#non-consensual drugging

[uuuhshiny]

Vladimir Verevochkin in Double

Later that day

I guess you didn’t get me correctly. I will not take no for an answer

Next

[dont-look-me-in-the-eye]

@melda0m3 more Aegen stuff (i love torturing this poor fuck <3)

diversity win: this evil torturer woman is bisexual

[evenfallwriter]

devils come out when the sun goes down - chapter one

AI-less Whumptober 2023 - Day One : Drugging || @ailesswhumptober Flufftober 2023 - Day One : "I've got you." || @flufftober Bad Thing Happen Bingo - G1 : Tampering with Food/Drink || @badthingshappenbingo LGBTQ Bingo - O4 : Silenced || @lgbtqbingo AFG Dark Bingo - B4 : Paranoia || @anyfandomdarkbingo

Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic || Word Count: 2,005

Summary: The upperclassman, Katelyn and the monsters go to Eden’s on Halloween during Neil’s second year. Everything that can go wrong, pretty much does- but when the nights reaches an end, and it dawns on Neil that it could have been much worse, he decides that maybe it isn’t that bad.

Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten & Katelyn & Aaron Minyard

Characters: Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Katelyn (All For The Game), Aaron Minyard, The Foxes | Palmetto State Foxes Member(s) (All For The Game)

Trigger Warnings: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Non-Consensual Drugging, Passing out.

Additional Tags: Halloween Costumes, Hurt Neil Josten, Neil Josten & Katelyn Friendship, BAMF Katelyn (All For The Game), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, AI-less Whumptober 2023, Day 1: Drugging, Flufftober 2023, Day 1: "I've got you.", ailesswhumptober2023, Any Fandom Dark Bingo, Bad Things Happen Bingo

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.

It’s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but it’s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.

Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after he’s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. He’s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ‘hurry up’ and ‘get him his stuff’, and sure he’s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if he’s alright. Steve clearly wasn’t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didn’t? Nor his “friends”?

They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and it’s a casual interaction. He’s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices he’s dropped the price significantly for Steve when it’s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesn’t. They both just laugh and part ways.

The next run in is tina’s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They don’t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after he’d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he won’t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.

Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he won’t make eye contact with Eddie, and he’s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesn’t let him, though, since he’s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steve’s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so he’s definitely not. They’re not really friends, but Eddie’s not an asshole.

— “Did you drive?” Eddie asks

“Yeah”

“Well, you’re drunk, Steve. You can’t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. I’ll take you home.”

Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. “Yeah, yeah, alright! Don’t thank me yet, Steve’o. This is not for you, see, I’m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, let’s go hot stuff.” —

Eddie takes Steve home. They don’t talk much. By the time they reach Steve’s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he didn’t really plan this far, so he’s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says it’s ‘relationship troubles’, and he’s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but he’s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ‘yeah, for sure. It’s no problem.’ And Steve goes home.

After that, it’s a little different. Steve, doesn’t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school he’s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesn’t approach Eddie when there’s too many people around, though. As much as he’s grown, Steve Harrington still carry’s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesn’t bother Eddie too much. It’s not like they are really friends, they’re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddie’s ‘not so bad’. So that’s a win.

Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steve’s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each other’s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And it’s fun, so they do it again. Still they’re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.

He doesn’t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him it’s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. It’s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesn’t approach him to ask questions, because they don’t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesn’t see Steve again after that for quite some time.

Then it’s summer, Eddie isn’t graduating again, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and there’s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldn’t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasn’t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like he’d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so it’s been a minute since Eddie’s seen him. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. He’s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea he’d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesn’t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because they’re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. That’s all. He doesn’t go back, and he doesn’t really plan to. Steve’s nice, and he knows Eddie’s around if he needs to buy from him again, and that’s really as far as their relationship goes. That’s all it ever was. It’s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought he’d say it, but Harrington wasn’t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.

Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And it’s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddie’s ever seen it. And he wasn’t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddie’s help.

What the fuck?

[dice-n-slice-bitvh]

Hah! Fuck you single bitch, imagine being single.

I'm dating someone, go fuck yourself.

-✂️

Damn, didn't know that toys counted as a sentient being now- Wait, nevermind, not even a preschool toy would want to date you. Stop with hallucinations before you're sent to the Asylum again.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 4: Hallucinations, “You’re still alive in my head”

Sky and Twilight took the reins and this got longer than it was originally planned to be. But that’s okay that means more angst :)

Warnings: poisoning (kind of), non consensual drugging (sort of), hallucinations (ish).

Ao3 link

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sky didn’t really like caves, but at least this one had plenty of light.

Glowing mushrooms dotted the walls in shades of blue and purple, smaller orange ones interspersed like tiny stars of amber. Every room they’d been in was a little different, and though Sky was tense and chilly from the location, even he had to admit it was pretty. It felt a lot like Skyview temple, honestly.

But luckily without the spiderwebs and skulltulas, he thought with a grimace. Worst part of that place, minus Ghirahim.

Sky gave a pink mushroom a cautious poke, and small waves of lighter pink rippled across the cap like a pond, Sky watching in fascination. Twilight looked up from where he was sitting, and watched the colors shift as well with an interested look.

“You think the others’ll be along soon?” Twilight asked as he stood and stretched. Sky shrugged. Half of their group had gone down a different tunnel, and they’d agreed to see if they met up later. The room they were in now had what looked like a side passage, so Sky, Twilight, Warriors and Hyrule had decided to pause here for a bit and see if they showed up.

“I’d bet they will,” Sky replied, poking the mushroom in two different spots. That made little waves of color go out that rippled against each other. “And if not, you can always sniff them out.”

“Should you all be touching those?” Warriors asked, an eyebrow raised as Sky poked a blue mushroom, glowing speckles winking all along the cap.

“I don’t see why not,” Hyrule said from across the room. He was tapping some smaller mushrooms that changed from orange to gold whenever they were poked. Twilight oohed in fascination, and got up to stand beside him and poke a few himself.

Warriors sighed, then gave a green one beside him a hesitant touch, the glow it gave off dimming slightly, and revealing stripes that weren’t visible before.

Sky and the others kept this up until Twilight heard footsteps from the tunnel, ears pricking as he reported it was the others. Four came through first, and Sky’s relief quickly turned into worry at the look on his face.

“Smithy? What’s up?” he asked, and Legend huffed as he came out of the tunnel behind him.

“Wild, that’s what,” Legend said. It came across as grumpy, but Sky could hear the worry in it as well. Twilight’s eyebrow raised in question.

“He and Wind were messing around, and Wild got smacked into this weird mushroom and all these spores went up,” Four reported with a frown. “We thought it was fine, but then Wild started acting all... weird.”

“Weird how?” Hyrule asked.

Time emerged from the tunnel with Wild’s arm slung around his shoulder then, the champion’s eyes wide and... worryingly blank. Twilight quickly went over to him, but Time waved him back.

“Best you don’t get too close, he already gave our sailor a bloody nose,” he warned, but Twilight still hovered nearby as Time gently set Wild down, keeping his head resting against his shoulder. “He’s quiet now, but when we first found him he was just...”

Wild gasped suddenly, and Time quickly put his arm around him in order to stop him from getting up when he lunged forward.

“W... wa-it...” Wild stammered, staring at the space in front of him. “Wait, wait for me, I-I’m...”

A shudder wracked through him, and he fell back against Time, shivering slightly. Warriors got to a knee beside him, carefully tilting Wild’s head around and studying his eyes and extremities, then hummed.

“I think it’s acting like a toxin of some kind,” he said, voice worried, but not overly concerned. Sky was rather alarmed at the use of the word toxin, himself. “Not life-threatening though, he’s not showing any signs of it being severe. He must just be reacting badly to the spores. An allergy, maybe. We’ll need to keep an eye on him, but it should just need to work through his system by itself. Is Wind okay?”

“I’b fine!” the sailor replied as he emerged from the tunnel as well, voice somewhat stuffed. “I didn’t breabe id in like Wild did.”

“Maybe get Hyrule to look at your nose, though,” Sky suggested with a wince, and Wind nodded.

The sailor skipped over to Hyrule, and while the traveler made sure nothing was broken, Sky cautiously moved over to where Wild sat, still shivering against Time’s shoulder. Wild didn’t react to his presence, but Sky noticed that when he shifted around, Time winced.

He looked closer, noticing that Time was holding his arm a bit gingerly, and Twilight obviously noticed as well.

“Did he just get Wind’s nose?” Twilight asked suspiciously, and Time sighed.

“He struggled a bit as I was pulling him away, but I’m fine.”

“Well then you won’t mind it if Hyrule looks you over just to be sure,” Warriors said flatly, and shooed him away as Twilight shifted Wild to his shoulder. Time hesitated, but at the sight of Wild immediately huddling up beside Twilight, he gave in with a sigh.

It was decided they’d make camp in the large cavern for now so they could monitor Wild, and hopefully give his body time to work through what it had been exposed to. Warriors wasn’t expecting it to take too long, but in the meantime... Wild only got worse.

He shivered and babbled nonsense nobody could make out, eyes catching on nothing. He felt feverish when Sky brushed a hand over his face, and coughed occasionally, looking miserable. All they could really do was keep him comfortable, but Wild only seemed to get worse, his mumbling growing louder, his eyes growing more wild.

Time’s arm turned out to be sprained, rather badly, and he was banished to the other side of the cave with Wind. The others tried to help with Wild, but after he nearly clocked Legend in the eye, Warriors decided the less people nearby, the better. Sky couldn’t bring himself to leave though, not with way Wild whimpered and thrashed, and he stayed beside him, wiping sweat from his brow, and wrapping his sailcloth around him when his shivering grew worse.

And nothing much changed for an hour or two, until Wild suddenly stiffened, and stared directly at Sky.

Sky blinked, and Warriors drew up beside him, prepared to step in if Wild tried anything. They all watched anxiously as Wild’s gaze flicked between the two of them, Twilight holding a little tighter to the champion, and Wild’s eyes rolled upward to look at him. Then his expression suddenly turned almost childlike with hope.

“Father?” he said in a small voice, and Sky’s heart fell down to his boots.

Twilight breathed in sharply.

“No, no Link, I’m not your father,” Twilight tried to explain gently, expression agonized. “None of us are, he’s not... here.”

“B-But you.... wh-where is he?” Wild asked, filmy eyes fixing on Warriors’ face. “I thought he... is he okay?”

Warriors froze, and Twilight exchanged looks with Sky. “I...”

Sky swallowed, and gently took Wild’s hand. “Link, he’s... he’s busy right now, okay?”

Wild blinked at him, then shuddered, his eyes clearing a moment and filling with grief.

“No. He’s not,” he whispered.

He let out a soft whimper, and to Sky’s dismay a tear fell down his cheek, its trail erratic due to the way Wild was shaking.

“I can’t r-remember— I miss him, b-but... I don’t kn-know if— you’re here, but y-you’re not— I saw you,” Wild said with a sharp inhale, eyes suddenly taking on a different sort of blankness.

“Oh no,” Twilight breathed as Wild’s shaking suddenly stilled, his blank gaze fixing on Sky’s face. “Please no, not now, don’t show him one right now...”

Oh Hylia, a memory, Sky thought in horror as Wild fell still. Please, let it be a good one.

Sky kept holding Wild’s hand, and Wild continued to stare at him, sweat-soaked hair falling in his face.

“He’s fighting...” Wild whispered, mouth the only part of him moving. “He st-stayed to fight... protect the... king. We saw, Zelda, she saw, when Cala... Calamity... the g-guardians...”

A shudder wracked through Wild, another tear slipping down his cheek.

“King’s dead. Everyone, they’re all... nobody left, D-Divine... p-papa...” he choked out, and suddenly his eyes cleared, and he lurched forward with a wail, head knocking against Sky’s collarbone.

Sky quickly stopped him from falling over, and waved Warriors and Twilight back when they tried to intervene, Wild clutching at Sky’s shirt with a terrible desperation.

“Father I failed,” Wild choked out, and Sky ignored how his heart was breaking, and ran a hand over Wild’s hair. Wild sobbed into his shirt, and Sky held him tightly, not even knowing where to begin with untangling this mess.

He looked at the others helplessly, and saw Twilight looking like he was either about to cry or hit something, and Warriors’ face looking much the same, expression holding a quiet grief.

“Link, it’s okay,” Sky tried, soothing him as he rocked a little. “You did your best. You saved Zelda.”

“She h-had to wait a-a hundred years,” Wild cried, voice muffled by Sky’s shirt. “I made her w-wait, s-so long, and y-you—”

Wild’s voice broke off into another sob, and Sky looked helplessly at Twilight. He knew the basics of Wild’s adventure, but not everything, and he didn’t know how to comfort him through this.

Wild had latched onto him though, and passing him off wouldn’t end well, he was sure. It was up to Sky.

He swallowed.

“Link,” he began softly, but loud enough that Wild could hear him over his crying. “I’m your father, aren’t I?”

Wild nodded, and Sky swallowed again, mentally apologizing to Wild’s father for impersonating him, and to Wild for lying about his identity.

“Then believe me when I say that I’m so proud of you,” Sky said, voice still soft. Wild let out a gross sniffle, and raised his head a bit so he could see Sky’s face. His eyes were still filmy, but Sky couldn’t tell if it was because of the memory or not. Was he out? “You did your best, you saved Zelda, and beat the Calamity. You avenged the people who died. You’re a hero, Link.”

“But I couldn’t save— I s-saw, saw you,” Wild hiccuped, still clutching Sky’s shirt. “You had— you weren’t, w-weren’t, moving, a laser, I saw you...”

“Oh Link,” Sky said thickly, and Wild pressed his face to Sky’s neck, a hiccuping sob coming out of him.

Twilight abruptly stood, shoulders tense as a bowstring.

“Captain. Do you have anything that would knock him out until the spores are out of his system?” Twilight asked quietly. Warriors nodded, and Twilight turned away. “Give him that. I’m not going to sit here and watch him be tortured by hallucinations any longer.”

“You want us to drug him?” Sky said in disbelief, and Twilight shook his head.

“We’re sedating him. It’s different.”

Sky didn’t know about that, but he didn’t argue as Wild sobbed again. This needed to stop.

Warriors didn’t add to the conversation either, and dug through his bag a moment before retrieving a small pouch of leaves. He got up and retrieved a cup from one of the others, pouring water inside, then crumbled up some leaves and stirred them in to the sounds of Wild’s sniffles.

He heated the mixture with his fire rod, still stirring, then blew on it and held it out.

“There. It’ll knock him out for a good ten hours,” he said quietly, and Twilight nodded, taking the cup.

“Hey Link,” Sky said softly, running a hand over Wild’s head. Wild shifted a little, and turned his head up. “We have a... medicine here for you that you need to take. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Really?” Wild asked in a small voice.

“Really,” Sky said, and Wild sighed thickly, going still against Sky’s shoulder.

“Okay,” he whispered, and Sky ignored the sting in his throat at the lie. Twilight came forward and crouched beside him, his face briefly conflicted, and Sky propped Wild up so he could help him drink it.

Strangely enough Wild didn’t resist at all, and drank most of the tea without fuss. He finished most of it before his eyes began to droop, and Sky adjusted his hold on him, making sure he was comfortable.

Wild sighed sleepily, and looked at Warriors and Twilight, then up at Sky.

“I m-missed you papa,” he whispered, and Sky swallowed back the lump in his throat, not missing the glassy look in Twilight’s eyes.

“Try and get some sleep, Link,” he managed to reply, and Wild finally closed his eyes, face looking more at peace than it had all day.

Warriors waited to be sure he was asleep, then stood and went off to the other side of the cave, likely to inform Time and the others of what had happened. And probably compose himself. Twilight remained beside Wild, his face conflicted, and Sky rested a hand on his arm, Twilight looking away and closing his eyes.

Sky sighed, looking at Wild, then held him close as he gently wiped the tear tracks from his face.

He really didn’t like caves.

[whumporama]

Whumpee who is a very powerful person, (magical or just strong and dangerous), and needs to be held captive. To keep them down, their captors keep them drugged.

Whumpee, who would normally never give in or back down, who keeps fighting even if they're restrained, is now unable to even lift a finger to stop them. It breaks them. They can take anything, if they can fight. But this? They're constantly confused and feel like their mind is in a fog. Their body doesn't feel theirs anymore, they can't move and they can't think and they can't resist.

---

When they're rescued, they're in a pretty bad state, and taking care of their wounds will hurt.

But Whumpee refuses the sedative Caretaker offers. They just got this control back, and even though they know they can trust Caretaker, they don't want to go back to that.

So now they're trapped between two evils. It hurts like hell to get their wounds cleaned, and they've had so, so much pain and are so tired. But the relief comes with going back to that state, and they can't.

Does Caretaker respect their wish? Do they try to convince them? Do they force Whumpee to take it? Do they inject it, and Whumpee only realizes when it starts to kick in?

[sloppysequinz]

Is there any better feeling in the world than getting a brat with an attitude problem to let down her walls and relax? To feel her drop the spiny exterior in favor of slumping against your chest? To feel her sigh as you cuddle her and you feel her tense limbs unwind to drape over your soft body?

So what if I use drugs to get her like this. She needs it. Mommy knows best.

And even if she says she’s mad about it later, even if she acts angry, she doesn’t stop accepting food and drinks I make for her. What is that other than an invitation?

[babybunbuun]

Anon is back 🤭

As well as a tip jar is available, every tip earns your special lewdies for your inbox🩷

[henrysglock]

High Existence and ZeroSpace: The First Shadow and NINA May Be Massive, Immersive Drug Trips

The blurb in last Friday's video from TFS sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. I found a lot of sites quoting The Alchemist about the universe conspiring to give you what you truly want (which is similar and it's probably what I was thinking of when this blurb registered as familiar), but I couldn't find this exact quote:

Well...not at first, anyway. I decided to stick every word I could make out here ^ into my search bar...and I found where the blurb comes from:

This blog post is quite literally the only source I could find for it, and the whole damn thing is directly lifted.

Right off the bat, the site fucking jump-scared me:

And it doesn't end there. Let's dive in, because this rabbit hole is a trip unto itself...no MDMA​ ​required.

1. The Fucking Website...#1 (HighExistence.com)

High Existence is a sort of drug-induced-spiritual-trip centered self-help site.

It's got blog posts and podcasts and all that jazz. Here are some of the highlights:

Wow! That was...a lot. A lot of words from the word show, too:

Wholeness, heroes, ancient aliens, prisons of politeness, and the fucking Shire, too, I guess. Why not?

(An Aside: I've included the VR in here too because of the sheer similarities between Henry's experience with the Shadow in VR, El's experience in NINA, and The First Shadow in general.)

Like fuck it, why not keep going, these posts date back to at least 2017:

And don't let me start in on that Creel boy and Faust...

[Jason voice] "[Eddie] made a deal with the devil and now he has his powers!" (Also we get it, one of them is neurotic and the other is psychotic. I've been saying this since like...forever)

Of course, all that insanity aside, the Russian base arc has just...an insane amount of ST4 and TFS stuff packed into it in general:

(And this isn't even all of it. I know others [cough] Stav Heroesbyler [cough] have covered it even more...but bro it is THERE)

But most importantly for the NINA arc:

Three things: Dialogue doubling (there's the one I showed, plus a) Robin yelling "Wipeout!" at Steve which has the pipeline -> "Wipeout!" at Rink-O-Mania -> 002-005 bullying El in a very similar manner and b) Steve's "that's amazing" line about the water fountain -> "This is amazing!" not only from Alice irt the Creel house but also from Mike irt Will's painting on their way to save El from NINA. Again, these are just a few of MANY instances), makeup doubling with the bloodshot eyes, and my beloved: set/prop doubling.

I love that beautiful framing on the nearly-identical square clocks. I have so much to say about that clock, but specifically:

The clocks being set 9 minutes apart, which happens to be the exact length of time from the end of Vecna's voiceover in 4.07 to the start of the fight sequence in 4.07 (aka the length of One's frozen-clock monologue).

Not only that, but the clock isn't even right. It says it's 3:55, but it's definitely not 3:55 AM (see: movie theater scene) but it's also not 3:55 PM:

(And why do we have a clock in an elevator anyway? That's the real question. That thang only exists to deliver subtext, baby! It exists to connect the two scenes further!)

Anyway, as you all likely noticed, this site mostly deals in psychedelics, stimulants, and empathogens.

link

Hell, you could even pull One's bit on the ecosystem into it, since he's describing connections between beings that are being disturbed/destroyed by humanity.

Anyway, the site tends to center specifically on DMT and MDMA...so let's talk about those:

MDMA & DMT An aside: Interesting to me that psychosis here can be counteracted with sedatives. Makes me wonder if whatever happened in 1979 could have been halted if they'd just tranq'd One. Hm.

First off: Did I read that right? Piggy-backing? Damn, son. 4.09, The Piggyback, is pictured in that paragraph. So is Brenner's candy bit with the children -> "candy flipping" vs LSD use in Brenner's lab.

Second: Ah, how nice. Intravenous/injectable. Just like how El is constantly being shot up with...something...to enter NINA.

Now, nearly all psychedelics can induce psychosis, but especially so if they're combined with other psychoactive substances and/or if the user has a history of psychosis (either themselves or in their family).

However, MDMA specifically has been posited as a treatment for PTSD and retrograde/traumagenic amnesia:

link Like...wow. Okay, I guess!

tl;dr: One seems to have been tripping fucking balls during the monologue. Literally every fucking version of him. El likely is as well. Funny how that works. Was any of that real? [smash cut to the way blood pours down the walls and the dead children dance around in the VR version of NINA] And either way, Henry in TFS isn't far behind with his hallucinogenic moments.

The connection? Whatever the hell is going on in Hawkins Labs...and symptoms of drug use.

I was not expecting to get this much out of a single rabbit hole. But...that's life with this show, isn't it? And this is only Part 1.

2. The Fucking Website...#2 (Futurism.com)

The guy who made that original post that TFS lifted the blurb from (Jordan Lejuwaan) runs a couple different websites. The most interesting one is Futurism, which is basically an online version of the Weekly Watcher:

It won't let me filter by date, but it seems to have been founded in 2017, stemming from an infographic subreddit. (Now, it says it's a trustworthy news source, and maybe it is, but... Do your own assessment of that. I'm not your mother, yknow?)

Jordan Lejuwaan was also involved in something far more interesting irt Stranger Things...

3. Zero Space

Jordan co-founded an immersive, interactive theater experience called ZeroSpace back in 2018. As we all know, TFS was just in the beginning phase of its creation around this time.

So...This was like a brick to the skull:

"Alice in Wonderland" (don't get me started: rabbit fuckery, DRUGS!!!!!, clocks/being later, Alice Creel, Fringe connections (Through The Looking Glass and What Walter Found There being the episode about the pocket universe where 20 years passed in 5 days...and also wherein we find out about him hiding away an Observer child that he will later time travel with to save the world from the Observer takeover...erasing himself from time/the timeline by doing so...there is SO much) not to mention the "one pill makes you larger/smaller" vs teen El and baby El...it's too much to try and fit in this post), "ALIENS AND LASERS", "stretch the perceived reality of the sense", "art, actors and your own mind converge to prompt MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS" (which was a common complaint about TFS: it leaves people with more questions than answers).

("See you on the other side" being an in-show line from Henry in the lab to Patty in the void, but this image is ripped directly from the same promo video that the High Existence blurb appears in.)

Here's a little taste of what ZeroSpace is like, but I suggest going to the actual page to see it in action:

It's heavily heavily reminiscent of TFS, even just in the content warnings...

Not to mention the actual show content SFX:

However, the goal of TFS isn't to stretch our senses. We're just watching. We are not the volunteer seeing the other side.

For most of the show, that person is Henry (except the first 5 mins, when it's Cptn. Brenner and his crew literally experiencing the other side). Henry is doing the experiencing. He's the one breaking the fourth wall by picking at/breaking the sets, the one running through the audience and leaving out the theater doors (only to end up right back on stage just like El in the Rainbow Room in 4.05).

With each bit of info I find out adjacent to the play, the more convinced I am that this is some secret third boy's experience in a NINA-like simulation.

Overall—

a) TFS most likely isn't wholly real, and it seems very likely that it's the same kind of simulation as NINA.

b) El was probably drugged up with some kind of empathogenic psychedelic going into NINA, likely with the goal of setting her up to form emotional connections quickly and deeply only to rip that deep connection away in order to bolster her abilities.

c) NINA is not, then, wholly based in truth. Parts of NINA (staring at the bullying from 002-005) may have been generated from El's memories of the outside world.

d) With NINA and TFS seeming so similar, I wouldn't be shocked if parts of it are just one massive empathogen trip (staring at how quickly Henry and Patty bond, similarly to how quickly Henry and El bond in NINA).

e) Whoever is in NINA with teen El is also tripping balls, most likely, and may have gone off the rails in that regard. However, that's in a simulation...hard to assign guilt or blame for things done in a fictional/unreal world.

f) Whoever was with baby El in 1979 may have been in a similar situation "moving chess pieces"-style instead. Read: drugged in order to put him in a situation where he would bolster El's latent abilities...and it went wrong (see also: Walter Bishop's orchestrated/fake massacre meant to bolster Olivia's latent abilities.)

g) Richard Brenner having been the head of narcotics makes me question which Brenner we're seeing at any given time: Martin, or Richard?

[elwenyere]

First Player to Break Hearts (Inception, Arthur x Eames)

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating: T

Tags: Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sleep Deprivation, Hallucinations, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Author’s Note: A very happy Whumptober to all who celebrate!!! This fic was written for the prompts for day 8, Sleep Deprivation: Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on."

.....

“Ready to talk?”

They’ve had Eames for about six hours, and aside from a bit of customary rough handling in transit from the bar where they grabbed him to the harshly lit room where they’ve got him strapped to a metal chair, they’ve barely touched him. So while Eames isn’t surprised to see Peter Browning walk in, he’s mildly offended to hear he expects Eames to give up the goods on the threat of violence alone.

“You remember me,” Browning says. “So you know why you’re here.”

Eames does. He’s here because some green extractor with more ambition than common sense had whispered the word “inception” in Browning’s ear last month at a conference. He’s here because that little talk had gotten Browning thinking about Robert, who’d always been so shy and tractable as a kid, and who’d become so unaccountably mulish after Maurice had died. He’s here because an architect who owed Arthur a favor had tipped him off that Browning was running a deep background check on the personal assistant who’d come and gone in the days before Fischer-Morrow fell apart. 

And most of all he’s here because when Arthur had showed up at the flat where Eames was staying in La Jolla to tell him to lie low and let Arthur handle Browning, Eames had slipped a mickey into his drink and dropped him off at Cobb’s.

“What the fuck, Eames?” Cobb had demanded. “You drugged him?”

“Bit of a glass-houses situation, wouldn’t you say?” Eames had asked.

Read the Rest on AO3

[gnome-adjacent-vagabond]

Doing a compromise and posting an EXCERPT of the Johnny and Einstein fic. Trigger warnings will be up here and in the tags; the story will be under the cut. Please let me know if I miss any!

A little context first: Jonathan and Einstein have been hiding out in a motel in South Bend for a long while, and they killed the motel owner (well, not killed, per se...he died of pneumonia). This is a moment of reflection from Einstein's pov in the wee hours after Jonathan has fallen into a very heavy sleep.

Trigger warnings: nongraphic violence, blood mention, surgery mention, drugging (noncon), non consensual touching, murder mention, crime in general, toxic relationship, obsession. This fic's content is looking askance at somnophilia but it isn't TECHNICALLY somnophilia.

Saving Face (working title)

Einstein liked him best when he was asleep.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t in awe of Jonathan Brewster when he was awake—he was! His purposeful gait, his burning eyes, his frightful and inquiring mind…the man was a terror and a wonder, but one to be observed from afar like a tiger in a zoo. It was incredible that he let Einstein get even this close to him. When he was asleep, though…well, that was a different story altogether. Einstein could get as close as he liked.

The moments when his companion actually closed his eyes and rested his mind were few and far between; Johnny slept infrequently. When he did, he slept light at best. At worst, he was half-awake, his heavy lids fluttering as he dozed in whatever corner they had tucked themselves into for the night. That said, his dreams never appeared troubled. He was ever so still, his breaths slow and steady with only the occasional sniff or sigh. He never snored, he never shifted—it was as if he died every night. The peacefulness of his slumber had been unsettling at first, especially that first time in London when they hid out in the abandoned tenement building. They’d been on the move without rest; Einstein hadn’t slept for two days. Yet Johnny had settled down in a moldy armchair and gone out like a light. After everything that had happened, he just went to sleep like it was nothing and woke up in good spirits the next day.

Einstein remembered fixating on the relative stranger’s hands in those forty-eight hours: They were long, curious things like great pale spiders at the end of either arm, ever restless and roving when he was awake. They were strong, too, as Einstein had seen when Johnny choked the life out of that poor young officer. He would later see they were also dexterous with a knife. During the night, though, they laid still and perfect in his lap or the arms of the chair, and Einstein had crouched at his side and gazed at them in admiration. These were what had made him stay—the chance to see those clever hands at work again was an intoxicating prospect. Now, five years on, he had watched them perform miracles over a hundred times.

Over the next half a decade, when the nightmares kept him from sleep or he was on first watch, Einstein stared at Johnny for hours, admiring his slack features as an artist admires one of his own paintings. Very little had actually changed about Johnny’s face, in his opinion, which was the result of meticulous effort on his part. Skin had been added and removed, stitches administered here and there, lips widened and shortened, but Einstein could still see his Johnny under all the other masks. It was most apparent in sleep, when the face and body were freed of pain and stiffness. Something remained of the aristocratic nose, the puppyish chin, the impish mouth. The mouth was most recognizable when Johnny smiled, rare as that was. He hadn’t done it often to begin with, and the constant facial reconstructions didn’t make it easy. Einstein had accomplished something great with every face—well, almost every face. He had always wanted Johnny to stay himself. He fought with him about every surgery, every change, and when he was inevitably shouted down he went to work with the intent to preserve, not to erase. The eyes, arresting in their intensity, were most important; Einstein couldn’t bear to alter such a captivating gaze. He turned Johnny’s features into a tribute to his soul, a work of art in which the centerpieces were two darkened windows. He strove to carve new odes into his muse each time he took the scalpel in hand, never repeating a previous modification and never failing to frame the eyes that were so dear to him with the utmost reverence. Johnny, whose aesthetic preferences were limited to shades of red and sanguinous pink, was none the wiser.

Sometimes, on the quietest nights when there was no chance of sirens jerking them both out of their dreams, Einstein would caress Johnny—never on the face, for that would wake him for sure. It was always the chest or arms. It was a surefire way to get himself hurt or killed—if he was ever caught he was sure he would wish he’d never been born. But, he reasoned, there was no safer time to be near the man to whom he had given his life, except perhaps when he was under anesthesia. Every so often he would slip Johnny a little something in his food or drink, just so he could actually hold him in his arms, cradle him and stroke his hair without worrying about the beast stirring. Johnny never found out, of course; Einstein wouldn’t be alive now if he had. Usually he woke up groggy and in high dudgeon a few hours later, angry that he’d overslept. Einstein would then depart, giddy and fearful until he got a few drinks in him. Johnny had all the fun, after all, and Einstein had been so loyal, so devoted…he deserved a reward. It wasn’t so much to ask, was it? To be held and pretend he was loved back.

It wasn’t a perfect arrangement by any means. The fear of waking him tainted his tenderness with caution and often shook his resolve so badly that he fled the area after only a minute. Even now as Einstein lay with his head against Johnny’s chest and their fingers interlaced, he trembled at the memory of those poor men in Chicago. Liars, traitors all three of them, but Johnny hadn’t had to use the Melbourne Method on the first two. He could have just snapped their necks. Einstein knew he could. But no, some things were personal, and Johnny liked a little fun now and then.

Einstein shivered and nestled further into the crook of his sleeping companion’s arm. He’d run out of schnapps about an hour ago, and though it had calmed his nerves somewhat he could feel that familiar chill creeping back to him. It was hard not to think about it when he had himself wrapped up in the very same arms that not two weeks ago had been wrist-deep in a heaving stomach. Einstein, his hands coated in bile and viscera from helping, had sat down and wept until Johnny boxed his ears so badly that one of them bled. But it wouldn’t do to think of these things now! It was quiet here, and relatively clean—they’d found a motel in South Bend, a rare treat, and Johnny had deemed it safe enough to sleep in.

[wildlife4life]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @spaceprincessem @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings and @daffi-990. You are all so wonderful and I cannot wait for all your upcoming works! Mwha!

Super excited for todays snippet share. Not only is it from NFL Buck, but I have finally got to work on one of the best scenes from the show itself. Dosed! So I present to you, LSD Eddie (and Ravi!) Enjoy!

The pollen is just so pretty. Glimmering in the beams of sunlight and making beautiful dance moves. Eddie knows how to dance.  He’s tried teaching Buck a few times, but for a man who’s footwork is so flawless on the field, he has two left feet when it comes to moving them to a beat. Eddie doesn’t care though. He loves to dance with Buck because he smiles so big and bright and oh, he laughs so loud that it vibrates Eddie’s entire being. He wishes he could dance with Buck now, show him how the pollen moves and see his boyfriend glimmer among it. Tears burn in the corner of Eddie’s eyes and for what seems like the 100th time today, he rubs at them. “Man allergies are going crazy today.” Eddie lies because he can’t tell the others he’s crying over his secret boyfriend. “Yea you too huh?” Ravi remarks next to him. Okay, now Eddie thinks it may be allergies and not the thought of his too beautiful Buck. “The index wasn’t elevated this morning.” Probie relays, “Think it’s a new kind?” “New kind of what?” Eddie is really confused now. “Pollen.” Ravi responds. Can Ravi see the pollen too? Oh god, can he read Eddie’s mind?! He looks away from the younger firefighter and at his hands, hoping it would keep the kid out of his inner thoughts. Whoa, now the pollen is weaving its way between his fingers, making them tingle. “A new kind of pollen?” Chimney questions from across them. “You’re not feeling this Chim?” How could he not? It is everywhere, seeping into every pore of his skin. Eddie peeks at Ravi, whose eyes are drifting around the truck cabin.  Ravi can see it, Eddie isn’t alone. Chimney gives him an odd look, “No I do not.” He answers. Eddie looks out the window, sees more glittering puffs twirling in the wind, “I can see the pollen.” “I can hear it.” Ravi comments. And oh! That’s what that sound is! The pollen sounds just like Christopher and Buck’s laughter. It’s wonderful.

Hehehe. I am having so much fun writing this, especially since I have the dosed clip pretty much on repeat. Anywho, hope you all enjoyed! Everything NFL Buck can be found here.

Tagging (no pressure): @wikiangela @lover-of-mine @disasterbuckdiaz @jamespearce9-1-1 @athenagranted @eddiescowboy @rainbow-nerdss @evanbegins @elvensorceress @jesuisici33 @giddyupbuck @malewifediaz @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @911onabc @911-on-abc @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @thekristen999 @shortsighted-owl @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @eowon @princessfbi @honestlydarkprincess @vampbuckley @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @glorious-spoon @buddierights @prosperdemeter2 @gayedmundodiaz @lemonzestywrites

[thedeafprophet]

"Consider it an honour. Consider it my gift."

Nobody look at me okay

[dailydragon08]

A Crime of A Different Kind

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader   Summary: Your and Luke's undercover mission to investigate imperial dealings in Tatooine's underworld doesn't go quite according to plan--especially with the pair of you undercover at Lord Halfoc's party posing as crime lord and consort. Warnings: grabby criminals, gross misogynistic comments, some non-consensual touching (but nothing too intense, because Luke would never allow that), making out, reader is in a very revealing dress (pictured above), implied/referenced drug use (not Luke or reader). A/N:  "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force. I made a fancy cover for the first time, so hopefully it’s not trash. Find me on AO3 under DragonHeartstring360 and see my masterlist linked in my pinned post on my blog! Stay tuned for a part 2!

***

You glanced at Luke from across the dim throne room. Crime lords, drug dealers, and con men of all races loitered with their slaves and consorts at Halfoc’s party—and so did several imperialists, which was why you and Luke were here. You’d been sent by Mon Mothma to find more information about the deal the imperialists—who supposedly had a Force-sensitive among them, which was why your presence was crucial—were striking with the Tatooine crime lord to try and resurrect the fractured empire. You’d entered with fake invitations—with Luke as a fellow criminal named Anberrie and you as his slave girl.

“Consort,” he’d corrected you earlier aboard the Redeemer. “I refuse to call you a slave.”

He seemed to sense your gaze and met your eyes across the room. His costume consisted of a thin grey, long-sleeved v-neck shirt with matching pants and boots, a waist-length asymmetrical cape slung over one shoulder hiding the lightsaber at his belt. With his hair neatly swept away to the side of his forehead and stony look Leia had taught him, he looked every bit the rich criminal. His eyes softened as they turned to you and his shoulders ticked down several notches as he sighed. He shook his head slightly and you tried to send him a reassuring smile.

Just remember to breathe. You don’t want the empire’s Force user to sense your discomfort.

He nodded before taking a deep, slow breath—only to begin hacking into his elbow as the haze of smoke went up his nose.

You struggled to hide your smile. Maybe don’t breathe too deep.

He bit his lip to hide his chuckle as he turned back to the other guests near him. You glanced at the other consorts and dancers in the corner around you. Many of them chatted with each other, but you could sense their animosity, anger, and anxiety. You did your best to join the conversation enough to blend, but still stay to yourself enough to remain unremarkable.

Although the dress might not have been helping in that regard—if you could even call it a dress. It barely covered anything. The back was open with the green fabric in front creating a deep v that barely covered your chest and showed off your hips before connecting to a gold ring by your belly button. From there, the flowy skirt continued in an upside-down v to the floor, with a slit that exposed nearly your whole leg. The large sleeves flared out and extended to your knees, partially hiding the shock cuffs around your wrists and ankles—which Luke had sworn he wouldn’t even think of activating. However, it was the only alternative to chains, and the entire ensemble was a necessary evil for the current mission. Almost more nerve-wracking than the worst of Tatooine’s underworld ogling you was the fact that Luke would, too. Although the memory of him failing to function when you came out of your room on the Redeemer almost made you laugh. He’d been mid-sentence before doing a double take, his words spluttering to a halt. He’d let out a shaky breath as he practically melted and leaned on the table behind him for support. But, ever the gentleman, he had insisted you wear his cloak and gave you an apologetic look as he’d removed it from your shoulders later to stash for the trip back to the ship.

Your eyes wandered to him again as you sighed. He really did look strikingly handsome in his outfit—which would explain why some of Halfoc’s dancers were all over him. You could feel his discomfort as a Twi’lek woman pressed herself against his chest and ran a hand up and around his neck. He reached for you through the Force before gently grabbing her shoulders and moving her several steps back.

You bit your tongue to keep yourself from flying to his side. Stretching your legs, you turned to take in the dark walls, floor, and smoky haze of the central area. Several heavy shutters were partially open to allow airflow while keeping out the heat of the suns. A stage stood near a raised dais holding an empty throne with live music. Dancers flowed from the stage to prance between the circular tables and around the bench seats pressed against the walls, running their hands along different guests’ shoulders, whether they had their own consort on their lap getting handsy or not. Guards armed with blasters and spears with Halfoc’s symbol emblazoned on their chests stood at attention at each doorway and you were sure there were more hidden in the crowd.

Did you find anything yet? Luke’s voice rang soothingly in your head.

I’ve barely had a chance to get away. We need a distraction— Before you could finish your thought, you felt large hands roughly grope your butt before sliding around the bare skin of your waist. You jumped and glanced over your shoulder to see a large Trandoshan close behind you. You grimaced before turning to face the group of slaves before you, knowing any thrown elbows or cold remarks could blow your cover. They gave you sympathetic looks before most of them scurried off, the ones who stayed forming groups for safety.

You tensed and braced yourself as the Trandoshan’s hand descended your thigh, his fingers edging closer to the inside of your leg. You screwed your eyes shut, unable to resist the urge to throw your elbow back. Before it could make contact with his chest, however, you felt his hand suddenly rip away.

You turned to see Luke had practically materialized behind you. He grabbed your waist with his other hand and pushed you behind him, still holding the Trandoshan’s hand in a death grip. His blue eyes had turned icier than you’d ever seen them and you thanked the Maker you’d never been on the receiving end of that glare. “Don’t touch her,” he growled low in his throat. Although you were sure he was putting on some sinister airs for effect, you could feel his very real rage and disgust through the Force.

“Why?” the alien leered. “We can share. There’s plenty of her to go around.”

You felt Luke’s irritation grow beside you. “Why don’t you go find someone else to pass around before I make you regret it? This one’s mine.”

You swallowed hard. As degrading as the situation was, seeing him defend you so fiercely sent shivers through you for entirely different reasons.

The Trandoshan looked like he was about to argue but turned as a few guards hovered nearby with spears at the ready. “Boss doesn’t want too much trouble here,” one said. “The last thing you should be doing is fighting over some worthless slave girl.”

Luke bristled beside you. Unsure what else to do that would keep you looking in character, you pressed yourself flush against Luke’s chest and pushed him into a dark corner of the room. Several other guests had slave girls on their laps, their hands and lips roaming. A glance over your shoulder showed the Trandoshan slinking away to bother some other poor girl as you pushed Luke into a padded chair. He landed a bit more roughly than you intended, releasing a shaky breath as he looked up at you with round doe-eyes, his hands coming up to rest against the bare skin of your waist. He quickly retracted his flesh hand, but you held his gloved hand in place as you seated yourself in his lap.

“Sorry,” you hissed in his ear, thankful the music was loud enough to drown you out from any passersby. “You really need to work on not going bright red every time I touch you. It’s not very crime lord-y of you.”

He cleared his throat. “I would stop if I could, believe me.” His eyes turned soft in the murky light. “Are you all right?”

You nodded, seeing the guards still hovering and watching the pair of you from the corner of your eye. You wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulder while grabbing his flesh hand and putting it back on your waist. “You can, um, touch to be more convincing if you need to.”

He gave you a stilted nod, his hand immediately falling to your fabric-covered leg. “I’m so sorry. You deserve so much more respect than what you’re getting in here. All these women do.” He stared at you for a moment before brushing some hair away from your face. “You know I have the utmost respect for you, right?”

You nodded before pressing your forehead to his. “I know, but I appreciate you reminding me.” He closed his eyes and sighed, pulling you closer to his chest. You sensed the guards turn and leave and finally let the tension bleed from your body, letting Luke’s sense of tranquility at your closeness wash over you. For a moment, you just sat on his lap, enjoying the feeling of him against you. Your fingers wandered from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck of their own accord. Before you could pull back and apologize, he sighed and gently bumped his nose against yours, his fingers rubbing soothing circles along the fabric of your skirt.

You nearly lost yourself as his soft voice whispered, “I’m so sorry I’ve had to be rougher and more rude than usual. Mothma said to be convincing, but I hate this.”

“I know. It’s okay, I promise. I did manage to find out a bit of information and send it to Mothma, just in case something happens.”

He held you tighter. The slit in your skirt fell open to expose most of your leg and you felt him gently pull the fabric back in place, holding it there with his hand. “I won’t let anything happen.”

“Not very crime lord-y of you just now.”

He huffed out a breath that could’ve been a laugh. “I just…hate that they’re all leering at you.”

“That was sort of part of the job description.”

“I know, but I just…” he tilted his head back to meet your eyes. The smoke made his eyes water and brought out the blue even more. He opened his mouth to say something before sighing and giving you a soft shrug. “I—”

“I know. It’s okay. Hopefully, we’ll be out of here soon.” You almost forgot your next sentence as you lost yourself in his gaze. His gloved hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he held you in his eyes. “Any luck locating our Force user?”

“Not yet. I can sense someone Force-sensitive—other than you, of course—but I’m having trouble pinpointing exactly where it’s coming from.”

“Seen Halfoc yet?”

“A few times across the room, but not up close. The fight will start soon though, and there’s a prep room that connects to the arena, so I think I will soon. The intel said it’s a habit of his to wish each contestant good luck before the fight. There’s a large Rodian following him around though, who I think might be our Force user.”

You squeezed him tighter. “Please be careful…do you know what you’re fighting?”

“The guests fight each other, then the final winner fights one of Halfoc’s pets. It’s not to the death, but it’s close—I think a guard is coming towards us.”

“Probably should look a little dazed, then.”

“What?”

“Like you’ve been…you know…having a good time.”

He was silent and tense underneath you before clearing his throat again.

You laughed. “You’re setting a record for that today.”

He smiled and coughed slightly but held you closer as you sat up in his lap and pressed his face into the exposed skin of your shoulder. Your hand dove into his hair more on instinct than anything else and he let out a shuddery exhale beneath you.

It’s just his body’s instinct, you told yourself to stifle your excitement. He’s probably…touch-starved or something. Although that wasn’t entirely true. He never hesitated to be physically affectionate to anyone, you included. And if his friendly little touches set you on fire, the way he was nearly trying to meld into you and hold you close now had your whole body pulsing.

Commotion and several cries behind you caught your attention. Two of the guests were wrestling on the floor in a fistfight. Luke held you tighter and turned in his chair to shield you with his body. He turned back to you, hovering his mouth close to your ear. “Here’s your distraction—go and be careful.”

You nodded before scrambling off his lap. In the other slaves’ and guests’ haste to get out of the way, you slipped through an unguarded doorway and melted into the shadows of the hall.

***

You felt Luke’s Force signature reach for yours, anticipation and worry clouding his mind as you sensed him coming closer. You almost smacked straight into his chest as you weaved through the drunk, animated crowd in the throne room.

Luke grabbed your upper arm in his hand, the question burning in his eyes and only relaxing when you nodded. “The fight is starting soon. We’re supposed to go to the prep room now. A lot of people are taking their consorts with them, so you should probably come with me to blend.��

You sensed another reason he wanted you with him, but merely nodded and let him lead you down a short hallway. Through a small, oval door sat a large, plain room with closed bay doors on the opposite side. Several plush chairs and tables covered with drinks and food bordered the walls. Medical droids hovered in the corner as Halfoc’s guards eyed the large group of guests and slaves meandering through the two other oval doors scattered along the back wall.

Luke’s hand gripped yours tightly as the two of you made your way into an open corner. He grabbed your waist and gently turned you away from the others, putting your hand on the lightsaber at his belt. With a combination of his cape and your skirt, you transferred his weapon into the holster hidden on your thigh, pinning it next to your own saber. His fingers brushed your bare leg in the exchange and you couldn’t help the resulting goosebumps and shiver.

He grimaced. “I would offer you my cape, but they would probably think that was too gentlemanly for a crime lord and his consort.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

His blue eyes stared intently into your own and you felt his concern bleed into the Force. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, glancing behind him at the approaching redhead. He was short, portly, and dressed to the nines with a large Rodian following behind him. You couldn’t help wrinkling your nose at his slimy demeanor. “I think Halfoc’s coming to wish you luck.”

Luke’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before he closed them, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, the crime lord persona was back in place in all its unfeeling glory. It was strangely terrifying and alluring at the same time. As he turned to meet Halfoc, his hand moving to tightly grasp your waist and pull you flush against him, you couldn’t help but think if he was a true crime lord, he would’ve easily had his pick of any man or woman in this room.

“Anberrie, isn’t it?” the man asked, coming to a halt before you. The Rodian stood silently at attention behind him with two other men in imperial uniforms. You could feel the Force flowing strongly from him and Luke’s gentle squeeze to your hip told you he did, too.

“Yes,” Luke replied. “Halfoc, I take it? Quite the party.”

Halfoc laughed. “The one and only. I throw many of these bashes but have never seen you at one. You must be a newcomer. What exactly is your business?”

“Spice trade.”

Halfoc chuckled. “Ah, yes, I’m very familiar with spice.”

Their conversation became lost to you as the Rodian shifted. The intel hadn’t said whether he was protecting Halfoc or sticking close by because of the deal they’d just made in the back offices—the one they thought had been private and unrecorded. His dark eyes studied you shamelessly, flitting up and down your frame. He glanced at one of the imperial officers before subtly flicking his hand as if swatting a fly. You felt the Force flow as the slit in your skirt was wrenched open. Before it could fly too far, Luke’s hand slid further down your waist to hold the skirt in place. His hand was practically on your butt with the angle he had to take to preserve your dignity, the movement pressing you even closer against him. You could feel the muscles of his chest and arms from the proximity and took a steadying breath.

The Rodian’s eyes fell to Luke’s hand and narrowed, finally taking in your companion. You glanced up to see Luke meeting the alien’s eyes with just as much intensity.

“Now, now, let’s play nicely,” Halfoc said. “This is my newest business associate and his own personal retinue…I trust their presence won’t be a problem?”

Luke turned his attention back to the man in front of him and gave him a cold smile. “Of course not. We’re only interested in securing more business, not trouble.”

Halfoc clapped Luke on the arm. “That’s what I like to hear. The fight will begin in a few minutes. You’ll be asked to remove any capes, jackets, and weapons on your person and give them to my guards for safekeeping. They’ll be returned to you after the fight, of course.” His eyes finally fell to you. “Quite the lovely arm candy you’ve got there. Mind if I—”

Luke turned to shield you with his body as Halfoc’s hand made a grab at your chest, his gloved hand securely holding your hip while his flesh hand pressed against the bare skin of your back to hold you close. “I do mind, actually.”

Halfoc’s eyebrows rose, but he laughed. “Well, to each his own. Be a good girl and give your master a good luck kiss, then.”

Luke turned to you with soft, concerned eyes. You licked your lips and stared for a moment before pressing a light kiss to the sharp line of his jaw, letting your lips linger selfishly. You felt his arousal grow through the Force and heard him take in a quiet hiss of breath as his gloved fingers tightened around your waist.

“Oh, come on,” Halfoc groaned. “A real one. You can’t be that stingy with her and then not take what you want. Don’t bother with consent from these types, boy.”

You felt Luke’s mix of disgust, concern, and anxiety through the Force.

Don’t blow our cover, you sent to him. Plus the Rodian is so close.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment. Are you sure? I won’t do it without your consent, no matter what Halfoc says…And it will have to be a bit rough to be believable.

You hesitated. Do it.

I’m so sorry.

It’s all right.

Luke’s flesh hand left your back to roughly cup both sides of your jaw. His face dove towards yours at a startling speed, but stopped just as his lips brushed against yours. You took a shaky breath in at the same time he did before he pressed a firm, but soft kiss to your lips.

You thought you heard Halfoc’s distant “there you go” before sensing him leave with his entourage, but couldn’t be sure. All you were sure of was how soft Luke’s lips were against yours. You’d pictured this moment so many times and only wished that it was real—maybe in the cockpit of the Redeemer, safely nestled in Luke’s lap in the pilot seat. The image only heightened your arousal and you couldn’t help melting into him as his hand glided down your neck and to the exposed skin at the small of your back.

You finally had to break for air and were surprised when he panted into your mouth just as hard as you. His flesh fingers gently traced shapes against your skin, finally flattening his palm out to slide up and down your spine before diving into the curls of your half-updo. You weren’t sure if he bent his head to continue the kiss first or if you did, but you wouldn’t be the one to end it. He tasted of something distinctly Luke that you couldn’t quite describe, but knew you wanted to experience every day for the rest of your life. As you sunk further into his embrace, he only pulled you closer, his gloved hand digging gently into your hip as yours slid up his chest to dive into the hair at the nape of his neck. He gasped against your lips as your fingers entwined with the soft strands. You could sense his excitement peaking through the bond you shared—and with a little embarrassment, realized you felt something else peaking against you that did not help your current predicament. A soft moan left your mouth before you could stop it, and the whole situation felt like a crime of a different kind. He didn’t seem to notice before a quiet groan left him as well.

You forced yourself to separate your lips from his, trying to keep your gasps for air to a minimum. He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, keeping a gentle, yet firm grip on you as he shuddered out his own breath. The hand on the small of your back slowly slid to your side. “Maker, you’re so soft,” he murmured. You felt his sudden humiliation bloom as his face turned an adorable shade of red. He pulled away from you and you bit back your laugh as he cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry.”

Before you could reply, the large bay doors opened behind him. Cheers and screams from the crowd assembled in the amphitheater seats poured in, as did a strong buffet of wind that blew Luke’s hair into his eyes. He blinked, letting out a stuttered whoosh as your fingers gently combed the strands back into place. He pressed his forehead to yours again for a brief moment before leaving a quick, light kiss on your forehead.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

“Only if you are,” he murmured as he hesitantly took a few steps back. You grabbed his hand and he gave you a reassuring squeeze. His eyes fell to your skirt billowing around your legs from the breeze, the slit now fully open and exposed. His eyes closed and another shuddery exhale seemed to leave him of its own accord before he turned away from you, letting your hand trail out of his as he made his way to the arena. As he removed his cape and tactical belt and handed it to a guard, you caught him licking his lips, letting his tongue linger for a moment longer than necessary.

You took your own deep breath, doing your best to stifle your concern as the announcer began to call out opponents. Each winner had to fight a new opponent and although it felt like an eternity as you wondered when Luke would be called and who he would be fighting, it gave you a good opportunity to ogle his back. His shirt was thin to account for the heat and clung to him in all the right places—and so did the pants.

As Luke waited with the other contestants, you noticed the Rodian and his guards were nowhere to be found. Just as you reached out with the Force, Halfoc sidled up next to you. He was shorter than you by several inches and you couldn’t keep the disgust from your face as he smirked and gently patted your butt. “Well, hello there, lovely. Now that your master’s occupied—”

“Anberrie, step forward,” the announcer’s voice rang throughout the arena.

Luke strode confidently forward, a standard-issue spear from the guard in his hand. He paused as the most recent winner stalked towards him, watching in confusion as he walked past Luke and back through the bay doors to sit down. A barred gate slid open with a screech on the other side of the arena and the Rodian—who stood several inches taller than Luke—made his way to the center of the stage. “Anberrie Darklighter versus Aros Tanwa.” The crowd cheered as he ignited a red lightsaber.

Luke turned to you in concern just as Halfoc began, “I couldn’t help but notice those kisses and touches were a bit…romantic for a master and his slave.” His beady eyes gleamed in the light of the suns. “Unless, of course, you’re not actually who you say you are.”

Several of Halfoc’s guards whirled around and pointed their blasters and spears at you as Aros’ imperial guards suddenly lunged out of the nearest door towards you. You yanked your lightsaber from your leg and ignited the blade, throwing Luke’s towards him and using the Force to guide it along its path to his hand.

Luke dropped his spear and activated his saber just as Aros jumped towards him, blocking a flurry of blows to the screams and boos of the audience. Halfoc’s guards yanked their master out of the way as you swung your own weapon, blocking several blaster shots and slicing the guards’ spears in half. The other guests dove for cover, joining the firefight, as their consorts fled into the throne room.

You deflected more fire, using the Force to throw objects in your pursuers’ path and fling them back several feet whenever they got too close. You carefully carved a path to Luke’s side and shielded his back while he dealt with Aros.

The recording of the meeting— Luke began.

Already sent it to Mothma. Now focus.

Aros suddenly backflipped into the stands, several spectators moving out of the way to allow him room, and disappeared into the crowd. A large roar filled the air from beyond the gate. The bay doors began to close and you and Luke glanced at each other before making a run for it. Another deep wail filled the air behind you as you blocked more blaster shots, tripping over your swirling skirts and sprawling to the ground. Luke glanced back and skidded to a halt.

“No, keep going!”

He sprinted back over to you, crouching just in time for another angry bellow to call your attention. A shadow loomed inside the gate, taking up the entire frame, before a Reek Bull emerged into the light of the desert. Its nose ring rattled as it shook its head, pawing at the ground and eyeing the two Jedi now trapped inside.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you grumbled as the bull charged toward you.

You rolled one way while Luke jumped the other as the animal approached you with surprising speed. It slowed to a halt just as the bay doors closed. From a high point in the stands, Aros flipped onto the bull’s back and used it as a launching point to dive at you. You rolled out of the way again before leaping to your feet and landing a hard kick in the center of the Rodian’s chest, using the Force to give it some extra oomph. He flew back with an oof and smacked into the bull’s side. The bull turned from where it was glaring Luke down to rocket Aros in a new direction with his front foot. You used the Force to grab the Sith’s body and fling him into a merchant’s display in the stands. Bits and bobbles went flying and the wood of the stall splintered and collapsed on top of him, buying you enough time to block more blaster fire.

Several of Halfoc’s guards jumped over the railing into the arena as the host’s voice called over the loudspeaker, “I want them alive for the moff!”

The guards weren’t much of a challenge for the Force and your lightsaber. The last few in the group fled towards the edge of the ring, raining fire at you until they were cut down by their own deflected shots. As the last of them fell, you felt a strange tingling sensation. Before you could ignore it and turn to help Luke, your entire nervous system jolted and shook under your skin. You crumpled into a heap on the ground as your muscles no longer obeyed your commands and your bones rattled inside your frame. Glancing down showed blue energy crackling around your shock cuffs and traveling up and down your arms, legs, and torso. You screwed your eyes shut and thrashed against the burning sensation, unable to contain a scream.

You thought you heard Luke call your name but couldn’t be sure over the popping in your ears. You risked a glance up to see imperial guards speeding towards you with electrostaffs before you curled into a ball again as more shockwaves rocked your body. The ground shook as the bull hurtled towards you. But instead of the feet of the beast or pointed edges of a spear greeting you, there were several screams and silence before you felt the cuffs split from your skin and fall to the sandy ground below.

You took several gulping breaths as you lay there shaking and whimpering. Luke was by your side in an instant, gently pulling you into his arms bridal style. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in your ear as he carried you towards the now docile and waiting bull. “Aros used the Force to activate the cuffs before running off.”

You looked around from the safety of Luke’s chest. The arena was in total chaos as guests ran screaming to the exits while the guards were busy fending off several more beasts that had escaped their cages and fled into the arena. A few had even scaled the railing and were running among the seats snapping up forgotten food and drink.

The bull sighed and lowered itself onto its belly as Luke approached. He gently helped you onto its back before climbing up behind you.

“Did you tame it?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“Yes,” he replied, giving it a firm smack to the butt to urge it toward the arena's gate. “And I’ll be freeing it after we get out of here—hold on!”

He wrapped an arm around your waist while tightly holding the chain attached to the bull’s nose ring. The creature sped towards the gate, gaining momentum as it went and lowering its head. The guards dove out of the way with a yelp as the bull’s front horn shattered the doors and you careened into the open desert.

The ride was jarring to say the least, which didn’t help your screaming muscles and joints. You teetered on the bull’s back as your head spun and body ached only for Luke to pull you against him. You let your head fall against his shoulder, sinking into his solid chest and closing your eyes. His thumb rubbed soothing circles against your waist and you weaved your fingers through his, giving him a gentle squeeze as he gently brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek.

It was impossible to fall asleep on the bull’s back, but you still weren’t sure how much time had passed when Luke said, “Do you think you can jump?”

You nodded before sitting up with his help and swinging your legs over the side. He did the same, staring at you in concern before grabbing your hand. You both slid down the beast’s leathery side in unison as it roared before continuing its path past the neighborhood hiding your supply stash.

A strong wind buffeted the two of you as you approached the modest stone and clay houses. People hurried to and fro to collect their laundry and children alike and ushered them inside.

“What’s happening?” you asked as you followed Luke down an alleyway.

He still gripped your hand tightly, only letting go to dig in a chest buried in a corner between two buildings. The narrow strip between houses created a wind tunnel and you watched his golden-brown hair dance in awe, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth it back into place. As it whipped away from his ear, it allowed a peek at the sharp line of his jaw, bringing back memories of the way that exact spot had tasted against your lips earlier—

“Y/N? Are you all right? Did you hear me?”

You blinked and met his worried blue eyes where he was still crouched over the open chest. “What? Sorry.”

He slung his pack over his shoulder and stood, retaking your hand. “I said a sandstorm is starting, so we need to find shelter. We won’t make it back to the ship in time without a speeder, which I doubt these people have to spare. This is a poorer neighborhood.”

You nodded, reaching for your own pack. “How long do we have?”

“Not long—here, let me carry that.”

“But I’m fine—”

“I insist.” He hauled your bag on top of his own, leading you back out into the main thoroughfare.

Before you could get far, a woman with a baby strapped to her front met your eyes. Luke reached out a hand to stop her as the wind practically knocked you over in your weakened state. You felt you’d float away if you weren’t careful. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to steady you before shouting to be heard over the building gale. “Do you know a place where we can wait this out?”

“There’s a homestead that’s been abandoned for a while, about a half hour’s walk that way. It’s a bit old and decrepit, but it’s better than nothing. I would offer my place if I had room, but I’m staying with my mother and we’re full to the brim.”

“That’s all right, thank you.”

“Do you want me to see if I have some sort of wrap for your wife at home? That dress can’t be comfortable.”

You felt your cheeks warm, meeting Luke’s eyes as his own colored slightly. He squeezed your hand. “I have something for her, but thank you again.”

She nodded before scurrying off, using her sleeve to cover her child’s face.

“Here, hold on a minute.” Luke set your packs down, digging through his before pulling out his cloak. He paused, taking a shaky breath as a gust of wind parted the slit in your skirt again, sending it billowing behind you. Before you could be too embarrassed, a wave of dizziness overtook you and you grabbed his arm. Luke caught you against his chest before wrapping his cloak around you. “I’m going to fasten this by your waist so you have more coverage for your legs. Do you think you can hold it by your chest?”

You nodded, keeping a hole open to loop your arm through while holding the fabric closed in your fist. Luke took your hand and started in the direction the woman had pointed.

“Do you know where she’s sending us?”

Luke swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing your hand. “I do.”

“Where?”

“…A burned down farm.”

[guardian-of-da-gay]

The Caravan

Read on Ao3

For Whumptober 2024 Prompt 12: Starvation

tw for starvation, betrayal, non-consensual drug use, trafficking

Knuckles had been a small child when he left his village for the last time.  In his young mind the best thing to do was bring as much of his people’s food stores with him as he could carry.  Even then, he had a superior strength so this was quite a lot.  Unfortunately, his arms were small.  Eventually he had to pare down.  But then he had the reverse problem.  He’d left behind too much.  Luckily foraging had been one of his chores since he could walk and he had some practice with hunting.  Unluckily, he did not have practice providing entirely for himself.  He hadn’t realized how much he relied on his tribe until he lost them.

The less he ate, the more his strength waned.  His hunting suffered and then his foraging too.  Weak arms wouldn’t pull him through the trees.  Tired eyes missed shoots on the ground.  Occasionally he’d turn over a log and find a mouthful of insects.  But it wasn’t enough.

Soon he could feel the shape of his bones under his fur.  He had to stop often to rest.  He tried to be brave and push through, but his legs would start to shake.  More than once they fell out from under him.  He tried to eat some unfamiliar berries once and spent the next two days curled under a bush unable to move for the pain in his belly.

He feared he would die before finding the Master Emerald.

Then he found the caravan.

His tribe had warned him against outsiders.  They would lie to you, throw you in a cage, and sell you.  Knuckles trusted his people, so he did not trust outsiders.  Instead of revealing himself to the caravan, he stole from their food scraps.

It was mostly vegetable peels, but it was more than he’d had in days.  He gorged on the whole pail and was delighted to find a few stray bones at the bottom.  He was sucking the last tiny morsels of meat off of one when he was caught.

He tried to get away.  He got sick instead.

When the strangers grabbed him, he thought for sure that he would be lied to, thrown in a cage, and sold.

They gave him more food instead.  And a place by their campfire.  They tried speaking to him, but he didn’t know the language.  They spoke among each other while the one who had found him ladled warm broth into a bowl.  She gave him a little and watched him close.  When he was not sick again, she gave him a little more.

Eventually, she decided he had had enough and led him into one of their wagons.  It rained that night, but Knuckles slept soundly on the floor, a roof over his head for the first time since he left his home.

Knuckles stayed with them for many days.  Everytime he thought he should leave he would be offered more food and the memory of clawing hunger would keep him there.  It was fine, he rationalized.  He wasn’t giving up on his search for the Master Emerald.  When they came to a village where he might find more information about the Emerald or Longclaw’s apprentice’s whereabouts, then he would leave.

His temporary tribe was strange to him.  One day he would know them as ‘possums’, but at the time he only knew that they weren’t echidnas.  They had no quills or spurs.  Their tails were long and naked.  And they had large, fleshy appendages on their heads that he eventually learned were ears.

While their appearances were strange, much of their lives were not.  Their days were filled with travel and work, gathering food and supplies.  The men whittled and hunted and the women weaved and cooked.  The children did chores and were just obedient enough to avoid trouble.  At night they would all eat together and sing songs or tell stories that Knuckles did not understand.

The similarities between the possums and his people was both a comfort and a source of pain.  Being around caravan made him realize how starved he was for a tribe.  He used his strength to help the men and beamed under their praising tones.  He joined the games of the other children.  He didn’t speak their language, but chasing and hiding and digging and building forts from sticks required no words.

Every morning he spent with the women, under the tutelage of the possum woman who had found him.  She brought him along to help her with chores.  He was the only child eager to work.  It was familiar.  He’d helped with chores in his old tribe.  And it gave him a chance to learn things.

Knuckles was especially hungry to learn about what wild foods he could eat.  He would go foraging with his mentor and always took care to note what was edible and where such things could be found.  He was determined to never again let himself get in the state he had been in when he first arrived at the caravan.

It wasn’t just foraging that Knuckles learned about.  As they worked, he devoured as much of the language as he could.  He learned ‘yes’ and ‘no’, ‘breakfast’, ‘lunch’, and ‘dinner’.  The possum woman would poke his bony sides and he came to understand ‘too skinny’ and ‘eat more’.  Come here.  Go there.  Pick this up, carry that, set it down, hand it to me.  Line them up.  Like this.  Good.  Let’s eat!

In the early days with the caravan, the possum woman managed his food.  First he was offered broth, then smashed fruits, then whole, soft foods.  She limited him often at first, but he quickly learned that no matter what his stomach thought, if he gorged himself, he would be sick.  With her guidance, he was gradually able to return to eating normally.  Maybe even more than that.

Knuckles’ belly was always full and he was proud each time he heard the tribe speak a word and knew it.  Some words he didn’t know but heard often.  Something was ‘close’.  They were getting ‘closer’.  He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew the caravan was passing more and more strangers.  Knuckles learned there were lots of different kinds of not-echidna people.

One night it seemed there were more strangers on the road than ever.  There were even other caravans.  They all set up their own camps.  The pack of children he’d joined all wanted to explore and see the other non-echidnas.  But his companion drew him away and out of sight.  He didn’t understand why, but he trusted her.  She had proven that she knew what was best. She was kind and she fed him.

That night she gave him a hearty soup.  Unlike that first night, he was allowed as much as he wanted.  With his belly so full and warm, Knuckles nodded off right there at the fire.

He woke in a cage.

He was in a village of some sort, but not like the one he came from.  Wooden buildings towered around them on all sides.  He was surrounded by cages full of wild creatures that brayed and squawked and clucked.  The smell of their waste was one of many overwhelming odors to fill the air and their noise was only matched by the sounds of the people.  

There were so many of them.  Some hurried about carrying boxes and baskets full of fruits or fabrics.  Others wandered down the rows of cages, talking and laughing and yelling, eating food as they went and pointing out the creatures around them.  They pointed at him the most.

His friend stood beside his cage.  She reached between the bars and pinched his side where his ribs used to show.  Knuckles was too shocked and confused to do anything.  She looked up at a stranger who stood over Knuckles.  The stranger walked around the cage and stared at him.  He nodded and dug in his clothes.  A second, larger stranger knelt and picked Knuckles up, cage and all.

Knuckles looked around wildly as he was carried away.  The stranger counted gold disks into his friend’s hand.  It was then he realized: He had been lied to.  Thrown in a cage.  Sold.

That was the first time he was betrayed.