laid down on top of it to go to sleep. He hoped vaguely that the man would have food for him when he woke.

There was food, some sort of ground meat product from a can, but it was better than nothing and he ate it without complaint. When he was picked up again he didn’t resist. He was settled in the man’s lap and a brush was run gently through his fur. The repetitive motions were soothing and he drifted, half-aware of the conversation between the man and Captain America.

“…sure I’m fine…”

“…pet store said they’d be happy to put up a poster…”

The Captain’s name was Steve. He’d known that. The other man’s name was Bucky. It was a silly name, he thought.

“…is it fixed?”

There was a faraway flash of indignation as his hind leg was pulled up, but it didn’t linger long.

Bucky didn’t stop stroking him even after all the knots had been smoothed out of his fur and there was no reason to keep brushing it. His hands and the sound of his voice were nice.

“…says nowadays there’s microchips implanted, maybe…”

He was picked up again, carried into the elevator. When they stepped out into the riot of Tony Stark’s laboratory, Loki snapped alert, tensing.

“Hey Tony, have you got anything that’ll scan for a microchip?”

“Sure, put it over there.”

Loki was set down on a table, and he crouched as hands held him still, his heart beating wildly. If they were going to find him out it would be now. He hoped the transformation was enough to make his energy signature unrecognizable, hoped that Stark’s technology wouldn’t be good enough to pick up on it, that it wouldn’t be looking. His tail swished anxiously and he fought to keep his ears from flattening. He didn’t know what would happen, only that he couldn’t go back to Asgard.

“DUM-E, go away, you’re frightening the kitty-cat. I’ll give you something to play with later.”

If he could have, Loki would have laughed.

“I detect no chips or other identity or tracking devices, Sir. Scans indicate that while underfed, this is an otherwise healthy adult male housecat.”

Loki nearly sagged in relief. He was scooped up again.

“Alright, thanks, Tony.”

He was taken back to the apartment and placed in Bucky’s lap again, but this time he could not enjoy being pet. He couldn’t stay in the Tower if he wanted to remain hidden. Sooner or later they would find out who he was and his precious freedom would be gone again. Mustering the will to go back to the streets was daunting, though. He was reluctant to give up access to somewhere clean and dry, where he would be fed and could sit and have his fur stroked. One night surely couldn’t hurt. They had no suspicions as of now. He slept on top of the vent again, and when the first rays of sunlight woke him, he ate the rest of the food that had been left out. Then he made himself leave. He would have to find someone else to take him in.

 -

Bucky found he liked petting the cat, liked the weight and warmth of it in his lap. It was soothing, and it helped keep him grounded in the present. It was something soft, something gentle for him to do. Sometimes he needed that reminder.

He ended up talking to Steve anyway, and reluctantly agreeing to make signs asking if anyone owned the cat. The cat—it was definitely male—had no ID and wasn’t neutered. The chances of it being anyone’s pet were pretty low, although once dry and fed it was an elegant creature, nothing at all like the scrappy tomcats Bucky remembered from the streets of his childhood. He found himself secretly hoping that no one responded to claim him. So it was a strange mix of feelings when the next morning he couldn’t find it at all. He hadn’t been looking forward to the interpersonal interaction required to find out if the cat belonged to someone, even though that outcome would have been easier. As much as Bucky would have liked to keep him, he was also dreading everything that would have entailed, from veterinary visits to buying supplies. He was looking underneath all of his furniture when he thought to ask JARVIS if the AI knew where the cat was.

“He has not been in the Tower for some time, Sergeant Barnes,” came the response.

“Oh.”

In the end, though, the cat didn’t really belong to him.

That evening Bucky was sitting on the couch, running his thumb over the bristles of the brush Steve had bought and trying not to lose any more time, when the cat jumped up into his lap.

 -

Loki felt in some abstract sense that he should hate himself for being so weak as to return to the Tower despite all of its risks. But he felt tired and dull and desperate, and all he wanted was to sleep and to forget that he’d ever had a past. He couldn’t face going out and trying to scrape together enough food each day, trying to find somewhere decent to sleep where he would be undisturbed. He couldn’t even begin to think of trying to get somebody to notice him in the crush of people hurrying by, hoping they’d take him home. In the same way that he’d found himself staying in New York without really deciding to, he found himself returning to the apartment.

When he jumped up into Bucky’s lap, the man broke out into a smile that transformed his face. Instead of letting Loki sit, Bucky picked him up and pulled his feet up onto the couch, cuddling him close, his face tucked against Loki’s fur. It was nice for a while, until it began to feel claustrophobic, but he didn’t have the energy to escape. It took him a few minutes to remember his voice and then he meowed plaintively, pitifully.

Bucky let him down onto his lap, smoothing out his fur. “Sorry, kotyenok. I thought you were gone. You want food?”

He put Loki to the side on the couch so he could stand, and Loki jumped down and trailed after him into the kitchen. He hadn’t actually eaten since the morning and he hunkered gratefully in front of the bowl Bucky placed on the floor for him. He slept on the vent again that night.

Loki spent three full days living in Bucky’s apartment. He slept on the living room vent, in a patch of sunlight in front of the bay windows, or on Bucky’s lap with fingers running through his fur. He ate twice a day. He didn’t do much more than that. Bucky spent a lot of time out of the apartment, at therapy or in the gym or the workshop, or sometimes with the rest of the Avengers. On the fourth day, Loki was alone again when he was seized by the need to go outside. His prison cell in Asgard had been like this, not much to do but eat and sleep, clean and quiet. He needed to know that this was not an elaborate illusion, needed to know that he was free.

He left the apartment and made his way to the park on whose edge he’d stood when last leaving this realm. This time he made his way inward, treading over grass and dirt, smelling the city, smelling plants and living things. He could hear seagulls and children playing and the horrible Midgardian traffic. He clawed his way up a tree, as high as he could, and watched the clouds through the shifting leaves. Then even that wasn’t enough and he left his feline form to take to the sky, his broad wings lifted on thermals from exhaust and sun-warmed concrete. He rose past the tallest buildings, and his sharpened eyes could see the horizon stretching out for dozens of kilometers. He hovered there until the sun began to slip behind the earth and the city started to cool. Then he tumbled down, the wind in his feathers, before he caught himself on four legs on the floor of Bucky’s apartment.

 -

Bucky grinned when he found the cat in his apartment again. It felt strange on his face. He scooped the cat up, resisting the urge to curl around it like a child’s favorite toy since it hadn’t liked that last time. Bucky supposed he could relate.

“Hi, kotyenok. Do you want to come to movie night with me?”

Steve beamed at him when Bucky came into the common room carrying the cat and sat himself in the deflated old armchair in the corner that had the best sightlines to the doors and windows. “I thought your cat was gone again, Buck.”

He shrugged. “It came back.”

“Pretty sure there’s a song about that,” Tony remarked from where he was pouring drinks behind the bar.

“You sure it’s a good idea to let it out without it being fixed or with a collar or anything?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know how he gets in and out. Anyway, he’s not really mine.”

“If you say so.”

“What’s the movie tonight, guys?” Bruce changed the subject.

“Well, tonight’s another ‘Educate the Elderly’ night,” Tony answered, coming around to the seating area. “So classics, no explosions.”

“Aw, man,” Clint whined, having come into the room just in time to hear the end of that statement.

“Don’t be a baby,” Natasha told him. “It’ll build character. And I got you your three different kinds of cracker jack so you can eat them all at once, you monster.”

“You’re the best, Nat.”

The conversation continued on as the team settled into place, and Bucky faded back into being a silent observer. The cat just curled up in his lap and went to sleep.

 -

Loki continued to return. Eventually he decided to forget worrying about it. It was too much work to think about leaving for good every time he went out when all he wanted was to spend some time staring at the horizon thinking about nothing. He wasn’t here to be himself anyway. He was just a pet cat. He slept and ate and did what he wanted and nobody expected any different of him. Bucky sat with him and occasionally took him to team gatherings where other people would give him attention but mostly just let him sleep. Perversely, it was the most honest he’d felt in years.

He didn’t mind Bucky’s screaming nightmares and flashbacks, and especially didn’t mind the way he would sit and stroke his fur for hours afterwards. He didn’t remember the last time someone had shown him unconditional affection, nor the last time someone had sought him out for comfort. He hadn’t realized how much he needed it. Bucky started taking him to bed with him after his nightmares, and Loki didn’t mind that either. He simply settled at Bucky’s shoulder until the man was asleep again and then climbed onto the small of his back and slept there instead.

When Loki returned to the apartment one evening to find Bucky curled shaking in a corner, it felt natural to squeeze under his arm into the space between his chest and legs. He started purring loudly, ignoring the way Bucky was getting his fur damp. Eventually, the man shifted to actually holding him, rubbing his fingertips back and forth in Loki’s fur in tiny motions. He sniffled a little more in between taking calming breaths.

“Spasibo, kotyenok,” Bucky whispered.

He spent the rest of the evening carrying Loki around, and Loki felt a little bit like a security blanket, but that was fine. He would have spent the time sleeping on Bucky’s lap anyway. He did have to remind Bucky to feed him, but he ate quickly and climbed back into Bucky’s arms when he was done. Bucky needed him and didn’t pretend otherwise. He wanted Loki and Loki didn’t have to do anything to earn it other than simply be there. He was quickly coming to seriously consider staying like this.

 -

Bucky cut his workout short and went back to his floor, relieved to find the cat still there. He’d carried it around the evening before and cuddled it in bed, but he’d left it behind that morning to do his usual routine. He’d been okay for a while, but he should have known that what with the major episode last night it wouldn’t last. By this time the cat was more or less trained to sit in his lap whenever he sat on the couch, and Bucky buried his fingers in the scruff of its neck. He focused on the black fur sliding over the metal of his fingers as he carefully drew them down the cat’s back. He focused on his breathing, deep and even, on the way the cat in his lap was completely relaxed, trusting him. JARVIS had to remind him that he had a therapy appointment.

He sighed, not wanting to go. He didn’t want to break the fragile skin he’d built around himself. He knew he had to, though. He pulled the cat up out of his lap. “Hey, kotyenok, do you want to come to therapy with me today?”

The cat blinked at him and then clambered up to balance precariously on his shoulder. Bucky winced as it put weight on the join between the prosthetic and his flesh.

“No, come on, you can’t be up there.”

He reached up to pull the cat down, but it just climbed up onto his opposite shoulder. Bucky sighed. When he turned to try to look at it, he nearly knocked the cat off of its new perch and it head-butted him in retaliation. It wasn’t hurting him standing on his right, so he figured it might as well stay. The cat wobbled as he stood but quickly found its balance and apparently settled in with interest for the ride.

“You know, no one’s going to believe me anymore when I say you’re not really my cat.”

It sat quietly through Bucky’s therapy appointment, letting him stroke it and play with its fur. His therapist, Dr. Nabavi, said it was a remarkably well-behaved cat and that it seemed to be doing Bucky some good. At the end of the appointment it climbed back up on his shoulder. It didn’t seem much inclined to get down, so Bucky carried the cat around with him for most of the rest of that day.

It quickly became a routine. When Bucky had a flashback the cat would be there, purring loudly and squirming into Bucky’s space or weaving in between his legs until he was present enough to hold it. It occupied his lap when he sat for any length of time, and rode on his right shoulder as much as was practical. It never again tried to get up on his left. Bucky took the cat to therapy when he needed to, and it sat politely in his lap despite the unfamiliar surroundings. It still left the Tower, but Bucky was somehow given the impression that it only did so when it knew he was busy and unable to give it attention. He came to expect to find it sleeping in the sun whenever he returned to his apartment. If it wasn’t, it would soon appear, smelling like grass or the wind, and rubbing its head against Bucky’s fingers in affectionate apology. He still hadn’t gotten it a collar or taken it to the vet or even given it a proper name beyond kotyenok, but everyone living in the Tower knew the cat was Bucky’s.

 -

Loki settled easily into a routine in the Tower. He sat with Bucky through nightmares and flashbacks and what he learned were efforts to prevent dissociation. He let Bucky take him to therapy appointments and listened in enough to figure out what sort of trauma he’d been through and how he was supposed to be coping. He also put together that Bucky was hiding exactly how badly he was doing from the Avengers, and that just having Loki as witness and source of comfort for nearly all of his episodes was immensely helpful. It wasn’t entirely altruistic, but then no one expected cats to be. Dr. Nabavi called Bucky ‘James,’ and Loki thought that was a much better name.

Slowly, his lethargy lifted, and he found himself caring that his agency was limited in his current form. He refused to be stuck at floor-level all of the time, claiming James’ shoulder as a perch. He got a free ride, and was conveniently close at hand if James needed to hold him. He also refused to eat only from a can, and indulged himself in stealing food among other occasional minor mischief. He only needed to take refuge on James’ lap to escape punishment, and most of the time he got rueful laughter out of his victims. He continued to take trips outside when James was elsewhere, but he didn’t bother casting a spell to alert him when the man returned. He didn’t have anything better to do to keep his mind occupied than memorize James’ schedule and learn to read his moods so that he could estimate on his own when he would need to teleport back. He began to find real joy in his flights, but he never thought of flying away. James was his people now.

A/N: kotyenok means “kitten,” privyet is “hi,” and spasibo is “thank you” in Russian.

This is canon-compliant through both Thor 2 (save for the very end) and CA:TWS, but I’ve switched their order in the timeline. Because I can.