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katsukikitten · 2 years

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Synopsis: Your worst nightmare comes to life after you receive a call well after midnight that isn’t from your husband Bakugou but about him. Rushing to the hospital you’re thankful to find him alive but when he comes to he asks to see his wife despite you standing there.

Warnings: Angst, dark themes, mentions of child loss, mentions of/contemplating abortion, mentions of difficulty conceiving. Cheating if you squint

Final Chapter : The final good bye, I’ll break my promise one last time. wc 8414

Master List

“Bakubro.” Kirishima calls out, garnet eyes following you into the sky. Eijirou knows, he fucking knows Bakugou just shouted out your name and it's only a matter of time before Bakugou becomes as volatile as one of the grenades on his tapered waist. The giant redhead swallows thickly as he tries to get to Bakugou as fast as he can.

Who the fuck was that brat? Who the fuck were you?

ssǝuʇǝǝʍS

Sweetness

Evol noʎ

Your voice echoes in his head, each pound of his heart sends blood rushing in his ears and beneath your voice, beneath the throbbing pain Bakugou hears a faint and constant BEEP that keeps time with his heart.

Memories exploding like fireworks in quick succession, so quickly it's difficult for Katsuki to keep up.

That's ɹno new ǝɔᴉɟɟo ɹǝƃɐuɐɯ. Ain't she a llod?

Come on Bakuqɹo you think she's ʎʇʇǝɹd

ɹᴉɐɥ ʎʇʇᴉɥs ɟɟo ʞɔnℲ

Fuck off shitty hair

It takes a moment for Bakugou to decode the snippets of conversation and although he does so with speed another memory begins to overwrite the last.

Vividly he remembers you at that desk with the water stained rings. Of your upturned nose the first time he asked you to dinner, the second, the third, and the fifth. Six times, six times it took over the course of a year and only then you accepted.

Eijirou better be right about your 'heart of gold'

The memory starts with you with your nose scrunched up, in a cute sundress you wore under a stuffy jacket for work, at the end of that date he saw a bright smile on your face.

He knows it's the same dress you wore today, with the same floral print. Hydrangeas.

The image begins to move, revolving around the dinner table as if it were the sun when really you were becoming the center of his universe. And with each revolution came a change. Your outfit, the style of your hair, the weather outside. Rain, sun, snow, stars. Faster and faster but not too swiftly that Bakugou couldn't see the one constant about the moving memory, of your wide smile and how your eyes softened.

You break the movement, leaning forward to blow out the candle that sat between you two whispering softly

Yes, a thoundtimes yes.

Snowy static of old film starts to clear as Kirishima comes into view. Deja vu settles in Bakugou's bones as the scene unfolds. He's asked this question before, Will ya be my best fuckin man? Except this time Eijirou is older than he recalls, this time tears fall down Kirishima's scarred cheeks. Salty water falling over puckered skin that wasn't there before. Bakugou knows shitty hair didn't cry the first time he asked, and saw the doubt in his eyes that his best friend pushed down for his sake. This time was garnet eyes, pearly with joyous tears as he claps his hand on Bakugou's back pulling him into a hug.

'Happy for you man, she’s such a good fit for you"

The tear that falls from Kirishima's cheek turns into a stream of percolating coffee as Bakugou now stands in the small apartment from his dream. A pink cup filled with ice that melts under the hot stream.

"But I want it in your studded cup," You pout voice weighed with sleep, "It tastes better when you make it in your cup."

"Well what's mine is yours and what's yours in mine ain't til next week." Bakugou had joked back, turning around to hand you your coffee and as you reach for it, brushing your fingers against his, you are no longer in his skull t-shirt.

Now lace clings to your skin emphasizing your beauty as it danced along your arms, back and throat in blinding white. The wedding dress he remembered in vivid detail, the same one from the dream he told his mom about last week with tears threatening to crack his voice and give him away.

Like it does now as he twirls you around and around in the first dance of joined souls, bound by rings and an unbreakable bond.

"Breathtaking." His voice echoes as he twirls you and the bottom of your dress sweeps away the thought and leads to the next.

Of all that lace discarded on the floor and him leaning over you. Nipping and kissing at your shoulders and he rasps with fluttering lashes. I love you . I fucking love you. Each panting breath darkening his vision before a loud BEEP brings him to something that makes his breathing slow and shallow.

Makes it difficult.

Beep

A soft pleading voice.

Beep

Smooth skin tracing along his fingers and features. Pushing back hair from his forehead.

Beep

A soft voice humming songs he loved, songs he knew his wife rolled her eyes to from how often he played them. Singing the lyrics she remembered.

Beep

He remembers that, he knows he remembers that because he tried so hard to open his eyes then, move his useless and parched tongue to let you know with a loving tease you were off key and mixing up the lyrics to each song.

Beep

But he was tired, so fucking tired. And his body was not only unresponsive but heavy. Hands, so many hands, pulling him down, down, down into the deep dark depths, whispering sweet nothings in his ears. To keep his eyes closed.

Beep

Come back to me sweetness.

Then the images shatter and each time he tries to recall what he's just seen the snowy static returns. Wrapped heavily behind self doubt; that he hadn't imagined a love that ran so deep to fill the void that his first wife left him with.

That he did deserve what you gave him.

Snapping jaws bring back the biting question of why the hell that little brat showing off his fireworks looked so much like him.

Did he have a fucking kid? Did his dreams of a family come true while he slept?

Was it with you? The ghost that winks in and out of his mind like a lighthouse in the fog. If he were to get closer would he crash and burn?

The fire in his chest seems to think so.

His friends seemed to think so.

But a bigger question pulls at the sinew on his bones.

Was he still lost in time?

He felt like it especially after those flashes as if he were suffering from an episode. The scar on his temple threatens to split his head in two as the movie played at such a speed it only spanned the few seconds it took Kirishima to get closer to him.

Even in his daze Bakugou sees the worry in Kirishima’s face. The warring emotions that flash in those garnet eyes that he’s known since he was 15. That someone he knows might hold all the answers, especially with how he looks towards the sky after you.

“You know her?” He grabs Kirishima’s metal shoulder gears roughly. If Bakugou was taller he’d have Kirishma off his feet easily, instead the metal starts to turn as orange as his gloves.

“You fucking know her?!” He snarls again, rage thick in his throat.

“Katsuki, please.” Eijirou is only begging because of the proximity to the public and of course Bakugou couldn't give less of a shit. Spreading out his hand and popping off explosions too close to civilians for the hero commission's liking. The crowd backs up from the warning as Izkuki lands next to the large men cracking the pavement beneath his red boots.

“Kaachan…” He tries with lifted hands as Shouto makes a barricade to keep the civilians safe by shielding them with a wall of ice. The action catches Bakugou’s eyes and pictures of Momo and Shouto standing closely together flood his mind.

Why the fuck were those hanging up in his home?

Where were the pictures of Bakugou and his alleged wife? As far as Bakugou knew there were none to be found that existed after his 21st birthday.

“You.” He snarls, pointing at Shouto who's eyes widen with surprise.

“Don’t play dumb you half and half bastard and don’t you dare fuckin lie. I know you’re fucking my ex wife. My wife… whatever the fuck she is! I know you’re balls deep in Momo.” His palms heat up as he thinks of melting off that bastard's face.

Or should he? Why'd he call Momo his ex wife first? His head throbs as his heart starts to crack, deep fissures running along the muscle. Breath tight in his chest.

"No, Katsuki it's not like that…" Shouto's brows furrow upward. The icy hot hero's heart is slowly being cleaved aparts as he looks at what was his first real friend. The two bonded over their remedial classes despite being the top of the class and that bond was exactly why he fended off Momo's advances. He thought he was helping.

They all did.

But no good deed goes unpunished.

“Katsuki please!” Kirishima grabs onto his middle lifting him up to keep him from advancing. Like a cat Bakugou slips from Kirishima's grip, rounding on him with a nasty punch that sends him flying into the ice wall. Large body leaving an indent in the icy barricade as the other two men begin to circle Bakugou.

"Kaachan, we don't want to fight." Yet green electricity and black whip danced on Izuku's thick fingers. A two v one fight would be easy for Bakugou, especially with how intimately he knew not only their quirks but his friends' fighting style. Tsk if he can even call them that.

"Stop using my given name. You buncha assholes don't deserve it!" He shouts, blasting Izuku with an AP shot that sends him flying into Kirishima who was just recovering from the lethal punch. A stare down between Shouto and Bakugou begins, reminding the hot head of the festival all those years ago. Funny how the blonde was so driven then by fighting. Driven by obsession to prove he was number one on his own fair terms.

Prove he was worthy of something.

The mixture of rage and the calm before a fight ebb in his blood, putting him in the perfect head space for the impending match. Shouto narrows his eyes and Bakugou knows he'll lead with ice.

He always does.

Bakugou's fingers twitch, palms heating and when he takes in a breath it's like something is pulling his mind in another direction. Away from the fight at hand and to more pressing matters. As if he was suddenly remembering something important he needed to do. The phone in his pocket started to become a heavy weight as he racked his brain and these new fragmented memories for any hint as to what the password to his cloud was.

Since his friends have been lying to him, he knew his phone wouldn't. Couldn't. Bakugou should have some sort of evidence on if Momo was actually his current wife or if it was you, the visage of his perfect love.

Just as Shouto brings up his arm, Bakugou aims his palms towards the ground. Launching himself into the air as his body goes on autopilot landing on top of that damn apartment building with the sad smiling door man that he’d pass on his runs. He isn't sure why he's up on this roof top.

Isn't sure why his eyes are starting to burn as the picture of that snowy VHS starts to become clear again.

The more he tries to quiet his mind the more that brats name drowns out his thoughts.

Daiki Daiki Daiki

Bakugou snaps his eyes open just to stare down at his phone, that password that eluded him over the years taunting him. It had to be this right? That name his "one true love" whispered to him while half asleep. Telling him in full confidence the name she'd chosen for their future son.

The name you chose.

Resounding like the hit of a gong as his fingers type out what surely couldn't be his password. He didn't know that brat. He didn't know you. It was just some weird fucking dreams. Some made up stories to soothe his broken heart.

D ▇

D A ▇

D A I ▇

D A I K ▇

D A I K I ▇

Enter

Folders pop up, flooding the screen with images that his phone has neatly sorted for him. Albums of friends, family, weddings and one dedicated to just you.

He stares at the wedding one for a long time, the album photo was of Bakugou and his groomsmen. Kirishima, Shouto, Izuku, Denki, Sero all lined up, all sharing a laugh. The ties and small peonies on the lapel are all a dusty pink. His heart races. No way, no fucking way. They all look older here than he remembers, then when he married Momo and he knows for a fact his wedding colors were red and black. Her request, cause he never gave a shit about that. He just wanted to build something with her.

But she was just too focused on other things and Bakugou, Bakugou had to let her go. He knew that then. He knows that now.

The thought comes on its own as he taps the album letting out a whimper as he sees that dress. The one he dreamed so vividly for a week straight this month, in a picture of himself and you gently feeding the other cake. Looking at one another as if they were the sun and stars above.

With each swipe of his thumb the memories come flooding back, less cryptic than they were before, hell than they were a few minutes ago. Feeling more solid, more tangible.

Real.

But what sends it all home, that Bakugou hadn't made you up, that his son he daydreamed of was real was the album dedicated to you.

Picture after fucking picture of you looking stunning. In his t-shirt with the fading skull under the moonlight. With you looking over your shoulder to see if he's following on a busy sidewalk. Of your side profile, face to the sun like a content cat, lips curled into a small, effortless smile. He knows the place in the last one, holding up his phone to the exact spot.

Here, on top of this apartment complex building, exactly where he stands.

Bakugou Katsuki begins to break.

Blasting the locked door to the rooftop open, rushing down a set of stairs to the apartment he came home to hundreds of times.

To the one he hadn't come home to that night. Your voice underwater again as the hazy fight comes to the front of his mind. It was over Momo wasn't it? Now and again that fight would come up, normally your insecurities blossomed under stress and after the two of you suffered a third loss in a row he knew you hadn't meant it.

Hadn't meant that he loved her more.

Fuck fuck but he proved you right didn't he?

All he can remember are bright lights and asking for his wife and saying it wasn't you. That it was Momo. After that the details get hazy.

Punching the code to the apartment door and it opens with ease. Instead of your sweet voice, or the smell of dinner or even the sweet scent of your shampoo he is met with a plume of dust.

The apartment is as the two of you left it. Images, no memories of the two of you flash around the apartment until it's all just blurred together.

His breath comes out shaky as he tries to come to terms with the past, wait how many years?

With the past six fucking years.

All six years he broke his promise to always be by your side.

You did so much alone because somehow he had forgotten.

Damning himself for it now.

Fuck fuck FUCK HE FUCKED THIS ALL UP and the things he said or probably said to you when he woke up. He needs to apologize. Needs to see you.

Needs to see his son and his family and, and

And why the fuck did no one tell him?

Why didn't you tell him? You were his wife weren't you?!

He rounds for the door as Kirishima huffs in the doorway.

"Why did you keep it from me?" Bakugou ignites, one hand grabbing onto his bare skin, trying to keep the rage at bay, to stop himself from attacking his best friend. Especially when tears are free falling from Eijirou's garnet eyes and the split lip Bakugou already gave him. Instead his hand heats up far too much, burning the skin beneath his glove, even then the ash blonde doesn't flinch. The pain was nothing compared to how he fucking felt.

How he knows he made you feel.

"I didn't want this. I didn't fucking want this." Kirishima chokes out, head still held high to block the doorway until his friend has calmed down, worried he'll go nuclear. He looked it with the sweat beading his brow, the grip on his arm as he damaged his skin.

"I just don't fucking get why no one told me. Why no one tried to fill me the fuck in THAT MOMO WAS NOW MY EX WIFE!" He grips at the front of his shirt.

"ALL OF YOU LET ME MISS SO MUCH. SO FUCKING MUCH OF MY SON'S LIFE. LET ME ACTIVELY CHEAT ON THE WOMAN OF MY DREAMS. LET ME LEAVE MY WIFE ALL ALONE." Bakugou's screaming now, with each syllable the room clouds with more of that dangerous caramel smell and at this point Kirishima isn't sure Bakugou is in control anymore. Still the mountainous man explodes in his own right.

"I WAS DOING AS YOU FUCKING ASKED!" It echoes around the room, skin reacting from his emotions as he goes unbreakable, "YOU ASKED ME TO WATCH HER. TO CARE FOR HER. TO DO WHAT SHE THOUGHT BEST AND I DID. THAT FUCKIN QUACK DOCTOR PRACTICALLY TOLD HER NOT TO TRY!"

Kirishima huffs, deactivating his quirk and still goes on, "I was against this from the start, I tried, I tried so so hard to help you and give hints as much as I could but the more Daiki grew, the more you weren't picking up on, I had to stop. For your wife's sake. She was…she was healing with every birthday Daiki had. And I wasn't going to break my promise to you, I kept her happy."

Burning ember eyes clash with molten garnet before Bakugou shakes his head. Both men winded as if they've run marathons.

"I'm glad you fought for her. I'm really fuckin thankful you did. But no one was FIGHTING FOR ME! EVERYONE WAS FINE WITH ME LIVING A FUCKIN LIE. EVERYONE INCLUDING HER!"

Eijirou sees the hurt in his eyes, in the tears that fall and evaporate with each swipe of Bakugou's hands. Almost burning his own cheeks in the process. Kirishima comes closer, slowly, ever so slowly he wraps his arms around his best friend. Around his brother, pulling him into his chest and squeezing him tightly.

"She never told me anything that happened while she stayed by your side in the hospital. Only what the doctor said. I think something bad happened but you'll have to ask her." Kirishima's booming voice is small, a quake to it as he feels Bakugou melt in his arms. Defeat and sorrow hardening the anger into brittle stone. Bakugou finally wraps his arms around a thick torso letting out yet another unsteady breath.

"I want to see her." He says with conviction and Kirishima knew better than to hold Bakugou back this time.

"Mommy, what are you doing?" Daiki asks, a bit of panic in his voice as he watches you stuff anything you can get your hands on in his room into a small duffle bag.

"Packing." One word answers are all you can manage as sadness and anger fight over the intention behind your actions.

“Okay so Daiki’s birthday party is going to be awesome! Mitsuki insisted on bringing the cake since Daiki gave her a handmade invitation. Everyone should be he- uh what’s going on?” Mina asks as she finally makes it to the door, watching you rush into your room across the hall. She sees the suitcase on Daiki’s bed, watches his little hands undo all of the work you just did by throwing the clothes back on the ground with scared, confused huffs.

Mina stands there for a moment before she springs into action, trying anything she can to figure out what exactly happened while you were out.

Guilt is a word too shallow for the feeling that Mitsuki has. The thing that sits heavy in her chest and weighs down her limbs. She can’t blame this feeling on old age, no no, this was all her fault. Should she be seeing Daiki? Is she trying to buy his love with this cake and hero merch he asked for, exploiting her knowledge of his dad that he knows nothing about. The thought is almost enough to freeze her to the concrete beneath her red bottom heels.

No, no if that were true she wouldn’t be having these thoughts in the first place, still it creeps in, weaving between every other thought or so. She made a mental note to talk to you about this, if she was over stepping boundaries by accepting the invitation he sent in “secret”. Mituski had called you right away and you explained that you knew from the start, had to help him spell out the address. Mitsuki would feel better if she had a mom to mom talk about it, since she was lucky enough to be in Daiki’s life, and by proxy, yours, she wasn’t going to fuck this up.

Not this time.

Mitsuki sighs, readjusting her grip on the bags in her hands and just as she's starting to feel okay about this party a familiar voice calls out to her.

“HAG?!” Bakugou screams, it's almost enough to jar Mitsuki. Despite the mistreatment she’s given you, since her son married you he never called her hag again. She turns on her heel, lip curled up in a snarl. To anyone else Mitsuki looked irritated, annoyed but her son knew that face. He made the same one when he was trying to smooth out the hurt that disrupted every rational thought.

“You fucking knew too?” He hisses and Mitsuki sighs, eyes flickering from her son to the giant behind him before boring right back into her son. Katsuki is shaken, burn mark winking in and out of Mitsuki’s peripheral as she holds eye contact with him.

Just as Katsuki is about to break the silence his mother does first. Voice strong and laced with emotion, shame, hurt, or maybe it was conviction. Katsuki wasn’t sure but he felt it pinch at the point of his heart, pulling it down into his stomach and he knew he needed to listen.

“If you thought for one second, one fucking second, that I knew about Daiki, that I knew about her being pregnat six years ago, then you’re dead fuckin wrong. Had I been let in on this little secret that I had a grandbaby on the way then we wouldn’t be standing here right now. You would have been forced to remember every goddamn detail even if I had to hit you with a fuckin lead pipe myself and all before she had that baby! But there’s a reason she didn’t tell me and I won’t shy away from the truth. I said nasty shit to her thinking I was ‘protecting’ you from another heartache, so wrapped up in it that I was willing to say shit I didn’t even mean. Tsk and you can bitch me out, tell me how you told me so later. But right now.” She points her finger in her son’s face, watches the anger slowly melt from his eyes as she goes on.

“That woman in there, your fuckin wife. Went through something you and I will never understand. I’m sure you were hurt too boy and that you’ve been hurtin but keep this shit in mind before you go in there and nuke the poor Kirishima residence. She made a decision and stood by it. She endured it because she thought it was best for her, for her baby, and for her family. And even though it doesn't fuckin feel like it, that means you too son. She did what she thought was best for you.”

He stares at his mom for a long, long time. She never was a mom in the traditional sense, not like he’d seen in the movies, or in books, hell hardly anyone was a mother like Mitsuki. She was loud, brash and down right irrational at times and yet Katuski doesn’t think he would have gotten along with anyone else. Would have wanted any other woman as his mom.

Mitsuki, as sharp-edged as she was, still knew best how to comfort her son. Knew exactly what to say that he would get it best, once she sees that he understands she turns back around. He sucks his teeth and walks towards her.

She waits for her son to catch up and when he falls into step both glaring at one another, after a moment she smiles, turning away but her son still catches the tears in her eyes.

"Glad you're back to normal Suki."

“Momma, please I don’t wanna go, it’s my birthday I-” He pulls away from you, your grip tight around his small arm as he tries to push your hand away with all his might.

“I’m sure everything is fine, I haven’t heard anything from Kirishima, let’s just have his party and then-”

“And then what?” You whirl around on Mina, “And then fucking what? We just wait for him to show up? To ruin our lives again? He’s- he’s done nothing but destroy me. It’s all he knows how to do, just look at his fuckin quirk.”

Tears cloud your vision, dropping your son’s arm and he runs towards Mina, hiding his face in the fabric of her bright pink pants. Mina’s eyebrows furrow, she hears it again. The sound of your heart shattering at her feet like the glass of a vase.

Smaller and smaller the shards get and Mina is starting to worry you won’t be able to put yourself back together after this. With horror you watch your son shrink away from you as you reach for him. Moving to stand behind Mina, face still to her leg and that acts as the final nail in the coffin. Body filled with the urge, the implosive need you’ve wanted to do since you got that phone call from Kirishima at two am.

You want to run away, get as far away as you can and cease to exist because all of this, of this fighting, this rebuilding?

It was useless, futile to fight against a fate that deems you unworthy of happiness.

Besides, Mina was ten times the mother you were, it wouldn’t hurt to leave Daiki with her now.

So you turn, rushing for the door with no plan, no money, no possessions, just the hurt in your heart. Only to run into a solid body. One that you want to melt in, tell them all of your woes as you soak through the black fabric your face rests against, the comforting smell of spiced caramel. You push yourself away from him, gasping as you stare into his eyes. Slowly Mina scoops up Daiki and takes him into another room.

“You don’t fuckin mean that.” His voice is gruff, each step he takes forward you take back until he has you almost cornered. Enough room that if you wanted to you could slip away but not without one of his powerful hands catching you.

“I-” You clear your throat and catching Kirishima out of the corner of your eye gives you strength, “I do fucking mean that!”

“Ever since you woke up, you, you’ve ruined everything that I thought we had.” Funny how even in the back of your mind you still blamed him over something he couldn’t control. Your balled fists moving on their own as you beat into his chest.

“You did this to us. You fucking DID THIS!” And he just lets you, lets you hit him until you’re shaking, tears falling down your cheeks in fat droplets. He grabs onto your wrist when you try to give one last week punch. Squeezing without hurting you as he searches your eyes.

He isn’t sure what he’s looking for anymore. Familiarity, love? It didn’t matter, none of this did, just the question that burned up his throat.

"Why didn’t you tell me?” He swallows thickly, “All this time I was, I was fucking drowning, and do you know who saved me?" You, sweetheart you. This whole time I was fighting to find you"

The room is shrouded in thick silence, the air tangled up with grief and things unsaid.

"So why weren't you fighting to find me?” His voice is strained, looking down at you and you know, as if it wasn’t obvious before, that he remembers.

Remembers everything, things would have been easier now if he hadn't, still there is the smallest part of you that is relieved.

Before you can answer, little hands fight with Mina and the door to the room as Daiki rushes in, having overheard everything.

"Dynamight-kun is my daddy?!" He stares up at the pro hero. At his idol as his eyes begin to water. The emotion is too big to fit in his chest and too confusing. He's overjoyed, elated, how cool that his dad was THE Dynamight but, "But that can't be right, Daddies don't make Mommies cry and you made my Momma cry!"

His little temper flares, running towards the pro and letting off the most powerful pops his little hands can muster. Tearing at the fabric of Bakugou's pants, exposing the skin of his thighs but the skin remains unmarred. Not from Daiki's control but from lack of power.

If Bakugou is ever allowed back into their lives, it's the first thing he's going to teach him because Daiki's explosions will only get more powerful from here on out.

Instinctively he gets down on Daiki's level, fighting his own emotions on all the things he's missed out on but he can already tell you're raising him perfectly on your own. Would he just fuck this up if he came into the picture now?

Bakugou takes off his glove with his teeth, grabbing onto Daiki's popping hand looking deep into his son's eyes. Letting his heart do the talking.

"Sometimes daddies fu- mess up and make Mommies cry. Sometimes Mommies make daddies cry." He squeezes his little fingers gently, hoping this won't be the last time he sees admiration for him in his son's eyes, "Everyone makes mistakes, even moms and dads. Do you forgive me? I didn't mean to be lost for so long."

He's asking Daiki, he's asking you. You look away, unable to stomach seeing the pair together. Not because you are jaded or bitter that Bakugou was naturally a good dad. Of fucking course he was.

But because it hurt too much. Hurt to think about how all this time you didn't have to do it 'alone' even though you had Mina and Kirishima, Gods know you appreciated all they did for you, you still wanted and needed the support of your fucking husband.

Daiki's eyes look back and forth between Bakugou's before he wraps his arms around his neck. Squeezing so tightly as if he'll never let go and immediately Katsuki hugs him back. Presses his little body to his chest and grits his teeth harshly to keep the tears from spilling over.

"I forgive you. Granny said you were lost, so it's not your fault just don't make Momma cry again." Daiki's voice is soft, quiet and kind, "But momma has to forgive you too."

Daiki pulls away but keeps his hand firmly pressed against Bakugou's throat, as if Katsuki will disappear if he doesn't.

Another disruption steals your answer away as Daichi bursts into the room, fat tears falling down his cheeks as he looks at his mom and dad. At Daiki, you and Bakugou's strained reunion.

"Does this mean Daiki and me aren't brothers anymore?" Daichi asks between hiccups, his quirk activating on its own as he tries to rub his eyes with jagged fingers. Kirishima is quick to catch his hands, grip a little too tight as the scar on his eyebrow throbs.

"Mindful." He says softly, before Eijirou can comfort him, Daiki tackles Daichi in a hug, uncaring that his quirk will hurt him. It wouldn't be the first time they accidentally hurt the other with their quirks.

"Of course we're still brothers!" He squeezes and his voice is confident but tears well in his eyes, "You'll always be my big brother!"

"And we can still be our own daddies?" Daichi hiccups again causing the room to erupt in laughter except for Katsuki and Mitsuki.

"I'll explain later." You giggle as you watch the two boys' sweet hug quickly turn into boyish rough housing. Things return to normal so easily for kids, maybe it was because they could forgive so easily. Knew their relationship and love for one another was far more important than pride.

But as with all things, one grows out of that.

Kirishima catches Bakugou staring at you, the red giant can tell his friend has more to say.

"Boys, come on. Let's go play outside while Mom and I get things ready for the Bakugous- ah for everyone. Okay?" He goes to usher everyone out but Daiki is hesitant.

"Wait!" He rushes out of Kirishima's hands and bashes his head against Bakugou's thigh, "I'll see you later?"

Bakugou's hand follows the natural curve of Daiki's head, soft blonde strands in his fingers.

"Yea kid. I'm sure as hell not goin anywhere now." Daiki searches Bakugou's eyes for the truth and when he sees it he smiles widely. Running towards the exit before stopping in his tracks turning on his heel to hug his mother's legs goodbye.

"Love you. Call me if daddy makes you cry again." He says it so softly and you smile.

"Love you too. Be safe sweetness." Daiki takes that as his dismissal before he rushes towards Daichi who's bouncing on one foot to the other as he calls over his shoulders.

"I will!"

Now with the room empty except for you two, Bakugou turns to face you. Brows furrowed silently waiting for your answer.

Fuck this was hard.

“I…The doctor said it was best to go with what you were saying. That Momo was your wife and it hurt. It really fucking hurt for us to have that argument and then you say that shit when you woke up?! What was I supposed to do Bakugou, I was obviously never good enough for you. Your mom was right about that.” A humorless laugh leaves your lips

“She said that?” His eyes are dark, before he blinks away the rage, “What did I say then?”

“You were a total fucking asshole! Calling me an extra, telling me not to use your given name.” A crack in your voice you wish you didn’t have, it hurt even after all this time, stupidly you go on, “Taht I was some damn extra and I shouldn’t exist.”

“Sweetheart...”

“Don’t, don’t you fucking dare use that again. You called her that too ya know. Here I was thinking I had a special pet name from you and-”

“And you did.” Bakugou runs his hands through his hair, “I didn’t call her too many pet names, and I-. Damn it. In my head I thought you were her assistant. I lost so much time but I remembered so much of you.”

It’s his turn for a humorless laugh,

“I made Momo your coffee, I remembered how you liked it. Kept ordering the flowers for her that you liked. Everytime I bought her a gift it was something I would have picked out for you.” He sighs out, “I dreamt of you, of our wedding. It had me so choked up I even called the hag about it.”

“Don’t call her that.” Habit to chide him over it. He should respect his mother, even if she did act like a total bitch sometimes.

“I just- I just took you wanting Momo and her wanting you, when you woke up as a sign that we weren’t meant to be together.” You openly sob now and he steps closer. Even as you try to push out of the hug until you give in, accepting his comfort at least for now. He squeezes and it feels good. Feels good to finally cry on his chest. To let it all out to the person you wanted comfort from the most.

The smallest part hated you for it, for giving into him. You-you couldn’t keep doing this.

“Fuck fate, fuck that quak doctor, and fuck the universe. Gods forbid but next time tell me. I’m sorry it took me so long to find my way. Please, please let me be Daiki’s dad.” He lets out a shaky breath, “Let me be your husband again.”

In the distance you can hear the kids screaming and laughing. Of Mina welcoming in a bunch of kids who shriek when they see Red Riot in full uniform. Thinking of your son, of the hurt on his face, of the brave face he’s put on this whole time when he so desperately wanted to have a dad you sigh out. The decision made itself.

"You can be his dad.." Relief floods his system but only for a moment, "But you can't be my husband again. Not now."

In that moment it was as if you ripped out Katuski’s heart, holding onto it greedily as it bled out in your hands. As much as it pained him, he understood completely. Look at how far his beautiful, amazing, capable fucking wife got without him.

So if you wanted to hold his heart and onto your own until the end of time, then you could have it. He was just thankful to be able to see his son and to see you, even if that was from afar.

“Okay, I can do that. Whatever you need me to be, I'll be.”

Six months later

“Tamaki, Mirio, seriously I can’t thank you enough.” You say as you place down your last box of office supplies onto your brand new desk just outside Mirio’s and Tamaki’s office.

“Please we were begging Kirishima to have you back.” Mirio winks, taking one of the cookies you brought as thanks.

“B-besides, we th-thought you interviewed well.” Tamaki teases, straiging papers on your desk.

“Ugh, Tamaki! Please I ruined that chair and your flooring.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, to be honest the embarrassment is what kept you away from their offer for so long.

“It was no big deal.” Mirio winks, “Just bring your son to make up for it. Well we’ll leave you to unpacking. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Will do.” You beam at them as Tamaki goes down the secure elevator with Mirio in tow. After a few moments of unpacking the elevator dings.

“Back already?”

“Delivery.” The man holds a vase filled with hydrangeas. Reluctantly you sign for the flowers and hold onto them. The card peaking out with no sender, only congratulations written on the card. You didn’t need a signature to know who it was from.

For a moment you stand there frozen, do you smash it against the floor? Nah that would be a mess, smash it in the trash can then? Holding the heavy thing over the plastic tub you lift your arms, about to let go only to hold the position until your arms burn.

Sighing you place them into the trash can and push it under your desk. You’d deal with that later.

Another ding of the elevator, eyes going up to be met with dark eyes. Instantly you stand, face stone cold as you’re met with the last person you ever wanted to see.

In all of her elegance and beauty Momo stands in the lobby across from you. The desk keeps some semblance of separation as you stare her down coldly.

“Tamaiki and Mirio are out. Please leave.”

“I’m not here to see them.” She says softly, removing her shades and sitting at a chair across from your desk. You stand there in your pencil skirt for a long time and think about the irony of the universe's timing, “I just want to talk, please.”

A full four minutes go by. She still sits stick straight in the chair, looking at you before you sigh for the thousandth time in your life. Sitting across from her with pursed lips.

“You don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to understand where I’m coming from and I do not expect you to forgive me.” You suck her teeth at that but she talks on, undisturbed, “Bakugou told me about what you said. I explained everything as best I could. When you came in that night, before you fell off the face of the Earth for Bakugou and myself, I was on the phone with Shouto. One airpod in so I could hear when you came back. Seeing my friend like that, lost and having forgotten everything made my chest ache. Made me think of how short life was and how much I was in love with Shouto. I’m sure Bakugou never told you but in the beginning neither of us wanted to have kids. We wanted to focus on our careers, well things changed. Bakuogu wanted more out of life than number one, he wanted to have a family and in the time he and I were apart we fell out of love.”

She looks away now, looks at the grain of the wooden desk top as if it were the most interesting thing in the world as she goes on.

“I honestly thought I didn’t want to have children. So we both agreed to part ways. Then I met Shouto and funny enough Bakugou pushed me towards him. Because Katsuki saw that I wanted Shouto and was holding myself back even after we had been divorced for a few years. He bragged about how he was a good guy. I went for it and then I left him because apparently I do want kids, Bakugou just wasn’t the right one to have them with. Seeing Bakugou in that hospital room, seeing him battered like that, it made me realize that kids aren’t the end all be all for me. That having a life with Shouto is what I want and besides if he’s ever ready to be a dad we can always adopt.”

She stands up then adding to the end, “I just wanted you to know that and to clear the air. I loved Bakugou, yes, when we were married and I love him dearly now, but nothing more than a friend. That man adores you. The whole six years he was looking at me, he was searching for you.”

You fight to keep your hands from gripping your shirt over your heart. She puts her sunglasses back on and you still see the movie star tears fall down the perfect apple of her cheeks. She gives a smile as if nothing is wrong before she walks towards the elevator doors that open for her. Once the chrome doors close you double over. No tears this time but the sting of it all starts in your heart and reaches out to your fingers as you squeeze your eyes shut.

When you finally open your eyes you see those damn flowers. Gently pulling them out of the trash can and putting them on the edge of your desk with a sigh.

A year later

Daiki runs in circles ahead of you as the two of you walk down the street as the sun paints the cityscape in shining golds.

"Yay! I'm so excited to spend the weekend at daddy's!" Daiki shrieks, "It's still so cool I've got a pro hero daddy!"

"Yes yes but remember your manners." You remind him and he continues letting out all of his extra energy.

"Yes momma. I'll be nice to daddy! I love him!" Daiki hasn't stopped talking about weekends with Daddy since the two of you arranged this co parenting ordeal. Daiki was taking it well although every now and again you’d catch him asking Kirishima how to make two people fall in love again.

You just didn’t want to get romantically involved with a hero again, heart unable to take the pain or the long nights of waiting and wondering.

And yet here you were in that flowy dress with the hydrangeas blooming on the moody fabric.

The door comes into view as Daiki launches himself with a mini explosion, banging on the door of the apartment the two of you once shared with a shout.

"DADDY!"

It isn’t long before the door opens to reveal Bakugou still in his uniform sans his grenades. Mask pushed up keeping his hair out of his eyes, cheeks covered in a bit of soot as his black hero uniform hugged his body like a second skin. His thirties were treating him kindly and if anything he was aging like a fine wine.

"There's my fire cracker!" He says with pride. Picking up his son and holding him close. Even pressing a kiss to his cheek. You smile softly, hiding the pain in your eyes realizing this is never going to get easier. Passing Daiki's backpack of clothes. Bakugou holds onto the strap, holding your gaze and you can tell he wants to say something. That there's a weight on the tip of his tongue.

"Stay." It's gentle, all the gruffness in his voice snuffed out. Daiki, of course, has plenty of energy for it.

"Sleep over! SLEEP OVER!" His little fists hit Bakugou's broad shoulders with delight.

"One night?" Vermillion eyes stare into yours deeply before a cocky smile spreads on his lips.

"Besides, after all this time, I still remember how you like your coffee."

EPILOGUE

It’s early in the morning but late for Bakugou to be home. The stove reads 6am as birds chirp lazily outside, sunning their wings before they belt into song. Something stirs from down the hall and he clenches his jaw. He hadn’t meant to be too loud coming in but that safe door needed some oil on its hinges.

“Morning, didn’t mean to wake you.” He says softly wrapping his arm around his wife, smiling up at him, eyes struggling to stay open, “Go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“Need to be up anyway.” A yawn, reaching the counter to get the medicine. Bakugou doesn’t say anything, just watches his wife with a soft smile on his features.

In the meantime he grabs his black studded coffee cup, fills it up with ice and gets the sweet cream creamer from the fridge. He sets the coffee next to his wife on the counter, looking at the belt of bruises from the injections. His strong beautiful wife was doing everything to ensure that their growing child was safe. His heart feels full as he stares at the strongest woman he knows.

Stares at you as the sun peaks in through the blinds in sleepy oranges and pinks.

“Thanks sweetness.” You hum as he leans over. Pressing a kiss to the span of your swollen stomach.

“Feeling okay?” He asks, another kiss on your stomach, hands there for a moment and fighting back the choked feelings as his fingers are kicked away, just thankful he can be here now. You give a small nod and try to usher him to bed, knowing he had been working himself far too much.

Slowly you look outside, the clouds candied cotton as you take the first sip of your coffee, putting the radio on low before you prepare meals for the busy day ahead. A soft, sad ballad begins to play as you sway slowly. Singing the lyrics softly to what you thought was yourself until a husky voice speaks up from behind you.

"I used to hear this song….while I was away." He clears his throat, wrapping his arms around your middle, swaying you both now in time with the music, "Used to think it was sad. That I was trying to get a glimpse of something I didn't have or that I used to have. Now when I hear it. It means something else."

He spins you around, taking his hand in yours as he slowly sweeps you around the kitchen as if it were an elegant dance floor. Circling around with what would normally be somber music but here, in the early morning hours. Under the pastels of the sun and the intense, loving gaze of his burning ember eyes it feels nostalgic, warm.

"Now when I look in her eyes. I get a glimpse of us." He puts his forehead to yours smiling softly, "A glimpse of us and our future. No longer focusing on the past. Focusing on you, me, our children, happy, healthy and growing. I see us."

Tears prick your eyes, the two of you have vowed to one another to always fight for the other. No more past relationships or time lost, just what the two of you had now. He presses the softest kiss to your lips, pouring his heart and soul into it, he wants you to know that it has been and always will be you that holds his jagged heart.

"I love you, Sweetheart." He murmurs and you lean up on tiptoes to give him the same kiss back. That you will fight for yourself, for your kids, for him even if the odds are stacked against you, even in the shadow of doubt.

"I love you too, Sweetness."

Hoping I’ll find…a glimpse of us.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katuski x reader #bakugou angst

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arse-blathanna · 6 years

Text

The Bones of a God - 44/50

Chapter 44: Headshot

[Ao3] [FFN] [Fic Tag]

Fic Summary: Once upon a time, monsters roamed the entire world, so plentiful that they needed countless numbers to fight them off. 13 years ago, that changed. Grimm died off suddenly and stopped proliferating. Now the few Creatures of Grimm that are left are too large and powerful to be taken down in "the old ways."

That doesn't make them any less of a threat.

The real problem comes when people decide it's for the best that they start picking sides in a war starting anew.

Word Count: 4,775

Chapter Summary: RWBY, JNPR, Oobleck, and others face off against the giant grimm.

Author's Notes: IRL stuff happened and I haven't been able to get an update in for a while. Sorry for the wait, I know it was a long one. I'm hoping to have this fic finished posting by the end of 2018.Thank you all for reading!

One of the first and most quickly understood things about their current predicament was that should things go wrong, there would be no chance for any of them to run

With the behemoth of a monster coming, and with the length of its legs, the relative distance between them and the monster wasn't all that much. How much time they had before it was on top of them, Ruby couldn’t guess. The eight man team had all but scattered to the trees, many of them hoping to try and find a good place to sit and wait, while Oobleck stood by the spawning pool, steady and resolute.

[Read it on Ao3] [Read it on FFN]

In Ruby’s case, she sat up in one of the tallest trees that she'd been able to. She wasn't the only one there, because Weiss had decided to perch just below where she had. Ruby had the higher ground, which was better because she could snipe with Crescent Rose, but having Weiss close was a comfort of sorts in itself.

For several minutes, she and Weiss had decided to trade strategies in the hopes of finding the perfect way to combat the grimm. Ruby wished that they could have gotten those ideas to the others quickly, but it didn’t feel like they had the time to do so.

No matter what, the grimm was coming. Leaving their posts was dangerous.

It was getting closer and closer. Ruby could hear the grimm crashing through the trees, stomp after stomp, after heavy stomp.

As it approached, there were the sounds of gunshots and shouting getting closer and closer which came along with the sounds of the grimm’s footfalls. They were the sounds of hunters, barking orders at each other and trying to coordinate whatever attacks they could in the hopes of slowing the beast down before it could do too much damage.

There were three hunters that Ruby could see, leaving streaks of color behind them as they moved and struck. Their voices were mostly familiar.

The first two voices Ruby recognized as being her father and Qrow's. Her heart beat harder and harder and harder as they got closer because her family was out there, and they were in trouble.

The third voice was a woman's, too volatile and vicious. Wholly unfamiliar.

"Students!" Oobleck shouted, lowering himself down into position to move. "When it begins to breach the clearing, open fire!"

The grimm's face was right there, hundreds of feet in the air and staring them down. Ruby looked up at it with her eyes wide open.

In truth, Ruby had never realized just how terrifying that specific grimm was since she’d been viewing it almost exclusively from a distance. Its fur was black and hung off of its frame like tattered carpet, shaggy and dark, swaying and hanging like seaweed. The eyes, bright red with burning gold pupils, bone-white teeth raising from its mouth and its snout protruding in a permanent snarl.

Ruby swallowed hard and braced herself among the treetops that she had decided to make herself at home in. She had Crescent Rose, and she had Weiss, and their friends were still there, preparing the same way that the two of them were.

Ruby could trust Weiss, but she couldn’t trust that she could only rely on Weiss in such a large battle.

"Weiss-" Ruby whispered to her partner. "Set up a glyph. I have an idea."

Weiss looked up at her, looking just as exhausted and unsure as Ruby felt. She nodded and held out her sword, still keeping herself well grounded up in the treetops. "Where do you want it?"

"In front of my rifle." Ruby said, blinking up at Weiss. "If you can get it so that when I fire the Dust will-"

"Got it." Weiss replied, her brow furrowing down into a deathly serious expression. It took only a single swing of her sword. Sure enough the glyph appeared there in front of Ruby's gun, spinning slowly in soft white auric light. Ruby swallowed and put her finger on the trigger. All that she needed was for the attack to work. If it worked, then she had absolutely no idea what was going to come next, but it would have been something.

What came next would probably depend largely upon what their teammates did. Ruby was sure that she wasn't going to be the only one getting ready to fight immediately. In fact, when she looked over to the tree where Nora was sitting and Ren was at the ground, hand pressed to both the tree and to the ground, she saw that Nora was already prepared to fire herself.

"Are you ready?" Weiss asked, sounding just as afraid.

"Yeah." Ruby whispered back, jolting slightly at the sound of a spray of bullets that went off. "I think so."

"It's here." Oobleck shouted into the clearing behind him. "Students, you may need to hit it with everything you've got."

"Right!" Ruby shouted back before pulling the trigger and watching as a bullet went through the glyph and turned into a bolt of bright icy white and blue.

Ruby watched as her and Weiss' combined work flew through the air and struck the giant grimm's right leg. It bloomed into a formation of ice that twisted into something that almost looked like a flower. The monster let out a roar, and Ruby did what she could to stay still and prepare to do more.

"Hold it!" Ruby called down to Weiss, who just nodded, still primed for something else. She fired three more shots, all of which flew out and created more blooms of ice onto the beast's leg. At the very least it was going to be able to slow it down, not that Ruby thought that it was going to last all that long. Dust created effects didn’t always last as long as the real thing did.

A barrage of grenades with pink streams of smoke came out of the trees from where Nora was, falling into the shape of a giant heart that hit the beast in the chest. It roared and staggered back for a moment, and Ruby felt her heart beating harder and harder in her chest.

For the first time, the realization of just how dangerous this was going to end up being. If they made the beast fall in the wrong direction, then it was too likely that someone was going to get hurt- if it went really wrong, then it would fall in the direction of Vale itself.

"Nora!" Jaune shouted, leaping down from a tree and landing on the ground below it before sprinting to Ren's side. He reached out and placed a hand on Ren's shoulder and looked up into the tree. "Get ready to do that again!"

"Got it!" Nora shouted back, clearly already in the process of reloading.

Oobleck held his head up high like he was looking out for someone. Out in the distance, Ruby saw a flash of gold, small and strong. It struck into the beast before launching back out, and she could see a streak of red- Qrow's cape flying through the air and trying to strike into the monster's shoulder.

There was a streak of red that Ruby couldn't identify that disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

"What do we do?" Ruby shouted down to Oobleck, since she wasn't sure that what they were doing was working that well.

"It is hard to say." Oobleck said, swinging his weapon to send a torrent of fire towards the grimm. Weiss reacted, holding her head up high and her eyes widening.

She looked back over her shoulder at Ruby. "Can you keep doing what you're doing?"

"Not without you!" Ruby cried, gripping on tight to Crescent Rose. Weiss sighed and nodded for Ruby to come down with her before leaping down and sprinting towards Oobleck. Ruby activated her semblance and flew after.

Out of the trees came Blake and Yang as well, but the two of them didn't seem to be too sure about what they could actually do.

"I have an idea." Weiss said, her voice and her expression both deadly serious. "You have a flamethrower."

"I do." Oobleck replied, raising an eyebrow. "It would do to tell everyone else what your idea is though, Miss Schnee."

Weiss held her sword out and turned the revolving chamber until there was a cartridge of light green Dust selected. "I have Wind Dust." Weiss said, seriously. "If you can fire through my glyph-"

"What about the rest of us?" Yang asked, already nervous but not quite angry just yet. "Because I can't do anything without getting close.”

"You would not be the only one with that problem, Miss Xiao Long." Doctor Oobleck said almost too calmly, like that would be able to fix all of their problems. "You may not be well suited for such high-flying feats as are happening. However, it may be beneficial to wait."

"Wait." Yang repeated, and Ruby felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. It only took a moment before Yang was looking over at Weiss directly, clearly interested in seeing what she could do. "Do you think that you could try and launch me in?"

Weiss blinked, like she wasn’t sure that she actually had all that much to offer to the battle. Almost like she had a limited arsenal of Dust and only so many chances to use each type before she ran out. Or perhaps she was worried about how volatile Dust could be. Either way, Ruby didn’t know what was going on in her partner’s head.

"I have an idea." Ruby said, smirking. "What if we-" She turned to look back at the grimm that looming there far too close to them. "What if we do the fire first and then try to launch the rest of us in?"

Blake shrugged, and she looked down at her weapon. All at once, Ruby watched her expression change and her eyes widen in understanding. "If you can get me in there, I think that I might be able to cling on."

"You're sure?" Yang asked, locking her eyes with Blake's now. "That sounds pretty risky."

"It gets us in there, doesn't it?"

Ruby hesitated and looked over at Weiss, hopeful that Weiss would say something to her that would actually be useful to the team. There was a moment worth of hesitation before Weiss spoke up, giving what she can.

"You guys don't realize-" She started, sounding unsure of herself. "I can't use my semblance as much as you might think. I can try and get the rest of you in, but-"

"But if you do then we might not have as much to work with later?" Yang asked, her brow furrowing. "What do you think your limit would be?"

Weiss took a deep breath, looking back down at Myrtenaster. "I can maintain a few more glyphs to fire through, and maybe a few launching pads. But beyond that I'm not so sure. I want to be able to catch you if I need to."

"We'll figure it out." Ruby said, forcing on a smile and standing up tall. "I think that we should do your plan first though."

Weiss nodded before looking back to Oobleck. The professor fell into a combat stance, his weapon at his side and prepared to be used. "I would recommend that you prepare for what is to come, MIss Schnee."

"Right." Weiss said, keeping her voice steady. The glyph appeared, turning slowly and she looked back over at Oobleck. "I'm ready."

"Miss Rose-" Oobleck said. "I think that it may be beneficial for you to join into this as well."

"Got it." Ruby slipped into the space beside Weiss and let Crescent Rose rest there, blade resting against the ground so that she can use it to maintain balance. She waited quietly for a sign that it was time to move, and when Oobleck sent the first ball of flames through the glyph, which launched forward much faster than Ruby had been expecting.

Maybe if she was smart about this-

When Oobleck acted again, Ruby fired, and she watched as the bullet met with flame before launching forward much faster than anything else that had been able to. Weiss stood there, solid and strong.

"Blake!" Yang shouted off to the side. "C'mon, let's go!"

The two of them began to sprint at the grimm, making sure to put some space between them and the many projectiles that were heading towards the Grimm for their own sakes.

Ruby made sure to take care to not end up shooting her teammates, and looked over at Weiss. "We should join them."

"Are you sure?" Weiss asked, sounding more than just a little bit unsure of that plan. "Because that sounds like it could seriously backfire on us."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as JNPR fell into formation, moving as a team with Pyrrha and Ren taking the lead. That was what they needed to do, and that was something that Ruby definitely believed. "They're going to need us."

"But what about-"

"You two should go and fight alongside your teammates." Oobleck said, with eerie calm. "I would not blame you."

Weiss nodded and looked over at Ruby, and that was all that they needed before they were up there at the front of the charge, not far behind Yang and Blake. Even with them running towards the fight, Ruby could hear Blake and Yang shouting strategies to each other, both looking for possibilities for what they were meant to do.

They caught up.

"Yang!" Ruby called to her sister, who just let their eyes lock. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Sure am!" Yang answered, sounding too confident and too ready. Not far off in the distance was one of the feet of the grimm. All that they had to do was get there, and then after that-

Ruby was sure that they might be able to at least manage to get something done. That didn't seem like it would have been too ambitious.

Before they could get any closer, a blur of gold crashed down in front of them, its owner landing on his feet with gritted teeth and looking a little bit banged up. He stood up tall and looked back at the rest of them over his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?"

"We're here to fight, dad." Yang responded, her eyes sparking up in bright red for a moment. "And we can't really do that unless you let us."

He seemed to hesitate a moment, looking back to the beast. Ruby had to wonder just how long he'd been facing off against the grimm himself, and she had to wonder even more whether or not she wanted to know the answer to that question. But Ruby watched him take in a deep breath.

"Alright." He muttered. "But you four better try and keep safe."

"That's the plan." Ruby smiled up at her father, hopeful that she would see some sign that he was relaxing, but instead saw nothing. He stood there more stony faced than she had ever seen him. Taiyang shook his head and braced himself against the ground, readying for a mighty leap.

"You four have to promise me one thing-" Taiyang grumbled, his head tilted down in something close to anger. "If someone tells you to get out of the way, you are going to do it. No ifs or buts about it, got it?"

"Got it." Yang muttered, and Ruby watched her take a step forward and drop into a fighting stance, similar to their fathers, hands held up in front of her and ready for a fistfight, square and low to the ground.

"That's all I can hope for." Tai muttered before throwing himself into the air, and Yang launched herself not far after him, using Ember Celica to propel herself forward, faster, and faster.

"Blake-" Ruby looked over at her teammate, an idea already going through her head. "Do you think that you could get all three of us up there?"

Blake blinked and her brow furrowed, deep in concentration. "You two will have to help me."

Weiss smiled softly. "I think we can do that."

Ruby looked down at the ground under her feet. She thought that she could do something to be useful, at the very least she could believe in her semblance. It would probably require for her to put a lot of energy into one burst of speed, but she could manage it.

Sure enough, a glyph appeared underneath the two of them, and Weiss stood back away from it.

“Weiss?” Ruby asked, looking back at her teammate.

Weiss took a breath. “I don’t know how much use I can be up close like this.”

“You should come with us anyways.” Blake suggested, changing the form on her weapon. She weighed it in her hands before locking eyes with Weiss. “But there might be a better way to do this.”

“Like?”

Ruby’s eyes widened when she got the idea.

“Do you guys think we can pull off a slingshot?’

“A slingshot?” Weiss responded, her brow furrowing. “You can’t be serious.”

“It could work!”

"It would be easier with a fourth person here." Blake stated with a sigh, testing the strength of her ribbon. "But I think Ruby might be onto something."

"And us?"

"We can figure it out."

Ruby looked between the two of them and watched as Weiss relented. She flicked her fingers, and the glyph moved so that it was lying vertically as opposed to horizontally.

Blake passed the ribbon off to her, and Ruby wrapped it around her waist, but not all the way. Blake took a breath and walked forward, as far as she could manage while putting the space between the two of them.

Weiss thought and Ruby saw a second glyph appear on the ribbon, tugging it away from her while still being behind her back. It was pulled taut, and with that, Ruby knew that it was going to be time. Blake and Weiss were going to be able to get involved for themselves, but for the moment, this was going to be about her.

In one motion, Ruby swang her weapon behind her. She could use the recoil to help push her along, that was all that needed to happen. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Weiss answered, and Ruby felt herself get pulled back against the glyph, further and further back as the ribbon pulled tighter and tighter. When she saw Blake beginning to slide against the ground just slightly, that was when she was going to be able to do this.

"I am."

"Alright." Weiss breathed.

"Now!"

The glyph released, and Ruby realized for the first time just how much she had thrown herself into in that one motion. She hadn't thought about just how strong Weiss' Dust manipulation could actually be, and so when she was up in the air, Ruby threw herself into her semblance and felt the whirl of rose petals beginning to fly and cyclone around her as she moved towards the grimm.

In the air, Ruby flew higher, higher, higher.

She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest, and the sound of her own blood was rushing in her ears.

For just a moment, Ruby could have sworn that she'd locked eyes with the grimm, and she had thought that she had seen something that was not truly there. Something terrifying and unimaginable.

It was a feeling that didn’t last. Just as soon as it had been there it was gone, but it left Ruby with a strange throbbing feeling behind her eyes that she didn’t know she was going to be able to ignore that easily. Not when she was meant to be in combat. She fired Crescent Rose twice to change her direction and flew towards the grimm’s shoulder.

When Ruby landed there, she wasn’t surprised at all to find that it felt unsteady, as large and wide as the space was. She ended up stabbing the sharpened tip of Crescent Rose into it so that she could at least hold onto herself there. It was something that could at least stop her from falling.

Whatever her teammates were doing down below, Ruby didn’t know.

At the very least, she had a vantage point that she could use. It was a little bit higher up than she had realized, but it wasn’t as though Ruby couldn’t deal with it. Getting down was going to be a problem soon, but not for now.

A bird flew by followed quickly by a second one, both flying off in different directions.

Ruby watched for a second before thinking that she needed to come up with some sort of plan now that she was so high up in the air. She could try to hit it with bullets, since that was about the only thing she could really risk without running the possibility that she would fall and-

If she fell, Ruby couldn't be sure that her aura would be able to hold up through all of it.

As carefully as Ruby possibly could, she lowered herself down until she had three points of contact with the grimm's shoulder. The fur underneath her was a little bit looser than Ruby had thought, and slick almost like algae had formed there. Like the grimm had been wandering for eternities.

Even though Ruby knew that wasn't the case, it still seemed as such.

"Ruby!" Her uncle's voice broke through the buzzing in her head. "What do you think you're-"

"Fighting!" Ruby replied, angling herself and Crescent Rose. She aimed at the grimm's eye, wide and red and angry as it was. She didn't know that this was something that she would actually be able to pull off, but-

Ruby pulled the trigger, and felt the entire grimm's body lurch below her. She didn't know what that had come from, but on the other side, she could see Qrow resting on the Grimm's left shoulder. He was trying to catch his breath, but at least seemed to have the same idea as she did about what they were doing.

"That isn't going to do anything!" Qrow shouted to her, maintaining his balance with a bit more ease before shooting a torrent of shotgun shells at the Grimm's face. "All you're doing is annoying it!"

"Then what can I do?" Ruby shouted back. Qrow shook his head before launching himself up into the air so that he landed on the Grimm's head. He grabbed onto its fur with one hand before flinging himself over so that he was next to Ruby.

Qrow was a lot more beaten up than Ruby had thought.

"You need to keep a cool head." Qrow instructed through gritted teeth. "You get too risky up here, you hurt everyone else down there."

From where they were, everyone else and everything else looked like nothing more than slight blurs of color. They were too small, and too fragile. Ruby felt her eyes go wide at the realization because somehow she hadn't thought about that so much once she'd gotten up there. "I understand."

"You're better off down there with them." Qrow grunted, looking up to the skies again, his eyes tracking something. "But since you're already up here we might as well use it."

"So we should-"

"Try and land a hit in the eye, and work your way down. I know you can use recoil to move, so do that."

Ruby nodded and allowed herself to lift up Crescent Rose so that she could actually move. If she was going to have to move, then it was better that she didn't say grounded like she was. "You're sure this will work?"

"Sure am, kid."

Ruby dug her heels into the loose fur of the grimm and launched herself upwards, letting her semblance carry her higher and faster than she would have gone otherwise. Ruby aimed herself at the grimm's face, holding Crescent Rose behind her and pulling the trigger that would be enough to start the transformation sequence between the regular scythe and a war scythe.

With the blade straightened, Ruby knew that the weapon was going to be much more unwieldy, but it would be better for stabbing.

Ruby brought herself in dangerously close to the monster's face and aimed at the grimm, giving herself one final push to launch into it's right eye, stabbing into it.

Around her weapon, it began to smoke and the grimm let out a loud roar that was close to deafening.

She didn't have time. The grimm's mouth was wide and open, and the danger was clear. Ruby fired a gunshot and let the recoil carry her, changing the weapon back into a normal scythe was she fell down, down down, towards the ground.

As Ruby got closer and closer to the ground, she began to use Crescent Rose to control her decent before using her semblance to get her down to the ground in a flurry of red petals.

Where she landed, Ruby couldn’t catch sight of her teammates. Blake, Weiss, and Yang had to be somewhere-

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sounds of the various members of team JNPR shouting. Ruby looked to the grimm and sprinted to them because if she didn’t know where her teammates were, going out rogue to try and find them would probably only cause trouble.

Ruby skidded to a stop beside Jaune.

“Ruby!” He shouted, sounding a little bit panicked. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah.” She stood a little bit shakily, wishing that she knew where everyone else was for the moment. “Where are my teammates?”

“They’re on the other side.” Jaune explained, blinking. “Going after the legs.”

“Got it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby caught the sight of Pyrrha and Nora setting up for something big. Ren was with them, placing his hands on the two of them. Whatever he was saying, he was managing to keep his voice down.

“C’mon.” Jaune smiled at her and nodded towards his teammates. “We could probably use you.”

Ruby nodded and trotted after Jaune until she met with the others.

Pyrrha looked over at her and smiled. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Ruby confirmed, feeling rather awkward. “What are you doing?”

“Setting up for a big hit.” Nora explained, grinning too wide.

“You should get involved.” Pyrrha said, looking over at Nora. “I think that between the two of you-”

“Got it!” Ruby fell into place beside Nora and smiled when Ren gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder the same way that he had everyone else. She felt the calm that rushed over her, and looked up at the grimm. There was still smoke rushing out of its eye, from the damage that she had done.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't going to be enough.

"You two should work together." Jaune said, looking from Nora to Ruby. "If you can get you two there, then you'll get the big hit on the leg, and Pyrrha will reel you back in."

Pyrrha nodded, her eyes widening for a second as she threw her shield up into the air, trying to knock away a bit of rubble that had been going their way. When it came back she positioned herself at their front, with Jaune coming up on her side to do the same.

"You two need to hold onto your weapons tight." Pyrrha said, her voice eerily calm. "When you're back, we'll make more plans, but for now this is the best idea we have."

"What about everyone else?" Ruby asked, remembering what her uncle had just told her. "Because-"

"It shouldn't be enough to make it go down." Nora said. "I mean, I'm not charged up all the way, and you seem like you've done a lot too."

"Nora is right." Pyrrha said calmly. "But for now we all need to keep our heads together, and we need to be ready to do this."

"Got it."

Ruby dug her heels into the ground, and she and Nora wrapped their arms around each other. She just needed to get them moving. Nora seemed ready to help, if the way that she was angling Magnhild was any indication. With one strong push, Ruby launched the two of them into the air and held onto Nora as hard as she could.

They just needed to get to the kneecap. That was all that they needed.

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #ruby rose #the bones of a god #oops my hand slipped #mantiswrites

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muthur9000 · 7 years

Link

This is a very old interview from Ridley Scott after the release of Prometheus, it explains a lot about Covenant and what inspired him to stylise the prequels in such a way that they were considered ‘intellectual movies’.

Be warned! Scott was very open and specific about Prometheus. As a result, there is a lot of detail in this interview that you might not want to know until after you’ve seen Prometheus. Please proceed with caution!

Movies.com: Thank you, first, for giving us a film that we need to contemplate and discuss and argue about for days without ever really coming close to answering all that it asks. It feels like it has been too long before we’ve been treated to a meal such as this.

Ridley Scott: Thank Christ! I think that’s great.

Movies.com: The film asks very big questions about where we come from as a species, and where we go when we die. It’s not possible to deliver concrete answers, but I’m hoping you can tell me how, in the planning stages of the script and story, you came to decide which open-ended, philosophical questions you would at the very least attempt to answer definitively.

RS: Well, from the very beginning, I was working from a premise that lent itself to a sequel. I really don’t want to meet God in the first one. I want to leave it open to [Noomi Rapace’s character, Dr. Elizabeth Shaw] saying, “I don’t want to go back to where I came from. I want to go where they came from.”

Movies.com: So that was always going to be the natural ending for this film?

RS: Totally. And because they’re such aggressive f**kers … and who wouldn’t describe them that way, considering their brilliance in making dreadful devices and weapons that would make our chemical warfare look ridiculous? So I always had it in there that the God-like creature that you will see actually is not so nice, and is certainly not God. As she says, “This is not what I thought it was going to be, and I think we should get the Hell out of here or there won’t be any place to go back to.”

That’s not necessarily planted in the ground at the tail end of the third act, but I knew that’s kind of where we should go, because if we’ve opened up this door -- which I hope we have because I certainly would like to do another one – I’d love to explore where the hell [Dr. Shaw] goes next and what does she do when she gets there, because if it is paradise, paradise can not be what you think it is. Paradise has a connotation of being extremely sinister and ominous.

Movies.com: We’re not going to get a slow build in this second film, then. These guys are volatile from the start?

RS: In a funny kind of way, if you look at the Engineers, they’re tall and elegant … they are dark angels. If you look at [John Milton’s] Paradise Lost, the guys who have the best time in the story are the dark angels, not God. He goes to all the best nightclubs, he’s better looking, and he gets all of the birds. [Laughs]

Movies.com: So Milton was one of your influences for the Engineers?

RS: That sounds incredibly pretentiously intellectual. But in a funny sort of way, yes. I started off with a title called Paradise. Either rightly or wrongly, we thought that was telling the audience too much. But then with Prometheus – which I thought was bloody well intellectual – that wasn’t my idea. It was Fox’s notion, It came from Tom Rothman, who’s a smart fellow. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it was a good idea. This is about someone who dares and is horribly punished. And besides, do you know something? A little bit of an education at the cinema isn’t such a bad thing.

Movies.com: Do you worry that you’ve lost the element of surprise that worked to your advantage with the original Alien? By now, we’ve seen numerous movies in the Alien universe, and like it or not, audiences are coming in with an expectation that deflates tension and suspense. Did you feel the need to pull the audience in to the story in a different fashion this time?

RS: I was hoping I had with the fact that you have a sequence at the beginning of the film that is fundamentally creation. It’s a donation, in the sense that the weight and the construction of the DNA of those aliens is way beyond what we can possibly imagine …

Movies.com: That is our planet, right?

RS: No, it doesn’t have to be. That could be anywhere. That could be a planet anywhere. All he’s doing is acting as a gardener in space. And the plant life, in fact, is the disintegration of himself.

If you parallel that idea with other sacrificial elements in history – which are clearly illustrated with the Mayans and the Incas – he would live for one year as a prince, and at the end of that year, he would be taken and donated to the gods in hopes of improving what might happen next year, be it with crops or weather, etcetera.

I always think about how often we attribute what has happened to either our invention or memory. A lot of ideas evolve from past histories, but when you look so far back, you wonder, Really? Is there really a connection there?

Then when I jump back, and you put yourself in a situation of a cave painting, you see that someone 32,000 years ago is showing me a little man sitting in the darkness, using a candle light that is fat from a creature he killed and ate. And in the darkness are two or three other family members whose body heat is warming the cave. But he has discovered that from a piece of this black, burnt stick, he has discovered that he can draw pictures on the wall.

In essence, you have the first level of emotion and a demonstration of entertainment, right? Because he’s drawing brilliantly on the God damn wall. Now, you put yourself into that context, it’s 100-times bigger than Edison. And people don’t go back to the basics and ask, “Holy shit, what gave him that knowledge, that jolt to not scribble on the wall but draw on it brilliantly?”

If you go back and look, a completely underrated film is Quest for Fire. That was one of the most genius, simplistic but incredibly sophisticated notion of what it was. The evolution of that was just fantastic. And that got me sitting back on my ass thinking, “Damn! What a fundamentally massive idea.”

Movies.com: You throw religion and spirituality into the equation for Prometheus, though, and it almost acts as a hand grenade. We had heard it was scripted that the Engineers were targeting our planet for destruction because we had crucified one of their representatives, and that Jesus Christ might have been an alien. Was that ever considered?

RS: We definitely did, and then we thought it was a little too on the nose. But if you look at it as an “our children are misbehaving down there” scenario, there are moments where it looks like we’ve gone out of control, running around with armor and skirts, which of course would be the Roman Empire. And they were given a long run. A thousand years before their disintegration actually started to happen. And you can say, “Lets’ send down one more of our emissaries to see if he can stop it. Guess what? They crucified him.

#prometheus #ridley scott #paradise #paradise lost #john milton #quest for fire #alien prequel #alien covenant #alien: covenant #prometheus film #prometheus 2 #prometheus 2012 #prometheus movie #alien movie #alien film #alien franchise

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bountyofbeads · 5 years

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John Bolton expressed alarm about shadow Ukraine policy, but at key moments it’s unclear what he did to stop it

By Greg Jaffe, Greg Miller and Paul Sonne | Published November 06 at 12:23 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted November 6, 2019 |

Former National Security Adviser John Bolton was the highest-ranking official in the White House who voiced opposition to the effort to pressure Ukraine, someone with ample authority and motivation to disrupt a shadow foreign policy he reportedly likened to a “drug deal.”

Yet Bolton, who has a reputation as one of the most ruthless bureaucratic warriors in Washington, seemed to find reasons to avoid intervening directly at some key moments in the scandal now threatening the Trump presidency, according to current and former U.S. officials and testimony in the impeachment inquiry. Bolton sent others to report concerns to National Security Council lawyers, but it is unclear if he went himself. He skipped listening to the July 25 call between President Trump and the leader of Ukraine despite railing in the preceding weeks about the plan to compel Kyiv to open investigations that could help Trump in the 2020 election.

Even now, Bolton is expected to be a no-show for his appointment with impeachment investigators on Thursday, citing legal obstacles that did not impede former aides on the NSC.

As a result, Bolton’s role in the unfolding impeachment saga has become one of the most difficult to ascertain. His hard-line views about Russia, conservative bona fides and ignominious removal from the White House would seem to mark him as an eager and potentially devastating witness against the president. But, at the same time, he may have more to explain than other witnesses on whether he could have done more to stop a scheme he seemed to view as a shakedown.

Current and former U.S. officials said the perception inside the White House was that Bolton was deliberately seeking to protect himself from exposure to any fallout from the attempt to pressure Ukraine.“He was being a very careful political operative — which is what his reputation is,” said a former U.S. official familiar with Bolton’s actions who spoke on the condition of anonymity. “Bolton wants to continue to be a major player, wants to be relevant,” the official said. He avoided intervening directly in some Ukraine matters “because he knew it was going to be a disaster.”

A spokesman for Bolton said the former national security adviser had no comment.

Bolton first raised his worries about policy toward Ukraine during a volatile July 10 meeting in his White House office with U.S. officials and top aides to the Ukrainian president. The discussion was proceeding normally until Gordon Sondland, the ambassador to the European Union and a key driver of the shadow policy, made a cryptic reference to reviving investigations important to Trump.

Bolton immediately understood Sondland was pressing the Ukrainians to pursue a probe into Burisma, an energy company that had hired Vice President Joe Biden’s son Hunter to be on its board.

Bolton abruptly cleared the group from his office, officials said. When Sondland tried to reconvene with the Ukrainians downstairs he dispatched his then-Russia adviser, Fiona Hill, to break it up.

“I’m not part of whatever drug deal Sondland and Mulvaney are cooking up,” Bolton told Hill, according to her testimony. Bolton directed Hill to report what she had witnessed with Sondland to John Eisenberg, the top lawyer for the NSC.

It is not clear whether Bolton also spoke to Eisenberg or raised his concerns about the issue with Trump. Two weeks later, Bolton insisted that he alone, and not Sondland, handle Trump’s pre-call brief ahead of the president’s controversial July 25 conversation with Volodymyr Zelensky, the Ukrainian president, according to U.S. officials.

Bolton briefed the president, who was in the White House residence. When he finished, Sondland was patched through on a separate call with the help of acting White House chief of staff Mick Mulvaney, according to the U.S. officials. One week earlier Trump had halted nearly $400 million in military aid to Ukraine over the objections of most of his top national security experts, including Bolton.

Despite the rancor in the run-up to the call and the troubling hold on the aid, Bolton chose not to listen into the president’s conversation with Zelensky in the Situation Room with other top officials. Instead he dispatched his deputy to monitor it and report back.

At the same time, senior officials across the Pentagon, State Department and CIA were scrambling to figure out the reason for the hold. Interagency staff members convened at least three times to make the case for the money. The Pentagon produced an analysis certifying the effectiveness of the assistance and calling for it to be restored.

Most officials expected Bolton to call a meeting of the president’s national security cabinet to reaffirm the need for the assistance and put more pressure on Trump to release the money.

Privately, Bolton gave others the indication that he was pursuing the matter internally. Acting U.S. Ambassador to Ukraine William B. Taylor Jr. testified in the impeachment inquiry that Bolton informed him at one point that he was working to enlist the “two secretaries” — an apparent reference to Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and Secretary of Defense Mark Esper — as well as CIA Director Gina Haspel to get the hold on military aid reversed.

But August passed without a meeting. “It just seemed to sit for the month,” said a senior administration official, who like others spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss internal deliberations. “No one knew why it wasn’t happening.”

Separately, Bolton was on increasingly shaky ground with Trump who was frustrated that his national security adviser’s “maximum pressure campaigns” on Iran and Venezuela were not showing faster results. The national security adviser was also feuding with Secretary of State Mike Pompeo over a proposed peace deal in Afghanistan that Bolton believed made too many concessions to the Taliban.

In late August Bolton flew to Kyiv to meet with Zelensky. Before departing he told aides he wanted to “stay out of politics,” according to text message written by the U.S. ambassador to Ukraine and released as part of the impeachment inquiry.

Kurt Volker, the U.S. special envoy to Ukraine, told House investigators he assumed that meant Bolton wanted to avoid discussions related to Rudolph W. Giuliani, Trump’s personal lawyer, who was pressuring Kyiv for investigations of Biden as well as unfounded allegations of Ukrainian involvement in the 2016 election, a conspiracy theory Giuliani appeared to have embraced.

In Bolton’s mind, Giuliani was a “hand grenade who’s going to blow everybody up,” according to testimony in the impeachment inquiry.

In Kyiv, Bolton did not discuss the freeze on military aid with Zelensky’s aides who, despite the mounting worry in Washington, still did not realize it was on hold. Instead his talks focused on U.S. concerns regarding the pending sale of a Ukrainian aerospace company to the Chinese. “That was the focal point for him, not the aid or investigations,” said a former U.S. official with knowledge of his trip.

During his visit, Bolton met with Taylor and encouraged the acting ambassador to send a diplomatic cable to Pompeo voicing his concern about the apparent withholding of aid as leverage against Ukraine. Taylor testified that he did so the next day, Aug. 28.

When Politico published a piece on the aid freeze, Zelensky and his top aides were left wondering why Bolton had not even mentioned the issue before departing Ukraine.

Five days later, Bolton and Vice President Pence were scheduled to meet with Zelensky and his top aides on the sidelines of a World War II commemoration in Warsaw. The morning of the meeting Taylor warned the Ukrainians that if the money was not released by Sept. 30, they would lose it.

It was an “all or nothing proposition” he told Ukraine’s national security adviser, according to Taylor’s testimony.

Meanwhile, Bolton and Pence were huddling in Warsaw to discuss how to address the frozen aid. The meeting with the vice president offered Bolton an opportunity to sound the alarm about Giuliani’s and Sondland’s actions at the highest levels of the administration.

But he chose not to discuss his concerns with Pence, said U.S. officials. Bolton emphasized the importance of the aid to Ukraine but held his tongue on the pressure campaign. Officials close to Pence insist he was unaware of Trump’s efforts to press Zelensky for damaging information about Biden. Pence had access to the transcript of the July 25 phone call, but it is unclear if he read it.

In the meeting with Pence, Zelensky made a case for the American aid, which he insisted was important not only militarily but also as a symbol of American commitment in the face of Russian aggression.

“You are the only country providing military assistance,” one of the Ukrainian officials told Pence. “You are punishing us.”

Pence offered no explanation for the hold beyond a vague insistence that the Ukrainians crack down on corruption, then he promised to raise the matter with Trump in Washington.

Bolton, meanwhile, was quiet and left the session before it was even over to catch his plane, according to U.S. and Ukrainian officials. Bolton’s brief appearance left the Ukrainians wondering if he was avoiding them, officials in Kyiv said.

Nine days later, Trump, under heavy pressure from a bipartisan group of lawmakers, authorized the release of the Ukrainian aid. He also tweeted that he had fired Bolton, who had clashed with Trump on Iran, Syria, North Korea, Venezuela and Afghanistan policy.

Bolton texted his rejoinder to a handful of reporters: “Let’s be clear: I resigned.”

In the weeks that followed Bolton blasted Trump’s North Korea policy in a speech, inked a lucrative book deal and restarted his political action committee, which supports Republican candidates who share his hard-edge foreign policy views.

He has also watched from the sidelines as three of his former subordinates have come forward to testify in the House impeachment inquiry, defying the White House’s orders that they keep quiet.

Bolton has indicated he is in a different legal category than other witnesses because of his rank and is waiting on a decision from the courts on whether he should comply with the White House’s order or Congress’s subpoena.

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‘Talk to Rudy’: Testimony from diplomats highlights Giuliani’s central role in driving Ukraine policy

By Josh Dawsey | Published November 06 at 3:48 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted November 6, 2019 |

Three ominous words uttered in the Oval Office led two American diplomats on a journey that ended in a Capitol basement room as key witnesses in the House impeachment inquiry: “Talk to Rudy.”

President Trump’s instruction in May to a U.S. delegation that had just returned from Ukraine made clear that his personal attorney Rudolph W. Giuliani was playing the driving role in shaping the president’s view of that country — and that top officials needed to cater to him, according to transcripts of testimony released this week.

“Rudy had some bad issues with Ukraine, and until Rudy was satisfied, the president wasn’t going to change his mind,” European Union Ambassador Gordon Sondland said in his testimony to House investigators.

After the May 23 Oval Office meeting, Kurt Volker, then-special envoy to Ukraine, reached out to Giuliani, attempting to court his support for U.S. foreign policy goals, and also put him in touch with a top Ukrainian official. At one point, he and Sondland even conferred with Giuliani on the language of a public statement that the new Ukrainian president was considering making, text messages show.

In a sign of his disproportionate influence, Giuliani was cited by name 480 times during Sondland’s and Volker’s depositions — more than any Trump White House or Cabinet official. The lawyer was repeatedly described as inexplicably powerful and difficult to control.

“He was always swirling around somewhere,” Sondland said of Giuliani, adding that he did not believe anyone wanted to deal with the former New York mayor.

Giuliani did not respond to a request for comment. He has previously said he was working on behalf of the president and in conjunction with the State Department, and that he kept Volker and Sondland apprised of his interactions with Ukrainians.

But the testimony and documents that have emerged in the ongoing impeachment inquiry underscore how much Giuliani — someone without a government portfolio — was driving official U.S. policy.

In his July 25 call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, Trump told the newly elected leader to deal with his personal attorney.

“I will have Mr. Giuliani give you a call,” Trump said, according to a rough transcript released by the White House.

Meanwhile, the top diplomats were scrambling to figure out how to handle Giuliani, someone they viewed as poisoning the president’s view of Ukraine.

From the early days of his tenure, Volker said, Trump told the pair that Giuliani had told him the Ukrainians are “all corrupt, they’re all terrible people, that they were — they tried to take me down — meaning the president in the 2016 election.”

Sondland said he believed the State Department should be in charge of foreign policy, but officials were powerless to thwart the former mayor, according to his testimony.

“It’s something we have to deal with,” Secretary of State Mike Pompeo said of Giuliani, rolling his eyes, according to Sondland’s testimony.

After Zelensky was elected, Sondland, Volker, Energy Secretary Rick Perry and Sen. Ron Johnson (R-Wis.) went to the Oval Office to brief Trump on a trip they had taken to Ukraine and to push for a meeting between the two leaders. They were excited about the new government, according to the testimony.

But Trump was uninterested, Sondland said, “going on and on and on about his dissatisfaction with Ukraine. He didn’t even want to deal with it anymore.”

“And he basically said, go talk to Rudy, he knows all about Ukraine,” Sondland said, recounting that the Oval Office meeting was cut short. Giuliani was not present.

Sondland said the group was “disappointed” but felt they faced an impossible choice: either abandon the goal of a meeting between Trump and Zelensky, or deal with Giuliani.

Volker voiced that resignation a few days later in a text to a longtime State Department colleague, William B. Taylor Jr., who was considering returning to Kyiv as ambassador: “I don’t know if there is much to do about the Giuliani thing.”

Taylor later told House investigators that he believed Giuliani led Volker astray.

“When he got involved with Mr. Giuliani, I think that that pulled him away from, or it diverted him from, being focused on what I thought needed to be focused on,” Taylor told lawmakers, according to a transcript released Wednesday. “The Giuliani factor, I think, affected Ambassador Volker.”

After the Oval Office meeting, Volker set up a channel to Giuliani, texting him on the morning of July 10 asking him to “meet for coffee or lunch in the next week or so.”

In a series of texts over the summer, the veteran diplomat sought to gently lobby and cajole the president’s lawyer.

According to his testimony, Volker tried to warn Giuliani that a former Ukrainian prosecutor general with whom Giuliani met on several occasions was “not credible.” He also “pushed back” on Giuliani’s fixation with former vice president Joe Biden and his son Hunter’s role as a board member of a Ukrainian gas company, telling him at a breakfast meeting on July 19 that “it is simply not credible to me that Joe Biden would be influenced in his duties as vice president by money or things for his son or anything like that.”

He also warned the Ukrainians that Giuliani was shaping the president’s negative views of their country, a message that prompted Andrey Yermak, a top aide to Zelensky, to request a meeting with Giuliani.

The Ukrainians believed, Volker said, that if they spoke to Giuliani, the “information flow would reach the president.”

Volker reported back to Giuliani with good news. He told Trump’s personal attorney that he had an “opportunity to get you what you need” on the subject of Ukraine, according to text messages released Tuesday. He then helped set up a meeting between Giuliani and Yermak.

That sit-down in Madrid three weeks later created a new set of problems, Volker testified, adding that he believes that is when the idea was hatched for the Ukrainians to put out a statement vowing to open the corruption investigations that Trump was seeking.

A week before, Trump had asked Zelensky to investigate whether Ukraine interfered in the 2016 election and Hunter Biden, the transcript of their call shows.

After the Madrid meeting, Yermak sent Volker a draft statement that referred to “the problem of interference in the political processes of the United States,” text messages show.

Volker and Sondland consulted with Giuliani on the statement. The president’s lawyer did not find it “convincing,” Volker recalled.

“Mr. Giuliani was the one giving the input as to what the president wanted in the statement. He wanted Burisma and 2016 election mentioned in the statement. And I don’t believe the Ukrainians were prepared to do that,” Sondland said.

Sondland said he was worried.

“What I was concerned about was that Zelensky would say whatever he would say on live television and it still wouldn’t be good enough for Rudy/the president, and then we would be having to go back and tell Zelensky, sorry, not good enough, and that would be extremely embarrassing,” Sondland said.

Sondland suggested the Ukrainians provide a summary of what they planned to say to the Americans “so that it can be run by Mayor Giuliani first to nail down what it is exactly that the president was asking or Giuliani was asking versus what Zelensky was intending to say. I didn’t want there to be a false press statement made live that was inadequate in some way.”

In a group text with Sondland, Volker sent back new language to Yermak that included “2 key items” — specific references to Burisma, the company on whose board Hunter Biden served, as well as the 2016 election.

But privately, Volker said he warned Yermak that releasing the statement “was not a good idea” and could entangle the Ukrainians in U.S. domestic politics.

“Because of conversations with Giuliani, I wanted to make sure that I was cautioning the Ukrainians, ‘Don’t get sucked in,’ ” Volker recounted.

Later, Volker said, when the Ukraine scandal broke into public view, Giuliani sought to get him to put out a misleading statement about the role he had played.

In a Sept. 22 text message to Volker, Giuliani urged him to “tell the truth” that he had “reported back to you and Sondland” about his interactions with the Ukrainians.

But Volker refused to comply with Giuliani’s request because it was “not the truth” that the president’s lawyer was acting at the direction of the State Department, he told lawmakers.

“I wasn’t giving any direction to him in any way,” Volker said.

______

Andrew Ba Tran, Mike DeBonis, Karoun Demirjian, Greg Jaffe, Elise Viebeck and Aaron C. Davis contributed to this report.

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4 big takeaways from Bill Taylor’s full transcript

By Aaron Blake | Published November 06 at 3:58 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted November 6, 2019 |

House Democrats on Wednesday released the impeachment inquiry’s full testimony of the top U.S. diplomat in Ukraine, William B. Taylor.

We already knew Taylor was the first U.S. official to indicate that an explicit quid pro quo was communicated to top Ukrainian officials, based upon his publicly released opening statement. That claim that has since been confirmed by White House aide Tim Morrison and European Union Ambassador Gordon Sondland, who personally conveyed the quid pro quo.

Below are some takeaways from Taylor’s full testimony.

1. A SECOND QUID PRO QUO

The quid pro quo that we knew Taylor had explicitly outlined was one involving military aid; he said he had been told that Sondland told a Ukrainian official that the investigations Trump wanted would need to be announced for the aid to go through.

But in his further testimony, he also indicates that he was told in slightly less-certain terms that there was a quid pro quo involving a meeting with Trump. Taylor hinted at this in his opening statement, but he clarified it in his testimony:

Q: On page 5 of your testimony, in the third paragraph, you say: “But during my subsequent communications with Ambassador [Kurt] Volker and Sondland, they relayed to me that the President, quote, “wanted to hear from Zelensky,” unquote, “before scheduling the meeting in the Oval Office. It was not clear to me what this meant.” Now, I take it, ambassador, you used that word “before” deliberately — that is, they wanted to hear from Zelensky before they would schedule this meeting. Is that right?

A: That is correct.

Taylor says elsewhere in his testimony that he didn’t know the full details at the time but that he came to understand that the condition was that Ukraine would announce certain investigations, including one involving the company that employed former vice president Joe Biden’s son Hunter.

“By mid-July, it was becoming clear to me that the meeting President Zelensky wanted was conditioned on investigations of Burisma and alleged Ukrainian influence in the 2016 elections,” Taylor said in his opening statement. “It was also clear that this condition was driven by the irregular policy channel I had come to understand was guided by Mr. Giuliani.”

He was further asked whether “when you talk about ‘conditioned,’ did you mean that if they didn’t do this — the investigations — they weren’t going to get that, the meeting and the military assistance?”

“That was my clear understanding,” Taylor said.

2. He points the finger at Giuliani, not at Trump personally.

I wrote earlier Wednesday about how the testimonies of Volker and Sondland appear to be pointing in the direction of Republicans laying all this at the feet of Trump’s lawyer Rudolph W. Giuliani. The two of them suggested they never had an explicit quid pro quo conveyed to them, and Sondland said he instead just “presumed” one was in place. What’s more, they both indicated Giuliani’s actions were problematic, if not illegal (in the case of Sondland).

Taylor’s testimony also stops short of directly implicating Trump. Taylor indicates that the quid pro quo was coming from Giuliani and says he didn’t know whether Trump was behind it.

REP. LEE ZELDIN (R-N.Y.): So where was this condition coming from if you’re not sure if it was coming from the President?

TAYLOR: I think it was coming from Mr. Giuliani.

ZELDIN: But not from the president?

TAYLOR: I don’t know.

Taylor adds that he doesn’t “know what was in the president’s mind.”

That doesn’t mean Trump wasn’t involved; indeed, someone like Taylor would have a difficult time knowing that, given that he wasn’t central to this effort. (He says he didn’t speak with Trump and didn’t even get a summary of Trump’s July 25 call with Ukraine’s president, for instance.) Nor does it mean Giuliani didn’t have Trump’s blessing; he was serving as Trump’s lawyer, after all, and Trump has talked about the same investigations Giuliani was seeking, including in the July 25 call.

But it’s significant that Taylor stops short of saying he could trace this to Trump. And Republicans will continue to argue that Trump never explicitly called for a quid pro quo.

3. The plot thickens on ‘very sympathetic’ John Bolton.

Former national security adviser John Bolton looms large over this, as he would seem to be a rather motivated witness. Other aides have described him angrily cutting short a July 10 meeting in which Sondland broached the investigations with Ukrainian officials and telling aides to report their concerns about the situation.

The big question is whether Bolton will testify; for now, he’s awaiting some court rulings.

But Taylor provides even more of a window into Bolton’s reservations about this entire operation. He had said in his opening statement that Bolton told him to send a first-person cable to Secretary of State Mike Pompeo stating his concerns about the military aid being withheld. And now, in his further testimony, we learn that Bolton went even further.

Taylor says that Bolton had “indicated that he was very sympathetic” to Taylor’s concerns and that Bolton “was also trying, with the two secretaries and the director of the CIA [Gina Haspel], to get this decision reversed.” (At another point, Taylor indicates that the “two secretaries” were Pompeo and Defense Secretary Mark T. Esper.)

Taylor also says Bolton warned against holding the July 25 call between Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, because he “thought it was going to be a disaster.”

“He thought that there could be some talk of investigations or worse on the call,” Taylor said. “Turned out he was right.”

The Bolton Plot Thickens

4. Taylor is going to be a very important witness next week.

While Bolton would be a massive witness, Taylor will set the tone. He is one of two witnesses slated for the first public hearing of the impeachment inquiry next week, along with George Kent. And Taylor’s testimony Nov. 13 is looming larger than ever.

Volker and Sondland have shown that they aren’t terribly interested in blowing the lid off the Ukraine scandal, with Volker denying knowledge of a quid pro quo and Sondland disclosing his only after others implicated him (he issued a clarification to his testimony Monday).

Taylor, by contrast, seemed to come into the job wary of the Giuliani setup, and he describes a process of gradually having his worst fears confirmed. Taylor also says he has “always kept careful notes, and I keep a little notebook where I take notes on conversations, in particular when I’m not in the office.”

Those notes could prove crucial, as could Taylor’s willingness to say things that other political appointees are warier of.

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Trump makes falsehoods central to impeachment defense as incriminating evidence mounts

By Toluse Olorunnipa and Philip Rucker |Published November 06 at 6:00 AM ET | Washington Post | Posted November 6, 2019 |

Standing before a crowd of supporters this week in Lexington, Ky., President Trump repeated a false claim he has made more than 100 times in the past six weeks: that a whistleblower from the intelligence community misrepresented a presidential phone call at the center of the impeachment inquiry that threatens his presidency.

“The whistleblower said lots of things that weren’t so good, folks. You’re going to find out,” Trump said Monday at a campaign rally. “These are very dishonest people.”

Behind him were men and women in “Read the Transcript” T-shirts — echoing through their apparel Trump’s attempt to recast an incriminating summary of his July 25 call with Ukraine’s president as a piece of exonerating evidence.

It’s a form of gaslighting that has become the central defense strategy for the president as he faces his greatest political threat yet. But the approach is coming under increasing strain as congressional Democrats release transcripts and prepare to hold public hearings presenting evidence that directly undercuts Trump’s claims.

That the whistleblower report essentially mirrors the set of facts that have since been revealed by a stream of documented evidence and sworn testimony has not stopped Trump from repeatedly claiming otherwise. He has also pushed other specious arguments in his harried attempt to counter the growing evidence from witnesses implicating his administration in a quid pro quo scheme linking military aid to Ukrainian investigations targeting Democrats.

Without evidence, Trump has claimed that his own administration officials who have complied with congressional subpoenas are “Never Trumpers.” He has recounted conversations in which senators deemed him “innocent,” only to have the lawmakers deny making the statements. He has dismissed polls that show growing support for impeachment as “fake,” while repeatedly claiming levels of Republican support that exceed anything that exists in public polling.

“I don’t know whether he believes all these things or he takes pleasure in inventing false narratives, but I think the most important thing here is that no president can sustain his hold on the public for long when he loses his credibility,” said Robert Dallek, a presidential historian.

Trump’s repetitive use of false claims represents an attempt to immunize himself from impeachment by seeding favorable information in the minds of the public, even when that information is incorrect, said Kathleen Hall Jamieson, director of the University of Pennsylvania’s Annenberg Public Policy Center.

“We know from work in social psychology that repeated exposure to a claim increases the likelihood that you think it’s accurate,” she said. “As you hear or read something repeatedly, you are more likely to think it’s accurate even if faced with evidence that it’s not.”

The White House did not respond to requests for comment.

While Trump has made more than 13,000 false and misleading claims since he became president, his attempts to distort reality have crashed headlong into a fast-moving impeachment process that has secured damaging testimony from several Trump administration officials who have contradicted him under oath.

Since Democrats began their impeachment inquiry in September, Trump’s most consistent defense has been the false assertion that the whistleblower complaint “bears no resemblance” to his July 25 phone call with Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky. Trump has referred to the whistleblower’s allegations as “false,” “fraudulent,” “wrong,” “incorrect,” “so bad,” “very inaccurate,” and “phony.”

But the whistleblower’s account — which documented how Trump pressed Zelensky to work with Attorney General William P. Barr and Trump’s personal lawyer Rudolph W. Giuliani to investigate former vice president Joe Biden and his son Hunter — has been corroborated by the reconstructed transcript released by the White House. Witness testimony has also backed up most of the whistleblower report’s main conclusions, including that White House lawyers sought to “lock down” records of the call by moving it onto a highly classified system.

In his repeated claims disputing the accuracy of the whistleblower’s account, Trump has only rarely gone into any detail to say what he considered inaccurate. Trump has misquoted the report each time he has attempted to provide evidence of the whistleblower’s alleged errors.

“The whistleblower said ‘quid pro quo’ eight times,” Trump said last month. “It was a little off — no times.”

The whistleblower report did not make any references to “quid pro quo,” let alone eight.

Trump’s willingness to repeatedly mislead the public represents an attempt to protect himself by creating doubt about the fundamental nature of truth, said Michael Steele, former chairman of the Republican National Committee.

“One thing we’ve all noticed with Trump is he knows how to strategically create confusion,” he said. “To go on the record with a bald-faced lie, it doesn’t matter whether you fact-check him in real time, it doesn’t matter if there’s a hue and cry afterwards, his calculation is that there’s enough confusion that you don’t know what’s true and what isn’t.”

Trump has also sought to draw other Republicans into his truth-defying defenses, drawing rare pushback from lawmakers who disputed his accounts of their conversations.

Last month, Trump quoted conversations with Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) and Sen. Tim Scott (R-S.C.), claiming that both lawmakers deemed his conduct with Ukraine “innocent.”

“I read Mitch McConnell’s statement yesterday, and he read my phone call. And, as you know, he put out a statement that said that was the most innocent phone call he’s read,” Trump told reporters last month. “And I spoke to him about it, too. He read my phone call with the President of Ukraine. Mitch McConnell — he said, ‘That was the most innocent phone call that I’ve read.’ ”

McConnell never released such a statement, and when asked about Trump’s claim, said, “We’ve not had any conversations on that subject.” Asked if the president was lying, McConnell responded: “You’d have to ask him.”

Trump also claimed that Scott made a statement saying that “the president is innocent. Forget about due process. He’s innocent.”

Scott, when asked if he had said what Trump claimed he had, said “yeah, no,” disputing the claim that he did not care about due process. He did say, for the first time publicly, that he considered Trump “innocent of an impeachable offense.”

Trump’s defenders say his unorthodox style is what allowed him to connect with voters and win the presidency three years ago. Many dismiss hand-wringing over the accuracy of Trump’s statements as a sign of Washington’s disconnectedness from average voters.

“This is another case in American politics of those on each side taking the same written words and reaching their own conclusions,” said Ed Brookover, a Republican strategist and former Trump campaign adviser. “Just as with the so-called Russian collusion case, you’re going to find a whole lot of nothing here again. . . . When the president says, ‘Here we go again,’ it’s a very believable message.”

Public polling has shown steadily increasing support for the Democratic-led impeachment probe into whether Trump abused his power for personal and political gain. Officials from the State Department and White House have provided sworn testimony describing the Trump administration’s attempt to secure political investigations by the government in Ukraine while the president withheld almost $400 million in congressionally approved military aid and the chance for a visit with Zelensky.

Trump has dismissed the unfavorable poll numbers as “fake,” claiming on Saturday that he had “the real polls.” Trump has tweeted several times that he has 95 percent support within the Republican Party, an inflated number that far exceeds the 74 percent figure in the latest Washington Post-ABC News poll. No other public polling has shown Trump’s GOP support at 95 percent.

But the president’s varying assertions have had trouble gaining a foothold amid mounting incriminating information from the impeachment probe, which has begun to enter a more public-facing phase.

On Tuesday, Gordon Sondland, U.S. ambassador to the European Union, acknowledged telling one of Zelensky’s advisers that resumption of U.S. aid was tied to anti-corruption investigations that would target Democrats.

The acknowledgment in a deposition released Tuesday was a reversal from his earlier testimony, which Trump had previously cited in an attempt defend himself from charges of a quid pro quo.

The testimony from Sondland, a Trump donor and political appointee, could be more difficult for the president to dismiss than the allegations of several other Trump administration officials who have also described a political quid pro quo.

Trump has claimed without evidence that those officials were “Never Trumpers” peddling false accusations.

It’s part of a strategy to paint all incriminating information as emanating from biased sources, said Jamieson.

“If you can construct the world that anybody who says anything negative about the president is a venal partisan, you never have to get into any of the evidence because you distort the evidence and discredit the source of it,” she said. “That’s what Donald Trump does.”

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preciousthingsareprecious · 8 years

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Anxious Heart

Recently @unpretty posted this post about Fear Toxin and Bruce missing the fact that he’d been drugged. Around the same time I’d been thinking about a similar fear toxin hitting one of the Batkids. I mentioned it to @audreycritter (who is an enabler) and this happened.

Warnings: There is severe anxiety in this fic, and if that makes you uncomfortable or anxious at all please feel free to skip it.

Words: 2,400ish

Neither of them had been expecting an explosion, not with Crane and how volatile his fear gas could be. When Scarecrow stopped his mad dash to escape, Damian expected him to send gas their way. Instead he threw what looked like a grenade at them. Damian went to leap over it and found his momentum stopped as in one swift motion, Bruce grabbed his cape, pulled, and shielded him as the grenade burst open.

Damian prepared himself for heat and the deafening crack he was sure was next. Instead there was a sputtering of noise and a splash of metal overhead, then nothing. Bruce let him up and both stood to watch white smoke drift in lazy streams out from the impact point. A misfire.

Damian crossed his arms. “Tt, Crane got away.”

Bruce moved towards the small spot of black on the ground and brushed it with his hand. “We’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Damian grumbled, but his heart was racing. It had been close. The whole night had been a series of close calls and surprises. Running into Crane had not been in the plan. They’d been hunting a group believed to be smuggling medicine. The men were supposed to be using the building as a kind of base, but they’d been nowhere to be found, replaced as if by magic with Crane. Scarecrow had bolted, Damian hot on his heels, not a thought in his head about gas masks. Father was right, it could have been a lot worse.

The second half of patrol turned out smoother than the first, not that Damian would be able to tell the difference. His post explosion jitters hadn’t gone away. If anything, they were worse. Everything felt off. He’d decided to attribute it to hypervigilance, he wouldn’t be caught off guard again.

The longer the night went, the worse he felt. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Then he doubted that his feeling, was it dread or something else? He pushed it down for what had to be the tenth time that hour and pressed forward, following Batman as he launched himself at a trio of muggers.

Damian kept eyeing his father, looking for signs of distress on him. If Father was acting odd Damian could assume that they’d somehow run afoul of Crane’s toxin. Perhaps the man had some lingering on him when they found him, or maybe it had already been in the room. Except, Father was normal. He didn’t show a single sign of fear or agitation.

Then it was something to do with Damian himself. He ran a list of his home responsibilities, had he forgotten something his mind was trying to bring back up? He couldn’t think of anything. He called in to check on Grayson, in case it was a premonition. Grayson was fine. Excited to hear from him, expecting to get news of a boring night.

He ground his teeth in frustration. He did not feel this way. Ever. He refused to let it control him, whatever was bothering him, he’d get over. Even if he had no idea what caused it.

Bruce ended patrol early. Damian wouldn’t admit it, but he was relieved to sit in the Batmobile and let his father drive. His nightly routine would surely wash away the lingering anxious thoughts in his head.

The moment he laid down to sleep the silence of his room began to leach away the calm he’d gained from a hot shower and light snack. His sleepy eyes wouldn’t stay closed. His head felt like it was racing from one thought to another, never taking the time to rest on one topic. He tried to focus on something, anything to still it, but the thoughts slipped away like water in his palm.

He slept fitfully, half an hour here, another there. Always waking up shivering with anxiety, his nerves frayed as they drove his exhaustion deeper. Once he thought he’d fallen asleep, only to jerk awake as if he caught himself from falling.

There was a point, close to when he was normally supposed to wake up that his frustration hit its peak, and he felt tears prickle his eyes. He was tired and he wanted to sleep and he wanted the pressure in his chest to go away. He resorted to digging out the emergency sleeping pills Alfred had given him for nights where he was plagued with unshakeable nightmares. He took half of one and forced his eyes closed until he passed out.

Alfred woke him, worry creasing his brow, and a thermometer at the ready. Damian was groggy and confused. The sun was too bright, and he didn’t understand why Pennyworth was insisting he take the thermometer.

“I’m fine.” He said pushing it away. “I took a sleeping pill. I couldn’t sleep last night.” It wasn’t until he’d said the words that he realized they would do little to assuage Alfred’s worry. His mind was always slow to catch up when he woke up after taking a pill.

The man put the thermometer away but his frown stayed in place. He didn’t ask Damian’s reasons for the pill. It was an unspoken rule not to ask about nightmares, Damian would always talk if he needed to. He felt a little guilty about letting Pennyworth believe it was nightmares that drove him to medicated sleep, but he was embarrassed enough about his real reason he kept silent.

“I’m fine. Really.” He gave him a small smile that he hoped would convince Pennyworth to stop worrying.

Alfred nodded, but he didn’t lose the worried look on his face until after Damian made it down to the kitchen and started eating a late breakfast.

Damian was feeling better. Every moment the anxiety of the night before was slipping away into what felt like a bad dream. A fluke. He decided. It was a fluke of emotion, something strange to be worried about only if it continued. Even Father had off days, surely Damian could have a few of his own.

It was during training that he began to feel uncomfortable again. It started as a jump at a shadow. He was alone, fighting a practice dummy, when it flashed across his vision. The batarang in his hand tumbled to the ground as Damian jerked back. A moment later Alfred the cat darted into the light. Damian was grateful the batarang had fallen, he might have thrown it in a fit of nerves.

“Not now, Alfred. Go play somewhere else, you’re distracting.” He shooed. Alfred looked at him for a moment, swished his tail, and sauntered away his head held high either oblivious or uncaring of Damian’s mood.

Damian pushed the nerves off as an eagerness to get out and patrol. He’d slept in and wanted to move, more than the cave’s suddenly restricting proportions would allow. His relief at patrol beginning was short lived. Instead of letting him work out the pent-up energy in his body, he felt it coil tighter.

His frustration grew through the night. He was jumping at everything. Car horns, an unexpected movement from his father, even the shadow cast by a moving cloud. It was getting ridiculous. He was Robin, he’d been trained by assassins, he should be fine. He should not feel like someone grasping for calm, and yet he was having trouble controlling his own breathing.

He wasn’t sure when it started, but he began to worry. It wasn’t a single thing, but many. Vague issues at first. Grayson’s heath, Pennyworth being alone at the manor, Todd’s recent radio silence. Then his mind filled with what ifs. What if somewhere else in the city Drake needed them? What if he was too slow tonight and couldn’t help his father? What if he was hurt? He hated seeing Father worried about him.

There were too many, piling high in his brain with no release, and Damian had no idea why. Was it something he’d eaten? His lack of sleep? Puberty even? Grayson had told him that his hormones would be ‘out of control’ but Damian hadn’t thought it would be this way.

He discounted again that it had to do with the previous night’s events. Father was still fine, Damian had been watching him all evening. Not a movement out of place, or a word to betray the same terror building up within him.

They paused in an alley for a moment. Father was consulting some piece of news with Pennyworth, nodding ever few seconds. Damian took the time to try and get a hold on his emotions. His chest was twinged with fear, his stomach a mess, and his mind racing.

“Ready Robin?” Father asked, but his voice sounded far away.

Damian nodded, not trusting his voice. He tried to step forward, but he found he couldn’t move. He was rooted in place, his feet as if they’d become part of the ground, trapped in cement. Father was frowning at him, not quite worried, but not unbothered either.

“You alright?” he asked.

Again, Damian couldn’t find words. His breath had begun to speed up, shallow, and ineffective. He couldn’t tell Father he was afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of. He had no reason to feel the way he did. Father would tell him to chin up, to ignore it, that the terror was a case of overthinking. Suddenly he was terrified that his father would be disappointed in him.

“Robin. Robin!” The urgency in Father’s voice was so distant, like listening to something underwater.

Then he was in front of Damian, kneeling so they were face to face. “Damian, look at me.” It was a command, tight with worry. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Damian couldn’t breathe, not enough to speak, not enough to keep his head from getting light. “Afraid.” He rasped, then a moment later. “I’m afraid.”

The slits in Batman’s mask tightened and his father’s frown deepened. “Afraid? Of what?”

Here it was. The question Damian couldn’t answer. He had no idea and that itself was terrifying. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. The words circled his brain, a loop of terror that he couldn’t stop.

A hand was on his shoulder and Damian jerked back. Father was angry, that was it. He was angry and Damian didn’t know how to respond.

“Damian!” It wasn’t anger that made Bruce’s voice rise, it was fear and Damian’s attention snapped to his father’s face. His face. Bruce had pulled back his cowl and was staring at Damian.

“I need you to listen to me,” Bruce’s tone was even and calm, but his eyes betrayed the worry still there. “You need to breathe deeper or you’re going to hyperventilate. I’m going to count and I want you to breathe in then out when I say ok?”

Damian nodded, his chest and hands shaking. Father started to count and Damian followed his instructions. Over and over until his head felt steady and he could take in a full breath without everything shaking.

“Better?” Bruce asked.

“A little.” Damian answered.

Father nodded. “Good. We’re going home.”

“No!” The word tore from Damian’s throat, and he lurched forward, all panic and limbs again. Bruce caught him and the next moment Damian found himself in his father’s lap, tugged close.

His breath was shaky again, and he lost precious moments trying to catch it. “I’ll be ok.” He said. “There’s nothing for me to be afraid of. Just give me a minute. I can continue patrolling.”

Father’s hand was at his back, hugging him and holding him at the same time. The other hand had gone to push Damian’s hair back from his forehead. Cold air brushed him, and he realized he’d been sweating. The temperature was moderate, but he was shaking again.

“Neither of us are finishing patrol tonight. But you are right. There is nothing to be afraid of.” Father told him, his hand tightening as Damian tried to jerk away again. “And that’s the point.”

At that Damian forced himself to relax a little against his father. “What do you mean?”

Bruce brushed his hair back again. “I don’t think that grenade misfired last night.”

“But, you’re fine.” Damian frowned.

Bruce shook his head. “I thought I was having an off couple of days. I couldn’t be sure of any real effects until now. Alfred told me you didn’t sleep after we got back from patrol, and this confirms it.”

“It’s a toxin?” Damian asked, his heart should have steadied at the realization, but it didn’t. Instead he felt it speed up. At least this time he knew the reason.

Bruce nodded. “It was stupid of me not to have bloodwork done on us both last night. Any brush with Crane is dangerous, but I was tired and anxious for rest.” He was frowning again, but this frown Damian knew well. It was one aimed at Bruce himself, a chide on his own error.

“I watched you.” Damian said. “You seemed fine.”

At this his father gave him a wry smile. “I’ve gotten very good at hiding the fact that I do not always have everything together.”

“How do you do it?” Damian asked, desperate for some technique to help him manage until the gas was out of his system. “How do you cope?” It seemed impossible to him that anyone could function feeling the way he did, but Father could. He must have something to help.

“I force myself to make a decision and keep moving. I know if I stop, I might not ever start again. But--” He paused and looked back down at Damian.

“I don’t want you to think that’s what you have to do. That way of thinking can be a crutch itself. Keep pushing forward, but have someone to talk to.” He said, then a moment later added, “And don’t be afraid to cry, or get angry, or let yourself feel. Trying to ignore your feelings can be dangerous. I know you don’t usually feel this way, but someday you might.”

Bruce picked him up then, cupping his legs under his free arm to keep him from falling. “Now, let’s go home. We’ll get Alfred to help with an antidote, and have a good night’s sleep to scare off any lingering effects.”

Damian nodded, pressing his face close to his father’s chest as Bruce began walking. He had a moment of unsteadiness as Father tugged his cowl back over his face, then his arm was back around Damian, warm and secure. Damian snuggled closer and let his Father’s presence wash over him, he wasn’t all the way better, but he was getting there.

#damian wayne #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Robin #fanfiction #batfam #anxiety #fear gas #unpretty #precious posts

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lorajackson · 4 years

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‘No Restraint’: Violent Chaos in Minneapolis Could Spark the Next Ferguson

MINNEAPOLIS—Jeremy Kocke held up the back of his shirt to show a large bruise forming from a rubber bullet. “I turned around and was shot in the back,” he said Wednesday evening. “I didn’t do anything to get shot.”The 32-year-old was one of several protesters struck by Minneapolis Police projectiles after activists surrounded the department’s embattled Third Precinct. Some threw water bottles and rocks over a hastily constructed police barricade. From the roof, looming police brandished weapons at the crowd below.Earlier on Wednesday, Kocke and a roommate had listened to Minneapolis City Council members “talk about how the police need to be restrained and will show restraint,” he told The Daily Beast. “They asked protesters to show restraint. But they [the police] aren’t. This isn’t restraint. There is no restraint. This is chaos.”Like COVID-19 death rates and social-distancing arrests, a new wave of protests—and their police response—are highlighting racial disparities in the coronavirus era. Tuesday’s initial demonstrations in Minneapolis, which protested the death of 46-year-old black man George Floyd after he was pinned down on the neck by a local cop, likewise saw officers in riot gear crack down on demonstrators, striking at least one protester in the head with a rubber bullet and bloodying a reporter. Meanwhile, right-wing “re-open” protests in Minnesota and elsewhere have generally proceeded without police violence, even as mostly white demonstrators—some with extremist ties—occupied government buildings with semi-automatic rifles.Derek Chauvin, Minneapolis Cop Shown Kneeling on George Floyd’s Neck, Hires Philando Castile Shooter’s Lawyer Activists in Minneapolis say race is a motivating factor in police responses to the protests. It’s why some say they’re coming out to protest—even during a deadly pandemic—in the first place, and why an increasingly volatile landscape in a progressive city began to take on the feel of Ferguson-style unrest.“Throwing tear gas at kids is not going to help,” Leslie Redmon, president of the Minneapolis NAACP, told The Daily Beast. Redmon said she was among the demonstrators hit with tear gas on Tuesday, and that the heavy-handed response would not improve the police’s relationship with protesters.Nekima Levy-Armstrong, Minneapolis-based civil rights attorney and founder of the Racial Justice Network, a racial equality group, described the police response as “excessive and militarized.” Officers were filmed using tear gas, rubber bullets, and what appeared to be stun grenades on demonstrators on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. “There was no communication to protesters that police were going to start shooting projectiles and shooting rubber bullets and spraying tear gas,” Levy-Armstrong told The Daily Beast, echoing activists and journalists who were caught in the crossfire. “They just started doing it. They didn’t give people time to leave the area if they didn’t want to engage with police on that level.”Monique Cullars-Doty, an organizer with Black Lives Matter Twin Cities, said the police response hindered medical care for at least one person struck in the head with a rubber bullet. “They called 9-1-1 and the protesters were told that the police [on the scene] were the first responders and no medical attention was given. They were trying to get this person to ride to the hospital,” said Cullars-Doty, whose own nephew was killed by police in nearby St. Paul in 2015.After witnessing one night of tear gas, Lisa Grimm brought water and milk to Wednesday night’s protest. “I live less than a mile away from the murder. This is my home,” she told The Daily Beast.“How have the killers not been arrested and held like anyone else? This wouldn’t be happening like this. We wouldn’t have to risk our safety. We wouldn’t be at risk for coronavirus. It’s common logic.” Some of the response might have stemmed from the police department’s unprecedented decision to fire four officers involved in Floyd’s death. A viral video showed Minneapolis Police officer Derek Chauvin kneeling on Floyd’s neck for at least seven minutes after police apprehended him over an alleged forgery. In the harrowing video, captured by a bystander, Floyd repeatedly states that he cannot breathe and that he is dying. Bystanders plead with Chauvin to get off Floyd, noting that he appears to have died. Although police initially claimed Floyd later died in the hospital after a “medical incident,” a Minneapolis Fire Department report found that he had no pulse when he was placed in an ambulance.The four officers’ brisk firings were a first for the city, and may have motivated police response to protesters, Levy-Armstrong argued. (The Minneapolis Police Department did not immediately return a request for comment.)“They want to retaliate,” she told The Daily Beast earlier Wednesday. “They’re angry, they’re upset, and that’s what we witnessed last night. Why did they need to wear riot gear and treat people like they were serious threats?”Images from re-open protests, including of white militia members lynching an effigy of Georgia’s governor, or armed protesters storming Michigan’s statehouse, have led some protesters to question whether activists of color could get away with the same stunts.“When I look and see the angry white protester with their guns and having the opportunity to celebrate their constitutional rights, then look at black protesters who are peaceful … getting tear gas and shot with rubber bullets,” said Toya Woodland, a minister and Black Lives Matter activists. “We’ve never been looked at as whole people. We’re still being looked at as animals, by the Three-Fifths Compromise,” she said, referring to the part of the constitution classifying enslaved people as less than fully human.Carmen Perez-Jordan, president of the nonprofit The Gathering for Justice, likewise tied the disparity in police response to America’s centuries-long racial divides.“How is it that an officer feels safe with an armed white person yelling and spitting in their face, but not with an unarmed black person?” she asked. Minneapolis, in particular, has struggled with those narratives. In 2015, Minneapolis police shot and killed Jamar Clark, a 24-year-old black man. When activists staged a days-long occupation outside the police station in protest, white supremacists fired on the crowd, seriously wounding five people.In 2016, a police officer in nearby Falcon Heights shot and killed Philando Castile, a black man during a traffic stop, while Castile’s girlfriend and her young daughter looked on in horror. Chauvin, the officer who kneeled on Floyd’s neck, has hired the lawyer who defended Castile’s killer.Protests over Castile’s killing were also marked by arrests.“My friend had a bouquet of flowers in her hand, and there’s a photo of her being arrested,” Cullars-Doty said. “How much more peaceful can you be when you’re just standing holding flowers?”She noted that the Castile protests had taken place at the state capitol, where re-open protesters had demonstrated earlier this month, without incident. (The protests took place in neighboring St. Paul, which has its own police force.)Re-open protesters don’t deserve the crackdown Minneapolis protesters experienced, Perez-Jordan noted. But their demands differ. “Black and brown people are asking for their full humanity to be respected. They’re asking for the right to live,” she said, as opposed re-open protesters who are demanding “a perceived right to access to privilege, like having a certain haircut or being able to go out to eat in public. That’s very different from what we’re seeing online every single day when it comes to police officers who can kill an unarmed black person or an unarmed brown person with impunity.”And while re-open protesters will theoretically go home when the lockdowns end, Minneapolis protesters said the demonstrations might continue.Anika Bowie, an activist who attended the Minneapolis protests on Wednesday, said the demonstrations were building on momentum from the Black Lives Matter protests that touched off after the killing of black teenager Mike Brown in Ferguson, Missouri.“Just since Ferguson, we’ve had this whole backlog of history of police brutality,” she said. “Now, we have more networks to exchange this information and communication.” In spite of the coronavirus, Tuesday night’s protests were the largest Levy-Armstrong had ever seen, she said, with thousands of people RSVPing on Facebook. Cullars-Doty attributed them to the nature of Floyd’s death. It wasn’t the first time a horrific video of a black man who died in police custody went viral. But the deaths are adding up.“That video that we just have is gut wrenching,” she said. “I was getting messages from people who haven’t been out protesting ever. They’re saying now that they’re either fed up; they sat on the sidelines too long and some people have had their eyes opened. So I think this really is a big one.”Read more at The Daily Beast.Got a tip? Send it to The Daily Beast hereGet our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.

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thecomicsnexus · 6 years

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The origin of Professor X

Uncanny X-Men #12-13. July, 1965. By Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Alex Toth & Jay Gavin (Werner Roth).

Cerebro is calling out an intruder alert prompting the X-Men to dawn their uniforms and come to the Professor's study to learn who this mysterious intruder is. Telling his charges that whoever is approaching the mansion is extremely powerful, he sends the group out to set up defenses including an ice wall, live-wire lined trench and fence posts rigged with grenades. When the X-Men return to the Professor, they are shocked to learn that their attacker is none other than Xavier's own brother.

The Professor tells his X-Men that his father was a nuclear research scientist who was accidentally killed during a nuclear bomb test in the New Mexico desert. During his father's funeral, Kurt Marko, a fellow scientist, would come to comfort Xavier's mother. However, the young Charles knew of his less than noble intentions to take his mother and his father's wealth, position, and property; three things that Marko had become envious of.

Shortly thereafter, Kurt moved into the Xavier mansion and married Charles’s mother. Kurt became a ruthless and verbally abusive step-parent and shunned his new family for his work. During this time Kurt's true motives would come out. One day, Kurt was thrown into a fury when his own son from a previous marriage, Cain, came to the Xavier Mansion after yet another expulsion from school. Cain turned out to be a cruel tormentor to young Charles.

The Professor's narrative is interrupted when Cain's advancement on the mansion progresses, easily smashing through the ice wall put up by Iceman, much to the X-Men's surprise. Charles continues the story of his youth: He would explain that one day he overheard Kurt and Cain arguing over money. When told that he would not receive a handout, Cain suggested that Kurt had orchestrated the death of Charles's father (an accusation that Kurt would flatly deny). Charles entered and confronted them about the statement. During the moment of tension, Cain tried to throw chemicals at Charles; however Kurt attempted to stop them sending the volatile brew crashing to the floor causing an explosion and fire. Kurt carried the two boys out of the blast. Having been mortally wounded in the blast, he begged Charles to believe that his father's death was only an accident before dying.

Cain has reached the second barrier, the electro-magnetic force field and live wire. As he is impeded by this barrier, Charles finishes the next part of his story. He explains that by his adulthood he found that his mental powers (which by this point have rendered him bald) could allow him to have an advantage over other students academically and in sports, however he decides against using it for personal gain.

His trophy winnings earned the ire of Cain who pushed Charles too far one day and the two got into a fight. Charles won the fight due to his mental ability to read his mind and know his movements. Some days later, Cain attempted to make Charles cry out in fear by driving recklessly. He only succeeded in making the car drive out of control and smash through a detour sign and down a cliff. Cain bailed out, but Charles wasn't so lucky, however Charles would tell his X-Men that he was able to erect a mental shield around himself to protect him from the crash.

Outside the mansion, Cain finishes with the live wire and breaks through the force barrier. He then makes it to the grenade traps and gas traps that were set out for him. He staggers through the gas traps and Iceman puts an ice barrier over the busted window of Xavier's study so no gas comes in. This allows the Professor to tell the final part of his story. Cain and Charles had grown and were enlisted in the military and had been sent to fight in the Korean War. Cain deserted while under fire and sought refuge in a cave. Charles rushed after him and they had stumbled into the long lost temple of Cyttorak. The greedy Cain grabbed a crimson gem that was left before an altar. Upon contact and reading an inscription, the gem transformed Cain into a hulking form. The cave began to collapse because it was being bombed from the outside. Charles escaped the cave in while Cain was buried under tons of rock.

Finishing his story, Charles realizes that Cain had finally dug himself out from the cave and sought out his brother for revenge. With the last of the outer defenses, the X-Men sealed the mansion’s front door with a near impervious steel plate and waited for Cain's next move. Much to the X-Men's surprise, Cain is able to smash through the supposedly indestructible steel door and easily knocks the X-Men aside. Revealing himself for the first time in years, Charles looks at his brother -- garbed in a special mystical armor -- and calls him a human Juggernaut.

The Juggernaut -- Charles Xavier's mystically enhanced step-brother -- has finally returned home to once more renew his rivalry with his brother. Charles attempts to protect himself with his vast mental powers, but finds to his shock and surprise that Cain's helmet protects him from mental attacks. The X-Men revive and with Marvel Girl’s telekinetic powers lifting up the Juggernaut, Cyclops blasts the floor out from under their foe causing him to crash into the ground below, giving the X-Men time to retreat back and try to come up with a means of defeating their attacker.

Xavier takes the X-Men to the lab and the Professor builds a device that allows him to amplify his mental projections and sends out a thought wave into the city to seek allies in defeating the Juggernaut. Meanwhile, Cyclops and Angel go back to where they last saw the Juggernaut, attempting to keep him at bay using Cyke's optic blasts. However, the Juggernaut smashes his way around the two X-Men and gets the drop on them. Neither Angel’s fists, nor Cyclops’ optic blasts are capable of stopping their enemy.

Back in the lab, the Professor manages to contact both Rick Jone's Teen Brigade and Matt Murdock, (who is secretly the hero Daredevil) however, neither can come to the X-Men's aid. To stall for time, the Professor sends Beast and Iceman to go help Cyclops and Angel, who are having a hard time keeping the Juggernaut back.

As Iceman and Beast join the fray, Charles attempts to get the aid of the Fantastic Four's Johnny Storm (Aka the Human Torch) who is out testing a new modified car with some of his classmates. Hearing the Professor's mental call for help, Johnny assumes that it might be from one of the Fantastic Four's many villains and dismisses it.

Although he is trapped in an ice block, the Juggernaut manages to break free and battles the Beast in hand to hand combat. The Beast only succeeds in getting his foot injured, however this does not stop the brainy mutant, who lures the Juggernaut into the Danger Room and activates all of its traps in the hope that it can defeat this seemingly unstoppable foe. The Juggernaut survives the traps and then knocks the Beast out when he throws back a rolling cylinder.

By this time, the Professor has finally managed to convince the Human Torch to come the X-Men's rescue and then goes with Marvel Girl to help the others. Jean keeps the Juggernaut off balance by lifting him in the air with her telekinetic powers until the Torch arrives. Johnny uses his flame powers to blind the Juggernaut and commands the reviving Angel to remove the helmet from the Juggernaut’s head that beast had loosened earlier in battle. Without his protective helmet, the Juggernaut is easily struck down by the Professor's mental powers.

With the battle over, the Professor thanks Johnny for his help. He wishes that the secret of the X-Men's headquarters remain a mystery and erases the memory from Johnny's mind and sends him on his way. Later, the male members of the X-Men are sent to bed to recover from the injuries they sustained battling the Juggernaut with Jean acting as their nurse, much to the pleasure of the men. Proud of his X-Men, the Professor tells him he has an award for them when they are once more able to be up and about.

From Marvel Wikia

The first part of this story is actually pretty good. Charles Xavier is a very complicated character, and it is useful to know more about him. This early Juggernaut seems very limited, but I suspect they wanted him to have some kind of weak spot to be able to be taken down.

The second part of this story is a bit boring though, but it is interesting to see the rest of the Marvel Universe reacting to this.

I think the weak part of all these x-men stories are the battles, and I think that is a problem with Stan Lee in particular. It is not limited to him, as I have experienced this boredom with Teen Titans from the sixties. Somehow the attractiveness of these stories relies on the inner conflicts, more than their goals for the episode.

Jack Kirby is a king, but his battle scenes feel uninspired. I can imagine that they were outstanding at the time.

I give this story a score of 7.25.

#silver age #x-men #uncanny x-men #marvel #comics #review #1965

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thetawlfoundat · 7 years

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`The following blog is a ROUGH DRAFT I would like comment on. It will be featured on other blog sites and published in the Prison Insider a magazine that is trying to bring attention to Prison life and mass incarceration and its policies. Anne-Valerie ask me to write this blog and I would like comment on it before it is taken to press. Thank you and God Bless!

LOCKDOWN (i) "Lock down Lock down!" Are the first screams I hear. Yelled by as many prison personnel as possible. They are taught to use these screams to disorientate prisoners, so that they can take control. In the prison Housing Unit there are approximately 120 inmates; so 15-20 prison officers & staff rush out of their offices or from their post to usher us -by threat- to LOCK DOWN!

(ii) Instantly, my pulse quickens and my heart races due to the screams and obscene threats. Because I am in a High Security prison I have to first look for my "homies" (prisoners from my home town or gang) to see if they are under threat or in danger. If I fail to make sure they are safe or fail to come to their aid & assistance; when needed my other "homies" will revisit my failures via violence. So Once I am satisfied that my "homies" are safe I do as I am threatened and WALK to my cell.

(iii) As the cell door is slammed behind me, I go over in my mind my initial threat assessment. Although it took seconds to do, time actually slowed for me as I took in everything at once. This skill is honed by doing 16 years in the most volatile and violent prisons in America. As I wait for the door to be locked I hypothesize and try and figure out the probability of the time on lock down. Then it comes. That echo from the insidiously ominous "click". The "click" that sparks a moment of panic and feeling of entrapment. The "click" that tells you that you are now locked in your cell and there is nothing you can do about it. I feel I am being burried alive. My cell feels like a tomb. It is a debilitating feeling. I have to quickly shake it off and deal with the reality at hand; that reality being that we are going on lock down.

I turn to my cell-mate to ask him "what happened?". Even though I know that he knows as little as I do...or maybe not. I have learned that you ask questions in prison not so I can listen to the answer but for the purpose of reading the body language, speech patterns and behavior of the person I put the question to. So I do this to my cell-mate and watch him carefully as he answers. Since he doesn't know anything I move to the window.

(iv) At the window I do another threat assessment. The prisoners returning from their jobs or from the yard always know more than those who were in the Housing Units. Since we can't hear one another we talk thru furtive jesters or hand signals. If I can't get anyone's attention I watch the number of prisoners passing by every second. The more that pass by the less time on lock down. The less that pass by every second the higher the probability of being lock down for awhile. My concern grows.

(v) After this assessment I sit on my bunk and think. I am flooded with a wave of emotions, That threaten to drown me. My emotions range from being glad I did not have to come to the assistance of any of my "homies". Then I grow disappointed as my daily routine has just been interrupted. Next I grow angry because my communications with my family and love ones have come to an abrupt halt. Communication is a great barrier for prisoners. The one way to lose communications with people is repeated locked downs. Lock downs are deleterious to maintaining a communications with people on the outside. I am pissed and depressed all at once.

At that thought, suddenly, everything in my life starts to feel unsettled. But I can't dwell on that because now worry creeps in; it tells me to think about my own safety. So I go thru the scenarios. Did a prisoner attack a prison officer, official or staff? If so their will be retaliation. Did one of my "homies" get into it with another group of prisoners. If so the repercussions could last years. Someone could end up dead. Other things creep into my mind as well; like is my cellmate holding any contraband (weapons or drugs). If so we are sure to be stripped searched while on lock down and if they find it they will charge us both. Overwhelmed by these emotions I lay back on my bed and curse. I think to myself "here we go again". I am frustrated. I am angry. I am distraught.

(vi) Since lockdowns happen so often in high level federal prisons -at a minimum of two, every 90 days not spent on lock down- I prepare myself mentally to share a small cell with another grown man. If I am lucky this will only be for a week. If I am unlucky this will extend 14-30 days. Hopefully, my cellmate has prepared for lock down like me. because we are served cold food (bologna and artificial cheese) for 7 days, prisoners usually have a "lock down" bag under their beds. This bag consist of instant soups, chips and cookies. I am hoping my cell mate has a lock down bag because if not I will have to share mine. In the case of long lock downs managing food can be an extra dynamic that can be stressful in an already ultra stressful environment. Not having food or not sharing food can lead to violence between cellmates and any fight in prison, especially in a locked cell can mean a fight to the death.

Because of these facts I ask my cell-mate if he has enough food for lock down. I inventory my own bag to make sure that I will have enough for us both in case we are locked down for weeks. The last thing I need is a fight to the death between me and my cell mate over food. For "lifers" like myself, a murder done in self-defense can be construed by an over zealous Assistant United States Attorney as an "aggravating factor". If so determined I could be tried for the death penalty. This law only applies to lifers. My cell mate on the other hand could kill me and probably only get 8 years. The irony in my particular situation is that I was given a Life sentence based on non-violent drug crime and he was given a much lesser term of imprisonment than me for a murder- a violent crime. I laugh at that hypocrisy and scoff at the disadvantage and decide to out think my cell mate for the entire time we are locked down. I will need my mind to tow the line.

After I am satisfied that I have enough food for us both I close my eyes and calm myself. It will take some time but it has to be done. I already know what will happen. It will take 72 hours before I get a shower. We will get stripped searched and our cell searched. What prisoners call a "shake-down". If my family calls to the prison, due to my absence of communication, they will be given no information about what is happening and will not even be told if I am alive or well. This small injustice will probably cause my family member or love one to blame or reprimand me for putting them thru all of this and knowing I am part of the cause I feel guilty and grow even more angrier. Something I have to quickly gain control of this is the wrong time to be thinking irrationally. So I breath and find my calm and drift into the silence as I know that 65% of the prison population is doing the same ritual as me.

(vii) On this lock down there was no assault on staff. I learn however, that it was one group against another group. I am relieved that my "homies" are not involved. If they were once off of lock down I would have to "strap up" go to the yard and probably "get it in" with prison knives (some laced with poison made from human feces) and face the gun tower and concussion grenades. I still have to be cautious if I do go to the yard because I could get caught up in a gang battle; where we all look alike according to the gun towers.

Since no one can visit during lock down I send out a letter informing my love ones or family that I am on lock down. Sometimes I don't send anything because I do not want to worry my family. It is at this that time I start separating my property. There is no telling what may be taken during the cell search. Usually things like pictures or cards - that remind me of my love ones or family. My favorite pair of shorts or work out shirt or a hat. Anything that gives me serenity. Stuff that seems insignificance like a particular pen ( I write that special person with) or a cup or a new pair of sneakers or an extra set of cleats (one to practice in one to play in). Things that seem small when complained about but hold strong sentimental value to a prisoner. My biggest concern is losing my mailing stamps. Stamps are the currency in prison and losing my cache of stamps is equal to a person in the free world losing their life savings. These are things that are worth great personal value. Things I use to make it thru everyday prison life. Things that don't make me feel like a convict. Things that make me feel normal.

(viii) Three things will happen on lock down: 1) I will get stripped searched; 2) my cell will be torn apart during the cell search; and 3) I am sure to lose something of value and someone of value I communicate with during this lockdown. The first day of lock-down is always the easiest. you catch up on all the sleep you have lost. Sleep lost by having to wake up as soon as the doors open; so as to be "on-point" for any eventuality. Several inmates feel relief, as I do during the first day of lock down; which I usually spend sleeping all day.

It is the second day of lock down that I begin checking my cellmates mental fortitude. making my threat assessment. Long periods of lock down are mentally and emotionally taxing. A prisoner can lose their mind in a matters of hours on lock down. Being trapped in a small cell with another person having to get use to all their oddities and quirks. Having to get use to their body odor and the odor from them using the bathroom. The auras in the room are palpable. So I have to first make sure that my cellmate is not going thru any personal problems. So I spark up a small conversation that is prodding. What I want to accomplish is to make sure he is not a threat tome or himself. however, I have to do this in a way where he doesn't think that I think he is weak. you can't be viewed as weak in prison and if you imply someone is weak it could cause a violent reaction. My cell-mate is find but I begin to wonder if he is working the same assessment on me.

(ix) The next thing I do is hone in on my inner strength. I do this to raise my tolerance. I will have to endure alot; the prison staff especially. On lock down the prison staff works harder. So some prison staff feel angered or annoyed by this fact. Which they take out on the prisoner. Other prison staff are happy. Why? because lock downs give them an opportunity to be more oppressive than usual. Then there is the staff that loath prisoners so much that during lock downs this indifference becomes almost like another entity. Their indifference causes them to speak to you and treat you like a stray animal. They also use this indifference to try to strip you of your inalienable right to being treated like another human being. I've learned to use anger to combat these behaviors. Anger is usually the only thing that helps you survive during a lock down, however, too much anger can take you to the darkest places imaginable. Anger will grip you and turn on you and most prisoners with lengthy sentences have felt this compelling emotion. It is one that shakes you to the core and causes you to fight for your mental sanity. A feeling so all consuming that you never want to feel it again. So I tow the line. I have learned to use just enough anger to get me thru the oppressiveness of prison without taking me into the brink of insanity. During lock down you may come face to face with this peril so you prepare for this.

I am sure my cell mate has experienced this walk between sanity and insanity. However, no one speaks of it. Again no one can be perceived as being weak. So I make sure I and my cell mate have some outlet for this anger. We read or write or speak of better times in better places. Some prisoners totally reinvent themselves. They use fabrications to keep sane. Some exercise. Whatever is needed I will make sure we do to elevate any anger he or I hold close. The irony is that while I make sure we have an outlet I also come up with strategies and scenarios to physically disable him. I find that my cell mate must be doing the same with me because we both watch one another closely.

(X) On or about the third day of lock down I am awakened to the unified screams of 30 correctional officers (C.O.) telling me to "get ready for a shake down". To "Strip down to just your boxers and shower shoes. My heart begins to race and I increase my anger slightly. I am mentally preparing to be taken out my cell-mate 1/2 naked, handcuffed behind my back and walked back wards out my cell to a shower stall.

The following ins the continuation of the lock down blog ============================

` LOCK DOWN III

At the shower I am stripped searched. While naked The officer tells me open my mouth, he checks behind my ears, he tells me to lift my genitals, he tells me to turn around and bend over so he can look up my rectum, then he tells me to squat and cough. I am determined not to let him humiliate me during this process. In fact I have prepared my body thru rigorous exercise so it will humiliate him. I let him know with my eyes I am not intimidated. He smirks and goes to the next stall. Even though I am waiting in the shower stall I am unable to take a shower. I have no soap no towel no wash cloth. Just a pair of boxers I have had on for 3 days and shower shoes. I notice there is something green and fuzzy growing on the shower walls I will have to tell the guy who cleans them about this. MERSA can lead to a person missing a limb or worse.

After about 45 minutes I am allowed to go back to my cell. Once again handcuffed behind my back and escorted. because my cell has been thoroughly searched it looks as if it has been vandalized. Me and my cellmate with out talking make a concerted effort to get things back in order. It takes us nearly an hour to clean up and inventory what is missing. My cell mate is cursing and seems frustrated. I have to quickly get a hold of the situation before he explodes. The Officer has taken pictures of his daughter. Who he has not seen in 4 years and has had to watch grow up via pictures. Once that situation is under control I find my personal items are missing as well. A picture as well of friends I no longer have.

(xi) Once settled I go to air vent in my cell. I listen to the joys and sorrows of other prisoners. Some happy that their contraband was not found. Some irritated that personal effects were destroyed or taken. Some are just missing; taken to the Special Housing Unit where they will be on lockdown for 90-180 days. The over all mood is somber. No prisoner likes Shakedowns. The information I receive from the vent will be useful when we come off of lockdown. I go to my narrow bunk and lay down. I think abut taking a "bird-bath" in my sink but I end up falling asleep. Emotionally and mentally exhausted.

The next morning I get an unsuspected surprise. They are allowing us to go take a shower. I go thru the same protocol. I am handcuffed behind my back and walked out my cell backwards and to the shower stall. This time I am allowed soap and a towel and a wash cloth. It has been more than 72 hours and the thought of a shower has lifted my spirits. I smile for the first time in four days.

(x) Things are always less tense on lockdown when prisoners take showers. My cellmate seems relieved, I feel relieved, the conversation between me and him is less tense. Even though we are still being served half frozen bologna sandwiches I feel hopeful. Hopeful that lockdown will end soon and that I won't lose as much as I fear once off of lock down. I pick up a book and I read and wait. Wait for the Warden to send a memo stating why we are on lockdown and when we will be coming off. I do not disturb my cellmate as this is the first night I will be able to go to sleep with out having to keep one eye opened.

As expected on the 5th day of lock down the Warden sends in a memo. It is slid under my cell door. I see it when I get up to use the rest room. The memo states what the Warden will tolerate and won't tolerate. It promises of more lock downs if certain behavior is perpetrated or continued. I ask my cell mate if he wants to read it. He shakes his head no and lays back down. I rip the memo up and flush it down the toilet. The memo is typical and will make no difference. In high level prisons certain things are almost as certain as the principals of Universal Law. I lay back down and continue in my routine of waking up, reading or writing and exercising in my cell. Me and my cell mate make small talk to check one another's mental state...I wait. Wait for the end of lock down which seems to be sooner than later.

(xi) On the 7th day of lock down we are served an "enhanced meal". Which means we have frozen carrots and celery with our 1/2 frozen bologna sandwiches. My caloric intake is around 1200 calories a day so I lose weight. me and my cell mate both mention that it won't be long now. A couple more days at best. He sounds hopeful I feel hopeful. And it happens. The odd thing is that something in me is growing. A small fear and contentment. I know the longer we stay on lock down the more apt I am to want to stay on lock down. I only have to deal with one person I sleep when I want I can exercise and I do not have to interact with the prison staff; who can be antagonizing and disrespectful. I feel "safer" in my cell with one person than in my Unite with 100 or in the prison with 1,000 people. I shake this feeling because if I let it grow I will become a recluse. I will become "institutionalized" more so than I am now.

On the 9th day I hear the cell doors being g unlocked. My heart races. In seconds I have to transform from one mental state to another. I have to be ready for every eventuality. Instead of one person to account for there will be my homies the prison staff and administration the corrections officers in my block who may have problems at home and come in to take them out on you. I am no longer relaxed. I am no longer tolerant. I grow angry I appear to be in control but menacing dripping with the threat of violence for anyone who may think I have grown weak. I know the assessment is done daily. So I prepare... mentally.

Then it comes. That "CLICK". That echo from that insidiously ominous "CLICK". The "click" that tells you we are coming off of lockdown. The "click" that says prepare for the next lock down. Prepare to deal with the reality of perpetual violence. Prepare for the volatility of everyday prison life. Prepare to explain to your family and love ones why you left abruptly for the last 9 days. Prepare, prepare and stay ever vigilant.

(xii) For me the "click" that lets me off and on lock down is the worse feeling there is. It haunts my dreams in the day and at night. It reminds me of my plight. It lets me know how fragile my life can be and how much control I have over my life. It mocks me and laughs at me. It is constant. It is there waiting for me every time I lock in my cell. Every time I am placed on lock down, every time I am allowed out my cell. It is permanent and makes me wonder if this will be my permanent place of rest. I can only imagine how many other prisoners feel this way. We don't speak about things like this. But I see it in all of their eyes. They fear the "CLICK" like I do. I will keep this information to myself...it may save my life one day.

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