#i went through a huge following purge

[notyetfixed-a]

things done today:

updated thread tracker: ✓ updated carrds: ✓ updated tagging system: ✓ got my shit together: ✓ did the drafts I wanted to do: ✓ following/follower purge: ✓ worked: ✓ doodled: ✓

#( such tomfoolery | ooc ) #i went through a huge following purge #finally made myself go through it #was tired of seeing people on my dash #who i've reached out to #but no effort was made #anyways #i'm probably headed to bed now #i had a really great friend talk with me through my sad girl hours #it was very helpful #very insightful #glad to end the day on a good note

[lets-try-some-writing]

feral orion pax.... got anything?

I've always got more feral Orion Pax! I wouldn't be a fan if I didn't.

The Wildling of the Archives

When Ratchet was young he met Orion Pax while searching for a medical text. It was a simple meeting and he found himself enjoying the company of the well mannered and soft spoken student of the master archivist. During the vorns they spent developing their friendship, Ratchet developed a very specific view of his friend, one that was so deeply engrained into his mind that when Orion finally felt comfortable enough to show some of his more wild traits, it took Ratchet by complete and total surprise.

It started small of course. Orion began simply by showing off his fanged denta more often, a sign of trust since most shied away in fear when he smiled. Ratchet raised a brow but said nothing in regards to Orion's denta. He had seen far more interesting mutations and modifications in the medical ward. A fanged set of denta was nothing to him.

Then when Orion grew more comfortable he also started wrapping his field around Ratchet's, albeit hesitantly at first. That set off a few alarm bells for Ratchet but he once again didn't make a comment on it since Orion never smothered him in his field or tried anything sketchy. To Ratchet it seemed like a greeting and defensive gesture and so he allowed it to be without issue. Of course when Orion began quietly allowing bits of emotion to flow through and into his field Ratchet began to reconsider his stance on remaining silent. But as Ratchet observed and saw that the emotions were all soothing and protective in nature he opted to continue to allow Orion to do as he wished. It was odd having another constantly wrap him up in their field as if he were a glass doll, especially in Iacon where every mech kept their fields tucked as close as possible. But Ratchet had heard tales of places where such behavior was normal and so thinking Orion must have come from such a location on Cybertron, he began returning the gesture.

The first time he allowed his field to tentatively reach out to Orion's, the archivist's optics blew wide and he nearly dropped what he was holding to stare in awe. The surprise didn't last for long as a huge smile soon spread across Orion's face which was quickly followed by his field intermingling with Ratchet's happily. It was rather overwhelming and Ratchet pulled his field back, wrapping it as close to his protoform as he could while he dealt with the string of emotions that came from Orion's end. And while Orion looked apologetic and somewhat put off by his harsh retreat, the archivist never took the moment to spark and life continued as always, with Ratchet sometimes allowing his field to brush across and mingle with Orion's when he was feeling confident.

On such occasions Orion never ceased to smile in joy, his whole frame puffed up in pride as if he had just won something. Ratchet did not understand at all but as usual didn't comment on the increasing oddity that was Orion Pax... right up until Orion went nuts when a mech began harassing him.

Ratchet had always been told he was pretty, by his peers, his friends, and even by Orion on occasion. But the mech before him was taking it too far, probing and getting in his personal space in such a way that Ratchet wanted to purge. Throughout most of the interaction Orion had been civil, watching and glaring at the mech, his ever so slightly clawed digits curled up in a fist but otherwise not acting. But when the mech got close enough for his field to touch where Orion's wrapped around Ratchet like a shield, revealing all the mech's perverted intentions, all hell broke loose. Before the mech could react Orion screeched with enough volume and intensity to cause the nearby mecha to pause and stare in horror as Orion punched the mech clean in the face. He didn't stop there and clambered all over the mech, digging his claws into exposed seams and biting down on any piece of plating he could connect to.

It was the most terrifying deviation from the normal, kind, and calm archivist that Ratchet knew, so much so that he fell back to the ground in shock as his friend tore into the mech. Orion only stopped when Ratchet regained his senses enough to tear Orion off the mech even as Orion hissed and flailed, eager to get back into the one sided beatdown he was engaging in. Even when he finally calmed enough to disengage, Orion clung to him, his plating flared and growling at any mecha who came near, even officers who came to investigate. Ratchet was contemplating trying to knock his friend out or even make a run for it when Alpha Trion turned up, scruffed Orion, and dealt with the situation.

Orion was kept away from everyone for a few days afterward and when he did meet with Ratchet... it was awkward until Ratchet just asked the question that had been eating at him.

Ratchet: What in the pits was that?!

Orion: It was... a reaction from my base coding

Ratchet: Your base coding is still active?

Orion: Yes, and when I get... attached to other mecha, it tends to act up more often around them. My apologies.

Ratchet was dumbstruck by the revelation. Never once did he imagine that his kind and quiet archivist had active base coding. Not only that, but the fact that it was active had worrying implications. After all, the only way base coding remains active in fully developed mecha is due to extreme stress or exposure to another with active codes. And since Ratchet was 99% sure no one else in the archives had active base codes, he held Orion close after the revelation and treated him with all the care in the world as he dug around looking for who might have hurt his dear friend.

Orion didn't notice Ratchet's efforts and just seemed oh so pleased with Ratchet's affection that he was completely unaware as Ratchet rooted out the entire archive. He dug around in staff records, scanned through security footage, looked for anything suspicious, and even did some basic questioning. He also may or may not have given Jazz a handful of shanix to get him files on individuals that he found to possibly be involved somehow. But eventually Alpha Trion stepped in and let Ratchet know that "No, Orion was not abused. He just came from the wilds" once again leaving Ratchet dumbstruck. He had been so certain he was dealing with an abuse case that he overlooked another possible answer.

He felt like an idiot and did not reveal the fact he had gone rooting through everyone Orion had ever interacted with. He still couldn't bring himself to stop giving Orion affection even after he was made aware of Orion's situation. However even with everything cleared up and Orion's behavior being given a viable cause, Ratchet still did not expect to find a dead mech-animal on his workstation around a half vorn after Orion's tussle with the mech who had bothered him. This he did comment on and told Orion quite firmly that "no, dead mech-animals are not proper presents for civilized mecha, but thank you all the same".

Orion sheepishly nodded at being told as such and didn't bring Ratchet anything of that variety again. But the medic in training often found small shiny things on his workstation instead. Once he even found what looked to be an optic, earning an innocent shrug from Orion when Ratchet brought it to him in horror. And while Ratchet did get rid of the optic, he kept everything else Orion gave him in a small and methodically organized container. He made sure to write the date of when he received each gift and kept everything clean and well maintained. Of course if anyone commented on his box of trinkets from his friend, they received a seething glare and promptly left the topic alone.

By the time Orion began preparing to go and perform politically and meet Megatronus, Ratchet had grown used to Orion's behavior and even welcomed it. He pretended to not see the subtle scratches Orion left on his plating after their meetings, a sign that he knew to be a claim of sorts. He did not object to Orion playing the role of a protector when they went out and even found it calming to have Orion stand tall, plating firm and slightly flared as he glared at passers by. He especially found it nice to not have to deal with unwanted mecha as Orion would make his claim explicitly clear by wrapping his arms around Ratchet and growling lowly. It usually got the point across, sometimes even causing misunderstandings in regards to their relationship. But in the odd event that Orion's behavior didn't warn off an offender... well, Orion had more than a few charges of assault tacked onto his record.

Ratchet was surprised to see his archivist so possessive and wild when he allowed himself to relax, but he enjoyed the company of Orion all the same.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #ratchet #orion pax #feral orion pax #my boy would kill for ratchet and we all know it #even as optimus he still would gladly end anyone who touches HIS medic #obviously ratchet belongs to him #look at all the scratches

[toastytransgal]

Holy fuck, I just purged like over 2/3rds of my followers because they were all just sissy or trans-fetishizing blogs. Went from about 1500 to now less than 350. Cause of this I deleted all the pics if myself I've posted here, and don't intend to upload any more. I'll double check later on my pc if I deleted them all, it'd also be nice if anyone could dm me any that I've missed.

Going through all these blogs has made me feel so gross, I found so many blogs run by people saying they "want to fulfill their trans fetish one day", or sissy blogs that say they aren't interested in men or women, ONLY sissies. Like I don't have any problem with your fetish, UNTIL you start associating yourselves with trans people, or tagging your shit with trans people, or fucking CALLING TRANS PEOPLE SISSIES. I fucking hate it, it makes me so unreasonably angry. I just want them all to go away...

Not to mention, whenever I'd post pics of myself, the amount of unsolicited dick pics I'd receive. Holy fuck it's like I'm on grindr in all the worst ways possible. I even feel bad reblogging other trans peoples' selfies, cause now I just sick my fucking huge following of chasers, sissies and weirdos on people unintentionally.

So, from here on out, no more pics of me, if you see any pics of me please send me the post so I can delete it. I'm tired of blocking these people, tired of having the most unpleasant interactions with them. I'm just fucking tired of this. Why can't I just be on the internet in peace, free from fetishizing fuckers harassing me with pics of their cocks. Leave me the fuck alone.

My blog is just gonna be reblogging stuff I find funny, and probably more pics of my dogs. Feel free to unfollow if you wanna. 🤷‍♀️

#transgender #transfem #transgirl #lgbtq #trans #fuck off and leave me alone 😭 #fed up with this shit #sick and tired of being fetishized

[loverboy-havocboy]

Are we doing closet cloneshipper confessions here? If so, hi

I've been in the tumblr fandom communities for over a decade and joined the sw community right before the last season of tcw premiered. It legit never occurred to me that anyone would have an issue with clonecest - spn was still running and wincest was like the second most popular ship there so it seemed like standard fanfic fodder until the antis had a huge meltdown a few months later and drove half the people I followed out of fandom completely.

And then tbb started and some of the same people who had such an issue with clonecest decided they hated all of tbb too. I was beyond pissed at that point so I started a little tbb side blog to spite them. I didn't really have any tbb cloneships at the time so I sorta ended up with a non-ship tbb blog by accident and it got a lot bigger for me than the original page and now I have friends through that who are def not fans of the cloneshipper life and have no idea that I ship.

At first it was fine because my ships were totally separate from tbb anyway but lately I've really been feeling the crosshunt feels and I don't feel like I can say anything about it at this point, you know? It feels like I've been lying even though that wasn't my intent at all - it really just didn't come up as an issue until now. If someone had asked me if I ship clones, I would have said so straight up but no one ever did and now I'm afraid to be the one to bring it up.

I don't care what rando antis say to me. They have no power over me. But I don't want to lose my friends over it. I don't know how they'd react. I know they don't like clonecest and I'd never ask them to participate in something they don't ship but I genuinely don't know if they'd be more ship and let ship about it or if they'd insta block me for it. I want to think they'd be cool about it but some people who seemed so reasonable before got so out of control when the anti clonecest purge went down before so I don't know what to think.

oh anon, i'm sorry. i will give you my 2 cents but i am just a little guy, ykwim?

i think it would be so hard to lose friendships you've cultivated over such a period of time, people you care about. but at the same time.. are they the kind of people you're sure you want to be friends with if you're so afraid to voice an opinion about fictional characters? i mean, cloneshipping isn't even a real life moral issue, as much as antis want to treat it like one. if they turn on you for that.. they'd probably turn on you for something equally superficial eventually, right?

so i think engaging in things that make you happy will make your life better than trying to please judgemental people in the long run.

#ask havoc #cloneshipping #antis #the anti saga

[canmom]

Animation Night 157: Hungary

Jó estét mindenkinek! Eljött az Animációs Éjszaka ideje.

Good evening everyone! It’s time for Animation Night.

Hungary!

Tonight I’m going to continue the grand tradition of ‘copying Aniobsessive-senpai’s homework’, and take us to visit the ‘Hungarian school of animation’, aka magyar rajzfilmiskola. They were a bunch of experimental weirdos from the period when Hungary was ruled Much like the Zagreb School from across the border in Croatia (AN 136), who were a biiiig influence, they launched away from the midcentury UPA style and experiments like Yellow Submarine to make something unique.

The best known Hungarian animated film is Son of the White Mare (1981) directed by Marcell Jankovics. Lemme quote Aniobsessive:

[White Mare] is hard to compare to other animated features. Marcell Jankovics and his team used Hungarian folk art and folk tales as the basis for a huge, mind-expanding, psychedelic adventure movie. It tells an accessible story in an art-house style — 90 minutes of searing colors and spellbinding patterns, with each character in a state of constant transformation.

This film was wildly influential, reaching people like Genndy Tarkovsky to form a big part of the DNA of Samurai Jack. But White Mare didn’t spring out of nowhere.

The 20th century for Hungary was, to put it mildly, a rough time. Here’s a really really brief version. In World War I, Hungary was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, which lost the war hard and basically collapsed. In the resulting power vacuum the country was separated from Austria and went through a brief communist revolution which fell to a monarchist counterrevolution; the monarchists surrendered to the Entente in 1920 and gave up most of the country’s land. In the new peace, the new monarchy set about their agenda of ‘doing antisemitism’, which predictably got a great deal worse in the 30s following the great depression and the rise of Hitler nearby.

So in WWII, Hungary sided with the Axis. They joined Hitler in invading the USSR, and got pretty much crushed. The Hungarians started negotiations to break from the Axis and surrender, but Hitler noticed and quickly ordered his soldiers to occupy, appointing a Nazi governor; at this point the Holocaust in Hungary kicked up a gear and the Nazi-backed Hungarian government deported hundreds of thousands of Jewish people to the death camps. To brush over a messy story, within a year the Soviets counter-invaded and destroyed the fascist government, establishing Hungary as in the Soviet sphere of influence in the aftermath of the war. The Hungarian communist party, which had existed despite its ban during the war, joined forces with communists from Moscow... uneasily.

After briefly playing with elections, the Soviets reorganised Hungary as a single-party Leninist state. The new government set about the whole show-trials-and-purges-and-statues-of-the-leader routine, attacking his rivals as spies in the pocket of the Americans, or maybe Big Trotsky. A lot of messy intra-party politics took place while the country struggled economically, attempting to copy Stalin in dismantling the peasants and building heavy industry. In the 50s, a certain prime minister Imre Nagy won popularity by relaxing some of the state control and closing labour camps and so forth, but this put him at odds with Moscow, and he was attacked as a right-deviationist and driven out of politics. But not for long...

(Did you think that was an end to the antisemitism btw? Lmao no of course not. In 1953 the government tried to frame three random Jews for the abduction of Raoul Wallenberg, a Swedish industrialist who saved thousands of people during the Holocaust, who in reality died in a Soviet prison. That whole affair abruptly stopped when Stalin died.)

In 1956 it all came to a head with the ‘Hungarian Revolution’, started by students, which like all such uprisings was messy but broadly was pro-Nagy and anti-Soviet. Nagy, who had only recently been returned from political exile in the wake of the ‘Khruschev Thaw’, took control of the party with his allies. He went so far as to announce that Hungary might even withdraw from the Warsaw Pact. ‘Excuse me?’ said Khruschev, and sent in the Red Army tanks to remove Nagy and his supporters, killing about 20,000 people in the process. This is one of the two incidents that led to the coinage of the word ‘tankie’, originally meaning someone who defended Khruschev’s intervention.

The next guy, János Kádár, started out by attacking the participants in the 1956 uprising, but changed his tune and declared an amnesty in the 60s, establishing a relatively relaxed set of policies nicknamed ‘Goulash Communism’ which encouraged foreign trade and consumerism. As such, it’s this period where Hungary started making a bunch of animated films.

Because yeah this is a post about cartoons actually!

In the 60s, Hungarian animators - funded by the state - were following in the footsteps of the Zagreb School, with its unique approach to timing and design philosophy. But eager ot put their own spin on it, they started introducing bright colours and textures to the UPA style, in films like Duel (1960) and Ball with White Dots (1961).

In 1968, Sándor Reisenbüchler, a colleage of Jankovics at Pannonia Film Studio with a wildly improvisational method, released his first short film The Kidnapping of the Sun and Moon, created with the assistance of his wife. The film is an absolute riot of shapes and colours, all relating a story of a many-headed dragon which devours all the stars until a hero comes to slay it. For Reisenbüchler it’s an anti-war metaphor. Despite being controversial back home, the government eagerly started spreading it abroad in Russia and US alike as a symbol of cool shit being made in Hungary.

Reisenbüchler would go on to make many more films, such as The Year of 1812 (Az 1812-es év) in 1972, but he’d still hold a special place in his heart for Kidnapping.

The British film Yellow Submarine dropped in 1968, and sent major waves into both Hungary and Yugoslavia. For Hungarian artists like Jankovics, it was the inspiration they needed to find a third pole of animation, distinct from both the Disney tradition and the UPA style. He appreciated the space it offered for inconsistency - character designs would no longer need to be identical in every shot, the messiness could be part of the style.

In 1973, Jankovics directed the first feature-length Hungarian animated film, titled Johnny Corncob (János Vitéz). Based on an 1845 epic poem, it tells the story of the worldwide adventures of a young soldier separated from his over, completed over a period of 22 months at Pannonia. The film was a huge undertaking, and its style is unlike pretty much anything before or since, with something of a Western flavour, and uniquely Hungarian outfits...

The next year, Jankovics released a much smaller project, the two-minute long Sisyphus. Jankovics was determined to constantly reinvent his style, lest his films get lost in the shadow of the ones before.

In contrast to the bright colours and textures, Sisyphus, completed in just six weeks, keeps things about as simple as possible: pure black and white silhouettes with a brush texture. Most of the 1800 drawings were by Jankovics himself, and much of the rest by Edit Szalay, who would soon become a key part of White Mare. Into the myth of Sisyphus, Jankovics channeled his own struggles with the nigh impossible task of creating the country’s first animated film. And this film proved wildly popular, running around the world from Yugoslavia to Iran. It threatened to overshadow everything else Jankovics did, and so he changed his style up completely for White Mare.

As the 70s went on, the films just got more experimental. Honeymation (Mézes-táncos) in 1975, directed Ferenc Varsáyani, decided to do a stop motion film entirely with gingerbread people. It was photographed by Gábor Csupó, who would later leave Hungary to America and co-create the Rugrats series. Eventually he would reunite with Varasáyani who would come to work on Rugrats too...

The 70s also saw the wildly popular TV series Rabbit with Checkered Ears, dir. Zsolt Richly and written by Veronika Marék. The two became friends while writing for a childrens’ magazine, and that magazine style would adapt perfectly to depict the clumsy, floppy rabbit. In a big cabin in the yard of Pannonia, Zsolt Richly oversaw the creation of the series for years. You can read more about the story here.

And of course this whole thing was a massive success in both Hungary and pretty much everywhere else, launching both into animation. The floppy plush main character reminds me a little of Marumi from Paranoia Agent, but this one isn’t so sinister. It’s just a very cute bunny in an appealing style. All the episodes are entirely wordless, relying on the expressive movement and music to convey the story. This person seems to have uploaded the full series on Youtube, albeit not really organised into a playlist, so check it out ^^

As then we enter the 80s, Jankovics got the studio working on their biggest project, Son of the White Mare, bringing all these threads together into one massive project, the magnum opus of the Hungarian school at large. So that’s what we’re going to watch tonight! A whirlwind tour of Hungarian animation’s important short films, and Son of the White Mare. (I would show Johnny Corncob as well, but it’s late and it’s proving slow to download, so another week.)

Eventually of course the Soviet Union fell, and Hungary’s Leninist state apparently transitioned to a regular capitalist one relatively gently. Pannonia continued to function, making films up to around 2011 with the final film of Jankovics, The Tragedy of Man, but ultimately closed its doors in 2015. Jankovics himself passed away in 2021. I would love to investigate some of this later Hungarian animation, but I’ll have to save that for another day...

And so! Animation Night 157 will go live in just a minute at twitch.tv/canmom, and I plan to begin showing films on the hour (22:00 UK time)! I’d love to see you there!! Let’s check out a corner of animation history that is far too unknown, and watch a film that’s said (by someone somewhere) to be one of the best animated films of all time...

#animation night #hungarian animation #very much 'writing about what i have sources for' here - don't take this for a complete overview by any means

[taee]

genuinely how do you deal with this fandom? i am reaching burnt out levels of exhaustion dealing with its whining, witch hunting underdog complex. i get things have been rough but some of them really act out like children. worse, like headless chicken who can't be trusted in society. the level of pettiness infantilization and almost cult like behavior that some parts of it are exhibiting is honestly worrying. and that's without mentioning the feeling of entitlement to the members private moments. i just. so goddamn tired of it all. i have tired but i dont think i can keep interact with it as closely as I've been doing

and i cant speak for them, but I fear the members are also getting sick of it

My response got a little too long so I'm putting it under the cut!

Honestly…I just actively ignore the toxic parts of it. Not the best way to handle things but there really is no point getting invested in all the drama because in most cases they just turn out to be a waste of time and emotions. Like Issues that don’t exist and only blew up because someone’s personal opinion/assumption went viral on social media. I don’t need to go into more details because I believe you’ve seen a lot more than I have…Anyway, I’d much rather spend more time in things that actually matter like loving and supporting the members. I’m here for a good time and I also want to be here for a long time. 

I can see why this fandom is extremely protective of the boys considering all that they’ve been through in the past, but there is a line that we shouldn’t cross. We’re a very spoiled fandom I don’t deny that. A huge part of the members’ lives have been made into content and fed to us all these years. So much that some of us forget that the members have their private lives off camera. And they go crazy when they learn about a fact but there is no visual content for them to consume. 

I actually do believe that the members themselves recognise this too, the song Pied Piper is a good indication…

I’m very late to this I’m truly sorry ;; I do hope you’ve managed to distance yourself from all the toxicity and negativity since. If not, please do so! I think another thing you can do other than a social media cleanse is to give your following list a purge. Blacklist and block content that you don't want to see, you have all the right to do that. Your wellbeing comes first, so take care okay? Sending lots of love and hugs your way <3

#if you still need a place to scream about the members my inbox is always open!! #(i’m not perfect myself but…you choosing dropping this in my inbox…i hope that means you’re comfortable with me ;;) #though I may take awhile a little while to respond sometimes…my bad #answered #anon

[cheemken]

What do you mean the villain au is supposed to be dead dove don't eat???? hello?????

but will you actually write the au like that or keep it as it is? I'm curious what changes there will be or will it stay the same?

if it's no trouble, what about a little snippet of it being dead dove don't eat, if that's alright with you!

Yeah it's supposed to be the epitome of all my angsty stuff, like, the whumpiest of whump of all my aus, all the fucked up horrible things that a character can go through or do should be in that au hahah

Ah, idk, maybe?? If someone asks hahah or maybe that chance went by na, so hey I'm just going w what we have rn, it's still dope hahah

And I didn't really write stuff bc ofc it's just a concept for me, just smth I'd think abt and I never write that stuff down unless someone asks or if I wanna share hahah but hey have some concepts on the initial concept of the villain Dia au, as a treat uvu

Like,, Diantha is legit the worst in my initial concept of the villain au, homegirl legitimately did not give a single fuck abt anyone that isn't her brother or Geeta, she actually killed Malva herself and made her own pkmn watch. Her manipulation runs especially deep in Augustine to the point that this man couldn't even talk back in a certain tone to his sister nor could he ever say no to her, so every secret he was told to keep by someone else, he has to tell her, or else. And hey, w Geeta too, she probs killed a man for Dia at one point let's be real, and Dia showered her w praises, telling her she's such a really good friend for doing her that one favour

Idk if you remember but like, that concept w Mom Carnet? Yeah, Diantha wasn't supposed to kill her during that, my first thought of it was that she kept Mom Carnet alive till present time, and tortured her in the basement. Yknow, burning her skin too, hitting her with that rod, engraving her own initials on Mom Carnet's body, laughing at her as she watches her cry and plead for forgiveness, to just kill her, to grant her at least that mercy. But nah, Diantha suffered so long under her mother, it's only fair her mother suffers too. Mom Carnet is still alive tho, like that concept where Cynthia and Augustine tries to look for Dia? Yeah, Augustine was supposed to find Mom Carnet in the basement during that hahah

Dia in the initial concept is an absolute demon spawn, like tragic backstory be damned honestly, she doesn't care abt purging the world of evil or anything, oh no, she just wanted a world where she would be hailed as queen, for people to worship her like the god that she is. Like she really got everyone in Kalos wrapped around her fingers and none of them are any wiser. When she killed Malva, she told everyone that she probably couldn't stand a life without Lysandre, so she followed suit, and the people believed her and they all grieved, but Dia really didn't care, she thought it was funny that they'd grieve over a member of Flare, a useless organization that was ran by an even worthless man

She really knows how to break anyone and make them bow to her will, knows just what they desire, sensual or not, she'll give them just that, give them everything they want, and suddenly she'd take it from them, saying if they don't pledge their loyalty to her, then they'd share the same fate as those who were damned by Arceus

And yknow, the tournament thing happened still, but w this I wanna say Diantha really didn't cause a huge uproar w Yveltal, rather she got Rose assassinated, or she got him kidnapped, and she ends up torturing him the same way she did w Mom Carnet. Like maybe locking him up in a dark and small room, leaving him there for days, until he loses his mind. And for her it's fun to watch him slowly descend to madness, it's fun taunting him on where his little champion is, why isn't he here to save you then? She'd laugh at him, showing him a picture of Leon still living his best life, and then looks at Rose, sneering at him, bc he doesn't care about you. He never did. And basks in the sheer amount of morbid joy she felt when his arrogant look paled, this is what happens I guess, when you try to challenge me

And yeah hahahah this was really fun to write for this ask, but yeah that's like, the tip of the iceberg still ig there's still a whole lot going on but hey hahah

#real quick tho is it really still called dead dove dont eat?? like.. for the really angsty stuff? #cause i looked it up here and majority of the content in that tag is smut #is whump the thing i should use for this?? #ah well hey if anything yall just send an ask on what tags to use on this bc i really dont know #angst #heavy angst #death mention tw #torture mention #murder mention tw #just to be safe hahah #villain diantha au #an ask and an answer #anon

[cotlfanficspromptsblog]

COTL ROTOF(Fanfic)

Pt 8 : "Life, Death, Love and Rebirths

9-9-23

"It has already been a Whole 2 and Half Months since Lambert murdered 2 of his Beloved Wives with Lady Dimistru and later on Ascended M3gan(Lambert's 3rd Beloved Wife) in Peace inside the Temple. soon enough he felt as though it's time to bring them both back and as Rebirthed Versions through Indoctrinating Both Dimmi M3ggy back into the Cult after hearing some absoutely Splendid News from his Good Friend S O U P the Angelic Guardian of The Gateways of Old Faith.

Lambert then went upwards towards the Gateway and saw his Friend/Foster Guardian S O U P peacefully standing but watching him walk slowly towards his Passage but not too fast due to S O U P being pretty Cautious about the young Lamb traveling into his Dimensional Realm.

The Bowlheaded Guardian smiled kindly at Their Adopted Calf with as much Graditude.

S O U P : "Ah, Well Hello Again Young Lambert! How are thy doing this Fine day?

Lambert then smiled back while he bowed proper & Gentle like while holding his Blue Fleece like a Gown.

Lambert : "Good Morning, my Favorite Guardian! I am mighty fine this wonderful day thanks for asking.

S O U P : Well alrighty then!, Glad to see you pretty excited. mind telling me why your excited hm. is it because of my upgraded wheel of fortune isn't it? *giggles*

Lambert stood surprised that the Guardian read his mind in a instant and knew exactly what he was thinking which soon started to laugh at how easily fooled he was by them.

Lambert : *scoffs nervously* oh yeah, of course i was thinking about the Necklaces and the Wheel of Fortune getting a huge update trust me you will not believe how much I LOVE your necklaces especially the..

"Right Before Lambert was about to finish his sentence, S O U P then interrupted"

S O U P : "The golden skull, your personal favorite one i know!

Lambert : Yeah that's the one!, how you'd know that Soupie? *laughs*

S O U P : I've been knew since you first tested it on your three wives Samantha, Lady Dimistru & M3gan ever since that day.. and afterwards you was obssessed with those specific golden skulls!

The Guardian smiled and while they quietly reminisced about all of those fun times Lambert enjoyed the Purgetory Runs and getting god Tears even while regulary crusading every week & even everyday of his Thriving Cult when increasing devotion through his followers. soon enough he saw Lambert grabbing a few god tears he's collected in his recent purge run last night and already was ready to spin that wheel.

Lambert : Oops sorry i was interupting your thinking Soupie.. i was just grabbing a god tear i've collected last night and wondering if i could spin it right now?

S O U P then nodded in agreement to Lambert's Question "You May Young Lamb!

Lambert then jumped while kicked his bottom hooves while happily giving S O U P his god tears while the wheel spined

Lambert was lucky to get 3 Gold Skull Necklaces & 1 Missionary Necklace which he was really glad to obtain them all.

Lambert : Gee that was good spin for today! Thanks Soupie!

S O U P : Your very welcome little lamb! glad your happy gaining my fine necklaces for your collection.

Lambert then walked back to his Cult to check on his followers while really glad he had S O U P as his not only his new guardian but even his Bestest Friend!

#fanfic #cotl #cotl spoilers #cotl rotof

[the-firebird69]

Watch "ws guidedtutorial aivograndpa 01 en video 60s 1080x1920" on YouTube

So remember where it was and he ate a bunch of cows and you feel better his face started healing and he's been sick like that before he says very horrible but he got through it and he hurt his brother say it and the others were terrified. He didn't tip the house up no he did want to scare them and frighten them it's working off so you're ruined it cuz I don't think so yeah a little bit better to feel better than scare people that you need to get your front back remember it says you're actually right seafood works a lot but I don't think you're near it and be forex with the preteen creatine protein and see amino acid so he said okay and it's the cow so he's eating the cows and he's saying it's pretty delicious and cooked with a little and said it's even better starting to feel a lot better I need a whole bunch ate a bunch of grain looked and his face was coming back half of it was back it was kept on eating and eating it all sudden he said I'm just going to stay in giant form. So he's eating and eating and he says he hears a subnatural noise can you get to seafood and he tries and it's too far so you stuck out there now finds where the cows are and eat some out kills a bunch of people trying to stop him finally says this I got to stop eating everything inside it's going to eat people and he said it's probably not good and all sick you keep the cattle healthier than they are eagles you're actually right and eat a ton of cows yes what about other things you need pickles and how do you do that when you're huge found some food stores and went to town it's really what he needed so he's fine he's up there in Alabama area one time Guantanamo Bay I think they took over the islands at this point it's the past she says how did you find me well this guy Tommy f talks by having me put it out there to blame me. And I think he's linked but he's very dangerous and be doing for thousands of years and displaced us and I wasn't there but and the nephews of mine he says wow he did all that yeah in the Holocaust in The Purge and explaining you grandad and a few other people and got these idiots to do stuff to you and the max are doing it too and they'll end up being them so he said that's good and he's pleased figured out that you know but these guys are doing it too so you ran off and he's trying to hide in a hell of time and it's just another camera I think it was the area and where they are at least like transportation and ate should be able to remember where that is it's like giant trucks and giant tanks so we kind of remembrance where they were a little and the idiots making the heat Giants so we went out there at night and drove off with one and usually you don't follow it no they do but he went pretty fast and went into a cavern and they didn't go in there now is up there screaming and yelling for help I'll send you heard this boom boom boom boom more like yelling on the intercom get that son of a b**** and they're saying Mac says you don't call me that. Opens his eyes and says I've been here the whole time wow that's weird wait it's probably 23 and he goes wow I haven't been here the whole time I think I drove through it he did something to you and they said yeah he said yeah I think she's the statue unless they knew it was in Florida but I could be wrong it doesn't look like her so he figured out something and so I knew where she was nearby so then he goes what they do capture please so. She's in Rushmore and he said no so he was writing it down yeah and he said oh so he's working he's feeling better he's healing and he's eating and he has stuff in the cavern her bugs so you should need too many you're going to get way too small. So he's feeling better and he's working on it it's very the diet and it's freaking slowly and instead of me an army or something and I don't have one the computers are on instead of we have those things and that was on

Hera Zues I'm coming up shortly but you can see his face and the two are terrified it was Jason and one of the guys brad. And Trump was rolled over and pushed into the muck he'll tell him to saw Dave

#Youtube

[sohin-ace]

Jolyne - No Ordinary Girl

Mermaid Y/N x Surfer Jolyne

Today was a particularly fitting day to go to the beach. Jotaro had taken Jolyne, Hermes and Foo Fighters to the shore. He mostly went for some observation and the girls decided they would take advantage of the nice weather for some surfing.

It was not long after they arrived and started installing themselves that Jolyne and Hermes' eyes fell into very familiar faces.

Annasui, upon seeing the group, walked towards the girls with a confident stance, making sure his long hair was flowing in the wind.

"Oh look who we have here. The ladies victory." Annasui exclaimed, before completely falling heart-eyed, his voice and tone softening, dreamy even, at the sight of his object of worship. "Hi Jolyne~"

"Oh! Weather Report's there! Hi Weas!" Jolyne called out to the older man arranging a parasol a few feet behind, her completely ignoring the pink haired-male that seemed to have come with him. He waved shortly at Jolyne in response.

"Anyways, what are you guys up to?" Hermes asked, sipping on some lime flavored granita.

"Well, as you can see..." He pointed at the ocean, "We just wanted to take a day to work out a bit, but the waves are real nice today."

He leaned in not so subtly towards Jolyne, despite Hermes' evident judging gaze.

"But you know what else is real nice today?" He brought his hand up to cup Jolyne's chin, but before he could even say or do anything, Jolyne leaned away and pointed behind him.

"Oh wow! My dad's coming back with drinks!" She called nonchalantly, looking behind Annasui like he was more transparent than air itself.

"...! DRINKS?! DRINKS!!" Foo Fighter gasped, pushing the feminine man off to the side with such force, he fell and slid against the sand.

"Hey, Jojo," Hermes tapped her friend's shoulder, "Let's show these pendejos how girls ride waves."

The Asian American smirked, eager to show who's boss and always ready to follow on her best friend's mischief. "I'm racing you then."

"Pfft, I won't go easy girlfriend." The Mexican cracked her knuckles and grabbed her plank.

After surfing for long enough and being outran by Jolyne's stamina, Hermes decided to go back and sunbathe next to F.F's who was playing cutely with sand.

Jolyne glided full speed over the water, the wind and droplets of salty water refreshing her skin. More than competition, Jolyne loved the acceleration, the adrenaline, the sweet fresh air through her long hair. When she was surfing, Jolyne's heart lightened up and her mind purged of any negative thoughts, anxiety, fears.

She was at peace.

Before she could enjoy the sweet taste of her peace of mind though, she caught up to a blond surfer in front of her who she recognized as she got closer. Oh god, not him of all people.

"Oh, hey! Isn't that the sexiest surfer in all Miami?" Romeo teased, admiring the girl who gained up on him, "Not bad, look at you go! Who knew my little Jojo would be so talented, hot damn!"

Jolyne frowned and clicked her tongue. She swore if she wasn't so focused on staying in balance, she would drown him on the spot. He laughed obnoxiously, satisfied with being a disgusting excuse of a human.

"Romeo, I swear to fuckin-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, something, a gigantic fish tail appeared out of the wave and flicked itself right accross the blonde, slapping him off of his plank with a painful sound.

"HUAARGHH-" He screamed before crashing into the water with the splash and disappearing behind Jolyne.

"O-OH MY GOD!" She gasped, both surprised by the sudden turn of events, and incredibly scared for her life, thinking some kind of hostile shark was in the shore currently, which was to report immediately.

The moment she decided to take a turn and leave as fast as she could, warning the others to get the hell out of here, a shadowy form within the water followed her along the wave.

Foolishly curious, Jolyne looked at it, not without her heart hammering in her chest at the potential danger she was facing.

What she saw was not a sight she'd have ever expected to ever see in all her 19 years. Her legs shook at the shock and she almost completely fell over her board.

Gliding along the water right next to her, right inside the tall wave, was the figure of... a girl.

Or was it a girl? It couldn't be. She looked human at first glance, but the more Jolyne's gaze moved sideways she noticed the long and impressive fish tail replacing what were supposed to be legs.

Jolyne's jaw felt slack. She felt like she was hallucinating. Believe it or not, she had not smoked or taken any recreative substances beforehand, but she truly wished she had because that would have at least explained what her eyes were showing her.

The girl swimming and following her only smiled, waving cutely with webbed hands, as if amused by Jolyne's disbelieving reaction and wide eyes.

"W-w-w.... What the fuck..???" Jolyne finally spoke after rebooting her entire brain, "No fucking way-...! A mermaid??!! A real one??!"

Like a bad trick from fate, the wave Jolyne was trying her hardest to not get swallowed by, seemed to grow weaker and weaker, shortening in size.

Jolyne saw the mermaid slowly retreat away in an elegant swim, her form vanishing into the deep blue.

"Wait, no!" The surfer called, almost desperate to have such a mystical meeting and ethereal moment be so short lived.

She reached her hand out to the creature, unsure of what she was even trying to do, but the force of the current got the best of her, and Jolyne lost balance, falling forward with nothing to hang onto for purchase.

Jolyne splashed onto the water and the wave died with her hope of ever living such a dream again.

"Ooohh dang it! You were almost there!" Hermes called out from the shore, her voice booming enough for Jolyne to hear as she broke into the surface.

"Fuck...." Jolyne cursed, hanging onto her board.

She felt defeated. Not because she couldn't ride that wave to the very end as she was expected to with her skill level, but rather because she couldn't immortalize that beautiful moment.

She blankly climbed onto her board again and barely even paddled her way back to land, too out of it to do so.

Was that even real? That had to be, right? She saw the mermaid. She saw her hair, her skin tone shined-on by the sun. She saw the scales over her skin, the fins along her arms and tail.

She saw her attack Romeo, he must have seen her too, Jolyne pondered.

"Aaah the champion is back!" F.F cheered as Jolyne finally walked back, drenched and with her plank under one arm. "I made a sandcastle for our ocean queen!"

"Thanks Foo..." Jolyne's small smile didn't not match her quiet tone.

"Hey, what's up, chula ? You look like you've seen a ghost, or something? You did great back there, so why the long face?" Hermes fixed the straps of Jolyne's bikini top and removed some seaweeds from her hair.

"It's just... I saw something weird it the water and I don't know..." Jolyne hesitated, "Maybe I was dreaming or something."

"Hum..." Hermes hummed in thought. "What do you think Féfé?"

"Maybe Mr. Jotaro can answer if you saw an animal? Damn, I'm thirsty." F.F stuck her tongue out, clearly expressing her thirst.

"Dude, there's water litterally everywhere here." The mexican grimaced before turning back to Jolyne. "But yeah, maybe you should ask your dad if that worries you so much."

"Uhh..."

Jolyne looked towards her father who was crouching somewhere next to some rocks, taking notes about mollusks, or so Jolyne guessed.

"Yeah, maybe not. It's fine though, no big deal." She smiled, waving her hand in dismissal.

Shrugging it all off, the girls decided to join Weather Report and Jotaro who brought food to finish the day at the beach with a relaxing touch.

And so, the day ended with an uncanny normalcy for Jolyne, who kept thinking more and more as the sun set, that it all had been in her mind. Mermaids didn't exist. It was probably a Stand user playing tricks on her.

That what she wanted to believe. When she thought of all the events that would follow, she truly wished she had spoken to her father about it. After all, if he had fought a very real vampire, then there would be no doubt that something as crazy as a mermaid could exist in her bizarre adventure.

Jolyne came back to the beach that same week. Alone, this time. She was careful to come by the time the sun started to lower in the sky and the temperature of the water and air dropped, knowing tourists and athletes would be gone by this time.

'What now?' She thought. Coming back out of sheer curiosity was a thing, but making sure she could attract the creature back to her was something else.

"Should I bring food? What do mermaids even eat? Does she like hot dogs...?" Jolyne thought out loud, looking around, secretly glad no one was here to hear her talk mad nonsense to herself like some insane crackhead.

She approached the water and drenched her feet in the small rocking waves, coming and going her way and gently splashing her. She hesitated for a moment, remembering that along with the legend of mermaids came the fact that these creatures were known to attract and enchant humans by their beauty, leading them to their inevitable death.

So maybe, Jolyne accepted, she was destined to die in the ocean.

Just as she came hip-deep into the sea, she felt a strange current shaking her legs, almost knocking her out of balance.

Before she could even process how strange it felt, she looked down into the clear water and saw no less than the same huge colorful fish tail she had seen that very day.

She gasped in realization and soon enough screamed as she felt calloused hands grab her thighs, the creature pushing herself out of the water to be met face to face with the human who had been, unbeknownst to Jolyne, her newfound fixation.

"Y-WHAAAAAHH!!!" Jolyne hollered, not expecting such a strong and surprising appearance.

The mermaid still halfway into the water, climbed and gripped up the girl's hips for leverage. She looked up at Jolyne's face, smiling wide and eyes glinting in both adoration and mischief.

"Greetings."

"HOLY CRAP-" Jolyne's voice cracked, "I mean- fuck yes! I mean-..."

Poor Jojo was completely out of it. But who could blame her, though? It was not everyday that one got to meet a real mermaid in the flesh. And certainly not such a handsy one.

She cleared her throat and mustered her most suave voice, pretending she wasn't completely flustered by the sheer beauty before her.

"Hi."

"I knew you'd come back..." The mermaid spoke, her voice almost ethereal and distant, "They always do."

Jolyne's heart wanted to stop. God, she felt burning hot and was sweating everywhere. Her voice stilled Jolyne to place in a way she couldn't explain. The legendary creature was so impossibly close to her, bodies almost touching.

She noticed she couldn't stay up overwater any other way than using Jolyne's lean body for leverage, her heavy tail anchoring her down. But the warm proximity between them and the sight of such a beautiful, rare and mystical creature right under her chest felt unreal and exciting.

Jolyne wanted to look her over for hours. Her hair texture, drenched and flowy, her skin tone glowing like gold, her holographic scales and fins shining like crazy diamonds.

"Why... Why did you...? Of all people...?" Jolyne questionned, now wondering if their first meeting in that wave was really a trick of fate, or if she was chosen in any way. "You attacked Romeo, yet you showed up to me... Why me?"

"I like beautiful humans." The mermaid smiled, her radiant features and smooth voice making Jolyne's legs weak, "You're beautiful."

The young surfer couldn't help her heart shaking and the wave of warmth spreading through her chest. If it was anyone else, she would boast her obvious beauty or maybe flip them off. But now she couldn't. Being complimented by a mythical being that was already the most gorgeous thing Jolyne had ever witnessed was truly something else

"What's your name?" Jolyne started.

"Call me Y/N."

Y/N, Jolyne's mind echoed. Cute. Even mermaids had names, she thought before realising that may be a very stupid thought to have. She didn't really know what else to expect.

"I uh, I'm Jolyne..." She looked down into the water, somewhat not daring to look at Y/N's adorable curious and sensual gaze. Oh god that was bad, she was entrancing.

"Not to be gay but...You look cute. Hot even. Can I say that? That's not weird, right? Since ya know... You're not exactly human, but you're not an animal either, like... I'm not gonna get arrested for this... I hope..."

"I'm not too familiar with human tongue, but I think Ms.Jolyne looks really pretty as well." Y/N moved to wrap an arm around Jolyne's waist, gripping her for better leverage and pointing at her chest, right in her reach. "Healthy mammals, great for feeding the young."

"Mammals...? Oh! You mean my boobs?" Jolyne glanced at her modest chest before grinning at the creature, "Aw thanks! Finally someone who likes them who's not some degenerate creep!"

Jolyne's chuckle died down and she finally took the time to look over Y/N's face. She ran a cold hand over her much warmer cheek, gliding it down to her gilled neck, mesmerized by her anatomy.

It truly was a one-in-a-lifetime meeting. Jolyne was slowly comprehending her luck to be met with a legendary sea creature like her. And a friendly one, at that.

How could this be even real? Our human knew that even though she was feeling relatively serene at the moment, the adrenaline would come down later and she would most likely cry herself to sleep.

"Hey uhm..." Jolyne was at a loss for words. There were so many things to say, but at the same time, she couldn't speak a word.

"Hm?" Y/N hummed and closed her eyes, enjoying the human's gentle touches.

Merfolks would express themselves via physical ministrations the most in the ocean, but she knew well a lot of humans did not share intimacies, or at least not before building a certain bond.

Glad that Jolyne was open to it, the sea-bound girl squeezed both her arms around the human's waist lovingly, forcing endearment on Jolyne, who felt her own heart tighten at the sweet and adorable embrace. The girls wanted to keep each other.

"Will we see each other again? I mean, I know you shouldn't be noticed by the public for your safety, but I don't know... Guess I took a liking to you or something." Jolyne mumbled, still resting her hands mindlessly around the creature's shoulders, fiddling with the ridges of her dorsal fin.

Y/N smiled, a smile that looked empty on her fish eyes, but sincere regardless. She let go of Jolyne who couldn't quite take her own hands off of her, clinging a little bit longer.

"Don't you know this, Ms. Jolyne? When human women die in the ocean, they relive as our kind."

"What? Really?" Jolyne let the mermaid get away slowly, ready to swim off to some unknown destination.

"If you want to see me again," Y/N called out cutely, waving her webbed hand like the very first time she saw Jolyne surfing, "Then perish in the ocean!"

She grinned, diving into the deep blue and splashing her tall tail strongly, giving herself a boost of speed, and disappearing away.

Jolyne could only stare into the horizon, darkening as the night arrived, stunned into place.

"...Ok, that was metal as fuck..."

H2O Just Add Water opening, but with Jolyne, Hermes and F.F

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #reader insert #x reader #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #part 6 #jojo part 6 #stone ocean #jolyne cujoh #jolyne #jolyne x reader #jolyne kujo #jolyne kujo x reader #mermaid au #fantasy au #mermaid reader

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Could you talk about the Statute of Secrecy? Or the Ministry’s corruption in General :)

Well, those are two different things. Given that I believe I have an ask floating somewhere in my inbox on the Statute, I suppose we’ll talk about the Ministry of Magic today.

I feel like this is such a broad topic though that I’m not quite sure where to start. I guess I’ll just throw spaghetti at the internet wall and see what sticks.

The Ministry is a Reflection of Society Who Never Admitted They Were the Death Eaters

In the ministry of Harry Potter’s era the Ministry is hopelessly corrupt and filled to the brim with spies (more on this in a later section). Lucius Malfoy, very high up in an unofficial capacity in the Ministry and owner of the Ministry’s mouth piece: The Daily Prophet, was a known Death Eater with a very flimsy excuse.

How is he even able to wield so much influence, you ask? Well, I think it’s not just because of Fudge picking the wrong friends.

I think most the population probably does believe Lucius Malfoy is innocent the way Fudge does. I think it’s a very small subsection, i.e. Dumbledore’s lackies, who go “Nah, ain’t buying it.” I think that, in 1981, when it came time to reveal just how many were Death Eaters and how far this went many people just couldn’t handle it.

Because it was to the point where the nation wasn’t battling Death Eaters, Death Eaters were the nation. Look at the members, these are and were the most influential and prominent families in the country, who combined hold a non-small minority of seats in the Wizengamot. More, these were only the participants, combine those who given anti-muggle and muggleborn sentiment (which I believe are pervasive even among those who claim they fight for the rights of muggles and muggleborns) and you get a nation that is suddenly facing a huge cultural issue that was never previously acknowledged.

We’re talking an entire purge of the Wizengamot, of the Ministry, of the major families and cornerstones of this society. The Black family is completely and utterly destroyed.

People were and remain throughout the 1990′s, desperate to believe it was not as bad as it was or isn’t as bad as it is. If Lucius Malfoy says he was never really a Death Eater then he was never really a Death Eater.

The Ministry is Lousy With Corruption and Spies

What’s hilarious to me is not only is the Ministry incompetent. It is positively flooded with spies. Given the ministry’s overbloated, it’s not even a sizeable minority of employees, but nonetheless every major department has at least one person (if not more) who works for somebody else.

Most work for Tom Riddle. He seems to have intelligence in every department. Through Lucius, who is working pretty much as an unofficial aide to Fudge, he has access to Fudge, complete control of the Daily Prophet, and a voice on the Hogwarts’ board of governors.

Through Rockwood, Tom has direct access to the Department of Mysteries which Lucius is then able to take full advantage of.

Lucius is able to set up an ambush in the Department of Mysteries, getting escaped convicts into the building with the none the wiser, and, had his sole purpose not been a prophecy that only Harry Potter and the Dark Lord can touch, he would have been able to take what he liked. (Though it was always odd to me that the plan was to get Harry Potter to do it, when the better solution would have been to polyjuice Tom Riddle into someone else, set up a tour with the department, and then Tom wanders off conveniently to pick up the prophecy. My theory, I suppose, is that chasing after the prophecy was mostly an exercise in punishing Lucius. And then Lucius fucked up.)

And of course, in book seven, Tom Riddle makes a puppet minister. Point being, to me, it always said a lot that in Book Seven Tom just sort of walks into the building and says, “I’m in charge now” and everyone says “okay”. There was no second Wizarding War, it was a bloodless coup that met zero resistance from anyone but angry school children. 

But that’s Tom’s spies, we also have other spies. Who am I talking about, Dumbledore’s folks of course.

Shacklebolt, Moody, Tonks, and Arthur Weasley are all spies, they just don’t have the introspection to even realize it (which really tells you something about the state of corruption in the ministry). They all work for the ministry, yes, but they in fact pass on information to and serve another master, whose goals do not always align with the government and was a hop skip and a jump away from overthrowing the government at any given moment.

And they don’t even really realize they’re doing this! There doesn’t even seem to be a thought of “I’m doing this for the greater good”, they don’t seem to acknowledge that what they’re doing is very very very bad. Arthur, in fact, is appalled when Percy refuses to do this (well, he’s upset for a lot of reasons, such as that he thinks Percy is spying on Arthur for the minister, but in there is also that Percy refuses to help out with the Order or follow Dumbledore without question). 

Harry paints the Dumbledore’s Army threat that Umbridge saw as something utterly ridiculous, but honestly if I was the ministry I would be worried about this. Dumbledore’s people have infiltrated the ministry just as deeply and badly as the Death Eaters, Dumbledore’s known for recruiting children into his vigilante organization, I don’t know what he’s doing with an army of schoolchildren but I can smell a coup coming.

Anyway, I’m getting off track, point being though that corruption is not only expected and accepted by the ministry, they cannot recognize what it even is. They’re at the point where paying bribes is allocated in their budget.

I Don’t Blame the Ministry For Not Thinking Tom Riddle Was Anti-Jesus

Fudge is designed to get a lot of flack for his outright denial that Voldemort had returned from the dead. He, and other denier characters, are meant to be fools with their heads in the sand who can’t see the obvious.

I ask what about it was obvious?

The only witness to Tom Riddle’s resurrection, Harry Potter, has a known history of erratic behavior.

The previous year, he’d performed illegal magic on his muggle aunt and run away from home. During the previous school year, Harry was revealed to be a parselmouth in a time when the Chamber of Secrets was presumably opened and the mystery was never fully solved (remember, that it was a possessed Ginny never comes to light for more than a few people.) Beyond that, since his first day of school, Harry is routinely in and out of detention, constantly out after curfew, and only seems to not be in serious trouble because he’s openly favored by Dumbledore (who gives him hundreds of points for breaking one of his school rules, during the Philosopher’s Stone fiasco in first year). In 1994, Harry is entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament under very suspicious circumstances.

We know why all this happens to Harry but from the outside he looks like a delinquent. In fact, he kind of is a delinquent. 

Point being, the only witness is not only Harry Potter (who is already sketch) but it’s Harry Potter holding a dead body of a rival in the tournament.

And he’s claiming that a man who has been nearly fifteen years dead, a man who held the nation in terror and Harry Potter is beloved for destroying, has returned from the grave and conveniently murdered Cedric.

Why is Cedric dead? Well, you see, he and Harry both touched the goblet at the same time because they were going to share the reward. The goblet, a national treasure, was turned into a portkey so that Voldemort could kidnap him.

Why didn’t Voldemort just kidnap him at any other point during the year where he’s guaranteed not to get tag a longs or the wrong kid? Uh... VOLDEMORT IS BACK (for the record, I think it’s because Barty got hung up on the goblet scheme and was determined to ruin his father’s day.)

Where is Voldemort at this very moment? Being evil, somewhere, that is not right here. No, Harry has zero evidence this happened.

Frankly, I wouldn’t believe Harry either.

And when Dumbledore goes about promoting this as sound evidence that Tom Riddle has in fact returned, it starts to get even sketchier. Rather than sounding the alarm, Dumbledore is using this boy’s madness to stir the public into a panic that he, perhaps, plans to take advantage of.

After Dumbledore does that, I would suspect that, even if Harry does give me a memory of the graveyard scene that his head had been tampered with by Dumbledore.

And it’s so convenient that, of all the names Harry picked, it’s Voldemort who killed Cedric. It seems like a ploy to not only deflect the fact that he murdered Cedric but 

Harry’s very upset when some don’t take him at his word but Harry’s also a dumbass and a psychopath. He hates everyone who doesn’t agree with him.

More importantly, necromancy isn’t a thing in the Harry Potter universe. People don’t rise from the dead. Horcruxes exist, but they’re extremely rare, and it seems like no one ever really makes use of them.

So, yeah, not unreasonable that Fudge didn’t immediately go, “My god, Voldemort has risen from the dead! LIGHT THE BEACONS AND SUMMON ROHAN!”

So yeah, it’d take me seeing Voldemort waltzing through the Department Mysteries to go “... Goddammit, this man is more unkillable than Sheev Palpatine.”

After the Epilogue, I am Certain It’s Still the Same Damn Ministry

People hate the epilogue, but in a way, I love it, because it confirms many of my headcanons: these people don’t learn a goddamn thing.

Nothing in their society seems to have changed. Instead of one set of families holding all the power it’s now a new set of families and friends holding all the power. The difference being that they are now all in some way connected to Harry Potter.

Nepotism’s still the name of the game, we still see only human children boarding the Hogwarts Express so you know shit hasn’t changed for the goblins, Draco Malfoy’s alive and well and holds a position in the Ministry that Kingsly graciously allows him to have, it’s just now you have Hermione writing all your laws for you.

The Wizarding World is still the Wizarding World in every single capacity. The only difference is that Voldemort is dead again. Hooray.

Harry and friends simply don’t have the introspection to even realize it.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #the ministry of magic #cornelius fudge #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #anti harry potter #voldemort #tom riddle #lucius malfoy #harry potter epilogue #meta #headcanon #opinion #the wizarding world

[janekfan]

Can I request “Can’t wake up” for Jon from the bingo? I love your fics!!!!

aaa thank you! I hope you enjoy it ^^

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642440

“Jon!” Martin crashed through the door to the safe house, locking it for all the good it would do and drawing the curtain to block out the all seeing sky.

As Jon put so eloquently before losing consciousness, it was looking back, and Martin had zero desire to engage in a staring contest. He doubted the efficacy of such an action but it calmed the animal part of his brain that didn’t enjoy being watched and allowed him to focus all of his attentions on the crumpled man folded up on the floor. It hadn’t been an easy drop. Jon’s arm was twisted uncomfortably beneath his body, the side of his face that impacted the floor blossoming into a bruise that didn’t begin the healing process like Martin expected it to.

“Jon?” Kneeling, Martin gently turned his cheek toward him, brushing a thumb over the contused bone, swollen and hot. There was no response; not a groan or a flicker to reassure Martin that there was anything left of Jon at all and he swallowed down the clot of emotion coating his throat like ash and dust. He felt feverish, and when Martin lifted him off the floor, Jon hung lax and loose, stomach rising and falling unevenly when he breathed. With his head thrown over his arm, Jon gaped like a fish, mouth slack and accentuating his irregular wheezing. “Oh, darling.” It sounded neither comfortable nor easy, strained like a broken bellows. Under his hands Jon’s muscles spasmed and Martin wanted to get him as comfortable as possible, whisking him to the bedroom and laying him down among bedclothes still unmade from this morning. “Hey now, it’s time to wake up.” He swept damp and messy strands away from his face, noting his ashen pallor now accented by the flush settling so high in his face.

Martin spent the next quarter hour carefully spooning dosed tea into Jon, holding him close in his lap and counting down the minutes until it was supposed to take effect and rocking them both. Frowning, he pressed his lips against his blistering forehead, hoping, wishing for a change, however slight, and there was none. If anything the fever had risen and Martin perversely found himself praying that the Eye would protect him. It could do them this one favor couldn’t it? It’d taken everything else. Hurt them. Almost torn them apart.

Thoughts like circling vultures followed Martin wherever he went. Fear and anxiety and the feeling of being watched made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up and as much as he wanted to be with Jon, sit with him, watch him, protect him, the silence only made it worse. So, wrist deep in sudsy water Martin methodically scrubbed their breakfast dishes, fighting back tears because this morning everything had been different. Almost hopeful.

And now--

Martin was jolted from his thoughts by a crash, followed by harsh, damp coughing, and he was sprinting to the bed room they shared with his hands on him in seconds, drawing a strangled moan from where Jon was drowning on the floor.

“I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry.” Jon was on his back, hugging his stomach, viscous, black ink streaming from his lips, his nose, his eyes like oily tears. Gently, Martin turned him onto his side, petting back his sweat soaked curls and holding him there as the coughing eased and he labored for air, sweat lining his face in a thin sheen. “You’re alright, breathe, darling.” His skin was a brand against Martin’s, hot and dry, fever burning through him like a prairie fire. “Jon?” Cradled there, in Martin’s hands, glassy brown slipped over him like a river over stone and he laid limp and kitten-weak on the floor like that for long moments until his seeking, searching eyes fluttered shut again. With shaking fingers, Martin smudged the sticky black tracing the curvature of his cheek before realizing it had been too long dried there and leaving to fetch a cloth. With care, he scrubbed away the residue, tugging off the oversized tee before rinsing away the mess and sweeping down his neck, the shallow wells above his collar bones, letting the air wick away the heat buried like coals banked beneath his breast bone. Rather than risk another article of clothing (of Martin’s clothing) he gathered up Jon’s wayward limbs and tucked him between the sheets without before settling down beside him, hand moving over his brow, along his jaw, memorizing familiar planes to soothe himself to sleep.

Martin woke later, drenched in sweat from the spike in Jon’s fever. He was restless with it, falling in and out of static and statement and Martin lost track of how many times he begged Jon to come back to him, to resist whatever was trying to steal him away because he belonged here with him. Though the light no longer changed, Martin spent what seemed like hours running a damp flannel over Jon’s hot skin as he shifted fitfully on the pillows. There was nothing to do for it but persist, last long enough to win out over the Eye’s cruel machinations, whatever they might be.

“I’m here, darling.” Bright, acid green lit up the room in flashes, not unlike a lightning bug trapped in a jar, drawing a distorted magnetic tape whimper from the depths of his throat. “Hush, now.” Carefully, Martin slid an arm under Jon to prop him up, tipping a mouthful of water into him at a time. “Jon.” Firm and demanding, Martin shook him by a narrow shoulder, the tide of fear rising higher and higher and threatening to close over his head.

If he could just slip back into the Lonely for a little while--

The sudden chill and scent of seasalt in the air shocked him out of the all too easy descent.

“Alright, love.” Muttering mostly to himself Martin pressed yet another kiss to his forehead, watching his chest hitch unevenly with a harsh, agonal breath. Jon may not be altogether human, but Martin wasn’t sure anything could burn like this for so long without doing permanent harm. He lifted a thin hand, kisses lingering over each knuckle, and went to run a tepid bath. Utterly silent, Jon sank, head pillowed on a folded towel and held above the water because he wasn’t able to hold himself. Slowly, Martin cupped water over his shoulders, drawing damp fingers through tangled curls, again and again, thumbing carefully over the still angry bruise, droplets like tears carving through the watercolor wash still clinging. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a mark remain this long. “Come on Jon, I can’t wake for you, dearest.” Murmuring sweet nothings he continued, soaking his hair and clearing away the tenacious inky stains from nigh translucent brown vellum.

“Mmmah…” Jon tried to speak, attempt limned with the Beholding’s corruption, and he coughed a river of iridescent black that cascaded down his naked chest, billowing out in obsidian clouds over the water’s surface. “S’s’sor…” Like a skipping cassette, and the second gush threatened to choke him. Head bowed, a few tears dripped into the tub like the indiscriminate ring of a wind chime.

“Shh, shhh.” Please, let this be like a poison leaving his body, a purge of some sort that signalled the end of whatever Jonah had done to him. “Just relax, love, let me take care of you.” A soft cloth lathered with a neutral smelling soap removed the ichor, and Martin massaged shampoo into his scalp, careful to keep it out of Jon’s heavily blinking eyes until they closed again. Dried and dressed, this time with just the slightest bit of awareness, Martin tucked them both in, tugging Jon’s damp head under his chin and running his palm up and down the smooth skin of his back, fingertips ghosting over the raised edges of scars. Jon was sick several more times before finally falling into a deep, restorative sleep, and Martin wasn’t sure what he was going to tell Daisy about her sheets if--when all this was over, but he didn’t need anymore guilt hanging over his head.

A strangled noise roused Martin from where he was curled around the empty Jon-shaped space and bleary eyed he raked over the room to find him peeking through a slit in the curtain. Even from the bed Martin could see how much his hands trembled and he pushed himself up out of the warmth to go to him.

“Jon-darling. You shouldn’t be out of bed.” As though on cue, his knees buckled under him and Martin rushed to catch him up, lowering them both to the cold floor. Jon held on so tight to his jumper his knuckles turned white and he pressed the heel of his palm hard against his temple, shaking, breath hitching, eyes huge and wet and scared.

“M’Martin.”

“Shh. You’re alright.” Gently, he pressed a kiss into his hair, over the shadow that remained of the bruise. Jon's voice was his own again, raw and ravaged as he pulled away to stare, already Seeing, already Knowing, into Martin’s eyes.

“Wh’what have I, I done?”

#TMA #the magnus archives #jmart #jonmartin #jon sim #martin blackwood #vomiting #sick #fever #sick jon #sickfic #INK #bathing #caretaking

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch24: Like The Old Man Said…Together. Part 2- Walk It Off

Summary: The Avengers track Ultron and it’s a race against time before the AI can put his plan into action.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW) violence and crazy assed robots. Oh and “Something dramatic, I hope!”

A/N: This chapter now includes additional content! @angrybirdcr​ has done it again girrrrrl

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 24 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Ultron knows we’re coming. Odds are we’ll be running into heavy fire, and that’s what we signed up for, but the people of Sokovia they didn’t. That’s why our priority is getting them out. All they want is to live their lives in peace, and that’s not going to happen today. But we can do our best to protect them and get the job done. We find out what Ultron’s been building. We find Romanoff. We clear the field and keep the fight between us. Ultron thinks we’re monsters, and that we’re what’s wrong with the world, but this isn’t just about beating him, it’s about whether he’s right.“

Steve certainly felt like he was right when he descended down the ramp and the first thing he saw was a huge mural of himself on a wall to his right. If he hadn’t been so concerned with the word, ‘fašista’ scrawled across it, he might have given some consideration to the fact the art work was pretty good. He looked at the painting, before turning and tossing his helmet back into the jet, almost hitting Katie as she walked down the ramp. Frowning she looked at him, spotted the paining and gave a sigh. She knew that would have upset him.

But whether they liked Captain America or not, the people of Sokovia were getting his help and that of the rest of the Avengers too. Thor and Bruce went underground to Strucker’s base to find Natasha and the Vibranium, Tony and Vision went off to locate where Ultron was and confront him so that Vision could do his part. The rest of them focussed on the evacuation, if this was going to end in a fight as it always did, then it was best to get the civilians out of the way as soon as possible. Steve dispatched Clint to a rooftop to oversee events from up there and Katie headed off with Wanda to the bridge that led out of the city. She could feel the younger girl’s panic even though she did well to try and hide it

"Do you see…the beauty of it? The inevitability. You rise, only to fall. You, Avengers, a meteor. My swift and terrible sword. And the earth will crack with the weight of your failure. Purge me from your computers, turn my own flesh against me. It means nothing. When the dust settles, the only thing living in this world will be metal.”

They seemed to be fighting forever, and Sokovia was getting higher and higher. Just as everything seemed lost and the group looked to be faced with an impossible decision after Tony pointed out that the only thing he could think about was blowing the city before the impact radius got too big. Steve was adamant he was not leaving the city with one civilian on it, when Katie smiled sadly and turned to him.

“I didn’t say we should leave.” She swallowed, and she could feel Natasha looking at her as well from where she stood on her right. Katie turned to Steve, as he looked down at her “There’s worse ways to go.” she said responding to his silent question, her chest heaving resigning herself to the fact that they might not make it out of this alive, surprised the thought didn’t frighten her more at that point.

“She’s right,” Natasha agreed, and Katie turned to look at her. She shrugged and nodded out at the clouds “Where else are we gonna get a view like this?”

“Glad you like the view, Romanoff.”  All three of them started at the very familiar voice that came through the coms. “It’s about to get a whole lot better.”

That’s when the helicarrier came right into view and Katie smiled, her eyes filing with emotion as she felt the relief swell in her chest.

“So this is your ‘something dramatic’?” She quipped and Fury gave a hum of confirmation.

“Nice, right? Pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She’s dusty.” Nick Fury said nonchalantly. “But she’ll do.”

Katie looked round and noticed that Pietro had joined us, looking at the ship.

“Fury, you son of a bitch.” Steve spoke in almost a whisper while shaking his head.

Fury let out a whistle before responded to Steve teasingly. “Ohhh hooo, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Their fight led them to protecting the Vibranium Core that was situated in a church which was in the dead centre of the City and of course Ultron followed them. As The Avengers surrounded their precious charge, Thor yelled out to the AI.

“Is that best you can do?”

Ultron picked his hand up, and what seemed like a million robots began to advance towards them.

Katie groaned, and looked at Steve as he turned to look at Thor, annoyance all over his face. “You haddda ask.” He deadpanned, his Brooklyn accent coming out as it often did in these situations, and Thor at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“This is the best I can do.” Ultron continued on. “This is exactly what I wanted. All of you against all of me. How can you possibly hope to stop me?”

“Well, like the old man said,” Tony stated, and Steve turned to look at him over his shoulder, “together.”

Hulk then let out a loud roar as the swarm of robots attacked.

The robots began running into the church by the hundreds it seemed, but everyone was ready. Arrows, fists and Steve’s shield flew, repulsors, guns and shock sticks fired, speed and red tendrils of power ripped them apart from the inside, lighting flashed and the Hulk smashed. Eventually Ultron joined the fray and Vision flew at him. Ultron punched Vision into the wall but he retaliated by using the mind stone in his forehead to shoot at Ultron making him stagger back and out of the church.

Vision didn’t let up as Thor, Tony and Katie joined the android with lightening and repulsor beams respectively. The Starks surged their arms forward, unloading all the power they had in their suits and the 4 of them combined melted away the outer layer of Vibranium that covered Ultron, which was when they stopped. He could be taken out easily now.

“You know, with the benefit of hindsight – ” Ultron began to say but Hulk roared then punched him so hard he went flying across the city.

Hulk growled at the remaining robots who immediately turned and ran away.

“They’ll try to leave the city.” Thor called out.

“We can’t let them, not even one.” Tony spoke frantically, calling on their other eye in the sky. “Rhodey…”

“I’m on it!” He announced over the radio. “Oh no, I didn’t say you could leave…War Machine coming at you.” there was a pause as Vision flew in to help, phasing and ripping one of them apart “Ok, what?”

“We gotta move out.” Steve spoke as those of them left on the ground re-grouped. “Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats. I’ll sweep for stragglers…”

“I’ll come with you.”  Katie said. For some reason she didn’t want to leave him, or more to the point him to leave her.  Steve looked at her, and he understood, he really did. If there was a chance they were getting separated he really didn’t want to take it but he wanted her on that carrier, away.

“You go and make sure everyone gets out. I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

He’d never broken a promise to her yet, so she took a deep breath and nodded.

“What about the core?” Clint asked while turning to look at it.

“I’ll protect it.” Everyone turned to Wanda, giving her a worried look. “It’s my job.” She clarified nodding to Clint. Clint inclined his head towards her, before he turned to leave.

“Nat.” He said as Steve started to usher everyone bar Wanda out of the church. I threw one last glance over at Wanda before Katie turned to Steve.  

“Be careful.” “I always am.” He grinned.

“Liar.” She muttered watching him go, before she took off again, looking down at the devastation on the ground below. This was far worse than New York. Far worse than Washington. It was horrendous, and Katie wasn’t sure how the people of Sokovia would ever recover.

Clint skidded the car he had been driving to a halt by the lifeboats and Katie landed besides them. There was a roar and she glanced to her left, noticing the huge form of the Hulk throwing around debris of the various robots.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Clint looked at Natasha meaningfully.

“So get your ass on a boat.” She shot back, jumping out of the car.

Clint and Katie then set off, ushering the last civilians around them onto the last boat as they went. Katie spotted Thor stood a little to her left, his head turned over to his right as Steve appeared from inside a building.

“Thor, I’m gonna need you back at the church.” Tony said over the coms.

Thor nodded despite the fact that he couldn’t see Tony and then looked at Steve, breathing heavily. "Is that the last of them?” He asked him.

“Yeah,” He answered instead, quickly looking around at the evacuations taking place, spotting Katie and Clint boarding the boat “Everyone else is on board the carriers.”

“You know, if this works, we maybe don’t walk away.” Tony mutterd quietly, cutting Katie out of the coms temporarily so as not to worry or upset her.

“Maybe not.” Thor agreed in a whisper.

At that point Clint sprinted back past them, but before either of them had time to follow him to help a hail of gunfire suddenly erupted where they standing. Steve held his shield up just in time and Thor dived to the side to avoid the bullets that had luckily been fired in a straight line between them all.

But it was Katie who noticed first what had happened. As the dust settled she saw Clint stood, with a little boy in his arms. He’d clearly tried to shield him from the bullets but it was Pietro that was standing there with bullet holes riddling his torso, the blood seeping through them.

“No.” She muttered her pleading growing more frantic as she flew over to where they were stood “No, no, no.”

“You didn’t see that coming?” The blonde man attempted to joke weakly then wobbled before falling face first and Katie caught him as she landed, just before he hit the ground. She laid him down gently and looked him over.

“FRIDAY, life signs.”

“Negative.” The AI’s voice was tinged with sadness.

Katie bowed her head slightly before my face plate slid back and she looked up at Clint. The pair of them exchanged a glance before Steve knelt down and closed Pietro’s eyes.

“I’ve got him.” He said gently, as he bent down and picked up Pietro as easily as if he was a small child. The three of them headed back to the airship, Clint with the little boy in his arms. Once on board, Steve lay Pietro down gently on the floor, where Katie sat by him, her suit making a clunk as she slid to the floor. Clint groaned as he lowered himself onto the row of seats behind her. Someone walked over to see if they needed any medical help but Clint waved him away.

“No, no I’m fine.” He groaned, lying down across a few seats, his hand resting on the metal shoulder of Katie’s suit. “Oh it’s been a long day…”

Steve stood on the rock for one final look round, he couldn’t see anyone. But then, with a lurch the city fell with huge force and he turned and gave a jump, grabbing onto the platform of the ship as the city fell.  He pulled himself up onto the deck and stood up to see, lightning flashing from the sky. As he watched, the city of Sokovia exploded from the inside out crumbling to pieces and raining down heavily into the ocean below.

He turned to see Katie was stood a few feet away, looking down.

“Tony? Thor? Wanda?”

When none of them replied she looked over Steve, biting her lip.

“They’ll be okay.” He nodded, although he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

There was a slight lurch as the ship they were stood on docked with the hellicarrier and they turned to help Clint but he was already walking, carrying the body of Pietro with him. Katie jumped down onto the tarmac, deactivated her suit and made her way over to Maria Hill who was stood with another agent, directing them where to take the walking wounded, medics running onto the ships to deal with the more seriously injured in situ.

“You guys alright?” She asked as they walked over to her. Katie nodded and then spoke again into her coms. It was a relief to see Wanda’s red hair sat on the deck a few yards away from one of the ships, Vision having pulled her out of the city in time.

“Any news from the others?” Steve asked. Maria sighed.

“Natasha is on the bridge, Banner, I mean the Hulk, he got her out in time but…he went off in a jet after Ultron…I got nothing from Thor or Tony…”  

Katie turned to look out over the sky, the airborne dust making her cough slightly as she scanned the clouds, waiting for a sign or anything from her brother.

“He’ll be fine.” Steve dropped a hand onto her shoulder. “He always is.” “One day he won’t be.” She turned and looked up to face Steve

“Maybe, but that aint today…” A familiar voice rang in her ear and she let out a sigh of relief as her brother spoke. “Kiddo, put the beer on ice, I think we just won again.”

*****

Refugees crowded every corner of the flying base, sitting in the halls, huddling together, terrified. The dust in the air meant SHIELD couldn’t connect to their mainframe or satellites, and the internet-based translators were down. Every person on board who knew even a smattering of any Slavic language was being recruited into helping settle the homeless Sokovians.

Fury was meeting via telecon in one of the conference rooms with the Sokovian political leaders, who were not pleased at being dragged from their homes in Novi Grad in the wee hours of the morning only to then watch their nation destroyed. So with Fury busy, Steve and Katie had to tell Tony about Bruce.

That hadn’t been fun at all. Her brother had struggled back to the helicarrier, with barely enough power left to make the landing, Thor hot on his tail, soaked to the skin and staggering with a nasty head wound. Steve helped him inside where he was led to a medic bay and they had all retreated to the comms room where Nat was stood in a corner, staring at a blank screen.

“Where’s Bruce?” Tony demanded as soon as he got his helmet off. “We’ve got to figure out…” He trailed off, seeing the expression on Katie’s face. Then his eyes flashed across to Natasha. The woman hadn’t moved a muscle in ten minutes, standing in a corner and staring straight at the wall, back to the rest of the room.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice was heavy. “He’s taken off. We can’t reach him.” “And I don’t think he wants us to.” Katie added. She had barely finished her sentence before Tony bolted across the room to the computer banks, heedlessly shucking off bits of his armour as he went.

“No.” He shook his head, fingers flying across the keyboards. “No, I can find him. I can do this, I can bring him home.”

“It was cloaked.” Natasha’s voice was very even, with absolutely no inflection. She didn’t stop staring at her wall. “Your own cloaking devices. And SHIELD’s secret tracker was disabled in the fight.”

Tony’s hand slipped, hitting a bunch of things Steve was sure he hadn’t meant to. Swearing hopelessly, he stared blankly at the useless screens.

“Why?” He demanded, very quietly, the furious brokenness in his voice made my heart ache for him. “Why would he…?”

The unfinished question hung heavy in the dusty air. Steve was the one who answered.

“Because,” he said, swallowing. “When you’re in the air, and you’re carrying something that will destroy everything you love, that’s all you can do. You do go down, and you take it down with you.”

Tony’s hands curled into fists, anguish in his snarl. “This isn’t the same as your golden boy sacrifice play, Cap. No bombs on that Quinjet.”

“No, no bombs.” Steve gently squeezed Katie’s shoulder as he noticed she’d been about to chastise her brother for his venomous jibe, and he shook his head softly as he dragged his gloves back on over his bruised and bloody knuckles, flexing his hands. “Just himself,” he finished quietly.

“Veronica failed, Tone.” Katie said gently, understanding at once what Steve was getting at, Bruce’s actions suddenly making sense. “He didn’t want to come to Sokovia and I guess, well he didn’t want to risk hurting anyone again, and he saw a way out.”

Natasha turned on her heel and pushed past them, her eyes wet as she made for the door.

“Nat.” Katie turned to watch her go. She shook her head, signalling she wanted to be alone as she left. Katie looked up at Steve who hung his head sadly.

But there wasn’t time to think on it. Fury arrived at that moment, clearly pissed at something. He explained to the group that after the explosion that tore Ultron’s plans to shreds, he had been set to take the helicarrier to a refugee camp in a nearby country but the Sokovian officials had refused, insisting they be set back down in what was left of Novi Grad. Steve nodded and told Fury to do as they wanted.

“This wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for us.” Steve’s jaw was set, and his arms folded. “We owe it to them Fury, like it or not.”

Fury hadn’t liked it, at all, but he didn’t have much say in the matter - not when Steve had that look on his face.

“This isn’t going to be nice.” Steve muttered as the pod had descended back to the ground.

“I know.” Katie said. “But we face it together, right?”

Together they strode off the pod, not really knowing where to start. Novi Grad was an absolute mess. Most of the city had been torn up by the roots, and the rim that was left hadn’t escaped unscathed either. Buildings had toppled from falling debris and the initial ground-shaking wrench. Water and electricity were out, phone lines were down, and the streets were clogged with cars and people. Children choked on the thick air as parents tied whatever cloth they could find around tiny mouths, trying to protect their lungs.

It was thankless, numbing work. Most of the civilians avoided them, casting wary glances out of the corner of their eyes. A few swore or spat, some cried, but after a while it began to get difficult as a particular group started to get violent, screaming as they threw things at the four Avengers. It didn’t cause much damage to the Nova or Iron Man suits, but the rocks soon started getting bigger. Katie heard a yell and turned to her left to see Steve stumbling forward, hand clamped over the back of his head. He fell to his knees and Katie moved over to him, dropping besides him.

“Shit.” He mumbled as she heard Thor give a roar.

“Let me see.” Katie looked at him and Steve winced, shaking his head.

“I’m fine.” He got to her feet, hand still clutching at the back of his head.

Katie glanced up at Tony, who had completely lost his patience.

“Ungrateful brats,” he snapped loudly after the young hooligans who had immediately scarpered after Thor’s show of anger. “Look, why don’t you head back to the carrier, see what the next step is?”  Tony curled his gauntlet clad hand over Steve’s shoulder as his face plate retracted. Katie looked at her brother, thankful for his suggestion.

Steve shook his head, but even as she did so she saw him sway a little.

“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding.” She whispered gently, and he looked at his hand. “At least let’s clean you up.”

Steve didn’t want to go, but he gave into her as she whispered “Please.”

“Five minutes,” he relented at last, and allowed her to lead him away.

*****

As Katie shed her suit, Steve sat on a chair in one of the hellicarrier kitchens, one of the few rooms that wasn’t being used as a makeshift hospital or treatment bay. There were no spare medics so Katie grabbed some gauze, antiseptic and a couple of steri-strip bandages. He would heal pretty fast anyway.

“You know you should have had your helmet on.” She said gently, suddenly realising he hadn’t had it on for the entire time they had been in Sokovia having tossed it back on the jet when he saw the graffiti picture of himself when they first landed. He shrugged and didn’t reply, but he flinched hard when Katie lightly touched the lump at the back of his head.

“Sorry…” she said gently as he waved away her apology, head bent as she cleaned the blood off his hair.

“Doesn’t hurt as much as what they were calling me.” He mumbled, and Katie paused.

“Which was what? I didn’t hear them.”

“Fašista.” He shrugged. “Fascist.” His shoulders slumped and sudden angry tears stung at Katie’s eyes, but she blinked them back and swallowed the hot anger swelling in her throat. This was a man who had put his life on the line countless times to fight the very things that people were calling him. She leaned forward, slipping my arms around his neck, connecting them in front of his chest as she bent to lay her face against his cheek.

“At the risk of sounding like an old man, everybody’s so young these days,” Steve said at last as he turned his head to face her “Has it all been forgotten, or have I really become…?”

Katie cut him off, her eyes on his, faces inches apart. “They’ve forgotten,” she assured him firmly. “You know those people, they can’t begin to imagine how things were back then. I find it hard at times and that’s after you told me so much. We never lived through it, never knew what it was like. History books and lessons can only do so much, Love.”

Steve’s fingers laced between hers. “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” he whispered heavily.

"But that’s why there are people like us, people like you. You will always remember, and because you do, you help us do our best to keep the rest of them safe.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before she straightened up and continued to tend to the wound on his head. It wasn’t as deep as it had looked and was already starting to heal. She checked to make sure there were no fragments of the brick left behind and when she was satisfied she dropped the bloodied gauze into a bin and turned to face him.

"I shouldn’t have taken Banner.” He said, and Katie took a deep breath “I knew he was low, but he said he wanted to come, he wanted to help find Nat.”

“You can’t blame yourself for his choice,” Katie reminded him. “He’s a grown man…” Steve didn’t say anything more about it, instead he stood up and took a deep breath. “Come on, let’s go see what’s happening.”

*****

It took almost two days for relief services to arrive at Sokovia. Steve felt dirty, tired and desperate for a hot shower and his own bed and he wasn’t alone. None of The Avengers had changed in 2 days. All their extra equipment had gone on the missing Quinjet with Bruce, including the change of civilian clothing everyone tried to keep on hand. But their discomfort paled into insignificance when he glanced over at Wanda as they landed at the tower. Katie guided her up to the spare room, ensured she had what she needed and then instructed her if she needed anything else, all she had to do was ask Friday, who would contact her immediately. Wanda nodded and Katie left her to be a lone for a while.

When Katie got back to her floor Steve was already in the shower, and the bed had never looked so inviting, which was why she couldn’t wait to get into it. Stripping off her filthy cat suit and her underwear she walked into the bathroom which was filled with steam and stepped into the shower behind Steve, her hands straying round to the front of his chest and she pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder, laying her head against his back. He didn’t flinch, he simply grasped her hands in his, pulling her closer and dipped his head slightly as she nuzzled into his shoulder, the grime from the last few days whirling down the plug hole as the water rained down on them. Without speaking, Katie grabbed his shampoo, and gently as she could massaged at his hair. Steve gave a soft moan, relishing at the feel of her nails on his scalp, happy to bliss out for a moment. He turned to face his future wife, tipping his head back to rinse his hair off and smiled tiredly as he dropped his head to kiss her softly.

“Turn round.” He said gently, and she did as she was told as his hands wound into her hair, repaying the favour. She leaned back into his touch, the intimate moment also serving as a perfect relaxer so much so that she didn’t object when things started to get a bit heated. This was always how things went with them both, they sought solace in one another, the physical relief of losing themselves with someone they loved was how they coped, how they stayed grounded, reminded themselves that they weren’t alone.

His hands travelled down her body, her back pressed to his chest as his fingers reached between her legs, finding her spot. She moaned, arching back into him as his other hand caressed her breast, his arousal pressing into the lower part of her back and she lazily rolled her head to catch his mouth. As the hot water cascaded down onto them he took her to the brink before he spun her round and lifted her easily, pressing her back onto the cool tiles. He thrust into her without warning and she groaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as he began to pump in and out, his head falling to her collar bone as he gave a soft nip. With each roll of his hips Katie felt her pleasure beginning to mount, soft moans falling from her lips as she dropped her head to his shoulder, the feeling in her stomach beginning to overwhelm her.

“Look at me, Doll” he said gently, and she opened her eyes, emerald gems locking onto his as he saw her mouth open, lips part in a soft cry as she came, a deeper groan bubbled over in her throat and her  head slid backwards. Steve would never get tired of seeing her like that, ever. It was the most arousing thing in the world to him. His pace began to quicken and he followed shortly, the tight bands in his stomach snapping as he pressed her harder against the wall as he rode out his release.

When they had finally finished in the shower the pair of them were almost dead on their feet. They dried off, Katie shucked on one of Steve’s T-shirts and clambered into bed with him. Neither had any idea what time of day it was but neither cared, the blackout blinds sent the room into darkness. Katie lay her head on Steve’s chest, his hand slid up the cotton of his shirt and he gently ran his fingers up and down her spine.

He managed to do it about twice before the pair of them were out for the count.

***** They both had nightmares that night. Katie woke first, gasping for air as she relived the moment on that rock where she had thought for one horrible moment they were done for, until Fury had shown up. After getting her a glass of water, Steve had held her until she’d fallen asleep, waked from a bad dream which, for some reason didn’t seem to take him anywhere near Sokovia. Instead, he was back at that moment he plunged into the ice.

And the dreams continued for them both for the next few nights. Katie’s were always the same, but Steve’s persistently catapulted back in time to various points during the war. It was unnerving for him but mostly, they were just that, bad dreams…until one night, for the first time he could remember, he suffered a full scale hallucinating night terror. 

Having actually managed to sleep soundly so far that evening, the first Katie knew something was wrong was when Steve was pinning her down against the mattress and shielding her from something.

“Steve.” She croaked gently, blinking the sleep from her eyes. He didn’t respond other than to simply flatten himself against her further, right arm curled around her head.

“Stay down,” he ordered firmly.

“What’s going on?” She asked softly, still coming round from the sleep he had roused her from.

“Air strike, men in the hall.”  He said, turning to her. "I’ll head for the door, cause a distraction. You get to the bathroom, get in the tub, cover your head.”

She listened intently, then realised what he had said. Air Strike. He must have been dreaming he was back in the war again. She let out a breath and relaxed, reaching up to take his face in her hands.

“Stevie, nobody’s there. Everything’s quiet.”

“You can’t hear them?” He looked at her frowning.

“Sweetheart, do you trust me?”

He nodded. “With my life, you know this Katie…”

“Baby, I promise you - there’s no air raid, nobody in the hall.”

For a moment, Steve just stared at her, his face wracked with confusion. Then, swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. After a moment he raised his head to look around before his face fell back on hers as her thumbs gently moved in long arcs down the sides of his face.

“Steve?”

With a shuddering breath, he pulled himself up, reaching for his shield by the bedroom door. Picking it up he listened for a moment before throwing the door open and he walked out into the hallway. Katie sat in bed listening to the sound of various other doors being opened and shut as he meticulously swept the whole of their floor, checking windows and closets until he ended up back in their room.

His back and chest were both glistening with sweat. He looked at her, his eyes wide before he went into the en-suite and she heard the tap running and the sound of water being splashed against what she assumed was his face. She gave him a few minutes before she followed him, where he was stood leaning forward, forehead pressed to the mirror, chest and shoulders heaving.

“Stevie…” she said gently, as she slipped both her arms round his waist, pressing a kiss to his bare, clammy shoulder. Her touch seemed to do the trick as he took one deep breath and turned to face her.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked his eyes looking at her as the palms of her hands spread across his lower back.

“Of course not.”

He wrapped his arms around her and she lay her head on his chest and felt his heartbeat as it gradually evened out. Neither of them spoke for a while.

“Your dreams, they’re getting worse.” Katie said gently.

“It’ll get better.” He finally managed. “You know it’s been bad before. It will fade after a while.”

Katie knew from experience that everyone dealt with traumatic experiences differently. For example, Tony suffered panic attacks and went completely off the rails post both his soiree in the Afghanistan cave and New York. She tended to take a lot of things as they came and worry about them for a while but after screaming and crying would then give herself a kick up the ass to either change things or deal with them. Steve’s worry seemed to manifest itself two fold. He would either be suffering from the inability to stay calm and therefore would exercise, pounding out frustrations on either the pavement or the punching bags. And then there was this, the nightmares. Normally Katie would wake with his jostling but if she didn’t, he would always shake her awake if he needed her, as that was the agreement they had. She would then help him back to sleep either by talking or they would engage in some other un-coventional means of therapy until both of them were spent and satiated enough to return to slumber.

Katie gently took his hand and led him out of the bathroom turning off the light. As they reached the bed he waited until she was in it, pulling the duvet up over her before snagging a pillow and turning to go.

"Where do you think you’re going?”

He shrugged. “Thought I’d camp out on the couch. I don’t want to keep you awake.”

“No way…” She said, throwing back the duvet “Come on.”

He sighed and climbed in as she opened her arms for him to settle his head on her chest, gently stroking his hair as he swallowed, his breathing steadying as her touch soothed him.

“Where were you this time?” she asked

“Azzano… I think.” He sighed “To be honest with you, I saw so many things, the dreams now…they all blur into one.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He took a deep breath. “It was just loud, and I was in a building and I couldn’t get out. It was so real. When I woke up I knew where I was. I knew who you were, but I just…I dunno…”

They lay in silence, Katie continually stroking his hair as he nuzzled into her closer. She kissed the top of his head and was pleased when about 10 minutes later she heard his breathing start to lower and his head became heavy. He had managed to drift off.

*****

The next night he woke with a start, but that was it. There was no walking or hallucinating, he merely woke from a bad dream and climbed out of bed for a glass of water. When he came back, there was no talking, but he sought solace in his girl in another way, his lips kissing her hard, his hands reaching out and roving over every bit of her body he could find and he fucked her, hard, losing himself completely. They lay afterwards, sweaty foreheads pressed together and Katie simply held him close as they both came round. Eventually he moved off, pulled her to him and they fell asleep, limbs tanged around one another, his hold tight.

The next few nights he was peaceful, and Katie was hopeful that the terrors had passed, but then, four nights after the first incident he broke his hand.

Captain America could put his fist through a two-by-four with nothing worse than slightly reddened knuckles - but Steve Rogers’ hand hadn’t been in a fist. Katie had woken to his hoarse cry of “Buck!!!”, in time to see his outstretched, fingers slamming straight through the plasterboard and into a metal stud in the wall as he flailed out of bed, reaching for a man who had fallen some seventy years earlier.

Katie scrambled over the bed like a shot as he was yelling out for Bucky again and again as he knelt among scattered pieces of plaster and wood, his left arm buried inside the wall up to the shoulder.

"Steve,” she tried, but he didn’t respond, eyes fixed in a thousand-yard stare, face crumpled with an agony that was more than physical, breath hitching and ragged. She felt the tears spring into her eyes and she was just about to ask FRIDAY to send Tony to help when she heard the door to their penthouse burst open and a few moments later Thor strode into the bedroom dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, hammer in his hand.

“I heard the Captain yell, and…” he trailed off as he took in the situation at a glance and then crouched next to Katie.

“He’s dreaming…” She said gently, “He’s dreaming about Bucky, his friend, falling…”

Thor frowned absently, brushing his fingers across the captain’s temples as though he was trying to work out a problem. Then abruptly, he rose and was gone, moving almost silently through the darkness.

Whilst he was gone, Katie managed to gently work Steve’s arm out of the wall. His broken hand lay twitching in her lap and she was horribly aware that they would need to set the bones before they healed wrong. Thankfully, Thor wasn’t gone long, and he was not alone when he returned, hand firm around Wanda’s shoulder. The girl’s eyes were wide and her hair was tangled - obviously she had been sleeping.

“Thor,” Katie began to protest as she glanced round at Steve. The last thing he would want would be to come back to reality in the middle of some kind of impromptu party.

Thor held up a hand, pausing her even as he turned his full attention to Wanda

“Do you see?” he asked gravely. “Do you understand now what The Vision told you?”

Trembling, Wanda shook her head even as she went to her knees beside Steve. He was still unresponsive, but his breathing was beginning to laboriously even out and Katie knew he was fighting for control. She started to sweep her hand up and down his back in long, firm strokes in the hope it would bring him back round.

Thor knelt too, sounding as though he were some kind of instructor. “When you allowed Stark’s fears to work against him,” he began patiently, “you found his weakness and dug deep.”

Wanda nodded slowly.

“Our Captain carries a grievous burden as well,” Thor continued, “He has been sorely wounded and works to heal, but your incautious workings have torn his memories open.”

“Thor…” Katie shook her head gently as a horror stricken look crossed Wanda’s face.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know. How can I fix it?”

For the first time, Thor hesitated. “My brother would have known,” he admitted in a low voice. “He had the skill, when it pleased him to use it.” He paused again, and then continued, hesitating slightly. “You must consider carefully, and proceed as seems good to you.”

Biting her lip, Wanda looked up at Katie, her stricken eyes locked onto hers.

“If you can, remind him where he is,“ Katie said gently. “Just bring him round?”

Hesitantly, uncertainly, Wanda pointed and curled her fingers before Steve’s face and closed her eyes. Tendrils of red light flickered from her hands to his temples, and Katie tensed involuntarily. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Steve’s eyes flew open, and his uninjured hand darted up faster than sight to lock around Wanda’s wrist, breaking the connection. She squeaked, startled, and froze.

“Steve…” Katie touched his arm causing him to flinch. It took him a second and then he seemed to realize where he was and what was going on. He let go of Wanda’s wrist, and looked around at Katie, then Thor hovering behind the young Sokovian, and finally the familiar surroundings of their bedroom. Eventually he looked back at Wanda for a long moment before nodding once.

"Thanks.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I tried to put everything back in place, but I don’t know how.”

“Can’t fix everything,” he assured her, with a twisted smile. His old Brooklyn accent came out very strong in this unguarded moment. “And I wouldn’t wantcha t’ try. There’s things in my head you shouldn’t ever hafta see.”

Wanda wrapped both her arms around herself. Her eyes still looked haunted. “He was like your brother, wasn’t he?” she quavered.

Steve bowed his head as Thor dropped a gentle arm round her shoulders.

“We have all lost brothers,” he rumbled, looking at her. “We know your pain. You do not face this alone.”

Katie could feel Steve was quivering, exhausted beyond words though he wouldn’t show it for the world, and all she wanted to do in that moment was to bind up his hand and then put him to bed. As she looked up to suggest to the others they might want to go she was surprised to see Wanda had squared her jaw with determination and she reached out once more.

“I can fix this, at least.”

Steve’s hurt hand suddenly glowed with red fire. He jumped, surprised, and then watched with fascination as the crooked fingers began re-align themselves. When the bones were straight again, the fire flickered out, and Wanda staggered to her feet to go, Thor right behind her.

“You ok for a moment?” Katie asked Steve and he nodded. She followed the two of them into the hall and gave a short groan as she saw the door that led to the stairs (which were never used) had been completely kicked off its hinges.

“Sorry.” Thor said, picking up the heavy door “I heard the screams and…well, I didn’t know what was going on.” “Just prop it up as best you can…I’ll let you out in the elevator.”

He propped it up, and dragged the sofa over towards it for good measure.

“I really am sorry…” Wanda whispered, tears in her eyes.

“I know, and so does he.” Katie said, giving her a hug. “He will be fine…” Her attention then turned to Thor as she gave the God a hug. “Thank you.” “Any time Little Stark.” He breathed into her hair, before the 2 of them stepped into the elevator.

Katie looked around, trying to think about how they could explain a broken door plus a hole in the wall to Tony, then she realised she didn’t care. She headed into the kitchen, rummaging through the first aid kit for an elastic bandage to keep his fingers straight and wrapped up safely whilst his fast healing worked its magic.

He was sat on the side of the bed when she re-entered the room, his injured hand cradled in his other.

“Here…” she said, and she gently took his hand as he surrendered to her ministrations.

“Is Wanda ok?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, but I’m more concerned about you.” she said, laying his hand down gently onto my lap. “Baby…” “I’m sorry.” He whispered softly, laying his head against hers.

“What for?” “This…for scaring you?” “Stop it.” She looked at him sternly “I love you, you idiot, I just want you to be ok.” “I will be…” he smiled softly, his lips catching hers “Given time.”

The next day, Katie dragged Steve out for a walk in Central Park, but first she spoke to Tony about the door and the wall. He was surprisingly sympathetic, and didn’t mention the issue to Steve once. By the time Steve and Katie returned home that afternoon both were fixed, the only evidence any repairs had taken place was the smell of fresh paint and plaster which lingered in the apartment for a few days. What thankfully didn’t linger further were Steve’s night terrors. Katie didn’t know what it was that Wanda did, but his bones healed straight and it seemed that his mind had healed somewhat straight too. Whilst he persisted with the odd bad dream, they were getting less and less frequent, and there was no repeat of the two hallucinations he had suffered which was a relief to her, as she knew with time and patience and rest, the dreams would stop as well.

**** Chapter 25

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

[bedlamsbard]

Some new concept writing! There’s backstory for this one, but I’m not sure how much will get written because it’s relatively different from most of my extant concept writing and/or canon.  The short version is that the Clone Wars ended, but not with Order 66; the Purge and fall of the Republic happened about 8-10 years later than in canon.  (Caleb and Hera would have been in their light teens/early 20s at the time, so about the same time as AND in canon.)  My worldbuilding brain is clicking over the differences and repercussions, but, uh, we’ll see if there’s more. (If I went forward, there would be some characters I haven’t written in five or six years turning up.)

About 3K below the break.  Please note that I don’t warn.

***

Parasites, Hera Syndulla thought, but kept her face pleasantly bland.  The description was unfair to only a small handful of her fellow senators, but as far as she was concerned was more than accurate in regards to the remainder. She sipped her wine and tilted her head a little to make it look like she was listening to Senator An’s description of the opera he had attended two nights previous, wondering if it was too early in the evening for her to go back to her apartment and scream into a pillow.

The occasion was a gathering to welcome freshman senators who might be inclined to the opposition party, which meant that a number of loyalist senators were here just to find out which of the freshmen were actually considering it.  In Hera’s experience the opposition mostly just made noise before agreeing to whatever legislation the Emperor wanted to pass, but the numbers mattered and a show of disapproval was better than nothing.  She wasn’t a freshman anymore, but her absence at the party would have been noticed by both sides; Ryloth didn’t hold much political sway but it was well-known.

A break in Senator An’s storytelling let her step away, gesturing vaguely at her now-empty wineglass as an excuse.  There were serving droids roaming the room so she was able to deposit it with one of them; she was trying to decide whether to stay longer or leave when she noticed an eddy in the crowd, people stepping aside and trying not to seem like they were doing so.  Riyo Chuchi was suddenly at her side, the older woman’s face drawn.

“What is it?” Hera asked her, low-voiced.

“The Emperor’s Inquisitor is making his rounds,” Riyo said, equally soft. She snagged two glasses from a passing serving droids and handed one to Hera.

She took it, tasted it, and then looked sharply at Riyo. “His?”

For the past two years, as long as Hera had been serving in the Senate, the Inquisitor assigned to Coruscant had been a woman, a huge Dowutin who delighted in terrifying the senators of both parties, as well as anyone else she came in contact with.

“I saw him in the other room,” Riyo said; the party spilled through half a dozen rented rooms and onto the balconies of each.  “He’s human, young.  I think I’ve seen him before, but I can’t think where.”

Hera raised her gaze as the movement in the room reached them.  She felt Riyo draw back, but Hera stood frozen, her heart in her throat.

The Inquisitor was a tall human male, amber-skinned and dark-haired, with a fading bruise visible on his face.  Despite that, and the scars that cut across his cheek, he was handsome; if he hadn’t been an Inquisitor Hera knew a dozen senators, female and otherwise, who would have been throwing themselves at him.  His pale gaze moved across the crowd without seeming to see anyone in it, as if he did so only to make sure they knew he was there.  If he saw Hera, he didn’t show it, just kept walking with steadied patience toward the balcony.

Hera put the glass back into Riyo’s hand and followed him before the Pantoran had a chance to protest her departure.

By the time she had reached the balcony, most of its occupants had fled back inside, though there were a dozen senators and their aides still standing by the refreshment cart there, trying not to watch the Inquisitor.  He had retreated to the far end of the balcony and was standing with his gaze fixed on the cityscape beyond.

He must have sensed her approach, but he didn’t show any sign of acknowledgment until she stepped up beside him and said quietly, “Caleb?”

He turned towards her, his eyes widening.

He had, Hera knew immediately, been very badly hurt.  There was something mad in his gaze, something more like a wounded animal than a sentient being; the scars that cut across his face had the look of something done deliberately rather than being incidental to combat injuries.  For an instant his mouth worked silently, then he looked over her shoulder at the other guests still on the balcony.  Hera turned in time to see all of them flee back into the room, leaving the two of them alone.

Hera had intended to be more circumspect about it, but since now everyone inside knew they were out here alone together she reached out and put her hand over his.  He looked at it as if he had never seen anything like it before, but didn’t pull away.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was rougher than it had been five years ago, something that sounded like an injury rather than a reaction to her presence.

“I’m the senator for Ryloth,” Hera told him.  She wanted to take him into her arms, but didn’t dare, not when they were somewhere as public as this, not even with everyone else inside.  Instead, she squeezed his fingers and asked, “Can you come home with me?  I’ve got an apartment twenty stories down in the connecting building.”

He nodded.  She could feel him starting to shake, the shock from her unexpected appearance beginning to set in. “You go first,” he said, low-voiced. “I’ll follow.”

Hera nodded, hesitating briefly before she released his hand.  She wanted to kiss him, but couldn’t, not here, and not when she didn’t know how he would react to that.  She licked her lips and told him her apartment number, then stepped away and went inside without looking back at him.

People stepped away from her as she came in, as though she had been contaminated by her interaction with the Inquisitor.  Only Bail Organa and Riyo Chuchi came up to her, with Mon Mothma following them.

“Are you all right?” Bail asked her immediately. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Hera assured them. “I know him.”

“How?” Mon Mothma asked, startled.

Hera hesitated, then said, “I need to talk to him first, somewhere that isn’t here.  Alone,” she added, seeing Bail open his mouth. “He won’t hurt me.”

From their expressions, she suspected that they guessed “I know him” meant “I had an affair with him before the Republic fell and everything went to blazes in a handbasket,” but none of them said anything along those lines, for which Hera was profoundly grateful. Instead, she said, “I have to go.”

None of them tried to stop her.  Bail said, “Be careful,” and Riyo squeezed her arm, her expression worried.

Hera smiled at them, then started to make her way out of the suite of rooms.  As crowded as they were, it took her some time until she could get her cloak and leave; most of the guests hadn’t heard about her tête-à-tête with the Inquisitor and get out of her way as a result, the way people had done with anyone who encountered the previous Inquisitor assigned to Coruscant.  By the time she had finally managed to leave, Hera was out of breath and irritated, and the effects of the wine she had been drinking earlier had worn off.  The walk back to her own junior senator’s apartments gave her time to calm down and think over what Caleb Dume’s appearance might mean.

He had been a Jedi. He had been a Jedi, and he had believed in it so profoundly that it had sometimes made Hera feel a little ashamed of herself.  Not for sleeping with him, which she knew his master had been aware of and somewhat amused by, but because she had never believed in anything that much in her life. She couldn’t believe that he had fallen in with the Emperor after the near-genocide of the Jedi, not willingly.

The look in his eyes hadn’t been entirely sane.

Hera went into the kitchen to start water boiling for tea, then into her bedroom to change out of her evening gown for something more comfortable.  She was just pouring hot water into the teapot when her door chime sounded.

She set the pot down on the kitchen table and went to get the door.  Caleb didn’t say anything as he came in, just waited for her to shut and lock the door behind him.  Hera opened her mouth, but he put a hand up to stop her, then went prowling nervously through the apartment.  Hera guessed that he was looking for listening devices and went back to the kitchen to finish making tea.

He came in a few minutes later.  Hera went over to him, hesitated, then took him in her arms.  For an instant he was stiff, then he returned her embrace.  He was shaking badly, his skin fever-hot when Hera reached up touch his scarred face.  He flinched when her fingers accidentally brushed the bruise around his left eye, but didn’t pull away.

“Can I kiss you?” Hera asked him.

Caleb nodded, bending his head to hers.  Hera kissed him slowly and carefully; he kissed her back with desperation.  When they stopped, breathing hard, he tipped his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

“Tell me,” Hera whispered.

“He killed her,” Caleb said, his voice so soft that the words were almost a thought rather than spoken. “He killed Depa.  Then he – he – he’d bargained with the Emperor for me.  He killed her, and he – he –”  He was shaking again, so badly that his teeth were rattling together. “It took a long time, what he did to me,” he said eventually.  “Then he had me, and so did the Inquisition.”

“Come and sit down,” Hera said.  She got him into a chair and a cup of tea into his hand, then pulled another chair over so that she could sit next to him, close enough to touch.

He drank his tea slowly, his eyes narrowed in concentration as if it was the only thing he was capable of focusing on.  This close to him, Hera could see the scars barely hidden under the high collar of his black tunic, the same kinds of scars she had seen on freed slaves – left behind by a metal collar worn for too long.

Hera remembered the day the Purge had started.  It was burned into her memory, coming down to join her family at dinner and finding them all watching the HoloNews coverage of the Jedi Temple burning.  It had been barely a month after Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume had left, after Caleb had kissed her goodbye and promised that he would return after he had his knighthood, which he expected to attain within the year.  She had stood there, sick to her stomach, and known that he was dead.  He had been in her bed recently enough that she still had blankets that smelled like him and he was dead.

Except he hadn’t been dead.

“Who is he?” she asked him once he had finished the tea.  Hera poured more, but he just played with the cut-glass cup, running his gloved fingers over the silver holder. “The person who hurt you?”

“My master.”  His voice was utterly without inflection, but Hera could guess he wasn’t talking about Depa Billaba.  He pushed the cup away as his hands started to shake. “He’s – he was a Jedi, a Temple Guard.  He’d wanted me for a padawan years ago, but I didn’t know, and Master Billaba didn’t – but he was angry about it.  When the Emperor – he bargained with him for me.  We were still at the Temple.  He killed Depa, and he – he hurt me.”  He looked down at his hands as if he had never seen them before.  “I heard them killing the others,” he added eventually. “He and the others who betrayed the Order.  The other Inquisitors.”

“They’re Jedi?” Hera said, stunned. “They’re all Jedi?”

He nodded.  “After he did – what he did – it was a – a stopgap, almost, you could call it – he left me in that room with Master Billaba while he went to the rest of the…of the killing.  And when the others were all dead, he came back and did it again, to make sure it had taken, before he took me to the Inquisition headquarters on Mustafar to finish it.  The Emperor had been planning this for a long time,” he added, his voice very soft.

Hera swallowed back nausea. She didn’t think Caleb meant by that what anyone else would have meant, but she wasn’t entirely certain that he didn’t, either.  She was trying to decide how to ask when he said, very quietly, “There’s a way to force a master-apprentice bond, if the apprentice’s first master is dead.  The Jedi won’t do it unless there’s no other choice because it’s so dangerous; it’s better to let the bond develop naturally, even if it’s weak.  But – he –”

“It sounds like psychic rape,” Hera said hesitantly when he didn’t go on.  She couldn’t shake the mental image of Caleb locked in some room with Master Billaba’s body, probably injured himself, as the rest of the Jedi fought and died outside the door.

He nodded without looking at her.

“Is he here?”

Caleb shook his head. “Five years is long enough that he can let me out of his sight without worrying that I’m going to run away.  Or fall on my lightsaber,” he added, his voice a little distant.  He licked his lips, a nervous gesture, then raised his gaze to her. “I’m glad to see you.”

Hera leaned forward, slowly enough that he could pull away if he needed to, and kissed him gently. He put one hand up to curve the backs of his knuckles against her face, kissing her back. “You can stay with me as long as you’re here, if you like,” she said. “I have a spare room.”

He nodded a little, kissed her again, and then sat back in his chair.  After a moment of silence, he admitted, “That might not be a good idea. If anyone finds out, it won’t be safe for you –”

“Will anyone in the Empire challenge an Inquisitor if he wants to keep a mistress?” Hera asked. When he blinked, she said, “I don’t mean – you don’t have to sleep with me.  But it’s what people in the Senate and the HoloNews will think.”

“My master would,” Caleb said quietly. “And he’s the only one I can’t beat in a fight, if it comes to it.”

“I have friends too,” Hera told him. “I know the Senate is pretty useless in the Empire, but it isn’t without meaning, even now.”  She hesitated, on the verge of telling him that there were other Jedi who had survived, people who might be able to help him, but finally held back.  Even if he had been forced into it, he was still an Inquisitor, and Hera didn’t know him well enough anymore to be able to gamble anyone else’s life on what would he would do.

“What happened to your face?” she asked instead.

He touched a finger to his scarred cheek. “I tried to run away and my master caught me.  I’ve got others.”

“I meant the bruise,” Hera said, feeling a little sick.

“Oh.  I was in a fight.”  He hesitated, then reached out to take one of her hands, running his thumb over her knuckles. “How long have you been a senator?”

“Two years,” Hera said. “I ran against Orn Free Taa in the last election.”

“You’re smarter,” he said. “And prettier.”

“Right on both counts,” Hera said. “And I don’t take bribes.  And my father’s a war hero.  That helped.” She winced a little, but Cham Syndulla’s record was still better than Orn Free Taa’s, especially since Palpatine had removed his backing from the previous senator.  She suspected that the Emperor thought that a pretty young female senator, especially a nonhuman one, would be more or less harmless; Orn Free Taa’s decades in the Senate had given him allies in both main parties and most of the smaller ones, even if he himself was mostly ineffectual.  Hera had connections, but not the kind that would make her a serious threat, inasmuch as any single senator could be these days.  “How long are you here for?”

He shrugged. “Until I get reassigned.  They wanted someone as different as possible from the Hammer – the Inquisitor assigned here before me – as they could get, and I guess that was me.”

“Did you want to be assigned here?” Hera asked cautiously.  She wanted to ask how he felt about the Inquisition, if he was a true believer – from what he had said she suspected not – but couldn’t come out and ask it, not yet.

Caleb shrugged again. “I didn’t have a choice.  But my master’s not here, and that’s always a relief.”  He smiled shyly at her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She leaned forward and kissed him again.  He had relaxed as they talked, and he kissed her back with less desperation now than he had before.

“Do you want to go to bed with me?” she asked him.

Caleb raised his eyes to hers. “Yes,” he said. “If you want to.”

Hera smiled and kissed him again, then got to her feet, drawing him with her.  She could have and probably should have waited until she knew how firmly he believed in the Inquisition and the Empire, if he had, as the Jedi she knew put it, gone over to the dark side, but he was here now, and she had been so certain he was dead.  For all the brevity of their affair, she had loved him very much, and she had known he had loved her – enough to know that even though they had never talked about it, the idea of leaving the Jedi Order had crossed his mind.

“Come on,” she told him. “If everyone’s going to think we’re having an affair anyway, we might as well have one.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #ryloth dream au tag #(one of those cases where the concept name is NOT representative of the actual content. it happens.) #as always comments are appreciated

[thesnug]

Katie Eats, Part IV

(Here's Part I, Part II, and Part III)

So after nine months of gestational weight obsession, Rowan came along. In fact, he came five days ahead of schedule, after I acupunctured him out of there in the hopes that an early delivery would mitigate the midwives' stress about my and the baby's weight. (It didn't. They called multiple doctors and nurses into the delivery room to witness the giant child I was about to birth, all of whom were disappointed when he turned out to be a measly 8lbs 10oz.)

In the months that followed, the pounds that everyone had assured me would melt off instead melted on; I was part of what turns out to be a fair percentage of people who gain weight while breastfeeding. So I battled my weight back down over the next year and a half, and then… got pregnant again. Rinse and repeat.

When the kids were 1 and 3, desperate to gain some control over my body, I read yet another diet book: Intuitive Eating. Except it turns out that this sneakily isn't a diet book. Instead, it spends a great deal of time explaining why diets are not just ineffective but actively harmful, and then lays out suggestions for learning to accept your body as it is, listen to what it wants, and follow those impulses without shame (even if what it wants is sleeve of oreos).

I'd known intellectually that diets were harmful for years, but never emotionally believed it until now. This book finally got through to me.

I almost skipped over the chapter on eating disorders--because of course I didn't have one, Ms. Health Teacher said so--but thought I should read it for feminism's sake. The description of bulimia was eye opening; it matched my old behavior exactly, minus the purging.

I asked Google, is there a version of bulimia that doesn't involve purging? And sure enough, there's something called binge eating disorder, which was an exact match. Huh! Interesting. Obviously my behavior hadn't been that extreme, but at the very least I'd had legitimate disordered eating.

But I didn't have time to think about that, really, because I was too busy retooling my entire relationship with food and grappling with a new ADHD diagnosis (which is a whole 'nother post), not to mention living with two kids under four in the lockdown phase of a brand new pandemic. The ADHD diagnosis clarified a lot; for example, why I felt so calm and clearheaded on phentermine. It became clear that when I craved huge amounts of sugar, I wasn't self-sabotaging, but self-medicating: trying to boost my dopamine and serotonin levels enough to become a functional human being.

It wasn't till a year later that a webinar on binge eating disorder popped up on the ADDitude website. I ignored it for a couple weeks, but eventually made myself sit down and watch it. And there I learned that to be diagnosed with binge eating disorder, you had to display at least three of the seven recognized behaviors, at least once a week.

I'd done all seven, every day. For years.

So that brings us to present day, where after more than two decades of frustration and shame I've mostly healed my relationship to food, only to learn that I've also unintentionally fought my way out of a raging eating disorder.

To a large extent, that last part feels irrelevant. I'm not planning to seek treatment; from what I can tell, I've already arrived at the place that most disordered eating treatment programs and therapy are aiming for. I continue to work on my relationship with food, and although I have setbacks, I generally have a sense of peace with my body that I've never experienced before.

But it does make me regretful and angry. Off the top of my head I can think of eight medical professionals I went to specifically seeking help with weight issues. Not one of them asked any questions around disordered eating. I feel empowered, now, to clap back at doctors when they make ignorant comments around weight; how different could my first pregnancy have been if I'd had the tools to protect and defend myself back then?

And: what else am I battling, without realizing it?

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s notes: Huge spoilers for episode 8 and the manga.

TW: blood, references to past self harm.

Edit 5/5/2021: Fleshed out a scene involving Aguni and Yamane’s arm injuries.

VI

propaganda is in our flesh and blood and we rejoice in the control of others / euphoria – poisoning the minds of the future / and it is turning our kids to murder, to murder

A few floors below them, as Last Boss trails his fingers behind Yamane’s legs to point out a few more arteries, their chief converses with his friend, a secret no other Beach members knew.

“That girl is concerning me,” Aguni admits, crossing his arms. “Accepting her in the military sect might have been a mistake. The kid couldn’t even kill without the guilt gnawing her alive. She’s innocent compared to the likes of Niragi.”

“But isn’t that a good thing, Mori?” Hatter asks, leaning back into the sofa and putting his arms behind his back. “She’s a stabilizing element. It might help you with keeping the violent members of the Beach in check by having someone with her restraint around,” he continues, chuckling as he puts his feet up on the coffee table between the sofas. “Plus, it’ll help me sleep better knowing that the military sect of our utopia has members who aren’t simple, mindless killers.”

Aguni’s brow furrows. “Takeru, I’m afraid she’d become more like those two who took her here. I asked Saiko what she knew about that girl. That girl has problems that could drive her over the edge.”

At Aguni’s response, the Hatter smiles and moves to sit next to his friend. “Reminds you too much of yourself?”

Aguni merely nods.

“Remember that quote by Gandhi that I said to recruit the first members of the Beach, Mori? ‘Be the change you want to see in the world.’ Do what you can to help her stay sane.”

Nodding, he pats Hatter’s back.

Above them, another militant was heading towards the balcony. “Last Boss, there’s- whoa. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The other man stopped in his tracks when he saw the silent militant kneeling in front of a woman.

“I-it’s not what it looks like,” Yamane blurts out, stepping away from the tattooed militant.

The interrupter gave her an awkward nod and rubs the back of his head. Seeing Last Boss with a woman came as a surprise to him; the tattooed man was known for keeping to himself instead of sleeping around like Niragi. Last Boss turns around to give the interrupter a sour look.

“There’s a group of traitors who kept their cards from the previous game. We gotta get rid of them,” the man says, averting his gaze from the two of them.

Last Boss unsheathes his sword, and he turns to Yamane, motioning her to follow.

“Wait- me?” Yamane asks, blood running cold.

“Part of our duty is to discreetly kill traitors,” the other militant says. “Didn’t they tell you that when you came here?”

Gulping, Yamane wordlessly follows the two. It’s finally sinking in; her role in the military sect meant dealing with not just most physical games, but these ugly matters as well.

They walked all the way to the basement, and the other militant waited outside, keeping watch. There were three people kneeling, eyes and mouth bound by duct tape. Their arms and legs are bound as well. Yamane recognizes one of them as the medic that helped Sunohara treat Last Boss’ injuries.

“Go ahead,” Last Boss tells her, kicking a bucket in front of the captive.

Yamane freezes at his command. Eyes flicking towards the captive, she could see the sweat dripping from his skin as he struggled in futility. The taller militant advances on her, tilting her chin with his fingers, and the words don't come to her.

“Put what I taught you into practice. This is the perfect opportunity.”

The dormouse’s only response is a slow, nervous nod. Her small fingers reach for the dagger from her holster, and she kneels behind the bound medic, who was thrashing and sobbing as her other hand pushed his head down.

A gasp escapes Yamane as Last Boss knelt behind her as well, wiry arms guiding her, and his hand over hers. Warm breaths on her neck and his proximity made Yamane feel the heat surge between her legs again, mind muddled by a cocktail of fear and lust hormones. The dagger presses into the victim’s skin, and with Last Boss’ guidance, they make a quick slash to the artery, blood pumping and draining out to the bucket.

“Good Yamaneko,” he whispers, not letting go of her despite the deed being done. His scent engulfs her, and Yamane chokes back a moan, disguising by clearing her throat.

“Let’s move on to the others,” she whispers, moving away from him.

Later that night, in an attempt to purge the mental image of slicing three people’s throats, Yamane’s feet bring her to the loud merrymaking at the pool. She grabs one drink, and sits in a corner. It helps that her status as a militant meant people left her alone.

It didn’t stop Sunohara from sitting next to her, though.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking alcohol while you’re taking tramadol, you know,” she casually mentions, lighting a cigarette. Smoke wafts to Yamane’s face and she waves it away with her free hand. “I thought doctors advise people to stay away from cigarettes, why are you smoking?”

Sunohara laughs. “Touche. I guess I can’t stop you. Just don’t drink before a game. It’ll make you drowsy.”

“Sure, I’ll keep it in mind.”

In consideration, Sunohara blows the smoke away from Yamane’s direction. “So, what was your game tonight? You had so much blood on you.”

“A Spade.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sunohara comments, taking another hit of her cigarette. “Physical games tend to get messy. Though, Heart games can get messy too.”

Now Yamane’s interest is piqued. She never had a heart game before. “What’s in a Heart game?”

“Ah, never played one before? Heart games play with, well, your heart.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Yamane replies, taking a sip of her cocktail. “What do you mean by it plays with your heart?”

Sunohara flicks her spent cigarette away and crushes it with her sandal. “They’re psychological, the type that uses your emotions to make a fool out of you. They mislead you into thinking that you’d have to do something terrible, but losses can be avoided if you think things through and don’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

“You sound like you’ve seen a lot of Heart games, Sunohara,” Yamane comments, setting her empty drink down.

“Not really. Just two. When you’re a doctor like me, you need to be calm in an emergency. Assess the situation properly, and give proper treatment. I just applied my experiences.”

Sunohara stands up to shake off the ash from her coat, and gives Yamane a smile. “I need to go. My assistant disappeared on me and I need to check the medication supply.”

With that, she sets off. Yamane gulps the last of her drink, and guilt drops like a heavy stone in her stomach. That assistant must have been the man she executed.

Drowsiness settling in, she needs to rest for the games. Unlike when she was surviving on her own, Beach members play them every night regardless of how many days they have left on their visas. Yamane lies on the bed, but her body is still buzzing. She recounts her experiences for the day, and her mind wanders back to the time she spent with Last Boss.

Against her better judgment, her fingers trail downward to the waistband of her shorts, and she pulls them off of her legs, underwear coming off with it. A string of her juices coats her finger as she glided it against her folds.

The little dormouse pleasures herself that night thinking about the tiger above her, fantasizing about him doing unspeakable things to her body. She comes quietly, intensely. Then, she drifts off, the post-orgasmic bliss calming her down.

The next morning, she wakes up feeling worse.

Sluggish, she climbs out of bed, and goes to the bathroom. The blood had come off of her clothes now, so she scrubbed them, rinsed them, took them out of the sink and hung them to dry. In the middle of hanging up her skirt, her stomach rumbles. She forgot to eat last night.

At the lobby, the usual banquet is set out for the residents. Yamane takes all the food she can fit on a plate, goes back up to her room, and eats in peace. She’ll need the strength and energy to survive tonight.

She didn’t know if she should be dismayed or relieved that she’s not grouped with Niragi and Last Boss in the game tonight. Instead, she was grouped with Saiko, Sunohara, Aguni, and another Beach member that she hasn’t spoken to yet. One of them wears a plain white hood, a distant, sly look on his face. They all went through the laser grid, and there were enough phones for ten players.

Soon, other participants arrived.

This game takes place in a hospital, and various implements are laid on the table. Yamane takes note of them; stress balls, large needles, blood bags, scalpels, and buckets. Sunohara was eyeing them as well, deep in thought.

In the middle of the room was a large electronic weighing scale.

“Registration closed. There are currently eight players. Difficulty: Five of Hearts.”

Ice runs through Yamane’s veins. Just last night she was talking to Sunohara about Heart games, and here she was.

“Game: Bloodletting. Rules: There is a bomb in this building. Players must spill enough blood to defuse them all. Time limit: thirty minutes.”

“Spill blood? This should be easy,” Saiko comments, loading her gun.

“Game Start!”

At the cue, Saiko shoots an unaffiliated player dead. Yamane’s eyes widen in surprise, while Sunohara screams, bracing herself against a medical gurney. Aguni is quiet, looking at the corpse, while the man with the white hood rolls his eyes. The others were too shocked to say anything.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice announces.

“Dammit!” Saiko shouts, shooting another player dead. The other one tries to flee, but she makes quick work of her.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice continues.

Saiko points the gun at Sunohara, but Yamane shoves her aside. “Idiot. It didn’t work the first time, what makes you think that it’ll work the fourth time?”

“Huh. Will you look at that. A militant that isn’t entirely stupid,” the man in white comments in a sing-song voice. Saiko turns to him and points her gun. “Would you rather I shoot you, Chishiya?”

“Saiko. Enough,” Aguni commands, crouching to look at the fallen man. “Your strategy clearly doesn’t work.”

Collecting herself, Sunohara sighs. “This is a Heart game. The rules aren’t what they seem. Look around you, there are implements for blood transfusion, and a weighing scale in the middle of the room. The game’s name is ‘Bloodletting’ too.”

“Let’s use the dead’s blood to fill the buckets then,” Aguni suggests. “How long does it take to drain the blood from a man his size?”

“A man that size looks like he has about 1.5 gallons of blood. That’s roughly 5.6 liters, enough to fill ten blood bags, which holds 525 milliliters of blood,” Chishiya comments. “The heart pumps five liters of blood per minute, but that man is dead.” 

Saiko and Yamane look at him with bewilderment. “He’s a medical student. I was his senior,” Sunohara comments sheepishly. “But, still, each transfusion would last eight to ten minutes, and that’s on someone alive. There wouldn’t be enough time for us to drain all their blood before the building blows up.”

“It’s still worth the try,” Yamane comments, taking a bucket. She kneels in front of one of the dead players, takes a deep breath to steady her hands, and applies what she learned from Last Boss the night before, the blood spilling into the bucket. Horrified, Sunohara could only watch as Yamane worked. Aguni takes a scalpel and starts to drain the other dead player as well.

“Twenty minutes remaining.”

The doctor takes a steadying breath when she takes a scalpel and kneels. The rest follow suit except for Chishiya, who merely observes. Soon, they were moving buckets of blood to the weighing scale.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice chimes in, and Saiko groans. Sunohara is nervously eyeing the militants, including Yamane, while Chishiya smirks. Impatient, Saiko points her gun at Chishiya again, and Sunohara gets in the way, eyes defiant.

“Get out of my face before I blow your face off instead of his,” Saiko hisses, but Sunohara remains firm. “Stop. I’m not letting anyone else die. This is a Heart game! It’s deliberately fucking with your head to make you think that killing each other is the only solution.”

“There’s something in the rules you’re all overlooking,” Chishiya comments, unfazed. “The rules said players must spill enough blood.”

Upon hearing his remark, Yamane has an epiphany. “Maybe it meant that we should all fill a bag?”

Chishiya smirks.

“Ten minutes remaining.”

Sunohara rushes to gather the blood bags and stress balls, giving them to the remaining players. “We better hurry,” she says, panting. “Hold out your arms,” she instructs. “Chishiya, don’t just stand there, help me!”

He gives her a cheeky smile and gets to work.

Plunging the needle in Yamane’s arm, Chishiya gives her a look. “You’re too clever for this lot.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she responds. “Let’s just focus on the game.”

“Fair.”

Soon, everyone had their needles inserted in their veins. “Now what?” Saiko asks, scowling.

“Squeeze those stress balls!” Sunohara directs, and everyone starts. Slowly but steady, they all fill a bag.

“Five minutes remaining.”

“How long does this take again?” Saiko asks, still hard at squeezing. “Eight to ten minutes,” Sunohara replies, eyeing the weighing scale.

“Three minutes remaining.”

At that point, Yamane was cursing, bag filled only three-fourths of the way through. She looks to the other players’ bags.

“Two minutes remaining.”

Aguni is first to finish his bag, and Sunohara promptly helps him move it to the weighing scale. Chishiya follows, then Saiko, then Sunohara. Yamane’s bag still isn’t full.

“One minute remaining,” the robotic voice chirps again, and Yamane curses. “Hurry the hell up!” Saiko yells, distressed.

“Thirty seconds remaining.”

In desperation, Yamane grabs her bag, puts it on the scale, and takes one of her daggers to slash her arm, blood spilling on the weighing scale.

“Enough blood has been spilled. Game Clear. Congratulations!”

Collective relief rushes through the group. Yamane should be relieved herself, but now, blood continues to spill from her arm. “S-Sunohara, I won’t stop bleeding,” she gasps.

Cursing, Sunohara scrambles to find supplies to help stop the flow. But the pressure wasn't enough; Yamane continues to bleed all over the table. Aguni steps in, meaty palm pressing against the wound. As he kept the pressure on her arm, he notices a few scars on the surface of his underling's skin. Multiple stripes lined up on her wrist, and it only took one look for him to realize that they were self-inflicted. Sensing the discomfort in Yamane's gaze as she watched him stare at her scars, Aguni looks away.

Once the bleeding stopped, Sunohara treats Yamane’s arm, wrapping a bandage around it. “You’re lucky,” Sunohara comments. “The cut wasn’t deep enough to sever your radial artery. A little deeper, and you would be dead in two minutes.”

“Let’s go,” Aguni grunts, collecting the card from the round table that always shows up after a game.

Before they leave, Yamane eyes the bodies of the dead players Saiko shot, and she feels less horrified. Desensitized.

As soon as they arrived in the Beach, she passed through the pool, most of the Beach residents already hard at partying, and Yamane couldn’t stop the dread from creeping up her spine. These people probably saw other people die in a game tonight, yet they’re more than happy to forget all that with a drink and a good fuck.

“Maybe I should try drinking and fucking my sorrows away like them,” a small part of Yamane’s psych tells her. But her own thoughts are interrupted by the rumble of her stomach.

The blood loss made her ravenous, and she went directly to the banquet. Yamane didn’t even take the food back to her room; she just picked up whatever she found appealing and started eating right there. Biting into a chicken leg, Yamane didn’t care for what the onlookers thought. Sauce pooled in the corner of her mouth as she polished off the chicken, not a single shred of meat left on the bone.

“Yamaneko.”

Abruptly, she turns around to see Last Boss giving her an amused look.

Almost choking, Yamane forces herself to swallow the meat in her mouth. She couldn’t look him in the eye after pleasuring herself at the thought of him the night before. “Last Boss. Hey.”

She moves aside to allow him to gather his serving too. Yamane follows him afterwards to a secluded area afterwards, and he seemed to tolerate her presence, allowing her to sit next to him.

“Thank you for last night,” Yamane tells him. “It helped me clear my game tonight.”

Last Boss only stares at her as she ate, which made her self-conscious. She slowed her chewing, and when he didn’t stop, she turned to face him.

“Yes?”

Goosebumps ripple through Yamane’s skin again as the other militant brushes his thumb on her lips, towards the corner of her mouth. He proceeds to lick it off of his finger. Yamane’s entire face is red now, and she rubs the rest of the sauce off of her mouth with a napkin.

“Y-you could’ve just told me I have sauce on me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he finally speaks up.

Yamane just knew that she was going to spend nights touching herself to the thought of him again. Several nights.

Four days later, after a Club, a Diamond, and two Spade games, Yamane is given her new player tag. Number twenty five. She’s slowly becoming a seasoned player.

Every after game, Yamane sought out Last Boss’ company more and more. Whether they spoke or just sat in silence didn’t matter. He hasn’t told her to go away once, so Yamane continues to spend more time with him. People started to talk. Not like Yamane cared; she endured all of that in the real world, it doesn’t faze her anymore in this strange land. Soon, the thoughts of home started to dissipate from her psyche, preoccupied with the games and the twisted sense of acceptance she received from her fellow members of the Beach’s militia.

A day after Yamane’s Spade game, she received her next team assignment. She looks at her slip of paper and proceeds to look for other members. Last Boss locks eyes with her, and holds out his slip of paper. They were grouped with a couple who couldn’t get their hands off of each other in the backseat as Yamane drove. Last Boss sits next to her in the front seat, eyes occasionally wandering to her.

Yamane pretended not to notice, locking her eyes on the road.

Soon, they arrive at the game venue.

A love hotel.

As the two other Beach players walked towards the venue, Yamane leaned against the car, eyeing the neon sign. “This… this probably won't be a Spade game, huh?” she mumbles to her companion, whose mouth was slightly open.

“Ever been to a place like this before?” Yamane asks him, wrapping her arms around herself.

“No.”

Yamane didn’t say anything else after that, proceeding inside the venue with Last Boss.

The signs led them to a large suite, where X-crosses are lined up. Smartwatches are laid out for the players, along with guns. Yamane and Last Boss pick up a phone, and proceed to wear the watches. On Yamane’s watch, an arrow pops up in the display, while a heart shows up on Last Boss’ watch.

As another pair gets in the room, Yamane inspects the guns, which had an arrow engraved on the handle. Her eyes flick to the restraints, and dread washes over her when she sees the heart designs in the red light.

“Please sort yourselves accordingly,” a sign on the table instructs them, and the players are done as they’re told. Last Boss went to the X-cross, which had automatic cuffs that bound his arms and legs. Yamane looks at him with slight discomfort, but he stares at her with a blank expression.

“Registration closed. There are currently six players. Difficulty: Nine of Hearts.”

The other players started to mumble amongst themselves, while Yamane’s eyes remained locked on to her fellow militant.

“Game: Desire. Rules: Arrows must take turns to confess their feelings to the Heart they find most desirable. Arrows must fire the gun at the Heart of their choice. Lying or failing to fire the gun would result in a Game Over. Time limit: five minutes.”

“Shit,” was all Yamane could say.

“First player: Daisuke Inamine.”

Yamane turns to the said player, whose tears are streaming down his face as he looks at his lover. “Shit, I can’t do this! I can’t do this,” he sobs, putting the gun down and running out of the room. A laser fired and killed him in an instant. His lover was crying and screaming, fighting against the X-cross’ restraints.

“Next player: Rina Yamada.”

Hands shaking, the other player picks up the gun, and points it at the boy she came to the venue with. “Hiro,” she starts, voice shaking. “I’ve- I’ve always liked you since middle school,” she confesses, sobs wracking her body. “I appreciate that you enjoy the bento I’d always make for you. I like how you’d always come to protect me from my bullies. I- oh god, Hiro, please, please forgive me.”

“Three minutes remaining.”

Hiro was looking at her with resignation in his eyes. “Enough, Rina. I’ve always liked you too. Please, do what you can to survive.”

Shaking, sobbing, Rina pulls the trigger, firing the gun at Hiro’s chest. She then tosses it away, covering her face as she wails.

“Next player: Minami Yamane.”

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfic: dormouse #last boss x oc #takatora samura x oc #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #morizono aguni #takeru danma #hatter #oc: lilian sunohara #fanfiction #character study