#the air strikes and the bombings are nothing new but its so much fucking worse now

[zozo-01]

with the escalation of the idf's siege on palestine, i'm constantly reminded of the clip of an old palestinian man saying that his hope is that palestine would be remembered by the next generation

[red-jaebyrd]

Festering Wounds

Whumptober #16 - Hallucinations

He had finally made it back to the Cave, but something was off. Jason couldn’t quite place what was wrong, but something wasn’t right. All his senses were in high alert. He could feel his heart rate gradually start to increase and there was an odd pressure in his chest. His limbs also felt heavy and tingly.

The worst was the laughing, no cackling he could hear that no one else seemed bothered by. He scanned the Cave, but couldn’t find its source.

Jason tried to play it cool shaking off the symptoms as sleep deprivation. He just needed a cup of coffee, a few hours of sleep and he’d be right as rain. He stayed a few feet away from the group trying not to bring too much attention to himself, but the dog, Ace wouldn’t leave him alone. Ace kept following him and nosing Jason’s hands, so he obliged and kept his hand on the dog.

The family was chatting about the evening’s events, Tim was complaining about something Jason couldn’t be bothered to listen to and Dick kept asking him a question he could have sworn he had already answered.

Jason’s attention was pulled away from the group to a strange tall figure hiding in the shadows of the Cave. He could see the outline of green hair and a purple suit.

Fuck.

The figure stayed in the shadows, bringing a purple gloved hand to its mouth and it cackled. It walked into the light locking eyes with Jason. Jason gasped. Fear gripped his whole body he felt as if it had been plunged in ice.

“No, fuck no, you can’t be here.”

“What’d ya mean, Bird Boy? I never left.” Joker taunted, drumming the end of a crowbar against Jason’s temple to drive his point. “I live 24/7 in that moderately pretty screwed up head of yours.”

Joker was looming toward him patting the crowbar in his hands. Jason walked backwards and fell over his own feet. His heart pounded in his chest so hard it made it hard to breathe. He looked down to right himself and found that he was dressed in his old Robin uniform. This was so fucking wrong.

Fuck. He crab crawled away from Joker, but he wasn’t fast enough. Joker stopped him by putting a foot on chest and pressing down hard. It was a relatively easy hold Jason could get out of, but Joker was too strong. He couldn’t breathe. He was starting to lose consciousness.

It was the low chuckle that kept Jason from completely blacking out. Joker was standing over Jason twirling the crowbar in his hand like a psychotic cheerleader. Terror gripped Jason so tightly he couldn’t move.

“Batsy really scraped the bottom of the barrel when he picked you,” Joker insulted, holding the crowbar over his head ready to strike. “I guess he was hoping that street rat spunk counted for something.”

The hit across Jason’s chest sent a wave of pain throughout his body knocking the wind right out of him.

“You were ripe for the picking, my little angry bird.” Joker swung again, making contact with his stomach. “A pathetic charity case he could hand feed promises to, promises like becoming his Robin. And where did that get you?”

Joker drove his knee into Jason’s chest and leaned forward further invading his space.  

“Six feet under in a pine box…and when you died, what did he do? The Bat-stard replaced you. He didn’t really care that much about you if just replaced you with the next door neighbor. You were expendable. ANOTHER SOLDIER IN HIS CRUSADE!”

Jason tried to tune him out, ignore the taunts, and not rise to the bait. But he couldn’t fight how the words wedged their way back into his heart corrupting what little confidence he had gained in himself.

“…and when I took you away from him, he did nothing. He didn’t avenge his precious Robin, did he? No. He believed that you killing me would be far worse than letting me live. You sure showed him…oh wait.” Joker laughed, a high pitch sound that sent Jason into a wave of panic. “You didn’t. CUZ I’M STILL HERE!”

One final hit of the crowbar across Jason’s cheek made it feel like his eye might explode.

“Do you know what you are, my little angry bird? You’re nothing but a festering wound, open and slowly rotting away. And you know what happens to festering wounds if they’re not treated? They get cut off permanently.”

The frightening giggles continued to echo in his ears, but the sound was soon replaced by a loud ticking noise of the bomb.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, not again.

Jason tried to get up and head to the bomb to defuse it, but his body wouldn’t respond. His limbs felt like lead and his head was swimming. Tears streamed down his face and his breath hitched in panic. In his nightmares he had always been able to crawl and make his way to the door, but this time he couldn’t even get up. He just lay there on the floor hearing the sounds of the ticking bomb reverberating in his head.

Bruce, help me please. Please come find me. Please come. I promise I’ll be better.

The ticking finally stopped. Jason closed his eyes in relief, but when he opened them he was in total darkness, which only meant one thing. He was back in the coffin.

He could feel his surroundings pressing in on him and he couldn’t breathe. The air was thick and he was running out of oxygen. Jason had to get out, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate. There was no strength left in them break free.  Before he knew it dirt was crashing in on him crushing his chest and pressing hard on his face suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He was going to die all over again.

“Jason.”

Someone was calling his name.

“Jason, listen.”

He knew that voice.  

“Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real.”

It sounded far away, but there was no mistaking it for anything else. It was Bruce. Bruce was here? He couldn’t see him, but he could hear him.

“You made it out, son. You’re safe.”

Jason blinked and when he opened his eyes everything was hazy. Once the fog in his brain cleared, he could see Bruce’s face.

Bruce came for him.

Jason relaxed at the familiar face in front of him. He was safe because his Dad came for him.

888

From the moment they had all gotten back to the Cave, Bruce knew something was wrong with Jason. He had been showing all the classic signs of Fear Toxin exposure. Jason had been unusually quiet. No snark or casual ribbing had been directed at Tim when he complained about one of Crane’s thugs getting a good hit in.  No name calling had been directed at Dick when he had called him ‘Little Wing’, especially when Dick repeatedly kept asking Jason if he was okay. Jason just stood away from the group, eyes scanning the Cave nervously.

Everyone had dispersed as usual to the showers, changing rooms, and then upstairs. Dick had stayed behind to talk to Alfred.

Ace had noticed something was off with Jason as well. He whined a little and hung by Jason’s side until the young man noticed him. He kept nosing Jason’s hands until Jason placed a hand on his head.

Bruce had watched as Jason wandered off to a corner staring at nothing in particular. It wasn’t until Jason gasped and collapsed onto the floor, that Bruce’s suspicions were confirmed.

“Jay,” Dick shouted, running to catch Jason’s head before it hit the floor. “Jason, can you hear me?” Dick held Jason’s head in his lap. “Bruce, he’s trembling like a leaf and he’s all clammy.”

“He’s been exposed to fear toxin,” Bruce answered.

“What? How? He had his helmet on the whole time.”

Jason’s eyes were open wide with fright, but he remained perfectly still. Ace lay on top of Jason’s chest resting his big front paws on Jason’s shoulders. Ace wouldn’t move so Alfred worked around the dog to get Jason’s vitals.

“His pulse is erratic, but not in danger, not yet. Master Dick, keep talking to him,” Alfred said.

Jason didn’t appear to be thrashing or fighting to get up, but his throat was making low keening sounds and tears were running down his cheeks. Dick was doing his best to calm Jason telling him he was okay. Meanwhile, Jason’s breathing was shallow as he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Breathe, Jason. You’re okay. You’re in the Cave. Breathe for me.” Dick said calmly. “I don’t think he can hear me.”

Bruce knelt by Jason’s side taking his hand in his. “Jason, can you squeeze my hand?” No response.

“I don’t know how this happened, Bruce. I swear we all took precautions,” Dick explained. “We all had rebreathers on. Jason wasn’t even around when I caught Crane. He was with Duke and Cass stopping the distribution.”

Bruce rushed to find Jason’s helmet. He searched all over scanning for any damage. The filtration system looked intact from the inside, but as he felt over the outside of the helmet he felt a crack on the side along the cheek.

“Shit,” Bruce cursed.

“Vitals are still slightly above his baseline, Sir, but not dangerous,” Alfred said. “I’m more concerned with this breathing. Perhaps an antidote is in order?”

Bruce quickly injected Jason with an antidote, took a blood sample, and gave it to Tim so he could analyze this new strain of the toxin. None of the past toxins had ever caused paralysis. Crane typically liked to see his victims physically react and interact with their fears.  If Bruce had to guess, it appeared this one was designed to mimic sleep paralysis.

A guttural sob escaped Jason’s lips as fresh tears streamed down his face.

Bruce’s heart shattered at hearing his son make such a sound. He carded his fingers through Jason’s sweaty fringe giving reassurances he wasn’t sure Jason could hear.

“Jaylad, it’s Bruce. You’re not there. You’re here with me, in the Cave.”

Jason’s whimpering echoed throughout the Cave. He was trying to say something, but the sounds weren’t making any sense. Bruce knew Jason was likely reliving his death all over again and worst of all waking up in his coffin. Jason never discussed what happened to him when he woke up in there, and Bruce regretted not giving Jason the opportunity to talk about it.

“You’re okay, Little Wing. Bruce and I got you,” Dick sniffed, wiping his eyes. “You’re with us in the Cave. You’re safe.”

Bruce held onto Jason’s hand rubbing his thumbs in circles along the back of it hoping the contact would help to calm his son down.

The words and touch were doing very little to help calm Jason. He showed no signs that he was even actually hearing Bruce and Dick or that he even knew where he was at present. Soon he started gasping for air, which quickly led to him hyperventilating.

Alfred promptly came by Bruce’s side with the portable oxygen tank and mask. He put the mask on Jason, but Jason started to panic at having something on his face.

“Jason. Jason, listen to me. Whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real,” Bruce said thickly. “You made it out, son. You’re safe.”

For the first time since this whole ordeal started, Jason responded to Bruce’s words. His eyes moved and briefly made contact with Bruce. Jason’s whole body slowly relaxed as he breathed in the offered oxygen. Jason’s eyes began to droop and before long he fell asleep.  

888

Once Jason fell asleep, Bruce and Dick moved him upstairs to his room so he could wake up in familiar surroundings. Dick was reluctant to leave Jason’s side, but Bruce insisted and promised he’d get him as soon as Jason woke up.

Bruce stayed with Jason all night just watching him sleep. Watching the rise and fall of this son’s chest in what Bruce hoped was a dreamless sleep. It had been awhile since Bruce had stood watch over Jason all night. He had forgotten how young Jason looked when he slept. How the moonlight erased the harsh lines and scars of experiences and hardships making his son look twelve years old again.

Bruce drank in the peaceful moment and allowed his eyes to close in sleep.

He woke up a few hours later to a hand squeezing his wrist. Jason stared at him, blinking away the sleep as he tried to wake up.

“Morning, son.”

Jason kept his head on the pillow keeping his sleepy gaze on Bruce. “What happened?”

Bruce handed him a glass of water with a straw. “Fear toxin laced with a paralytic.”

“Son of bitch,” Jason hissed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked, gently sweeping Jason’s bangs from his face.

Jason took a few sips of the water and handed the glass back to Bruce. “I’m fine.”

Bruce didn’t believe him. Jason had a habit of hiding things, especially how bad he was feeling. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree in that department. Still, if this was something Bruce could help change for the better, he would do it, starting with himself and Jason.

Bruce set the glass down on the nightstand.

“Don’t look at me like that, Old Man.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“You’re giving me your furrowed brow of judgment. I’m fine.”

Leave it to Jason to choose sarcasm and snark to deflect from the pain.

I’m not judging, you. Let’s just call it my “furrowed brow of concern”.

“Whatever.”

A familiar tension fell between them that Bruce knew all too well. It always boiled down to miscommunication between them. Bruce would say the wrong thing or nothing at all. Jason would respond defensively in anger at Bruce. It was a vicious cycle. One Bruce hoped to break, but he had to be careful. Emotions were still so raw from last night; he didn’t want to fight with Jason. Bruce knew he was skating on thin ice with what he was about to say next.

Looking at his son’s face on the verge of tears, and trying desperately to hide any show of emotion, Bruce could see that Jason was far from fine.

“It’s okay if you’re not fine, because everything that you saw and experienced last night was not fine –,”

“Bruce, please stop,” Jason pleaded, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. ”I’m f-fine.”

Bruce wouldn’t stop. He had to keep going. He had to make Jason understand that it was safe to let his guard down; so he continued.

“Alright, but just know I’m here if you don’t want to be fine.”

Jason choked back sobs. He shook his head, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

Bruce moved from the armchair to the bed and sat down. He reached over and embraced Jason in his arms rubbing small circles on his back. Jason leaned into the hug and held on tightly crying into Bruce’s shoulder.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here to listen when you do want to talk.”

Jason nodded into his shoulder.

He didn’t need Jason to tell him what the fear toxin made him see. Bruce had a fairly good guess of the trauma the toxin had made Jason relive while under its influence. Bruce had enough experience with fear toxin throughout the years to know that its sole purpose was to unearth deep rooted fears and existing trauma the victim may have ignored or worse, repressed.

It wasn’t a surprise that Jason had buried much of his trauma from the warehouse and the events that had followed. He avoided opening up to anyone about what happened to him just as much as Bruce had avoided talking about his grief over his parents’ death. But by not acknowledging the trauma and keeping it buried, it had fueled the flame to anger and resentment.

Jason needed to talk with someone, and so did Bruce for that matter.

“It doesn’t have to be me that you talk to, but you…we need to talk to someone, okay?”

“But...”

“No buts, Jay. This is important. I don’t want you turning out like me, burying fears and pain so deep you end up cutting yourself off from those who love you and want to help you. I want things to be better for you.

“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow or next week, but it needs to be soon.”

Jason broke from the embrace, his eyes red rimmed and watery. “Will –will you come with me?”

Just like that, Jason sounded twelve years old again asking Bruce to hold his hand during a shot. Bruce melted at the simple request of his son still needing him. He placed a gentle kiss on Jason’s forehead.

“Of course, I love you, Jaylad.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

[petri808]

Everything Changes in a Flash

Psych!  You don’t need to wait two days.  

that gif is too adorable! @deku-smash​

Guess who!  It’s your secret Santa!  @diablothecat

​Didn’t wanna wait any longer to give this to you lol.  @kuroshironekoserver

​

I tried doing the Sengen ship but that was difficult since I don’t know them, so you get a Bakudeku BNHA/Dr. Stone crossover idea instead lol.  Frankly, I surprised myself, I kinda like this one.  Enjoy ;) 

Today was the day Izuku was gonna do it.  High school was almost over, and before they may scatter to the four winds, he needed to tell Katsuki everything.  It didn’t matter if he was turned down or not, at least he’d know the answer.  Well, of course it would hurt worse than breaking every bone in his body if Katsuki rejects him, but injuries heal in time.  That’s what he’ll tell himself, anyways.  

Thirteen years brought to a single moment in time, the last four struggling to cope with the realization Katsuki was more than just a childhood friend in his eyes, but a romantic crush in his heart.  It seemed, once he was no longer in the other’s shadow, Izuku’s true feelings found the strength to grow.  Katsuki…. Kaachan… a childhood nickname, turned secret endearment.  Every time he said it, the name brought a smile to his lips and an aching joy to his soul.  

“What’d ya want nerd?”

The pacing young man freezes as the voice of his unrequited sounds off behind him.  Every nerve sets off ricocheting signals along his skin as he uses all of his reserve to keep from setting off his quirk.  He turns on his heel in an abrupt motion.  

“Bakugou,” Izuku runs his hand shakily through his hair, “thank you for coming.”

“I got your note to meet by the old clubhouse,” he holds up a crumpled piece of paper.  “This better be good that I had to come all the way over here.”

‘Just breathe,’ Izuku reminds himself, ‘and stick to the script!’  He takes a couple of steps towards the broken-down shack they once called their hangout.  Well Bakugou’s hangout really, he was a nuisance to the blonde back then, always following him and his friends around.  The structure of old crates and worn pallet wood had mostly come apart, but the tree it was attached to still stood strong, and larger than he’d remembered.  

Izuku runs his hand along the bark, “do you remember this?”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow in on the old, skewed words carved into the tree trunk.  He moves in closer, close enough to Izuku that the heat radiating off the other man’s body makes his arm hairs stand on end.  His hand reaches out on impulse to follow Izuku’s hand movements, cutting off inches before it touches.  He pulls it back.

“Tch, yeah, what of it?”  Katsuki averts his eyes to the shack, a slight trepidation in his tone.  Izuku had carved their names onto the wood after they graduated primary school.  A show of their friendship, the boy had called it at the time, that would last as long as that tree stood firm.  Back then Katsuki had scoffed and never took it seriously.  So, this mouse of a boy idolized him, no surprise, a lot of the boys wanted to be his friend.  Fast forward to high school and that boy was now a young man on par with him.  Different yet equal in terms of strength and drive.  Katsuki had to admit to himself, the nerd had grown on him.

“I…”

Izuku opens his mouth to talk when a strange thud catches his attention.  Both men look down to find a stone bird lying near Katsuki’s feet.  That was odd, Izuku tips his head curiously, it was the second one he’d found that morning.  He looks up just as another one falls, landing a few feet away.

“What the hell is that?!” Katsuki growls.  He stomps over to this second bird and picks it up, turning it over in his hands.  “Is the sky raining statues?”  Though from where in cloudless skies?  

The gears in Izuku’s mind turns, analyzing the situation.  Was there a quirk causing this, another mad scientist?  Could it be a villain sending bombs disguised as bird statues?  They’d grown to be wary and careful now that their names were all over the news.  But nothing was making a whole lot of sense and very quickly, the carefully scripted afternoon was thrown out the window.  Katsuki himself was scanning the surrounding areas, his own sensibilities on high alert because of the strangeness of the event.

“You know…” as Izuku looks closer at the bird, “I don’t think this is just a statue…”  The details were almost too realistic to be made of sculpted concrete or stone.  He takes the second one from Katsuki and notices finer nuances that clearly make these two “statues” very different despite being the same species of bird.  “In fact…”

“What is that?!”  The blinding flash of light grabs their attention from a distance.  Now what is it?!  Katsuki turns quickly as if to take off in that direction, but not Izuku, something was seriously wrong!  A gale of wind funnels through the grove like a shock wave.  Birds take flight from the trees, only to start dropping one by one around them as stones. The light, something in the light was causing this.  It was growing brighter by the millisecond and heading in their direction!

There was no time to hesitate.

Izuku activates his blackwhip quirk and grabs Katsuki, pinning him against the tree.  The man growls and screams to be let go, but Izuku didn’t care, only wrapping the man tighter in its dark form.  He could barely hear Katsuki anymore above the whirring sound barreling towards them.  Without thinking and placing all his energy into his quirk, Izuku uses his body to shield Katsuki as best he can from whatever this light was about to do to them.

The light bathes them in its yellow hold of, no pain… Izuku remarks at first, but soon, the sensation in his feet starts to fade.  He couldn’t feel his feet!  His eyes widen, panicked!  How was he to protect his friend if he loses the ability to control his quirk?!  It was too dangerous to turn around to check on his friend, but he could hear Katsuki cussing up a storm.  Loud booms echo from the nearby areas.  From what little he can see, Izuku watches in horror as one than two airplanes crash into the ground and send billowing plumes of smoke rising into the air.  One of them was precariously close to the dam!  New cracking sounds funnel through the forest.  Izuku side eyes the stream running past them.  Oh no!    

“Grab onto the tree!”  Izuku shouts as the petrification reaches his torso.  “Bakugou, grasp onto the tree!!!”

“Why the fuck would I?!”

“Just do it!!”

It was the last words he could utter as the petrification completes its mission.  

Silence…. from Katsuki.  As the wall of water hits and washes him down stream, all Izuku can do is hope that his friend had finally listened to him.

Time.

How much of it had gone by?  Weeks, Years?  He had no clue.  Was there anyone left alive?  Living in a dark world behind stone eyelids, the only thing Izuku could do was think.  It was tough, wondering what had happened.  If any of their friends or family had survived.  Exactly what was he anyways?  Was he still alive and trapped in a stone body?  Or was it just his consciousness refusing to give in, with his body long dead.  The only thing that kept him from giving in to a deep sleep was his love for Katsuki.  If his mind was still alive, then by hell or back he was going to stay conscious!

Wait.  That’s strange, Izuku wonders one day.  Something about his body felt, lighter.  If that was the right word for it.  He still couldn’t move, see, or sense anything, and yet… what if he tried to…

Crack.

The faintest light strikes his vision.  Vision?!  Was the petrification finally wearing off?  Izuku wills his mind to push the body he hopes is still viable.  

Crack.

More light filters through, blinding like when you walk out of a dark movie theater into the bright lobby. Unable to shield himself from its glare, he refocuses on the mission and pushes again.  

Shatter!

Izuku falls to his knees amongst the pile of his broken stone shell.  He was free!  Alive!  He raises his hands up, gazing upon them in disbelief.  He was alive!  A drip falls on his head and he reaches up, finding a smear of something gooey.  He brings it to his nose and smells, shit?  Eww!  He wipes his hand quickly on a piece of stone.  Wait!  His smell is back!  Sight, smell, touch.  It was all real!  

The light source from the entrance was minimal, but he takes in more of the scene.  A cave with bats, hence the guano.  Apparently, he’d been washed into a cave.  Drips of water from the ceiling.  This location was partially underground and shielded him from the elements.  Guano…. Right!  Hydrogen and phosphate are high in acidity!  Could it have mixed with the water and over the years eroded away the stone?!  But, even if that was the case, it must have taken years for the process to happen.  Izuku’s shoulders slump.  His luck had been great that he’d been washed into a place that fixed him.  Now he needed to see if he could fix his friend too.

After leaving the cave, Izuku pauses a moment to take in the warmth of the sun’s rays.  Man, it was nice to feel heat again!  All those years of darkness and inactivity made the light hurt his eyes, but it was a minor inconvenience.  He shields his eyes from the glare, and it was only in that moment that he realized…. He was stark naked!  “Crap!” Izuku covers his mouth after letting out a swear word.  Something to clothe himself with just shot straight to number one on the priority list.  

The brush surrounding the cave was dense.  It appeared that the forest had overtaken the land once humans were no longer around to control it.  He pushes his way through, careful not to scrape against anything and risk injury.  If he were to hurt himself now, he would be really screwed.  “Ahhh!”  Izuku kicks a hard surface and trips over it.  “Oww!”  

Crack!

“Huh?”  He scrambles to his feet as more cracking resounds.  

“What… happened?”  The voice moans out, groggy like waking from a long sleep.  

Another human!  Izuku drops and crawls forward, pushing aside more vegetation that was covering the person.  “Todoroki?!”  Of all the people to run into!  

“Midoriya?”  The man sits up with his old friends help, “why am I naked on the ground?  And why are you naked too?”

Izuku blushes, “don’t you remember what happened?  The bright light turned us all to stone.  I don’t know how you ended up here, but I’m guessing that your proximity to the cave and water eroded the stone away like it did for me.  My kicking you cracked it and freed you.”

“I don’t understand the bit about the cave, but…” Shoto goes silent for a moment, “I was with my dad when the dam broke and that’s all I remember.”  He looks up at his friend, “so, you’re saying we were turned to stone?  Why?  How long ago was this?”

“I have no idea,” Izuku shrugs, “it happened too fast for any of us to know what caused it, but based on the overgrowth of the forest, it’s been a few centuries.”

Shoto stares at the man, “centuries?”  Izuku nods.  “That’s unfortunate.”

Izuku sits down beside his friend and runs his hand through his hair.  “At least there’s one thing we know, it’s that the stone can be broken and a person freed.  We were lucky it happened naturally for us, but if we want to help others, we’d need to speed up the process.”

“It’s amazing, Midoriya, you just woke up from a stone prison and the first thing on your mind is still to help others.”

“We’ll of course!” Izuku blushes but affirms his belief with a raised fist and determination in his eyes.  “If it turns out a villain was behind this, it’s our duty as pros to save as many as we can.”  And it was true to his self-less nature, he wanted to help who he could, but there was really one person he wanted to free over all of them.

That finally brings a small smile and shake of his head from Shoto.  “Any idea how to speed up the process?”

“If I’m remembering chemistry class, fermenting or rotting fruit contain traces of alcohol, mixed with the hydrogen and phosphate laced water, it could speed up the process of corroding the stone.”  

Shoto sticks out a hand to Izuku, “then let’s get started.”

For the next six months, the pair work to set up lodging and create the bare necessities for survival.  They’d been lucky to have awoken during the late spring, when the temperature was climbing, but soon enough they’d have to deal with winter.  With the use of their quirks, foraging and hunting wild game came easy enough, and with meat came the hides and skins for clothing.  Neither of the two men had any experience roughing it in the wild, but somehow, they made-due under the circumstances.

Whenever they had a chance, they gathered fruits to ferment, and stored them in a makeshift hot box near the cave to speed up the process.  Searching the area was another downtime activity.  Very little of the terrain could be figured out based on what they remembered of their time, too many trees and brush had reclaimed the area, and landslides or other natural phenomena had altered things even more.  Area’s they were sure once contained buildings and homes built of metal and wood had long since deteriorated.  

As for people, within the first week, Izuku had found Katsuki still stuck to the tree.  Izuku had breathed a sigh of relief to see that the man had actually listened for once and was gripping to the bark.  Vines had partially covered the stone edifice, but overall, the man was in one piece.  It was rare, but they found others, some broken beyond repair, but a handful of more still intact.  They made a note of the locations so that once they were able to solidify their formula, they could bring them back to life.  

And they tried.  Using stone birds as test subjects, the pair worked and reworked different combinations of the ingredients.  

“If only we could find Mina,” Izuku tiredly remarks, as he drops into a cross-legged position on the cave floor.  “Her acid quirk would come in really handy.”

“We’ll find her one day,” Shoto places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “We’ll keep looking until we find our friends and family.”  He sits down, “but, I’ve been thinking, that we should be careful about who we bring back to life, I wouldn’t want to bring a villain back to life or anyone we know is a bad person.”

Izuku rubs his chin, “that is true.  It’s something we can assess as we go along.”  He didn’t like to think about the negatives, and frankly he was mostly concerned about Katsuki.  “Shoto, do you remember where Momo was at the time of the incident?”

That brings a rare blush to the man’s face, “She was supposed to still be at the dorms.”

“Yosh!  Then we need to figure out where UA used to be.  That’ll be one of our missions!”

Shoto chuckles.  He knew what his friend was alluding to.  “Plus, we may find others there as well.”

Winter came and went, bringing a burgeoning supply of water leaching through the cave’s ceiling. That was great for the two men, who in anticipation had made dozens of clay pots to catch the drippings with.  Izuku held out hope that now almost a year since they’d been freed, they were close to a break-through.  That last couple of test subjects had almost seemed promising, with the stone chipping away, but unfortunately not cracking.

One day, as Shoto was out hunting for dinner, Izuku had finished another distilled serum.  He places a bird on a flat stone-like table and pours a small amount of the mixture over it.  At first, the liquid simply runs over the hard stone, just like every other failed time.  But then, as he turns away to close the jar holding the serum, he hears a tiny noise, and as he looks over his shoulder, tiny cracks begin to spiderweb along the stones surface.  His eyes widen, surprised, excited!  It was working!  Izuku quickly grabs a makeshift wooden crate and places it over the bird, moments before the stone shatters.  He couldn’t let it get away, not before Shoto had returned.  Through the stick bars, it was clear the bird looked exactly as it should.  A bit panicked no doubt, confused from waking up and being stuck in a cage, but it was alive!  It was a miracle but being a nerd had finally paid off!  

“Todoroki!” Izuku shouts and waves as he sees the man walking back up to their home.  “it worked!  The latest serum worked!”

“That’s amazing,” Shoto smiles and drops the bundle of small game he’d collected.  He walks up to the cage, peering down at the bird.  “No side effects?”

Izuku shakes his head.  “Seems completely normal.”  He lifts the cage and they watch the bird fly away.  “See?”  Inside he was screaming with excitement.  All these years trapped, all the months working towards this moment.  “We can really save people Todoroki…” his voice trails out, quiet, pondering as if that was a new emotion.  Where once they would risk their lives to protect from harm, now they had the power to bring them back to life.  Including his Kaachan.  

“We’ll start with the ones we know, so they can help us too,” Shoto places a hand upon his friend’s shoulder, “but first, I’m sure there’s one in particular you’d like to revive.”  He smirks, “go, I’ll be working on dinner.”  With a last squeeze of his hand, Shoto walks away.

Kaachan…

“But wait!” Izuku turns quickly and calls after his friend.  “Momo too needs…”

“Midoriya, we haven’t found her yet.  You know where Bakugou is, go and heal him.”

“I promise Todoroki, we’ll find her next!”

“I know.”  Shoto smiles and turns back towards the hut.

As he stood there face to face with the man, he held dearest in all the world, his hands were shaking so badly it would be a miracle if Izuku didn’t crush the clay vial he held.  That would be a real pity with just the one dose left until they could make more.  Draped over his arm, he brought some clothing that should fit Katsuki, a small knapsack of food, and a flask of water.  

Fear and doubt creep over him as they did that fateful day so long ago.  What if Katsuki rejected what he had to say?  With the rest of the world asleep or long dead, there wouldn’t be many options for a long time to find another love.  Izuku closes his eyes in resolve, it didn’t matter.  He needed to free Katsuki from the stone prison that held him, it was the right thing to do.

He places the belongings on the ground and goes to work freeing his friend from the confines of vines and other vegetation that had collected around the man’s body.  ‘You kept him safe,’ he runs his hand along the tree bark, ‘thank you.’

Now the only thing holding Katsuki to the tree was the man’s stone fingers still gripped to the knotty bark.  If Izuku tried to move them, he risked breaking them.  He’ll just have to leave Katsuki in place and catch the man as he falls, but luckily the distance is only a couple of feet.  Here goes nothing!  With the help of his blackwhip quirk, the vial is taken and poured over Katsuki.  Izuku watches with bated breath as the viscous liquid covers the stone man from head to toe.      

Slowly cracks begin appearing, just as they did on the bird, then.  

Shatter!  Followed by a familiar growl.  

On impulse, Izuku had shielded himself from raining stone, but that also meant Katsuki had fallen on his own to the ground.  He whips his head back to the tree to see the man already getting to his feet.  Izuku blushes hard at the naked adonis and quickly averts his eyes to the sky.

“Somebody better explain what the hell has gone on!  I feel like I was stuck in some dark ass void forever!”

“Y-You were, Bakugou.  We were frozen for centuries in stone.”

“What!!”  He notices the pile of broken rubble around him.  “Then how’d I get unfrozen??”

“After breaking through, I figured out how to reverse it.  I’m sorry it took me longer to free you!  I worked as fast as I could.  He-here,” he picks up the clothes and such, handing it to the man, all the while keeping his gaze elsewhere, “right now only you, I, and Shoto are alive.”

“Tch, figures half and half is alive,” Katsuki snatches the clothes from Izuku and starts putting them on.  “So now what?”

“W-well, so, the world as we know it is gone.  The forest has reclaimed everything.  We’ve got a shelter built, created things we need to survive, and have been working on making more of this reverse serum to save others.”

“Oh.” Katsuki tears into a dried piece of meat.  “Why is it just the three of us?”

Izuku tenses up and nervously rubs he back of his neck.  “Speaking of that, you’re actually the first we’ve used the serum on because…. Before this all happened, do you remember how I had asked you to meet me by the tree?”

“Yeah, so what of it.”

“I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you, well, for a long time, and I just couldn’t do it because I was so scared of how you would react.  Then the whole disaster happened, and I thought I’d never get the chance, but now I do.  So, I chose you to be the first to be freed so I could even though...”

“Goddamnit nerd!  Stop rambling and get it out already!

“I’m in love with you!” Izuku shouts back at the top of his lungs, before choking and his voice dying away into a croak.  “Kaachan, I’m in love with you and I’m sure you don’t feel the same way, but I just needed to get it off my chest.  If you don’t want to stick around, I’ll…” his shoulders slump with a sigh, “I’ll understand, but you’re welcome to stay with us.”

“Are you done?”

Izuku nods.

Katsuki walks up and grasps Izuku’s chin hard, tilting it up, and forcing the shorter young man to look at him.  “I fucking hate you sometimes nerd…” he grins, “but I love your stupid ass more.”

“What?!”  This is not the reaction Izuku had expected!

“Just fucking deal with it!” Katsuki kisses Izuku hard and rough on the lips, just like his personality, then swiftly releases the man, who stumbles backwards and barely keeps his footing.  “Come on nerd, we ain’t got time to waste tap dancing in the forest.”  He grabs Izuku’s hand and starts dragging him towards the closest path he sees.  “So, where’s this shack of yours?”

“R-Right!” Izuku falls inline, still flustered but beaming from ear to ear.  He had his Kaachan again.  

And as they walk back to camp, the young man took stock of their lives.  Cut down in the beginning of their pro years and sent backwards to live out life like the Neolithic.  It would be a hard life no doubt, without the technology they’d come to rely on to make things easier.  But they had each other, and soon others, who together will rebuild the world, one stone at a time.    

[bssaz97]

RWBY Ancestries Chapter 6

* Hello everyone thanks for all of your support for enjoying this fanfic. I never expected this many people to like it so it warms my heart to see that you all enjoy it. Anyway I like to give a shout out to @pilot-boi for letting me use a content idea of his for this chapter so I hope you all enjoy! Anyway for those who’ve been caught up to this point, Salem and Jaune finally meet. So let’s get this show on the road! *

- Mantle, Crash Site B -

Jaune could not believe the day he’s been having, first it starts off with a Wyvern attack, then said Wyvern crashes both his team’s and team RWBY’s airship. If things couldn’t get worse they found out Cinder Fall is alive along with her henchwoman ‘Neo’ and to put the topping on the cake....Salem is here. The Queen of the Grimm, in the flesh, was before him. He could not find strength to move a bone in his body. He felt so much fear in this moment, like nothing could have prepared him for this.

He knew that he was not strong enough to fight her, for how could one beat a person that was essentially unkillable. The only things he had going for him was his high amount of Aura, his Semblance, and his weapon in his hands. Even then he knew that he had zero chances of winning. The obstacle before him was essentially the final boss of a video game except there was no health bar for it, mean others was no easy for the player to win. What was he to who was essentially a god to him. His very bones couldn’t even shake in fear because they were too petrified to move an inch. He wanted so desperately to run away, but one thing kept him seated. One person. A short red headed girl who became his first friend at Beacon, the one who was by his side throughout their stay at the school, had brought him out of his grief and gave him new purpose, who gave him a reason to keep fighting. Ruby Rose

Ruby’s airship was right in his vision, only a small distance away. In his way was humanity’s greatest foe, and the one who had originally sent the scorpion Faunus assassin Tyrian to capture her in their travels across Anima. He remembers the fear he felt that day, the feeling of someone close to him being taken from him over powered this thoughts. This woman, tried to take her away from them, from him, and here she was right in front of him only short distance away of where Ruby was supposed to be. He grounded his teeth and gripped Crocea Mors tightly, he couldn’t be afraid right now. Qrow was counting on him to get to Ruby, his team his counting on him to come back to them, but most of all...he made a promise to Ruby that he would be there for her when she needed him...and an Arc ALWAYS KEPT THEIR WORD!

Jaune:(He sheathes his weapon, Crocea Mors, then he activates its Great sword mode)

Salem:(Confused) Huh?

Jaune: You aren’t getting by me without a fight. I know you’re here for the relics and so does Ironwood, and you won’t get your hands on either today. I may not be able to stop you on my own but I can at least buy my friends time to gather the military together. You’ve failed.

Salem: ....Is that why you think I am here? For some ancient trinkets that those bastard gods left behind, for some vainly idea to siege Atlas by force and for some amateur silver eyed warrior? You think that’s why I’m here?

Jaune: Yes!

Salem: ‘Sigh’ Alright I can see why you would think that about me, given what has occurred during the day, but no! I have not come today for any of those things....I have come for you, Jaune Arc.

Jaune:(Confused)....Come Again?

Salem: I travelled through blockade through blockade of ballistic warfare, took bombs to the face, getting attacked by lifeless machines, I did all this so that I could meet you. To see you in person. (She approaches him closer but not too close to ward him off) You are more far more important than you realize. I sense it even more now that I am here in front of you, you have so much untapped potential inside you that you never knew you had. Far more than any huntsman that has come before you, that’s why I was able to link our minds so that I could find you.

Jaune:(Shocked) Wait! That was you in my head?!

Salem: Yes my child, you have do not yet know the significance of this. You have more power than anything you could have thought about. I urge you, come with me to my palace. I can teach you how to control this power, with it we can end this conflict and bring-

Jaune: NO.

Salem stopped talking after his blunt refusal. She had expected this, knowing that Ozma’s reincarnation had no doubt filled the boy with horrid stories about her, however, she felt that this was more deeply rooted than anything her former love could have come up with. She oils see him shaking with rage, and he looked at her with a very hateful glare.

Jaune: Is the kind of person you think I am? You think I will join you because you offered to make me stronger, by saying I’m special, and betray the people I care about that easily?!

Salem: Wait, Jaune, I didn’t word that correctly I-

Jaune: (Points Crocea Mors right at her face) YOU THINK YOU KNOW ME! MY STRENGTH, MY POTENTIAL?! You.....YOU HAVE NO IDEA AT WHAT I’VE LOST BECAUSE OF YOUR FUCKING WAR!!!

Jaune brings Crocea Mors back and attempts to cleave the wicked witch’s head clean off, but Salem reacts quickly enough to dodge said attack. Jaune does not stop though, having all rations thought leave him, he continues to slice at the air in a attempt to attack her, Salem maneuvering away from each said attack. Jaune growls in frustration then he activates his semblance to increase his aura in his arm and legs, using this to increase his speed and striking force to give him an edge. With Jaune gradually improving on his strikes Salem begins to ding it a bit difficult to evade his sword. After one close strike at he cheek, Salem tries to reason once more.

Salem: Jaune! I don’t wish to fight you, that is not my purpose here.

Jaune: Well better start because I’m done talking!

Jaune lifts up Crocea Mors and brings the great sword down for a over head strike. Salem seeing this concludes that he couldn’t be reasoned with now, she will have to tire him out. Before he could hit her from above, she brings up both hands and meet the sword halfway. Upon contact Salem uses a magical barrier to stop the blade from hitting her and pushes the boy back a few feet. Skidding his feet on the ground he uses his semblance once more on his legs to propel him forward. He charges at her once more, letting out a battle cry. Salem outstretches her right hand to the side and retrieves the metal rod that she discarded earlier, once in her hand she reignited the metal with her magic, and blocks her descendants’ strike. The resulting struggle starts to weigh on Jaune’s weapon as the outer blades began to spark and almost melt from the fiery magic. Seeing this Jaune moves back once more and catches his breath. Salem sighed then contemplates her next action, Jaune’s weapon is no match for her magic, and while his aura and semblance are very impressive, he still lacks enough experience in using them against her.

Salem: Enough! I grow tired of this game. Surrender your weapon, you are no match for me. I don’t wish to harm you.

Jaune: Heh. That’s good. (He poured a little of his aura into his weapon, he activates the hard light function of his weapon. But instead of a shield, the hard light becomes one with his sword and forms a outer glowing blue blade) Because I’m done playing.

Jaune charges at Salem once more using Crocea Mors’ new mode, Salem quickly moves to block his strike but unlike before Crocea Mors does not waver. The hard light edge generates sparks and crackles against her magic, proving to be a match to her makeshift weapon. Jaune breaks the struggle by pushing her back and advances on his foe. Salem does not wish to harm him so she can only hope to parry his strikes. The two combatants fill the empty space with the red and blue glow of their weapons, filling the silence with sounds of cracks of their weapons colliding.

*Crack! Crack! Crack!*

Neither of them really got the upper hand in this fight. Where Jaune stroke she parries, where Salem would block he would use his semblance to over power. Admittedly Salem was going easy on him but as the struggle continued on he was gaining the advantage. She assumed that he would have tired out by now but it appears that his aura reservoirs was more great than she anticipated. Yes, he was powerful, she could sense his potential flowing through him. He has lasted far longer in a duel with her than many of the best warriors she has faced in the past. This brought a smile to her face. Their weapons were currently in a mid struggle, generating arc flashes and sparks coming off the weapons. The point where both weapons collided made a bright white light that grew brighter as the struggle continued.

Salem:(Smiles) Magnificent! You are more powerful than I initially thought. How you evaded my notice until now amazes me. Ozpin truly made a wise move keeping you-!

Jaune:(Growls) Oh will you quit it!

Jaune break the struggle and takes this chance to grab onto her left shoulder bringing her close, he locks her head close to his and pull her head down towards the ground. He uses his semblance to amplify the aura in his left knee and with it he bring it up and strikes Salem’s face with his knee. The resulting stike makes her lose focus, taking this chance he knee strikes her abdomen, knocking the wind out her. He breaks the lock and amplifying the aura in his right hand, then he brings back his hand, using his swords pommel, strikes her across the head. The strike sends her back a few feet. As she prepares to get up, she tastes a bit of iron like fluid in her mouth, its taste is foreign to her so she goes to spit it out. As she spits Salem looks to see that a few droplets of crimson liquid fall to the floor. Blood. Her blood. Has it truly been so long that she honestly forgot what the taste of blood was like. She goes to look up but is met with a foot to her face. Salem once again hits the floor and is met with Crocea Mors at her throat.

Jaune: I’m gonna say this once. I will never join you Salem! I would never join a monster like you! Not only does your very existence and plot to destroy humanity threaten Atlas, Mantle, my friends and family, but it threatens Ruby also. I will NEVER allow you to lay a finger on her, or betray her trust. I’d rather kill myself ten times over. So take your offer AND SHOVE IT WHERE THE SUN DOESN’T SHINE! (Brings Crocea Mors over his head and brings it down)

Time moves slowly for Salem, she sees her entire life flash for what felt like minutes. The only highlights were moments of Ozma’s life before he ideas the first time, reuniting with Ozma’s reincarnation, having her beautiful daughters and finally....finding out about Jaune being her descendant. Salem was shocked at this boy’s tenacity, his refusal to turn away from Ozma’s faction and the Rose girl, Ruby. Jaune truly was like a loyal knight of older times in this regard. However, she will not give up so easily. She has come too far today to just give up. His very existence has given her life new meaning. Perhaps now was good time to take the stop holding back so much.

Just as he was about to impale his sword towards her face, he stopped. Jaune didn’t understand why but he soon realizes why. He couldn’t move any of his body parts, he felt like something invisible was holding onto him and keeping a firm grip on his body parts. Suddenly against his will be moves back off of Salem and once he is a few steps backwards, he is lifted up in the air. He tries to fight against the force but its grip is more stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. Jaune looks back at Salem and sees her get up off the ground. She wipes with her left hand whatever leftover blood she has I the corner of her mouth and in her right hand he sees a dark glowing purple ball of energy. Was that what’s happening to him, she was using her magic on him. Jaune begins to mentally slap himself for forgetting such a crucial detail about the Grimm Queen. SHE WAS A FUCKING MAGIC USER!

Salem:(Takes her left hand away and looks at him plainly) ‘Sigh’ I do apologize for the excessive force, but you were leaving me without any other options my child. You truly are a well trained warrior.....but you are no true huntsman yet. I do not wish to harm you but do not mistaken that kindness for a allowance for your disobedience.

Jaune:(Struggling) I-I....w-w-won’t... be b-beaten....s-so....easily!

Salem:(Smiles) Oh I’m counting on it.

With that Salem moves her palm forwards sending the magic ball towards him. Once impacting his body, Jaune is sent flying backwards towards a upper floor of a building at great force. After crashing inside he starts coughing as a cloud of debris from his crashing had filled the room. Quickly using his semblance to amplify his aura to heal any injuries that he had experienced and grabs Crocea Mors. He suddenly hears the wall making a noise, as Jaune looks to the wall he just came through the entire wall was pulled from the building making a even greater space. There he sees Salem levitating on the air itself and walks forward, with her metal rod in her hand. Jaune quickly gets up to stand and reactivates his hard light mode.

Salem:(Laughs sinisterly) You are a resilient one. Good. Because I believe it’s time we have a chance to learn our first lesson. (Her magic reignites the metal rod once more) Shall we begin.

- End of Chapter 6 -

* Ok that’s it for this chapter, hope you all enjoyed. Again shout out for @pilot-boi for letting me use his idea of using Jaune’s hard light shield as a addition to his great sword. Was really great to write. I’m sorry about the cliff hanger but I promise we will pick up this fight again later, the next few chapters will focus on the two side story with cinder and Watts situation so let this be a taste of what’s to come. Also next chapter we’re going to see what happened to team RWBY after their airship crash so that be something to look forward to. Anyway hope you guys enjoy, and always be good people!*

[msclaritea]

A very important history lesson and why we have to fight back this time.

A lot of people saw the White Tears Death March at Michigan's capitol & said: "If black people did that..."

"Some mentioned Reagan's gun control law after '67 Panthers protest But there are many historical examples of white people freaking out when blacks protested.

(A thread) 

After the Not-So-Civil War, this happened ALL THE TIME.

Remember, the states that got their asses kicked were not automatically allowed back into the Union. Southern white supremacists were so scared when blacks exercised their new right to vote that they started a race war. 

In 1866, La. reconvened its Constitutional Convention because Democrats were trying to stop blacks from voting. (This was before conservative Southern "states rights" advocates switched became Republican. We'll get to that)

Of course, black people marched (but not like that). 

When the black people showed up, a group of white supremacists (Y'all call them "Confederates now — same thing) was waiting on them and opened fire.

To be fair, the black ppl weren't actually protesting, per se when the racists opened fire. They were doing something much worse: 

They were dancing and playing music.

Y'all, those racist bastards opened fire on a MARCHING BAND.

Then this happened:

Partly because of the New Orleans Massacre, Congress passed the First Reconstruction Act. Black Louisianans were guaranteed the right to vote but the act did something else that would make the racists even madder.

It took away the right to vote for any ex-Confederate. 

If you think this was bad, Georgia was even worse.

Ga. holds the distinction of being the only state that was so racist that we had to kick the ENTIRE STATE out of America.

Seriously, that happened. And it was partly because of the Camilla Massacre. 

First, you gotta remember that blacks damn near outnumbered whites in Georgia. So, after they got the right to vote, 33 black ppl were elected to the state legislature.

Wypipo wasn't having that shit.

So the white legislators called their homeboys up (Y'all call them the KKK) 

The KKK ran the DULY ELECTED "Original 33" out of office.

Then the Ga. Supreme Court ruled that black people were technically citizens, but the Ga. laws were only meant for white people, so... Black ppl, y'all need to go somewhere with that "equality" shit.*

*I'm paraphrasing

A week after they ousted the Original 33, one of the (did I mentioned DULY ELECTED) legislators organized 200-300 blacks & marched from Albany to Camilla to hold a rally in the town square

When they got to Mitchell County, whites waiting in storefronts and on roofs, opened fire 

The Camilla Massacre got Georgia kicked BACK OUT of the Union and the state had to be readmitted for a second time in 1870 after it seated SOME of the Original 33.

Why not all?

Well, 1/4 of the Original 33 were murdered or attacked. 

On October 25, 1870, 2,000 black people gathered at a rally in Eutaw, Ala. right before the Nov. election. The crowd wanted to prove they weren't of white racists.

Why would they be scared?

Well, in March, 30 masked white men had lynched James Martin, a black Republican. 

It happened again in July, but they didn't just kill Gillford Coleman, they cut his body up into pieces. The racists were afraid Eutaw Co. blacks would help elect a Republican Gov. liked they helped Grant win the county by 2000 votes the 1868 election, 

Klansman rode into town and opened fire on adults and children and promised to do it again if Black people voted.

The tactic worked.

Instead of Republicans winning, the county by 2000 votes, the Democrat Governor won by 43 votes. 

That was lame compared to the Battle of Liberty Place.

Remember when this whole "Confederate Statue" thing first started a couple of years ago? It was partly about a monument to the Battle of Liberty Place, when a whole white supremacist army overthrew the Louisiana gvt. 



In 18 months a white supremacist ARMY called the "white league" (racists are notoriously bad for coming up with nicknames) killed hundreds of Black voters in Colfax, New Orleans, Coushatta & Opelousas

This is what led to the passage of the 2nd Ku Klux Klan Act 

(Side note: The Colfax Massacre also resulted in a Supreme Court Case, which was the first time the Supreme Court said the Second Amendment guaranteed individual citizens the right to own guns)

A lot of Black folks weren't having this shit. So they formed their own armies. 

In SC, the KKK and other Dollar Tree brand racist groups were killing Blacks in the lead up to the 1876 election. In Ellenton, over 100 black voters were murdered.

But it wasn't just about politics. White people HATED when blacks told them what to do. 

You gotta remember, most southern whites were Confederates, so during Reconstruction military occupation, a lot of the soldiers were black.

On July 4, 1876, in Hamburg, the town next to Ellenton, SC, a group of black national guardsmen were drilling while black people watched 

A group of these Dollar Tree white soldiers called the "Red Shirts" came through trying to flex and the Black Guardsmen told them to wait to pass until they finished.

Yall know those former whip crackers weren't having that. 

A white judge told the Red Shirts that they could take the black NATIONAL GUARDSMEN's guns, they found the black militia and began opening fire.

94 white men were indicted.

0 were convicted

The leader of the Hamburg Massacre?

He went on to serve 24 years in the US Senate 

Again, it wasn't just about stopping black people from voting.

In 1887, 10,000 black workers went on strike and started forming a union on La sugar plantations.

So the plantation owners hired the KKK to come in and kill the organizers. Then, it became any black person. 

No one knows how many were killed but the official number is "enough"

Louisiana sugar plantations wouldn't organize again for another 50 years. 

On July 3, 1919, a group of black Buffalo Soldiers went to Bisbee, Ari. Now, this may have been before cookouts were invented, because the soldiers had planned to march in the parade the next day. 

Bisbee's white sheriff told the black soldiers that they couldn't walk around with their guns. When the police officers tried to disarm the Buffalo Soldiers, the refused. So they deputized all the white men in town to disarm the negroes 

The soldiers were like: "Fuck y'all lil' parade, then," and were preparing to leave when one of the deputies was like: "You can't talk to a white man like that."

He opened fire.

The other deputies did, too. 

An investigation would later reveal that it was planned.

The Sherriff and others "had planned deliberately to aggravate the negro troopers so that they would furnish an excuse for police and deputy sheriffs to shoot them down."

No word on the cookout. 

Later that same year, black cotton sharecroppers met at a church in Elaine, Ark. They were trying to organize to get better prices but white farmers showed up. After an exchange of gunfire, a white man ended up dead.

The rumor spread that there was a black coup in Elaine 

Whites from all across the South came to Elaine to literally hunt Black ppl. No one still knows how many were killed. Estimates range up to 250. You know how they finally ended it?

Federal troops arrived...

And arrested all the black people who were left alive. 

In 1945, 19 black Air Force fighter pilots were arrested for trying to integrate an all-white officers club at an Indiana Airbase. 17 more showed up. They were arrested. 25 more showed up the next night, and were arrested.

Segregation was technically against military rule 

So the Air Force gathered all 101 black airmen in a room & offered a deal: All they had to do is sign a paper saying they agree to the segregation or,

Face arrest for violating a direct order, which was technically punishable by death.

All 101 refused.

They were all arrested 

Historically, the white "patriots" who love the flag and the troops treated black soldiers like they all took a knee before an NFL game.

In August 1947, Chicago residents grew angry when they realized the gov't was giving homes to Black veterans in the white Fernwood Park area 

The day after the families moved in, on August13, the whites attacked

For 3 days, as many as 5,000 white rioters pulled Black people out of cars and beat them. They threw rocks at the homes and smashed windows. Then they started setting fires.

The police did nothing. 

In 1949, black Chicago union stewards assembled went to a meeting. There were white people at the meeting, too. The meeting was even in the home of a white couple, but a rumor had already been circulating that black people were planning to buy a house in the white neighborhood. 

By the end of the meeting, hundreds of whites were outside.

This one lasted 5 days.

An estimated 10,000 white rioters took part in the Englewood riot.

Police did nothing to stop it. 

Remember when MLK wrote about "white moderates" in the Letter from a Birmingham Jail?" Well, those protests were partially successful.

On May 11, 1963 black protesters were celebrating. The city had decided to desegregate water fountains, lunch counters, retail stores... 

On May 11, 1963, the KKK was also planning a march in Bham because...you know.

Just before 11 am, a uniformed Bham police officer got out of his car and put a package on the porch of a small house.

It was dynamite.

It exploded. 

A few minutes later, another bigger bomb at the AG Gaston motel.

Everyone knows about the 16th St. church bombing in Birmingham, but few people know that there were more than FIFTY bombings in "Bombingham" during the Civil rights era 

One section of town was bombed so often it's still called "Dynamite Hill."

Of course, the KKK marched anyway.

Oh, and that bombed house belonged to A.D. King, Martin Luther King's brother.

King had left town a few hours earlier...

After checking out of the AG Gaston Hotel 

(Fun fact: Angela Davis and Condoleeza Rice grew up around the corner from each other in Dynamite Hill)

On February 5, 1968, black students from SC State tried to integrate a bowling alley. They were kicked out, but this time, the police were waiting to beat protesters. 

But students kept showing up. So the governor called the state troopers and the National Guard.

On Feb. 8, while attempting to put out a bonfire, the Troopers opened fire on 200 protesters, shooting dozens of black students and protesters. 

1 high school student was killed and 2 SCSU students. Police said they thought the students were shooting,

They weren't

One person was arrested, convicted and served time, Cleveland Sellers...

A student.

You might know his son @Bakari_Sellers 

In March, 1970, in Lamar SC, a mob of angry white people attacked black protesters. Well... these protesters were kinda young and they were protesting in a weird way:

They were going to school.

A judge had ordered the school district to integrate

There are so many more examples

Check out "Ax Handle Saturday" in Jacksonville, Fla.

Read about when Fannie Lou Hamer and the Mississippi Freedom Democrats showed up at the '64 convention

The Freedom Riders

Bloody Sunday in Selma

Art Bacon in Talladega 

So when white people show up to protests angry and outspoken, and nothing happens, you don't have to wonder what would happen if black people did that,

Just remember what happened when black people just SHOWED UP

Not if...

WHEN."

[ill-skillsgard]

Ascent - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Ascent

Warning: 18+ voyeurism/masturbation/language

Description:  A collection of scents and scenes strung together by strange sequences of secrecy and surveyance.

A/N: DAMNIT YOU GUYS. This is my 3rd time posting this fic. It will no longer include the image of the sexy Bill look-alike wanking because wE cAn’T hAvE NiCe tHiNgS. Also, please don’t ask me to send the image because I can’t be sure of ages and I won’t be dinged for providing pr0nz to potentially underage people. I’m so sorry. I tried!

ISO: Quiet roommate; preferably female. Males acceptable too if you're cleanly. Split rent loft in quaint & upscale Rosewell neighbourhood with everything included. 1200 upfront first and last and then rent can be negotiated. E-mail. Do not call/text.

I only had 900 dollars on me but I figured if I e-mailed the person that had put out the ad and set up a time to meet the following week then I could earn enough in tips to cover the rest. Easy as that. Breathing became a little less laboured once I sat back on my futon and realized that I wasn't quite as fucked as I initially thought. Then I wondered how in the hell somebody could use the words quaint and upscale to describe the same neighbourhood. Which one was it? Quaint or upscale? How could it be both? All I was sure of was that I had to find a roommate quickly. The new landlord of my apartment building had decided that I had something to do with the junkies shooting up in the storage unit behind the building, as though I had knowledge of it the whole time and failed to make a report of it, therefore, making me part of the problem. But it wasn't just that; this guy was a jackass of ultimate proportions- a seedy little rich momma's boy that had inherited his parents' sense of self-entitlement and strings of real estate offices spanning across the city and surrounding counties. We did not click at all upon first meeting when he made his rounds to see exactly what kind of tenants he would be dealing with. In fact, the moment I opened the door to my apartment and he peered in to see the apparent cluster-bomb that had gone off in my bachelorette pad, he set his sights on destroying me, or at the very least, evicting me. If only I hadn't answered the door in my stained sweatpants and wrinkled t-shirt from a decade ago when my taste in music remained under-developed. If only I hadn't had the day's worth of crusted mascara stuck in the inner corners of my eyes like black boogers. If I had thrown my hair up in a semi-cute messy bun, rolled down the waistband of my stretchy pants and tossed on my only reputable sweater maybe things could have gone differently. But I didn't. Instead, I let him catch a glimpse into the trash-covered world of crooked posters, laundry and pizza boxes. His prissy, Gucci-wearing ass got one whiff of my body odour and my fate was sealed. Whatever though, shit happens. Even if Millennial pretty-boy newbie landlord hated me, I didn't quite hate myself. Sure, I had had better times in my life but there had also been much worse. I was just going through my annual depression when the Summer was long gone and the scent of leaves rotting in the gutters rang in the impending frost. Who wanted to do anything but sit around and play video games or watch TV for six straight hours after work? Certainly not I. I e-mailed the guy living in Rosewell because I had been through that area once or twice and remembered that it was one of the nicer neighbourhoods; its remnants of old city charm and decadent architecture still intact. That's when I gave it a second thought. 1200 for first and last month's rent was not that much, considering the location. My brain caught up with me and I recognized that there would probably be dozens of people replying to the listing and that my chances were diminished to almost nothing. Oh well, I read on and circled more potential ads with the tip of a fresh permanent marker that was starting to give me a headrush. By some grace of luck, I received an e-mail back the next day from the person that had put out the Rosewell advertisement. It dawned on me that I also didn't know whether he or she was a he or a she or a they. It seemed mundane to ask but the person didn't include their name in the reply and their email address was an obscure reference that I wasn't sure I understood. My imagination decided to take a jog and came upon the silly little notion that perhaps this was one of those things when serial killers lure in unsuspecting victims with promises of rent so cheap in a gentle neighbourhood where nobody would think to look for a body. It was classic of me but I couldn't pretend like I wasn't thinking about it. At least death would help put a stopper in my rut. I didn't know what to expect, walking up to the building with a face sectioned off into quadrants- each with their own tiny glass door and artful wrought iron laced balcony. What kind of a person lived inside? Was it a peppy university student with a small dog and a knack for pulling off an active-wear-is-all-I-wear look? Could it be another snotty, uptight rich boy like my fuck-bag of a landlord? Or perhaps it was a nice older lady that fancied her wine and lived in an effortlessly baroque den, lined with books and trinkets from her travels abroad. Either way, I just hoped they approved of me since I had taken the time to shower, put on a bit of makeup and dress like the clothes I owned weren't questionably clean or variably dirty all the time. The door was painted black and nobody could see through the glimmering panels of stained glass that made up an intricate checkerboard of red and blue with two cantaloupe roses coiling up and away from each other, petals agape and ready to fall. I gave the door a good look over with a smug grimace that was just a feint for my awe. The place was definitely too nice for me but I soldiered on and smiled when I heard the door being unlocked. A man opened the door and the scent of wood and something else immediately wafted out like a ghost casually passing by. Not only was he a man, but a looming sculpture dressed in a sagging brown wool sweater that threw me off from my rehearsed speech. He was tall, pale and had such striking eyes behind his glasses that I couldn't quite meet them without feeling some hint of discomfort. It was like somebody had tossed a limp rug on the statue of David the way his knitted sleeves hung loosely around thick veiny wrists. "Hi. Bill," he motioned to himself. "Won't you come in?" "Um, yeah. Sure." The mud room was painted in tarnished blood orange and was home to a wooden rack full of men's shoes. There were trainers with hints of dirt on the toes and soles, leather dress shoes with the fancy gold buckles on the front, more dress shoes, stylish suede ankle boots, and beaver fur lined moccasins. I could taste the transition from the cool Autumn air to the musky inside of the home. The floors were all wood, the banister leading upstairs was carved from another expensive type of tree and the shelving units were solid oak stretching from floor to high ceiling. Every wall was home to some kind of meticulously placed decorative object. But there were also family photos to lend the place a warm and happy glow. Or it could have just been how the sun shone through the clear bay windows. I was led through the house, past a large cupboard tucked beneath the staircase and a small writing desk that was home to a  vintage typewriter cased in filigrees of polished silver. It was then I noticed all the framed book pages lining the walls. We entered a kitchen and I was blown away by how roomy it was compared to the tight, warm front that made up the mudroom and what I had determined was a living room that had been converted into a reading room. There was no TV but there was a chaise lounge with a stack of old books reaching up to a cascading hand-carved armrest. "This is the kitchen. The fridge will be mostly yours. I just use the bottom shelf and the crisper on the left. I just ask that you keep your section clean." "Right," I nodded. "The stove is gas, the fireplace is gas... Everything is gas in here. Um... It gets kind of cold in the winter because the electric baseboards don't really work. If you turn them on it makes the whole place smell like burning sawdust. So... You can use a plug-in heater in your room but... Just wear slippers on the floors." "Oh, okay. Good to know." "Uh... Yeah. The laundry room is through there. I also keep my bike back there. There's another rack mount for a bike if you have one." "No, just my car." "Hmm," Bill pondered with a grimace. I bit my lip and hoped that he wasn't biting his lip from derision. He took in a breath through one of the daintiest noses I had ever seen on a man and adjusted his glasses for a moment before pulling them off completely to wipe the lenses on the hem of his brown knit sweater. "Parking can be kind of a bitch around here," he warned. "Yeah, " I chuckled. "I probably pulled around the block six times before something opened up." "You'll have to get used to that... Or just get a bike like everyone else." With a forced laugh, I attempted to hide the odd sense of shame that he had instilled by suggesting that nobody around these parts bothered with silly things like motor vehicles. Fuck, that could mean he was some sort of health nut that would turn his nose up if he saw the types of meals I made for myself and how lazy I could get. Aside from his alarming curtness, Bill seemed to be calm and easygoing. The house was a wooden ladder of a place; stacked with his worldly possessions and Scandinavian accouterments. It was easy to conclude that he was a single man that kept to himself and I did my best to show him that I fit into the same category. Although, it seemed as though he had already decided that I was moving in. He referred to everything as his, mine or ours and led me through the rest of the house like both our minds were already made up. "Here's the room. It's right next to mine. You have an en-suite bathroom. Toilet kind of acts up once in a while and the shower drain is prone to clogging but it's all easy fixes. Oh... And the walls are kind of thin. I ask that if you have guests over in the evening to keep the socializing downstairs. I suppose I can't really stop you from having people in your room but... I do enjoy my quiet." "That's okay. I don't really hang out with too many people," I said. Bill strolled into the center of the empty room, the soles of his shoes hitting the floor echoed off the bright white walls. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers as he spun on a heel to face me. His shoulders drew up to his ears and for the first time, he cracked a smile. It didn't last long and was accompanied by a shrug of closure. "What do you think?" He asked. "It's nice. I like it. A lot. It's very... Homey." Bill nodded, "yes. So will you take it?" "Uh... You don't have any questions for me? Or anyone else to show the place to?" His full lips set into another grimace as though my question scratched the scab off of a wound that had yet to close. Swallowing hard, I immediately began to regret my inquiry. I should have just been grateful that he saw fit to trust me without so much as delving into my history. "To be frank, I'm not really interested in knowing a lot about you. The less we know about each other, the better. I just need a quiet tenant that won't bother me much and you seem like a sensible woman with your own distractions." "Oh." "I don't mean to sound insensitive." "It's okay. I get it." "You have a job, of course?" "Yes." "Well, that's all I need to know. Just make your rent payments on time and we'll get along." "Not a problem. Sounds good." The entire moving process took a little over a month to complete. I gave my notices where they were due, rented a small truck to pack my things into and drove it across town after handing the keys to the fuck-bag landlord who seemed more than thrilled to watch me departing. Bill had already given me keys to the house and when I arrived the first of the month he was nowhere to be found. Luckily, my possessions didn't extend further than my bed, wardrobe, futon and a couple of side tables that had collected more dust than I thought. After hauling up the ripping black trash bags I had stuffed full of clothes, I tried to decipher a way to get my bed up the winding stairs without scratching the wood or getting myself stuck in a corner. It would have been easier if I had another set of hands and I wanted to clear the halls of all my things before Bill came home and saw the clutter in the front hall. Something told me he was not a fan of mess and I had left a heaving trail all over the mudroom, halls and stairs. With my bed frame already stuck on the first few steps, I decided to sit down and reevaluate my strategy. It was definitely a two-person job that I would not be able to complete on my own. "Fuck, " I cursed as I pulled out my cell phone to make a call to the only person I knew that would be willing to give me a hand; my cousin. On the third ring, I heard the sound of the door opening and footsteps coming through. I was sat on the stairs pouting, my cell clutched to my ear and my breath hitched in my throat.  Bill looked up at me from the first-floor landing through the rails of the staircase and smirked at me. "Need some help?" He asked. I immediately terminated the call to my cousin before he could pick up. Shooting up from the fifth step up, I smoothed out the front of my shirt and tried to make it seem like I wasn't about to burst into tears of frustration. "Um, yes. Sorry. I thought I could do it by myself." "No worries," Bill said as he lifted the edge of the bed frame that was hanging off the first step. We dislodged the frame and slowly carried it upstairs but not without a few grunts of effort and sighs when we finally made it to the top floor. Bill's arms were bulging with the strain and when he helped me gently lay the frame down on the floor I couldn't help but stare at the muscles I never knew he had. We had only had a handful of encounters and each time he had been wearing baggy clothes that veiled the true form of his body. Bill helped me bring everything else I had upstairs and once the last of my belongings arrived he evaluated the mess that I would have to organize myself. Half my clothes were spilling out of bags and my furniture was yet to find a proper place. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Unless you have anything else?" "No. This is it. Thanks for your help." "No problem," he nodded with a small pointed smile that brought out a sweetness in his face before exiting the room. I heard the sounds of his footsteps drumming down the stairs but before I had the chance to get to work unpacking, Bill came back. When I looked up at him he had a peculiar look on his face that I couldn't read. It may have been a cross between uncertainty and embarrassment. "You um... These were on the stairs," he showed me what he had clutched in his hand and the moment I realized that the black material in his hand was a pair of my underwear, I paled. "Oh my god," I laughed uneasily. "I'm so sorry. They must have fallen out when I was dragging the bags up the steps. My panties looked crumpled and insignificant in his large hand as he dangled them between two fingers for me to grab. When I caught them I stuffed them in my pocket immediately and blushed even harder than I had when he had come home to see me flustered on the stairs. "It's all right. Could be worse things to find," he pointed out. "I guess so," I chuckled. Bill smirked at me, eyes darting to the pocket that contained the stray panties and gave me one last glance before leaving me to stew in my mortification. Once I was certain Bill was gone, I took the panties out to evaluate just how embarrassed I should have been. The last thing I needed was for my new roommate to have already discovered a pair of my dirty underwear on the floor. They were generic and made of stretchy faux lace that covered next to no ass cheek but I would have considered them to be a good go-to pair nonetheless. Based on visual inspection and a quick sniff, I was assured that everything checked out and Bill hadn't had the displeasure of picking up a pair of my period panties with the permanent stains in the crotch. If anyone had to have found a pair of my underwear I was glad it was a sexy pair and not ones that I had been hanging onto since high school. But because it was a man that had found them, I felt a strange yearning for approval. I thought about what he could have been thinking about for a long time as I set up my bed and unpacked my necessities. It was going to be weird having a roommate.

~*~

Bill was a strange man. Bill had an office in his room and a writing desk stacked with papers and manuscripts. Bill was a writer. When I asked him if I could read something he had written he said nothing. He only peered at me warily over his wire-framed glasses. We were in the kitchen at the same time and I figured it friendly to strike up a conversation. I had seen all of his papers and looked at all of the stuff he had in the house by then and deduced that he had to have been a writer. All I got from him was a gentle shrug of his stately shoulders and a mumble that I couldn't hear. "You're a writer, aren't you?" I continued. "Yes. I suppose, in a way I am." "Ever had anything published?" Bill rapidly shook his head and muttered, "not here, no. Back home... In university. But not here." The subject of him being a writer seemed touchy so I left my line of questioning at that while I boiled water to make tea. I couldn't help but watch him on the other side of the kitchen preparing his lunch because he was comically lanky yet carried himself with graciousness and poise. His side profile was vexing to me as well. It was then that I realized that Bill was not just commonly handsome, but sculpted in a way that I wasn't used to seeing. With a cute boyish nose and arrestive eyes that shone light green through the lenses of his glasses, I felt that old familiar pang of a crush plunging its way from my chest to my gut and all the way down to my groin. He didn't speak much and I hardly ever saw him because he was always in his room with the door shut. I had a feeling that me bringing up his writing had alarmed him into keeping the door closed at all times. It must have been an adjustment for him to go from living alone to having somebody sleeping in the room right next to him. I tried not to make much of the crush but the times that I did see Bill I always tried to stare for as long as possible. He was a mystery to me; a person living in the very same quarters but with a totally separate life that I had no windows into. Bill had pictures of him and a lot of other people that looked kind of like him so I tried to piece together what his family was like without asking him personally. The family photos were all in chunky brass frames and placed in a strategically sporadic way on the wall shelf. There were many books and three different runs of encyclopedic information stacked side by side with their brightly dyed leather spines displaying a prestigious title and the volume number, but it was the pictures that intrigued me most. By the looks of it, Bill had a lot of brothers and a sister. The longer I analyzed each shelf the more I managed to paint a picture of him for myself based on his belongings. There was a photo of Bill next to some other men of similar heights and facial structures, all dressed warmly and huddled together, each with his own version of a charming smile on. It was amusing to see pictures of him smiling since he had hardly tossed more than a crooked smirk my way. I wasn't sure if Bill was standoffish or if he thought me a slob because of the first day I arrived. The house was cleaner than any place I had ever had by myself and I gathered that he liked to keep it that way. I remembered what it had said in his ad about cleanliness. Maybe I had disgusted him. He had been so sold on having me as his roommate but that was weeks ago and he hadn't tried to engage me much since. It didn't weigh heavily on my mind for long. After all, even though I was the crusty definition of a bachelorette, I could put it together that trying to fuck my roommate that I didn't know was probably a surefire way to complicate things beyond repair. And the place was nice. I wanted to stay and I wanted Bill to like me.

~*~

I walked into his room when I knew for certain that he was gone. I don't know why the sudden urge overtook me and steered me to his bedroom door. I opened it and a waft of his scent came over me. It was like fresh cotton and chopped wood or an old book that had been kept in pristine condition. His writing desk beckoned me so I went without hesitation to cast my eyes over the papers on its surface. There were some printed pages full of words with hand-written notes scribbled in the margins. One of the most eye-catching pieces was a mostly blank white page that had been the last of the bunch to be placed upon the altar of his creative expositions.

I can't get enough of the scent that she left behind.

After reading that one line, I snapped out of my mindless intrusion and left his bedroom at once. Why I had gone in there in the first place was a mystery and I was overcome with guilt that pushed me in the direction of avoidance. I felt somehow he would know that I had gone into his room without permission.

~*~

A man from work had asked me out on a date and I stood in the shower vigorously washing the shampoo out of my hair. I was already late and had to scramble to put together an outfit out of what little clean clothing I had. There had been no time for me to do any laundry so I made do with an old sundress that I had worn the shit out of the Summer before, a pair of black nylon leggings with a hole in the crotch and the only pair of underwear that I could find that wasn't stretched out from me wearing them. I had laid out everything on my bed and bustled around trying to find my good face moisturizer and the only high-end lipstick that I had been coveting for the better part of two years. When I got dressed, I had somehow lost pieces of my attire along the way and rushed around looking for the underwear that I had dubbed acceptable to wear out on a date. My phone went off with a notification from my date saying that he was circling around the block again because he couldn't find a place to park. I quickly messaged him back and told him I would be down in five short minutes. Forgoing the panties, I hiked on my nylons and hoped that the skirt of my dress would manage to cover me enough all night that I didn't accidentally flash my pussy while getting in and out of his car. The date was boring and I didn't find myself connecting with him as we had at work. Maybe it was because we were co-workers or maybe it was because he was smiling too much at me the whole time, but I decided to put an end to the night after a dessert and the last of a bottle of cheap wine. When I got home, I shut the door and pulled my vibrator out of my empty underwear drawer.

~*~

In the morning on one of my days off, I stood in the kitchen making myself a pathetic breakfast of two pieces of toast with a slice of tomato and chunks of a too-ripe avocado splattered between them. First I was focused and calm and then suddenly I felt like something had materialized behind me. When I turned around, I let out a gasp as I noticed Bill standing next to me with no shirt on, his hair a mess and his eyes half-closed. "Sorry," he breathed through his nose. "Need a glass, please." I got out of his way and watched as he opened the cupboard that I had been standing in front of and took out a clean glass to pour water into. My eyes were drawn to the burgeoning of hair from his armpits when he reached to the top shelf. Without saying a word, he filled his glass from the tap and then walked back upstairs casually sipping his water. I don't know how he had managed to sneak up on me without me hearing the floorboards protesting beneath his feet but it had happened and my heart continued to race until I heard him enter his bedroom right above the kitchen.

~*~

I had tossed my laundry into the dryer and let it run while I left for work. When I got home my laundry was all folded and put back in my basket. My jeans and work pants were on the bottom, my shirts the second tier and then several pairs of my panties had been folded neatly in halves and placed on top. "Um... Okay," I whispered to myself, lifting the basket off the dryer that was still rumbling full of Bill's laundry.

~*~

A nap was on the immediate horizon for me when I got home from work. I kicked my shoes off as soon as I got in the door and made right for my bedroom. Bill must not have heard me climbing the stairs as I hadn't heard him come up behind me the week before because his door was open and what I saw halted me in my place and robbed me of the abilities to breath or think. There he was, laying on his bed naked with his right hand wrapped around his dick. But it wasn't that he was stroking himself that caught me completely off-guard, it was what he clutched to his nose and mouth with his other hand; the pair of my panties that he had discovered on the floor all those weeks ago when I first moved in. Rooted with panic and intrigue, I covered my mouth and watched on from the third-to-last step at the man taking deep breaths of my underwear while he pulled on his cock and massaged his balls. When I heard a faint groan leave his mouth I felt my floodgates crashing open. The tingle I felt budding from my clit grew so strong that my hands went numb and my face turned red-hot. There was no way that Bill hadn't heard me coming in the door and ascending the steps. But if he knew that I was there watching him play with himself, he didn't acknowledge it. He was in his own world of pleasure, getting high off the fumes that I had infused into the fabric of the underwear he was meddling with his fingers. I wanted to watch him shoot his cum from the tip of his cock but I was so scared that he would see me that I cowered back so that if his gaze did travel beyond the walls of his bedroom, perhaps he wouldn't catch me staring. Another long, deep moan left him and the sound of it somehow filled every sense I had. It was as though I could smell what he was smelling, feel how he was feeling and the taste left behind in my mouth was wetted with saliva being over-produced by my own sexual appetite. I pictured him kissing my clit, pushing my legs back and using his tongue to bore into me, letting it run down, down, down so he could taste every inch of me. A gasp nearly escaped me when I saw him push the crotch of my stolen panties into his mouth. His head dropped back into his pillows and his slow, languid strokes of his cock turned erratic. "Fuck!" He emitted after spitting the panties out and dragging them down his body to wrap around the base of his shaft. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... Mmm, my god." After a minute of every muscle in his body flexing, it looked like he was inches away from coming and I leaned forward with my hand out on the last step to balance myself so I could watch the end result. It took a bit longer than I expected but I watched on unblinkingly until he finally managed to pump out an orgasm that ripped through his body and exited him in a glorious spurt of cum. Then there was another spurt and another, all landing in a perfect sticky mess over his stomach and chest. The sun coming in through his window glittered over his spackled body while a dryness hardened my tongue. I gawked as he moved to mop up his own mess with my black lace panties. What he was going to do next was as much a mystery to me as the last ten minutes I had spent as a voyeur. His cock laid over the top of his thigh and shrunk with each passing second while he rolled my panties up into a ball with his fist. All of his muscles relaxed and he sank further into the bed, closed his eyes all the while my stolen cum-soaked panties remained clutched to his chest like a cross. I could almost smell the musk permeating from the open door. Slowly, I descended the stairs one by painstaking one.

[sevenbangtanbabes-blog]

copycat

an: so I listened to ‘copycat’ by billie eilish for the first time today and this popped into my head. i’m not 100% sure what this even is lmao. let me know what you think, feedback is greatly appreciated.  ♡ ♡ ♡

⚬ min yoongi x reader ⚬

⚬ angst - fluff  ⚬

⚬ 2671 words ⚬

⚬ Thieves!Yoongi & Reader ⚬

⚬ warnings: cursing, hints at sexual situations  ⚬

Yoongi dropped down from his perch, falling onto crouched knees, palm resting on the floor. He quickly surveyed the area, checking to make sure the security guard had turned the corner, signaling Yoongi had a good 15 minutes to get the job done.

Yoongi secured the black face mask around the lower half of his face and lifted his hood up around his head; he then pulled his backpack around his shoulder to dig through the well stocked bag. He unzipped it, and was met with a plethora of items that he was truly shocked made it through security as easily as they did.

Those idiots really should check the bags better, he thought with a small smirk.

Yoongi rooted around through backpack, pushing aside neatly coiled ropes, pea-sized explosives that pack more of a punch than one would expect, and a few foreign money notes left over from his last job, until he found what he was looking for.

He pulled out a small glass breaking tool, and museum map he acquired from the lobby on his way in.

He studied the map one final time before he began walking towards the exhibit that housed his prize for the night.

The museum had recently received a collection of ancient artifacts from an anonymous donor; the focal point being a small bejeweled crown that was just valued at - well, a lot of money to say the least. So much money that Yoongi wouldn’t have to pull another job for a long, long time.

Yoongi rounded the corner into the exhibit, pausing to make sure the coast was clear beforehand. He spotted the display cases a few feet away, the crown glittering in the dim lighting of the security beams.

“Jackpot.” Yoongi murmured, a smile leaching its way onto his face. Walking until he’s only a few steps from the glass box housing the crown, Yoongi lifted his hand, still clutching the tool, raising it to strike the box when -

A noise a few feet away stopped him cold. A ghostly chuckle echoed through the darkened room, causing him to drop his hand and spin around, searching for the source. He knew, of course, exactly who it was.

“Dammit, Y/N.” He growled, eyes cutting through the darkness. Of-fucking-course you would try to take this out from under him.

“Hey, Yoongs.” Your voice called out softly from somewhere in front of him, seeming to come from just outside of the exhibit doors. “What’re up to?”

“You know damn well that I claimed this job, Y/N.” Yoongi said back, pointing an accusing finger into the darkness - at wherever you were hiding.  

“And you know damn well that I don’t care. I’ll be walking out with that crown tonight.” Yoongi quietly followed your voice back out into the hallway. Another laugh from you led him further away from his prize, and closer to the wall that you had to be crouched behind.

Yoongi rounded the corner, expecting to surprise you, but was met with nothing. Yoongi dropped his arms, hanging them limply at his arms, head cocking to the side in confusion.

“What the fuck?” He murmured, and looked closer at the scene before him, eyes widening in realization when they met a small, almost imperceptible two-way radio resting on the floor in front of him.

The next noise he heard was the loud shattering of the glass case in the other room, causing him to turn on his heel, and race back into the exhibit.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He repeated running back into the room and stopping cold. There you stood, leaning against the display case and crown in hand, a shit eating grin on your face.

“You’re losing you touch, Yoongs.” You tsked, removing your bag from your shoulder and shoving the tiara into it. “Looks like I won this one -”

The screeching of the alarm cut you off, causing both you and Yoongi to stare at each other with wide eyes.

“You didn’t knock out the alarms?” He asked accusingly, heart beating fast in his chest.

“You didn’t even know I was here! I thought you did!” You shot back, quickly gathering all of your things. “Come on.”

Together, you raced back into the hallway, checking for the quickest route to escape.

“This way.” Yoongi grabbed your hand, tugging you along an unfamiliar hallway. Hearts pumping fast, you maneuvered around statues and displays, trying to make an easy getaway.

“Emergency exit’s coming up on our right, it’ll be in the next room.” Yoongi said quickly, exertion bleeding through his voice. You nodded, following his lead without question.

“This one.” He jerked his head to the right, and you both went to turn into the room when a voice called out from behind you.

“Freeze!” A male’s voice called harshly. “Turn around - slowly.”

Yoongi stopped at the command, jerking you to a stand with him, something very unlike him. Normally, he would have kept running, and not stopped until you both were in the clear. Still facing away from the guard, you shot a quick look to his face.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, tugging your hand out of his, but he kept a deathly tight grip on you. “Let’s go.”

Yoongi gave a small, but forceful shake of his head.

“They arm the guards here.” He murmured, peeking down at you over his face mask. “If we move, he’ll shoot.”

You felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over you. In any other situation, this fact wouldn’t affect you, you could handle yourself, but the thought of Yoongi getting shot turned your blood to ice within your veins.

“Turn around very slowly, Y/N. Don’t let go of my hand.” Yoongi squeezed your hand once for reassurance, and then began to turn. You followed his lead, keeping your face angled towards the ground.

“Yoongi, I - I’m not wearing a vest.” You murmured, referring to the thin bulletproof vest you normally wore out on jobs; you hadn’t expected to need it at a museum of all places. His hand tightened even more at your words. “Are you?”

He gave a short nod, before subtly angling his body in front of yours. The security guard raised his gun at the small movement.

“Do not move.” The guard shouted at Yoongi. Now that you could see his face, you realized how young he looked. He was holding his gun straight out in front of him, but it wavered slightly in his grasp.

“He’s new.” You whispered to the man standing next to you. “I bet anything this is his first time in a situation like this.”

Yoongi mulled over your words for a moment, before making a small grunt of agreeance. He shifted his shoulder, moving his backpack closer to the your arm that was hidden from view, resting behind his back. You slowly shifted your arm up, quietly unzipping the bag and reaching in for the small, explosive beads you knew he kept within it.

Slowly bringing your hand back out of his bag, you rolled a few of them between your fingers, before slipping them into Yoongi’s waiting hand. He clutched them tightly, waiting for the right moment.

“Now, I want you both to step away from each other.” The security guard called, stepping closer to the pair of you. Yoongi released your hand, and stepped forward to the guard, causing the guard to cock his gun.

“Hey, man. Chill out. We aren’t going to hurt you.” Yoongi raised his eyebrows at the man, feigning innocence. “Just cuff us, you’ve got us fair and square. We know when to give up.”

You could see hesitation flash within the guards eyes, but eventually he lowered his gun. The moment he stepped forward and his hand began reaching for the handcuffs resting on his hip, Yoongi’s arm shot out, throwing the sensitive, powerful beads in the air. Immediately, he ran back to you, throwing his arms around you and -

BOOM.

Yoongi tried to hold onto you, but his body soon flew back off you, the blast proving to be too strong. The explosion shook the entire room, sending artwork flying off the wall and causing statues to fracture.

Ears ringing, you sat up off the ground a grunt, having been blown onto your back when the bombs went off. You rolled your shoulder, feeling a little sore but no more worse for wear. You spotted Yoongi a few feet behind you, having been flung further than you.

“Yoongi.” You coughed, crawling over to him. His eyes were closed, and his mask had slipped down his face, revealing a small cut on his cheek. You shook his shoulder a bit, but he did not move. “Yoongi.”

Fear ricocheted throughout your entire being. He couldn’t be - no, you wouldn’t even think the words.

“Yoongi, oh my god, wake up.” You called again, tears welling up in your eyes. “Min Yoongi, I swear to god, you cannot do this.”

You leaned your head down to rest against his chest, pressing tightly against it and you listened. For the faint noise that would tell you he was ok, that noise that would restart your own heart.

For a moment, nothing. There was nothing, and you almost cried out, feeling your heart break when -

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Your strangled cry of relief ripped itself from your voice, and you sat back, rubbing your hands over your face, trying to keep the tears of happiness from breaking free.

“Holy shit.” Yoongi coughed, groaning as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “I forgot how powerful those fuckers were.”

You slowly removed your hands from your face, glaring at him. He only gave you a small smile in return, opening his arms to his sides a bit. You shot forward, burying your face against his neck and flinging your arms around him. His own arms wound themselves around your waist, holding you tightly.

“I’m ok.” He murmured, rubbing your back under your bag soothingly. “I’m fine.”

You nodded against his neck, taking a deep breath before pulling back. Yoongi smoothed your tousled hair back away from your face, and rested his palm against your cheek. You leaned into his touch, placing your own hand against the back of his.

A strangled groan a few feet away shattered the moment, snapping you both back to reality and the gravity of the situation. Your head snapped around, spotting the guard at the end of the hallway, beginning to shift.

“We need to go.” Yoongi told you, and pulled you to your feet. While he walked over to grab his bag that had been flung from him in the blast, you pulled yours around to the front, to check to make sure the crown was unharmed. It was now fully unzipped, which made you frown, not understanding how that could have happened; realization hit you when you looked and the tiara was nowhere to be found.

“What the hell?” Your head snapped up to Yoongi, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed in front of him, wearing the same grin you had given him earlier. “Really, Yoongi?”

Yoongi only shrugged, dropping his arms, allowing you to see the crown dangling from his long fingers. Anger shot through your expression, which only made Yoongi’s grin widen.

“Here.” He sighed, stretching the arm holding the crown out in front of him. “It was wrong of me to take it. Here.”

You gave him a cautious look, before taking a couple steps over to him. You held out your arm, intending to grab the crown, but Yoongi’s other hand shot out and grabbed your arm, tugging you to him tightly.

“Sike.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, before turning on his heel and racing out of the emergency exit, crown still in hand.

Shocked, you simply stood there amongst the rubble, before another groan from the guard made you come to your senses and race out the exit into the quiet night.

Shoving the key into your apartment door, you turned the knob and sighed. Tonight had not gone to plan.

You threw your empty bag on the ground next to you, and flipped on the light switch, illuminating your living room. The sight you saw as light flooded the room made a frown twitch onto your lips.

Yoongi was sat in his chair, crown sat in his lap, with the widest grin on his face. He looked extremely pleased with himself, and that pissed you off immensely.

“I had it, Yoongi. If your ass hadn’t forgotten to turn the alarms off, it would’ve been mine.” You huffed, making your way over to him. You picked up the crown from his lap, flinging it onto a nearby table.

“Careful!” He exclaimed, giving you an exasperated look. His expression soon changed as you sat down on his lap, your legs straddling his waist.

Yoongi smiled softly, resting his hands on your hips.

“What does that make the score?” Yoongi asked teasingly, referring to the ongoing tally you two kept of who actually ends up completing the jobs the two of you received. You would often compete for the same jobs, trying to beat out the other for the loot. You had jokingly named it ‘copycat’, because both of you often tried the exact same methods to try to beat the other.

“Oh, shut up. You’re barely ahead of me.” You mumbled, dropping your head to his shoulder. He chuckled at your dismay, sliding one arm around your waist, and the other up your side, until he reached your neck.

Yoongi tilted your head back, and leaned his face down to yours, lips barely brushing against your own.

“Better luck next time, baby.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss you deeper.

You wound your arms securely around his neck, pressing tighter against Yoongi’s chest. The  movement made him groan, and your lips twitched into a smile against his at the sound, an idea making its way into your head.

You broke away from him for a moment, staring into his eyes, noting the barely concealed lust swirling in them. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth before trailing down his jawline, and onto the soft skin of his neck. Yoongi dropped his head back, angling it to give you more room. You sucked at the spot just under his ear that you knew drove him crazy, the moan he gave in return confirming he was right where you wanted him.

Slowly, you dropped one of your hands from around his neck, and slid it ever-so-leisurely down his chest. Stopping just above his dark jeans, you pulled at his belt, causing him to jerk his hips up against you. Moving your hand down even further, you let it hover above his lap, barely brushing against him. You knew he wanted - no, needed you to make a move.

“Baby,” He panted, making your eyes scan up his body to meet his. He was biting down on his lower lip, looking at you with dark, needy eyes. “Do something.”

At his words, you leaned down closely to his ear, pressing a final kiss to the skin underneath it.

“Yoongi…” You whispered, making him moan. “Sike.”

You leaned back after repeating his words from earlier, and hopped off his lap like the last few minutes never even happened.

“I’m going to take a shower. I smell like smoke.” You called behind, you giving him final glance and a wicked smile. Yoongi was still sat in his chair, slack jawed and eyes narrowed.

As soon as you disappeared into the small bathroom and he heard the shower switch on, he dropped his head back, shaking it softly. A small smile spread across his lips as he thought about the nights events.

Though the two of you may not be the most normal couple, he knew he wouldn’t change your lives for anything.