#(and it was only of necessity as they had the facility and needed it and its recources and after they left they became independent)

[sayruq]

Amid Israel’s ongoing genocidal war on Gaza, maternal healthcare faces excruciating challenges. Deliberate and systematic Israeli attacks on hospitals and medical centers, and critical shortages of humanitarian aid, including medicine, have created a crisis that is endangering the lives of both mothers and newborns. The situation is critical. There are an estimated 50,000 pregnant women in Gaza and some 180 births every day. Israel’s decision in October to prevent food, water, fuel and electricity from entering Gaza created a desperate situation. Inadequate nutrition, exposure to cold and hot weather, the absence of clean water, and poor sanitation weigh heavily on the wellbeing of women and children. The circumstances force them to consume contaminated water, heightening the peril of dehydration and waterborne diseases, particularly among vulnerable groups such as expectant mothers, new mothers and young children. Fuel shortages and the constrained capacity of the few remaining medical facilities exacerbate the difficulty for women in labor to access hospitals. Um Amin, a mother with a few children, confronted with the harsh reality of displacement, recounted her family’s struggles during Israel’s aggression. As bombs relentlessly fell on their neighborhood, reducing their home to rubble, Um Amin had to seek refuge at a school run by the UN agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA) in the northern Gaza Strip taking only very few belongings. She was pregnant. And in the school there was little by way of basic necessities such as clean water, food or even clothes for her children. She considered moving south, where food might be a little more accessible. Her husband refused, causing conflict between them.He feared not being able to return. And while she believed that the Israeli army was attempting to force them to leave, she also felt it was a matter of life and death for her children. “It was heart-wrenching to witness my kids fighting over scraps of bread. My 4-year-old started stashing away bread in his pocket for later. I was shocked. Before the war, I never slept without knowing my children were fed. Now, most of the time, I am certain they never feel satisfied.” Her entire motivation to carry on became a matter of feeding her children She denied herself food for their sake, but had also to remind herself of the child within her. “The baby inside me is also a priority, so I had to eat too.” She found the balancing act incredibly challenging, an unbearable burden of motherhood. “I am going to share something I’ve never told anyone I know: I contemplated suicide to escape the weight of this responsibility.”

After the Israeli army unexpectedly stormed al-Rimal, a Gaza City neighborhood, for a second time, Um Amin panicked and fled again, this time going from the UNRWA school to a relative’s house. But her fear caused her to enter preterm labor. A doctor, at the nearby al-Sahaba medical center, had to resort to a cesarean section. It was hell, Um Amin said. There was insufficient anesthesia and she could feel the scalpel cutting into her body. There was no electricity; the doctor had to use a handheld flashlight to see. Um Amin’s cries of pain could not drown out the crashing of shells around her. The operation left her utterly drained. She couldn’t believe she was still alive.She needed nourishment to recover what she had lost during the bleeding and to breastfeed her son. But hunger was stalking Gaza. Food was scarce, there was no white flour in the markets, and Israel was blocking aid trucks from entering the north. “All I had to eat was bread made from animal feed and water. When I had my other children, I relied on foods rich in animal proteins, but it was impossible this time. The price of meat was five times higher than normal.” Unable to adequately breastfeed her child, she had to find infant formula. But the price was multiple times higher than it used to be and more than she could afford. Eventually, she was forced to buy formula that was past its expiry date. “You might blame me, but there was literally no other option. I didn’t have enough money. It wasn’t clumped together, so the doctor told me it could still be used.” She would never find out. Due to the lack of clean water, she prepared the milk with non-potable water from a well. The baby refused to drink.

[tremendouscreationperson]

I've been thinking about this for a solid year now.

"Bucky," you giggled as he tossed you onto the bed. "I'll never be able to face Sam again!"

Bucky and Natasha had come home days late from a mission. It had taken a lot out of him but the information he smuggled back was excellent. You were trying to a) paint a larger picture and b) devise a new plan of attack when he burst through the doors.

You smiled widely, scribbling down the end of your sentence. "Hiya, Buck!"

"You alright Barnes?" Sam didn't need to raise his head to know who it was stalking over. Accustomed to the footsteps.

"I forgot something." He told Sam, one hand meeting the back of your chair and the other the base of the seat between your legs. In one swift motion he lifted the chair and turned.

"You need that specific chair, huh?" Sam met your wide gaze and ajar mouth over Bucky's shoulder.

"My favourite chair in this whole place." Was spoken as he exited the room.

"Who cares?" He chuckled, crawling over you. His eyes were warm and playful. "I missed you."

"Well, we now have an extra chair." Your laugh was cut off with his lips, Bucky bent his head to taste you. It had been far too long, he was never going on a mission again.

Bucky's hands trailed up and down your body, causing you to twitch and shiver but you never once broke the kiss. You wouldn't dare, you'd missed him far too much to.

"Mm." Bucky moaned as he parted from you. "I'm going to need you to say it."

You groaned - non sexily, very non sexily - and frowned. He didn't need you to say this. You loved him and trusted him. You would do anything for this man. "I don't think it's still a necessity, baby."

He didn't let up, of course he didn't. He couldn't. Not even if you ran your hands through his hair and peppered his cheeks with kisses, which you did. Not even if you told him a thousand times, which you had, he would still need it again. He needed you to be sure. To know you could say no. "Y/N."

You let out a breath that definitely wasn't a sigh before reciting, "I, Y/N L/N, do very much want to sleep with you and will tell you, Bucky Barnes, if I want you to stop. I would also like to reiterate that I will never ask you to stop and that you could ask anything of me and I'd happily give it."

Bucky's features relaxed, the lines against his eyes ceased and his lips eased into a gentle smile. "I love you."

"I love you and please, please, I don't think there's a possibility where I'd tell you no. I want you to know that. If you want to explore anything new that's completely fine. I'll never ask you to stop."

~~

"Bucky?" You whispered into the darkness.

This was all wrong.

You weren't even meant to be here. You weren't a field agent!

How had you got caught up in this?!

You tiptoed through the pitch black, trying to not make a sound when the lights suddenly flickered on and you were met with the harsh white corridor. The tiles were so white seemed to glow, forcing your eyes shut.

Blearily blinking against the assault your eyes were fighting, you saw a silhouette. You forced your eyes to observe it and relief flooded through your being. It was your love.

"Bucky!" You grinned, jogging over to him, only to falter when he didn't react in kind.

He stayed statue still, his dark eyes piercing into your soul. There was no grin, no relief, no relaxing of his shoulders, no putting his weapon down; he was cold. He was dark.

His clothes were torn. He had been in a fight.

Of course he had, idiot. That's why you're here!

"Buc-" His fingers tightened their hold of the gun they held.

You were still.

Watching him watch you.

He raised his weapon, face blank.

"Hey!" Tumbled from your lips. "I-it's me."

His brows frowned, finally! An emotion!

"Where are we?"

Now it was your turn to frown. "Uh, this is a Hydra facility."

He took one stomp forward. You didn't back down, staying put, mostly to show him you weren't scared but partly because you were.

A hand found your chest and you informed him, "I'm Y/N."

"Who are you?" His eyes raked up and down your figure.

Shit.

His eyes flashed and he flung the gun to the side, launching himself at you.

It would've been a happy reunion.

But it wasn't.

He landed on top of you, straddling you, his vibranium fingers cutting off your air supply.

You spluttered and gasped against him, trying in vain to pry them from your throat.

"b-cky...s-st-p...pl-se." You coughed at him. One hand holding his and the other clutched against his shirt. "Stop."

But he wasn't there.

You weren't looking at your love.

You were looking at someone foreign. A mystery. He wasn't Bucky.

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

You may wonder what this whole Awesome Coffee Club thing is all about. Today I was reminded what it’s all about:

In 2019, the unpaid intern who runs this tumblr account visited Sierra Leone’s Kono District. Kono is the among the most impoverished communities in the world due to a long history of enslavement, colonialism, and civil war. A decade ago, Kono’s healthcare system was in a state of collapse--clinics had no running water or electricity or paid staff, and inconsistent supplies of medications and other necessities.

As a result, Kono was the epicenter of the global maternal mortality crisis: One out of every seventeen women could expect to die in childbirth. Over 10% of children died before the age of five. 

Beginning in 2014, Partners in Health began working with Sierra Leone’s Ministry of Health to bring change. This started with the basics at the region’s hospital, Koidu Government Hospital: running water, 24-hour electricity, and hiring nurses, community healthworkers, cooks, facilities management staff, and so much more. 

At the time, KGH’s maternity ward had a dirt floor. Many people were dying for want of an emergency C-section or a blood transfusion. By 2019, this was getting better--two functioning operating rooms were able to perform C-sections, and a blood bank could address postpartum hemorrhaging. But it was still inadequate, and maternal and child mortality were horrifyingly routine.

To address the crisis, PIH Sierra Leone directors Jon Lascher and Dr. Baillor Barrie wanted to build a world-class maternal and child health center that could save thousands of lives yearly while also serving as a teaching hospital to train the next generation of Sierra Leonean healthcare workers. They told us they needed $25,000,000 to break ground, and would probably eventually need another $25,000,000 to support the hospital’s operation over its first few years.

I am, as unpaid interns go, doing quite well, but not THAT well. So our family committed what we could and asked others to join us, and within two years, we passed that $25,000,000 goal. Together, we’ve now raised close to $40,000,000. 

Today, I visited the site of the Maternal Center of Excellence, the first wards of which will hopefully open next year. Nearly all of the construction team are from Kono, and 65% of them are women--they work as welders, engineers, planners, laborers, and so much more. You see three of them above. I had the privilege of talking with them about this project. The young woman to the right, Success, told me that her dream is to work for the hospital her whole life, helping to maintain and support it. One of the other women told me, “We are passionate about this work because it is the future of our country. And we know that we and our friends will someday give birth here.” I am so proud that our projects support their training and livelihood, and so grateful to have them as colleagues in this work.

The hospital--which will include over 100 maternal beds, a NICU, and enough operating suites to perform over 10 emergency C-sections per day, will also require ongoing funding for staff, stuff, systems, maintenance, and more. Our hope is that open-ended projects like the Awesome Coffee Club and Awesome Socks Club can help provide that funding, although the most efficient way to support this project is to donate directly! 

So that’s why this tumblr, and the awesome coffee club, exists. World-class maternal and infant healthcare is coming to Kono, a wonderful and  too long impoverished by colonialism and extractive capitalism. It is only a first step. There is so long to go. But what a first step.

[fatkish]

Gyomei x Abused Cat Hybrid Reader

It was the day before Gyomei Himejima’s birthday. Tengen, Kyojuro, Kanae, Sanemi, Iguro, Kyogai, Tomioka, Goto and Haganezuka, Gyomei’s coworkers, were coming up with a plan to celebrate his birthday. Tengen already agreed to have the party at his house and that his wives would cook. Kyogai was in charge of music, Haganezuka would help out in the kitchen, Tomioka would keep Gyomei busy and bring him to Tengen’s house and Goto would get the cake.

The big issue was what to get the blind, cat loving teacher. As they were discussing and arguing over what to get him, Kyojuro got an idea. “I know! Let’s get Himejima a cat Hybrid!” Kyojuro shouted. “Do you even know where to get one, they’re pretty rare” Iguro asked. “I do, although it’s mostly just animals, I know that they also house hybrids that need homes” Tomioka informed. “I’ll give you guys the address to the facility” he said as he wrote down the name and address before handing it to Kanae.

“Splendid, let’s go.” Kanae cheered as she and the others left to go to the facility. When they got to the facility, they entered and asked the worker lady if they had any cat hybrids. The lady led them towards the back where they house the hybrids. “We do, although we don’t have very many, may I ask which of you is looking for one?” She asked. “The hybrid is for our friend, we’re surprising him with one for his birthday” Tengen informed.

The lady proceeded to lead them to you. You were a Ragdoll/Munchkin cat hybrid. You had been abused by your original owner and rescued, now you sit here waiting down the days til your put down. You have a history of attacking people who have tried to adopt you, you have two strikes already on your record, two more and you’ll be humanely euthanized. You’re rather untrusting of people especially males, and you tend to stay in your cat form.

“I’m afraid we only have the one, although they are rather skittish and unfriendly, they were rescued from their abusive owner so they’re rather violent” They peered inside at you, seeing your fluffy fur and slightly stubby legs, you were adorable and Gyomei was absolutely going to love you. “They’re absolutely perfect, don’t you guys think so, Gyomei will absolutely love them.” Kanae said. The others agreed. “We’ll take ‘em” Tengen said as he left with the lady to sign the papers in Gyomei’s name.

Sanemi entered the small kennel and grabbed you gently by the scruff and put you in a cat carrier all too quickly. You couldn’t even put up a fight. You hissed at him and puffed up your fur as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. As they left, Kanae left to get you some human clothes, while Kyojuro and Iguro left to get you a few other necessities.

Later, at Tengen’s house, the party began and Tomioka texted that he and Gyomei were on their way there. When Gyomei entered the house, they all surprised him and the party began. After eating and drinking and having cake, it was time for presents. They had gotten him cat themed stuff like cat erasers, cat shaped sticky notes, a coffee mug with cats on it, etc. after opening up the other gifts, Tengen came out of his bedroom with the cat carrier you were in.

When Tengen put the cat carrier in Gyomei’s lap you hissed at Tengen, surprising Gyomei. “What is this, is this what I think it is?” Gyomei asked. The others then spilled and told Gyomei about you and your past as well as your two strikes, hearing that you were abused, he cried and promised you that he would never hurt you. Kanae came over and gave Gyomei the stuff for you in a bag. “This bag contains stuff for y/n, that’s their name. It has clothes, toiletries and other necessities.” Kanae explained. With tears in his eyes Gyomei profusely thanked his colleagues.

Sensing your discomfort, Gyomei explained that he wanted to leave, to which his colleagues understood. Gyomei gathered all of the stuff and once again profusely thanked everyone before carefully picking up the cat carrier and heading out the door. As he walked home, he began to talk to you. “Y/n, I’m terribly sorry for how you have previously suffered and I promise that you have absolutely nothing to fear from me. I simply want for us to be able to live comfortably amongst each other. I promise I will never hurt you and I hope that I can provide a better life for you” Gyomei stated as he continued his walk.

Once he got home he unlocked his door and took off his shoes before walking into the living room and setting down your carrier by the couch. He then opened the door and set the bag of stuff for you down on the couch. “I’m sorry but I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting for you to come home with me so you’ll have to sleep on the couch for tonight but tomorrow I’ll help you get settled in and get you a proper bed. I’m going to leave some food out for you, feel free to help yourself. I have work tomorrow so I’ll be heading to bed here very soon” Gyomei told you as he walked into his kitchen and began putting some leftovers together for you and heating them up.

After heating up your food and leaving it out for you, Gyomei left the kitchen and entered his bedroom for the night and bid you goodnight. After an hour, you slowly exit the cat carrier and transformed into your human form. You ate the food that Gyomei left out for you and you put some clothes on that were in the bag. Since you see perfectly in the dark, you explored your new home and wondered how a blind man can get around so easily. After a bit of exploring, you pulled a blanket out of the bag and walked over to a corner before making a little nest and curling up then falling asleep. The next morning when Gyomei woke up he got ready to teach and made you both breakfast and lunch.

“I’ve made breakfast for you as well as lunch, I’ll put them in the fridge for you. If you’re hungry between them feel free to eat whatever you find. I have to go to work now, I work at a school so I won’t be home until 6 o’clock. Feel free to unpack the bag of stuff for you, tonight when I get home we can either go out and buy or order what else you need online. Goodbye” Gyomei informed you as he got ready and left for work. After he left you got up and ate breakfast before going through the bag of stuff for you. You found a couple outfits, some underwear, toiletries like a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner as well as a brush for your fur. In the bag was also a collar and leash as well as a few cat toys.

After getting everything out, you decided to take a shower and get yourself all cleaned up while you had the chance. You didn’t expect to stay here for very long so you didn’t really bother with putting anything away but you made sure not to move anything around in case Gyomei wouldn’t be able to find it. After your shower you dried off using his towel, slowly inhaling the scent of the man. He smelled really good and you hated to admit it even to yourself.

As time passed you ate your lunch and took a nap until Gyomei got home. He took his shoes off and greeted you. “Good evening y/n, I hope you weren’t too lonely while I was gone. I ordered a cat tree with a scratching post and it should be here in a few days. I hope you enjoy it.” He smiled as he informed you. He walked into the kitchen and began making dinner for the both of you, you waited until he went to bed to eat and thus this became your habit.

Days like this pass as you have very few interactions with Gyomei. To your surprise, Gyomei has yet to get upset with you or force you to interact with him. When he realized that you had yet to put anything away from the bag, he cried. You found out that he cries very easily. Despite his huge frame, the man is actually very gentle and kind. When the cat tree came, he struggled with putting it together, you eventually sat beside him and helped him put it together. You figured it was the least you could do. Despite you being right next to him, Gyomei made no attempts to pet you, which you appreciated.

One night, after Gyomei went to bed, you waited and slowly crept into his room and jumped onto his bed in your cat form. You carefully approached the sleeping man and sniffed him before climbing onto his chest and nuzzling into him. After a lot of time spent near the man, you slowly became comfortable with being around him. Deciding to cuddle up to the man, you purred as you curled up to his chest and fell asleep, unaware that Gyomei was awake the entire time. In the morning, you get up before Gyomei and leave his room and get comfortable in your cat tree.

That day, when Gyomei got home early from work, he sat on the couch and relaxed. Sensing how tired he was, you slowly approached him in your cat form and jumped onto the couch, before walking up to him and rubbing yourself against his arm. You meow at him and crawl onto his lap and begin kneading the fabric of his shirt with your paws, careful not to ruin it. With tears in his eyes Gyomei smiles at you as he slowly reaches up to pet you between the ears. You purr and lean into his pets as he smiles and chuckles. “Such a sweet little kitten, thank you y/n” you licked his tears away as he cried. You then transformed into your human form and stretched out as you snuggled into the large man. You and Gyomei cuddled together that night and thus began the relationship between you and Gyomei.

[lookingforhappy]

Now I've had time to think (rationally) I really do have to disagree with the fandom consensus that Fivela was out of character - I say this as someone who prefers the platonic relationship. Let me explain:

The main arguement I see is "they would never do that" but one of the biggest and best pieces of advice I've seen on fiction writing is: it's not "would they do that" it's "what would drive them to do that". Everyone is capable of anything and everything if given the right motivation and circumstances, and the same is true of fictional characters.

Five and Lila both have incredibly good reasons to do what they did. The problem is a lack of time. No time is spent on their plotline, and the lack of insight that's given to the audience as to why they would act this way affects the reception of this development hugely. No time is allowed to show the repercussions, and how this is dealt with and what decisions are made. Fivela needed two seasons all to itself to explain everything - one to show their development in the subway, and one to show everything after.

If the showrunners wanted to do Fivela, they needed bare minimum a full 10 episode season, ideally with episodes that are actually longer than normal (Steve, 10 minutes is not enough to count for anything). They shouldn't have tried to tackle something that complex without the time to spend on it.

See, a combination of problems led to Fivela, beginning with the most obvious, isolation. It seriously fucks people up, it seriously fucked Five up, and it seriously fucked Lila up in the subway. Not just the loneliness but the lack of support, medical facilities, knowing no one will turn up to save you. Basic necessities like food, water, hygiene. Everything is now entirely on Fivela to gather for themselves, and if they don't find it, they can't have it regardless of how badly they need it. That alone is a tremendous amount of stress.

Add onto that, Fivela became the only support each other had, essentially invoking a sort of stockholm syndrome where they began to see each other as a sort of saviour, each other's knight in shining armour. It's not unbelievable that they'd begin blurring the lines between platonic and romantic and even sexual love when they rely on each other's goodwill to survive (Five moreso in the emotional sense, and Lila moreso in the experience/knowledge sense).

For Lila in particular, her survival method has always been her connections to people. She feels intensely, and attaches herself to others with that same intensity. Even after a lifetime of living amongst conniving, backstabbing manipulators at the commission, she still attached to Diego and in a (platonic, spiteful, playful) way, to Five. In the subway she is stripped of all but one connection. Of course she felt it intensely, of course she clung to it.

As for the cheating - Lila obviously had a choice, and she made the wrong one. She hurt Diego, betrayed his trust. But she was in an incredibly traumatic situation, and forming unhealthy bonds with her sole companion was her coping mechanism. And she figures this out for herself! As soon as she knows she can leave she drops her coping mechanism and returns to make things right for Diego. Diego doesn't have to forgive her, but in most situations, where one spouse believes the other to be dead/missing/unreachable for YEARS it's not weird for them to move on.

Five's survival method has always been blending reality with fantasy. Delores is the prime example, and I honestly don't understand the debate that Five was cheating on her. She's a fantasy he used to cope with the apocalypse, she doesn't exist outside of his head and that's a blaring alarm. It means that unlike Lila, who snapped out of her fantasy once she left her traumatic circumstance, Five is unable to separate fantasy from reality even when outside of a triggering situation. This is why Five taking Delores back to the department store was a huge moment in S1, he was taking the first step in healing and approaching a better mindset. He may not have been able to acknowledge that Delores isn't real, but he was able to recognise that she served a purpose, and that purpose was fulfilled so she should be returned to where she belonged, separate from Five.

I don't think that Five is unaware of what Delores is, I think he subconsciously knows that she's a mannequin. Hence his general inoffense at others describing her as a mannequin, or calling him mad for being with her. He knows his situation, he just can't confront it himself, especially not while still under incredible stress and physical threat.

The reason Delores and Five's inablility to distinguish reality is important is because Five and Lila treated their relationship as a fantasy, except Lila was able to resurface from it while Five was not. I don't want to excuse his actions, but given that this has been a severe, near debilitating (it affects his relationships) problem for Five since S1, I think his being a vulnerable, chronically mentally ill person needs to be considered when looking at his actions.

This is also a major reason as to why Five hid the journal from Lila, because showing Lila meant leaving that fantasy, and Five needs fantasy to cope. Again, still a dick move and not an excuse, but an understable one. (Add on top of this that The Handler likely waited until Five had given up on going home before rescuing him...)

I think it's highly likely that what Five has with both Delores and Lila is a projection of what he thinks normalcy looks like, and safety along with it. He waited until he was an adult to actually marry Delores, before that she was likely just considered a friend or maybe girlfriend, because that's the normal thing to do. When you're an adult, you should be married, you should probably also be scolded for drinking too much or being too mean. That's what wives/spouses do in Five's mind. He created Delores as the one "normal" thing, so that he could retreat for a minute and pretend everything was okay and just take a breather.

He did the same for Lila. With the addition of the deleted scene/blooper where Five dreams about Lila while in the subway, it seems as though Five was becoming worried that Lila was also losing her mind, maybe becoming like him. The way he suggests them taking a break, he seems to be doing it for her benefit (if he was alone, I don't think he would have. I think he would have continued to hunt for answers until he lost his mind, died, or found his answer).

He doesn't see his version of "a break" aka break from reality, to be unhealthy, and so he shows Lila how to "cope". Lo and Behold, he finds the most normal thing he can - domestic bliss, Lila, the woman/wife, is at home most often in the garden, while Five, the man/husband, is away hunting, gathering, provdiding. It's an incredibly stereotypical view, but that's exactly why Five likes it. It's normal, and he sees normal as safe (normal means no powers, no missions, no apocalypse).

This isn't to say that Lila had no part in this, she also has issues with "normal". She tried to force normal on her family (affenctionately), probably why there's no discussion on her parents being alive, because she wants normal. It's also why she acts like the typical overwhelmed mum, because she feels she needs to be normal. This isn't the whole of her issues at home (bad writing and forced conflict mainly), Diego also has issues with belitting Lila and resentment. His masculinity and need to prove himself a "man" also causes issues. But Lila has been trying to be normal without really knowing how, and so when Five begins doing the exact same thing in the subway? Lila knows how to play that game.

This was very Five centric and I apologise, if there's more to add on Lila from a Lila fan I'd welcome it!

Essentially, I think that Fivela was understandable, and the characters would do that. I also think that despite Fivela adding salt to an already bitter ending, Fivela was one of the better episodes of S4. It was just the wrong plotline to try and do with so little time.

Also Steve needed to treat it like the psychology mindfuck that it was and not the cutesy romance drama he thinks it is.

[katealpha]

Art by Zenny’s Club

https://x.com/clubzenny?s=21&t=Y5k0MmFAcnmbYxSfSGgVFA

———————————-—

It was great to be out of Pam’s strangling vines, thought Catwoman as she dropped onto the edge of a building from a guardrail above. Behind her was another, larger building that cast a shadow over the famed cat burger. It was the place that Selena had just made her way out of. An old brick built structure that was covered in emerald tendrils that bore blood red flowers. Practically the signature colors of former doctor Pamela Isley. Of course, everyone knew her as Poison Ivy, the ecoterrorist widely considered one of the deadliest women alive. Selena liked to believe she was somewhere on that list. Being able to clear rooms full of men bigger than herself had to count for something. Plus, she had just survived another brush with death

Just moments earlier, Selena found herself hanging upside down at Ivy’s mercy. Only due to necessity. Selena knew of a pair of cases locked away in the Arkham City vault. The newly opened open air prison had a place where the valuables of select inmates were kept. A place she couldn’t just break into on her own. Some force was needed, and with Bane locked up in a toy factory somewhere, Mr Freeze occupied by his popsicle of a bride, and Croc probably eating someone someplace in the sewers, Selena went with the only choice she felt was right for this. Selena expected the redhead to be mad at her for that one time she forgot to water her flowers during some getaway that the burglar had long forgotten, but what she didn’t expect was for Ivy to leave her with something before agreeing to help and let Selena on her merry way. While she was still upside down and before Ivy agreed to drop her, one of the free plant tendrils forced its way into Selena’s mouth, and she felt something pump down her gullet.

Selena wondered what that was about, still having the sour taste of chlorophyll in her mouth and a tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Selena spat to the side to get that taste out and then without further adieu, she kicked off the corner of the building, and with her whip she swung over the ice cold waters of the flooded portion of the so-called amusement mile. She was eager to get that loot that Ivy agreed to help her get her claws on, but had no idea what was already set in stone, and that a sour feeling on her tongue and TYGER Guards were going to be the least of her concerns that night.

Five minutes later

The feeling of her heels bashing the skull of a TYGER guard in was more than satisfying for Cartman as she dispatched the last of them that were sent to investigate the sudden vine attack on the storage facility door. Her green eyes watched the man fall limb onto the asphalt, sunglasses broken by the force of her kick. Everyone one of these pricks had it coming, thought Selena. In this quiet moment as sne stood over the manhole cover that led to the underground entrance of her destination however, she began to feel a little off. There was a sudden low groan that audibly bubbled in her lower abdomen. It was an intense enough feeling that it caused her to stop in her stride towards the sewer entrance and hold her clawed hand over her belly. Selena felt bloated. Like she had eaten leftover fast food earlier and her body was reminding her that, hey, fast food is bad for your lifestyle. The bloated feeling didn’t go away seconds later.

“Ugh, either you drank spoiled milk earlier, or Ivy put something really nasty in me. Better hurry up and get that plant back…” Selena muttered to herself before heading down the manhole with quick succession.

Once inside the tunnel, Selena surveyed the damage that Ivy’s vines had done. There were shattered bricks and bits of concrete laying all over the place which she found herself stepping over. Ahead was a series of holes in the walls that had been punched into wide enough to create a hole wide enough for Selena to simply walk through until she arrived at the front door. The storage facility was right there, and as she walked into the empty security room, another churn rippled through her gut. The feeling was a bit more intense this time. Had someone been standing next to her, they’d have heard the noise. Selena once again rubbed her hand against her stomach as she approached the camera feed. The vault was guarded by two armed guards, as well as an extra detail that patrolled the surrounding area that seemed to be a maze of halls and shelves. She sighed with relief as she saw that she’d be able to open the vault from here, though she’d need to obtain three key cards from the guards. It would be easy enough, assuming her raunchy stomach didn’t start acting up on the fly.

For the next several minutes, the guards patrolling the room were completely unaware of the latex-clad woman lurking above them. Not noticing as a gloved and clawed hand slipped into their pants pockets, pulling out each key card until she had three in hand. Once back in the security room, Selena began to use the card, ignoring the growing feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t let this sudden bloat slow her down. She was so close. All she could do was rub around again to soothe the rising pressure she felt inside. The last thing she needed was to be flatulent in close proximity to one of these armed guards as she was taking them out, because that’s what she would half to do in order to get inside that Vault. Soon, Selena jumped back into the fray, now set on knocking out every guard in the area before moving into the vault. As she moved about the facility, crawling through the vents, dropping onto guards, choking each one out, Selena could swear that she could feel her stomach pressing into her suit more than it usually did. Was she really bloating up here? The rumblings of her belly ironically coincided with the ground shaking around the facility, Protocol 10 already underway outside.

With the last guard dealt with, the vault was all hers. Her stomach wasn’t feeling much better or worse, but there was a constant gurgling sensation that persisted. In the table at the other end of the room were a pear of metallic painted cases, and a single potted plant. In a moment of sly spite for the one who had put her through so much trouble to reach her just hours earlier, she approached the plant and chuckled, picking it up.

“Try and tie me up in your plants, like hell.” Selena purred. With a smirk, she dropped it onto the floor where the pot shattered. She then stamped the dry soil and leaves for good measure. A chuckle in her throat.

Catwoman then came to realize that doing that may have been a bad life choice. As she approached the table again for the loot cases sitting upon it, a much stronger reaction took place in Selena’s gut. A deep, ominous churn roared from within, and the feeling was enough to make the thief lean over with a grunt. The bloated feeling exploded, and Selena felt her stomach pushing out and straining against her already skintight suit. Her back curved inwards and Selena turned her body to lean against the table, finally watching with wide eyes as her belly visibly grew outwards under her suit and desperately pushing hand, a futile attempt to make it stop. During this moment, her voice came out as gasps and grunts, her words lost in her throat until the growing stopped. Selena was now panting and sweating in shock, staring down at her belly which now looked like she was about to give birth to twins. It heaved in and out with her breath, and Selena finally found the will to at least say something to herself.

“What the hell??¦I shouldn’t have done that just now….what is happening to me…am I pregnant?…” Her frightened eyes wandered the expanse of her midriff. Inside, there was that constant gurgling, as well as a gentle shifting sensation. It felt like a bad dream, but there was nobody here to pinch her. Whatever Ivy had pumped into her body, it was growing, and it was alive, and somehow, her suit hadn’t ripped open yet despite the size of her stomach.

Before Selena could compose herself, more TYGER guards stormed the room, ready to apprehend her. They faltered, seeing her current state. One of the guards held up their radio to their cloth covered mouth.

“Professor, Catwoman seems to have undergone some kind of accelerated pregnancy since she’s been here.”

Strange’s deep and posh voice replied over the radio. “Most fascinating. Be sure to take her alive then. Perhaps there’s something more I can learn from her.”

Selena groaned and pushed off the table, bracing herself to fight again, now expecting to be weighed down by her new, massively bloated belly. She’d worry about what was happening once she got some more alone time. Pregnant with a plant monster or not, she wasn’t going quietly.

“You don’t say…don’t expect me to go any easier on you boys.” With a deep breath and clenched teeth, she extended her claws and took hold of her whip as the guards began to come closer.

To be continued…

[howlsofbloodhounds]

TW: medical/revenge whump. Abuse of authority/power. Torture. Reprogramming/reconditioning under the guise of “therapy” and “helping.” Abuse, gaslighting, manipulating, mentioned starvation and murder. Dehumanization, drugging, withholding medication.

Whumper(s) want revenge/justice, and at least one believes they’re “helping” and justified.

So I was thinking more about killer and revenge/medical whump. And a dark turn on how he asked Color to “teach him how to be a good person.”

And I was thinking about his Good Ending, and how staying in the Omega Timeline (with Color) requires him getting some actual therapeutic services and support.

Some medical intervention, possibly even needing to get his levels of DT checked or monitored.

Support for any blindness, chronic pain & fatigue, possibly even any dissociative/psychogenic nonepileptic seizures (PNES), he could struggle with. Deconditioning and deprogramming. CBT.

Medication. Any communication and food therapists.

And like this leaves him in a very vulnerable position, and puts strangers he doesn’t know or trust—who do know and have every reason to hate him—in a position of power over him.

So I’d imagine he’d be put in a highly guarded cell. They say it’s for his own protection but no one’s ever really protected him before. He thinks they’re trying to protect the staff and other patients from him.

A part of him is pleased to know that. Another is ashamed.

It changes with a certain member of the staff, however. They have a lot of power and authority in this facility, and they are someone Killer has hurt very, very badly before.

Yet he doesn’t recognize them, or if he does, it’s only as something vague like “an Undyne” or “a Toriel.” He doesn’t remember what exactly he did or said to them, how he wronged them—which only makes this person’s anger worse.

Maybe Killer doesn’t even notice anything up at first until he notices a change in his body’s reaction to medication, certain looks and comments they send his way.

But he doesn’t deny any of this person’s accusations—he fully heartedly believes he’s completely capable of whatever atrocities they said he did. He doesn’t trust himself that much. He doesn’t need much proof.

And I don’t know. Maybe this person was initially just planning to confront it, or kill it, or just torture it.

But maybe they see genuine remorse and guilt in Stage 1, and decide that they will help decondition it.

They see now that it was a tool, a machine, and machine’s can be fixed. Even one taught to do bad things can be good, they just need to show it how. And it wants to be good, it wants this. So they’ll be a better teacher than the one’s who had it before.

And like, maybe Killer’s Stage 1 self fully buys into it eventually. He doesn’t tell anyone what’s happening because he believes he deserves it, and it’s only fair. And that he’ll come away fixed and better again.

If he’s ever allowed into Stage 2 for very long to attempt to escape the pain—which is something the teacher discourages, because good things don’t run away from their crimes and selfishly numb out their guilt—he still doesn’t tell anyone anything. Believing it doesn’t matter.

He’s once again clinging to Color’s visits for any sense of hope, and doesn’t really believe it’s possible for him to live without pain or be free anymore.

So he just tries to enjoy what little he has left, even as They snap at him to stop pretending he is something that can care about anyone or anything. They say he is manipulating Color, trying to trick his “friend” into helping him escape and run back to Nightmare to be evil again. They say that good people are honest.

Eventually Killer just stops seeing Color or responding to any letters. He can’t be around him without wanting to hide in Stage 2, but he cannot do that anymore. It’s bad.

Anytime he acts on previous conditioned behaviors or beliefs, he’s punished for it—such as taking away basic necessities, solitary confinement, restraining him either with a straight jacket or with chains.

If the new teacher is an AU of a Chara, there’s a possibility Stage 4 would just be relieved that They haven’t left it and fall back on its old habits.

Only to get increasingly confused and hurt when They keep treating it harshly —no praise and pleasure when it shows its devotion and loyalty, no reward for fulfilling tasks.

Only pain and pain and pain. It can’t figure out why They aren’t happy with it and why everything it does seems to upset Them. Why They suddenly seem to not want it to exist anymore.

Rather than being convinced to be ‘good,’ Stage 4 will just become more and more convinced that its being bad and attempt to keep doing what always used to make Them happy when They were angry. Like offering dead animals it somehow found, kneeling, somehow handing Them a fork it wasn’t aware it wasn’t supposed to have so They could discipline it.

Offering Them its SOUL.

So between all the Stages; 1 would probably be crying and constantly begging for forgiveness, a lot of panic attacks and moments of falling mute due to overwhelming fear and stress and guilt (selective mutism.) He’ll be punished for for behaving childish and being disruptive.

Stage 3 is completely nonverbal, and likely always snapping and snarling and tugging against the chains or jacket. Trying to attack and run.

Like quietly curling up in a corner whenever finally left alone, uncontrollable twitching and harsh stimming behavior; such as smacking his skull against the wall repeatedly. Unlikely to whimper regardless of how much he wants to. Curl up in such a way to protect his stomach and SOUL, and unlikely to sleep.

He’s punished for not speaking, for behaving like an animal, punished if he doesn’t use his words. For hoarding food and eating with his hands too fast. For biting and scratching, and for twitching/hurting himself “for attention.” For being ungrateful and not sleeping.

The more Stage 4’s desperation for Their approval increases the more and more Killer becomes unstable. It’s punished for punishing itself after every failure, every expression of emotion.

It’s punished for becoming so desperate for things to make sense that it starts basically becoming even more Determined to prove its loyalty the only way it knows how—by trying to kill, kill, kill.

Stage 4’s entire world will be flipped on its head simply because it will not think to do the things that this Chara deems “good.” Because it was taught differently, that killing is good, that’s its purpose, it must. It does not know the concept of mercy or kindness and would never think to offer any to “lines of codes.”

It will try to adapt, because it wants to please Them, but They refer to it as if it is a person. They get mad at it when it does not react to death or pain. They call it words when it brings Them offerings.

If They constantly give it punishment after punishment it and it doesn’t understand why, and no rewards or being rewarded for doing the ‘bad’ things it’ll only feel like a test.

It won’t understand why not killing is being rewarded—it should not be, it has been bad. It has been ungrateful and disobedient.

It won’t accept food as rewards because that is not what it’s supposed to do. It accepts food only at certain times every week.

It won’t make choices, express autonomy, or display any moral judgment—it will not accept positive reinforcement for disobedient behavior such as trying to be led to believe it is a person or capable of making any choice. It will resist any attempts to be humanized.

If the new teacher is an AU of Chara, it will rapidly oscillate between instinctive, reverent obedience and resistance—falling more and more into confusion and cognitive dissonance. A rising sense of betrayal because They never did this before and Where is the real Them? and have They abandoned it?

Stage 4 will likely suffer a lot of breakdowns and shutdowns trying to be taught how to be a “good person,” because it fundamentally does not view itself as a person.

But if the new teacher is not an AU of a Chara or doesn’t have “Their heart,” (the locket), Stage 4 is likely to be extremely dismissive of them. “This one is not a person. Do not pretend as if it is.” or “They have no use for your kind of goodness.”

Likely to either straight up ignore or dismiss any attempts to change it, dismissing the words as a part of this particular code’s script. Mock any attempts to convince it to participate.

Will likely not accept any form of punishment from anyone who isn’t Them or allowed by Them, fighting back against punishment and not accepting reward. More likely to plan a way to kill this particular code to reaffirm its devotion to Them.

Meanwhile Stage 2 would be apathetic, playing along when it benefits him; pretending he’s “learning.”

He’d passively take any punishment or reward without any genuine care, regardless of how he pretends or any sarcastic comments. This is very likely the Stage planning the escape/revenge, if he cares at all.

(The way to get him to comply is likely to get him to doubt his memory and experiences.

Convince him that everything that happened with Nightmare and after Nightmare never really happened, was all just a dream or—if the new teacher is an AU of Chara—that there’s been another Reset.

And instead he’s still in his timeline, and either Chara is teaching him something new or he got help from the rest of the Underground after killing them. Reinforces the message that he “wants this.”)

If the new teacher is an au of Chara, Stage 4 would be too far caught up in Their presence and just wouldn’t want to leave—would never think of it. If the teacher isn’t an AU of Chara, it’d just be thinking of ways to slaughter them and escape to return to Them.

Stage 1 would believe he deserves it, and the teacher is only teaching him how to be better. Whereas Stage 3 lives in the moment, resisting any attempts to be changed for any reason whatsoever and fighting back with every punishment.

Killer will likely have to be heavily sedated just to be able to properly “work with” him without hurting himself or anyone else—likely often either dehumanized or infantilized heavily. He will attempt to regain some margin of control, even if it’s as simple as biting the hands that literally feed him or spitting in their faces.

[signfromeywa]

AUNGIA TA EYWA (A SIGNS FROM EYWA)

Chapter 02: New ally Patra️

Description:

Anastasia Novak is a behavioural scientist tasked with socializing a captive Na'vi on behalf of the RDA. The longer she works with the Na'vi and the closer she gets to him, the more she has to rethink everything she thought she knew and redefine her morals and values. Can she just carry on like this, or will she follow her heart?

Content: Rating +18, Avatar fanfiction, human x Na'vi ship, Na'vi captured

Characters: Human OCs: Anastasia Novak, Steven Turner, Patra// Na'vi OCs: Ean'tu,

Word Count: 2954

⊹˚₊‧─────────────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

❗️English is not my native language! I apologize very much if it reads a bit bumpy here and there.

I'm a German author and this is the first time I've tried to translate a story I'm working on into English and upload it. I still hope you enjoy it.❗

The first thing Ana did when she made it out of the enclosure and back into the surveillance rooms was to approach Mr. Turner. 

"I need access to all of Sky's files," was the first thing she said as she burst into the room, taking her colleague completely by surprise. 

"Miss Novak, take it easy. Are you all right?" He took her by the shoulder and held her. 

"What? Oh yes, I'm fine. Nothing's happened."

"You were just attacked by a ten foot tall alien and electrocuted quite badly, no one is fine after that." He led her to a chair. "Have a seat first."

"I'm telling you, I'm fine. Nothing happened to me," Ana assured him, but sat down out of necessity. "I really need to look through the documents, and I'd also be interested to know what scientific institutions there are and what they're researching."

Mr. Turner seemed surprised by the question. "Why do you want to know?" 

"Do you know anything about it or not?"

"Well, only superficially, after all, you need authorization and a security clearance to obtain such information. The research reports are not available for everyone to see."

"Good, so let's start from the beginning." Ana placed the clipboard on her lap and activated her pen. "Are there any research facilities that deal with the life forms on these planets?" 

"I think I've heard that there might be." Mr. Turner didn't seem to like all the questions. 

"Na'vi too?" Ana wrote something down and then looked up at Turner.

"Yes, as far as I know... Miss Novak, what are you up to?" 

"Don't worry about it. As a behavioral scientist, it would give me a significant head start if my scientist colleagues would share their knowledge with me. Then I could speed things up and start socializing right away. Otherwise I'm starting from scratch." But she didn't tell Turner that there were behavioral traits about Sky that had made her suspicious. No one here seemed to think much of Sky, which she couldn't even blame them for after he had been so aggressive towards them. He had certainly tried to attack the staff many times. And he had just proved that he was dangerous.

"Well, if you say so..." He seemed a little more reassured. 

"Yes, do you have any contact details of professionals or a way to get this security clearance?" She was ready to take notes. 

"Phew... that's a difficult question. We tend to have direct contact with the boss and the security and maintenance company that looks after us. I think a former employee has moved to a research unit. I can write down her contact details. She's only a technician, but she might be able to tell you how to get in touch with the right people," Turner offered. 

Nodding, she handed him a pen and clipboard and he wrote down everything she needed. "Thank you."

"My goodness." He laughed a little dryly. "You're really stirring things up here." 

"That's what I'm known for." Ana laughed as well. "I'm a breath of fresh air."

Then she stood up. "Sky's documents are in the next room?" 

"Yes, I think everything that would be relevant to you is in the box. But it's not that much. The rest is more about the system and all the technical details. I don't think you'll be particularly interested in that," explained Turner. 

"Thank you very much. I'll take a look at the documents and use the desk. If I have any questions, I'll get back to you," Ana thanked him and then took the door to the next room, which housed the paperwork. There she went to one of the desks on which, as she had just discovered, were documents relating to Sky. She quickly found the box Turner had meant and took out the individual folders. They were surprisingly empty; Turner hadn't been lying. Not much had been documented about Sky. She quickly found the medical records. At the top were the most recent things, consisting of the latest routine examinations and vaccinations. Each of the examinations had probably been carried out under anaesthetic, because otherwise the doctor refused to treat the animal. He was too aggressive to justify any other form of treatment and unfortunately Ana could only agree.

She sat down at the desk and began to carefully inspect the documents. Everything was quite unspectacular, nothing special or of interest. But she got stuck on one folder. There were no more files in it, but the folder stood out. It wasn't from this institution. She couldn't say where it was from. However, she was disappointed when she picked up the first few pages. 

"Urgh... all blacked out..." she said quietly. What was that? None of the other documents were blacked out. Why this one? So she couldn't do anything with this folder. However, she photographed the coat of arms on the front of the folder. It certainly belonged to the institution from which the report was made. Then she put everything aside and turned her attention to the oldest folder from the institution. She picked up the pages and began to read. 

She could read in the report 'scratches all over the body' and 'completely emaciated and powerless'. That read terribly. Sky had been malnourished and injured when he had arrived here. He must hardly have been awake or had the strength to eat. What terrible descriptions it contained. Where did Sky actually come from? The way it read, he couldn't have been captured in the wild. Ana was pretty sure he wouldn't have been in such a bad state in the wild. She propped her face up with her hand. There was certainly much more to it than she could gather here. This past could have been to blame for Sky's lack of trust in humans. She was all the more glad that he was here now. In this facility, which at least took good care of him, and Ana was also here to look after him.

She leaned back in the office chair. Her thoughts wandered to Sky, to the enclosure. The image of his face appeared in front of her again. His watchful eyes that had looked into hers. The way he had taken her hand, almost human. No, she shook her head to get rid of the thoughts. It was the wrong approach and yet it moved her deeply. She needed clarity. That was why her mind was made up. She had to find out more about the Na'vis and about his past. Her cooperation with Sky depended on it. It was important to her that she was successful. Not just for herself or her boss. No. It was also important for Sky. He should no longer have to live in fear. The animal would certainly feel better if it was no longer afraid of people and could start to get used to its surroundings.

She closed the documents in front of her and neatly put everything back in the box. She took the drawing she had made in the enclosure of this strangely tied-up branch back with her for now. She could always file it away later. It was already late at night. She had only arrived late in the evening. But the time didn't seem to matter here. They worked in shifts around the clock to keep Sky under constant observation. 

Anastasia wrote her cell phone number on a small piece of paper and stuck it on the magnetic pinboard. Then she went into the surveillance room one last time, where her colleagues were sitting. 

Both men turned to look at her when she came in. 

"I'm getting off work now. I've put my number on the pinboard where you can reach me. If there's anything, please get in touch, ok?" she said.

"All right. The next crew bus should be right here," Turner pointed out, but Ana already knew that. The buses ran every two hours and took the teams and staff to their hostels. It wasn't unusual for many scientists or special forces to live on the bases, but Ana didn't. She lived in a hostel. She stayed in a hostel together with other civilian staff. 

"Yes, sleep well later. See you then." Ana waved goodbye and left the room, making her way out through the base. At the airlock outside, she was checked again and given a mask. Then she made her way out to the waiting team bus. As she boarded, she greeted the others briefly and sat down in an empty seat with her bag on her lap.

Shortly afterwards, the bus set off. Ana looked out of the window and was amazed by the landscape. it was so different from the earth, especially at night when everything glowed so mysteriously. She could never get enough of the sight. However, she was alone in this opinion. The soldiers on the bus with her paid no attention to the landscape and just seemed tired. Perhaps it would become normal for Ana, too, if she lived here for a while. She smiled. No, definitely not, she loved nature far too much for that. Even back on Earth, she had never had enough of it. Now, however, everything was ruined and the beauty had faded. Quite different from the moon, which was still alive. The flora was bursting with strength and life energy, it was a beautiful sight. All too soon the ride was over and she got out to go to the hostel. It wasn't a particularly large building and wasn't guarded by the military. It had everything you needed to survive.

She went in through the airlock and immediately took off her mask. She took it with her to her room, which was on the second floor. Her room was a single room and not particularly large. It had a bunk bed and a desk underneath. Opposite it on the wall was a built-in wardrobe and a mirror. She also had a small en-suite bathroom, which she was very grateful for. She also had a small adjoining bathroom, which she was very grateful for. At the head of the bed, at desk level, there was a narrow window through which she could see a little of Pandora and her beautiful nature. Otherwise, the room was made of concrete, walls and floors alike. Everything was gray and cold, just like on Earth.

Her suitcases with the private things she was allowed to bring were already in the room next to the wardrobe and a laptop that she had never seen before was on the desk with a document for the first registration. Ana took the painting out of her bag and then hung the bag with her jacket on the hook behind the door. She placed the painting on the desk and pulled back the chair to sit on it. First she would log in to her laptop and set her new password. As she did so, her eyes fell on the paper lying next to her. Mr. Turner had written the contact details of a former colleague on it. It wouldn't hurt to write to her, then she could answer her in peace until tomorrow.

She wrote a polite email asking for contact details or information about the research facilities. Once she had sent the message, Ana decided to take a quick shower and then go to bed. She had a lot of research to do tomorrow, so she needed to get a good night's sleep. Although she had spent almost three years in cryosleep, she felt completely exhausted and drained. Cryosleep was not without its challenges.

Without hesitating for long, she took a shower and, under the warm water, thought about how she could personalize her room a little. Where could she put things? Would a rug be a good idea? And would it be okay to have a couple of plants in the room? She already had one or two ideas of what she could do, which made her smile knowingly in the shower. 

When she got out of the shower, she grabbed a towel and walked out of the bathroom to her suitcases. There she picked out her sleeping clothes and put them on when a soft, unfamiliar beep made her sit up. She checked her laptop, which had received a new e-mail. Astonished and excited, she sat down in front of it and opened the email. 

"Good evening Miss Novak, I'd be happy to help you. Let's talk," the email said, with a link attached underneath.

This link looked like an invitation to a video call. Ana hastily got up and dug out her woollen jacket to put on and tied her wet hair into a bun. Then she accepted the invitation.

It took a moment to connect the call, then a window opened in front of her with a woman. She adjusted her red glasses on her nose, then smiled kindly. 

"Miss Novak?" she asked, apparently trying to recognize something. "This is Mrs. Patra. I need you to activate the camera."

Anastasia hurriedly looked where she could and found a small crossed-out camera symbol which she clicked. Now another video image appeared, showing herself next to Mrs. Patra. 

"Good evening. Sorry to bother you this late," Ana apologized.

Patra laughed. "No problem, I'm on the night shift and I'm still at work."

"Then thank you for taking the time."

"So you're working with Sky now? You'll have plenty of work to do. I'm sure you're new, I presume?" 

"Yes, that's right, arrived today. You changed jobs?" Ana asked. 

"Yes and no, I was removed and transferred. I actually work at a science base now. Delta Research Unit." She explained.

"What are you researching?" 

"I'm not researching anything." Patra laughed. "I'm one of the technicians. We make sure that the technology here purrs like a kitten and remains reliable. But the unit here is researching the flora." 

Ana became curious. "Do you know the units that are researching the fauna?"

"Well, there are many, all different specialties. Three of them are even under the strictest secrecy. I'm sure you want to know more about the Na'vi." She smiled. 

"You've got me figured out. As a behavioral scientist, it would help me a lot if I could access the research of these bases. Then I'd save myself a lot of own research and could start the socialization right away, you know?" 

Patra brushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. "Yes, I understand. I'm sure you want to establish contact. I can give you a contact, who I also approach when I need to make contact with the more secret research bases. However, you won't get any information that easily. At best, you could present your request and hope that it will be passed on to get a security classification. Once you've been checked, you'll also get approval for such documents." 

A lot of information, all of which Ana wrote down. "Yes, I see, thank you for the information. Can you email me the contact details?"

Once again, Patra had to smirk. "I can't possibly do that, that's why I called you, I'll give it to you verbally. Take notes." 

Which Ana did and wrote it down exactly. She then repeated what she had written to make sure she hadn't made a mistake. 

"You didn't get that information from me." Patra winked at Ana. 

"Yes, I understand, thank you all the more. I never thought it would be so difficult to get hold of useful research." 

"Why do you think there are so many rumors about Pandora and its flora and fauna? Not to mention what Earth is reporting. Those people at the top would prefer everyone to believe that the planet is uninhabited and dead. So that they can mine the raw materials in peace." She pushed her slipped glasses up on her nose again.

Ana had never thought about it like that before. Of course, the RDA was mainly here to mine the minerals. The research was just a necessary evil to make mining in the mines more efficient and to ensure the survival of the people. If there was nothing here, the company could do without all that and the moral questions about the destruction of an ecosystem. It caused Ana to think. 

"Now that you mention it... I don't know much about Pandora." 

"Exactly, that's what they want. Sometimes knowledge doesn't lead to knowledge, but to more awkward questions." 

Ana nodded. 

"All right, I wish you the best of luck getting your information and making progress with Sky. He's pretty wild, so take good care of yourself." Patra leaned back. "I'd almost say keep me in the loop, but I think that's going to be difficult."

Ana smiled at her counterpart. "You've helped me a lot, thank you very much. If you like, we can keep in touch as much as possible." 

Patra nodded. "Yes, that's a deal. I wish you a good night, see you soon." 

"Likewise." Ana hung up. 

The conversation with Patra had actually raised even more questions in her mind. She really had no idea what was going on on Pandora. She had just arrived from Earth and the only information she had was limited to what she needed to know in order to do her job properly. She probably had the lowest security clearance of all. Hopefully that would change soon so she could find out more about this beautiful moon.

Now completely tired, she closed the laptop. She undid her hair one last time and took off her cardigan before crawling into bed. It wasn't long for her to fall fast asleep.

Tag list: @twisteduniverse5 @yukilaaw @mooniequeen (If you want to get added, comment it under the post)

[dankmyfarrik]

Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 9: Know Hope

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is... well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.

Read it here:

AO3

Welcome back! Sorry about the delay! This took way longer than I was expecting to finish. But here we are - enjoy!

Chapter warnings: Cannon typical violence, Grogu is put in a dangerous situation but is completely fine.

Word Count: ~7k

*~*~*~*~*~*

A few things happen when a Star Destroyer enters lower atmosphere. 

First, because there are other ships that serve similar purposes more eloquently, a Star Destroyer needing to leave the vastness of the galaxy, and stoop so low is considered a rarity and thus a necessity. A docking Star Destroyer is not an everyday occurrence. 

It begins as dark omen cutting through the sky—small at first, eventually growing to eclipse the suns. Large enough the beast ever so slightly captures the curvature of the planet, it dwarfs whatever landmark of civilization or nature lies below it.

Second is what happens in the mind. 

It's a humbling sight that freezes the blood of the non-imperial. 

Then, the wind begins sweeping the land like a beckoning storm. And that's when the roar of the engines, deep and resonant, echo through the valleys, cities, mountains - whatever is in the way, sending shivers down to the marrow.

The only sensible action then becomes surrender. But most of the galaxy, Din had found, was not sensible. Star Destroyers, more often than not, served as the beginnings of glorious tales, a demon descending to find itself unwelcome.

So when the Descant slowly clambered its way through the docking procedures, the shadow cast on the ground growing larger and larger it was a rarity that the planet below it offered no fight. The fight had been beaten out of it years ago, now it had succumb to the great galactic Empire. 

It was an odd sight, Din thought. The world was beautiful: pristine grassy hills, a bright blue-purple sky, soft tufts of cherry blossoms. Yet the planet was swarmed by the Empire; it was a hive home to parasites. Two worlds of freedom and order.

As a passenger, Din was not permitted to land with the Descant. The Crest, forced to depart with a grumble from underpaid and overworked imps, left the Descant and Natus behind. He would have stayed as long as he could have, even against the beckoning draw of the beeping fob in his hand—seeking the bounty, calling him on. Everything in Din's beingknew it was wrong to leave Natus alone and vulnerable. And Leia. Maybe even the Maker didn't know what they were doing to her. But her orders were clear—say his name. Get through to him. Leave if you must.

A glance behind the departing Crest revealed the Descant was exchanging large creates, and to his horror chained people between the Imperial facility. 

The Crest lurched into hyperspace. 

Stars encompassed the viewport.

It wasn't long before Din was circling Tatooine and preparing his own docking procedures. As he got closer, a black dot, a silhouette of a ship against the pale gold marble, slowly slid into focus. His gloved hands paused on the controls.

The silence in the cockpit was palpable, broken only by the hum of the ship's engines and the faint, rhythmic beeping of the navigational systems. Tatooine sprawled beneath him, a desert planet of endless dunes and scorching suns, a placewhere survival was as harsh and unyielding as the landscape itself—an old, familiar pain. The ship in the distance, stark against the golden sands, seemed almost a mirage, a specter born of heat and light. One of the suns eclipsed the planet just behind the Crest, eliminating the shadows.

The familiar husky voice sparked over the com. 

"If you're looking for the trandoshan, I've just bagged him." Slave One drifted closer. The monitor thrummed and beeped innocently. 

Boba broke the silence again, something abnormal lacing his usually jolly tone. "Djarin… I have something you need to see."

"Fett," Din started, believing this to be the reason, "how we left things—"

Solo. We fought. I left you behind. I think you got hurt. 

All unsaid.

"I know." His brother recognized his tone. "This isn't a trick. I respect you. If I ever come to my senses and choose to finally fight you, it will be with honor."

Slave One latched onto the Crest from where they circled high above the desert hell. 

Din entered Boba's ship still aware of the weight of the blaster at his hip, but his hands didn't itch for it like he normallydid seeking through the scum pits. Din trusted him. 

But nothing could have prepared him for the sight when the latch door hissed open. 

A small human girl, her hair tight in braids clung to Boba's leg nervously. At the sight of Din she jolted behind Fett further, only leaving room for her wide eyes to peek over, head as high as his knee pad. Awkwardly but with a demonstrated practice, the burly man placed a comforting and familiar hand on her back. She couldn't have been older than four. 

"Now my kar'ta, it's alright. Din is a friend. He has a little one he watches over too."

Din's chest tightened, a sharp pain piercing through at the thought of leaving the kid with the imps for so long. His only solace was knowing there was a protector on the inside.

Instinctively, he dropped to one knee, trying to make himself as small as possible. Even then, he still towered over her.

"Hi kid."

The attempt was pitiful, even to him. But the act seemed good enough to her. Her eyes looking through him, into his soul and he thought he met her eyes through the visor for a split moment but maybe it was just his imagination. She seemed to see what she was looking for and hesitantly stepped out from Boba's shadow. She reached a hand up, and Fett instinctually held his arm out. They locked pinky fingers as she guided herself and Fett closer to Din. She needed to take three steps for every one of Boba's.

"They must have kept her in one of the most secure places in the whole kirffing galaxy." It was too late to fix his language so both the men just winced. "Yet she got out. They had glowing wristbands on her–maybe something for a shock? This little thing. Can you believe those monsters? And she still got out. An'edee!"

She paused, seeing herself in the reflection of the polished beskar. She reached a tentative hand, the pad of her finger brushing Din's chestplate and for a moment, with her small hands on them both, she linked them together, and whatever hurt and unspoken words he and Boba had harbored dissipated into the universe. 

She had a firm face and stern eyes despite her age–a childhood cut too short. She, at four, may already know of danger and death, and her place in all of it. In a flash, Din saw a small boy hidden in a red hood looking back at him—reaching out—screaming for his mother. And with an unheard clang on an anvil working beskar he was back, looking at this freckled, fair girl with hurt soulful eyes. 

And a small scar in the same exact place Natus had his. 

"I'm Rey," she said—proud of every word, "It's nice to meet you."

"They sent me after her." Anger shook his voice as he bit out three words Boba prayed to the Maker she wouldn't understand. 

"Hot or cold."

At these words Din's jaw clenched, drawing blood from his cheek. Boba's fists balled so tightly Din could hear the leather creaking from where he stood. "So she stays with me now."

Fett obviously skipped a lot in between, but enough went without saying.

She will never go back.

"I said the oath," He was full of warmth and pride. "She's my ad'ika."

"I'm happy for you." 

"You're looking at it," Rey piped up softly. Her hand moved some of the hair blocking Din's view of her scar. Now he saw it wasn't red and angry like Natus' cut, it had scabbed and healed over rotations ago—losing a time war and fading into her skin as a small ice-like sliver. "You want to know."

"Yes. Someone I care about a lot has a similar mark."

Boba's helm turned a sliver of a degree, he must now understand the depths of Din's affection for the Sith but he didn't comment.

"They hurt my mommy and daddy," her voice a broken whimper. "I got mad. They wanted me to not remember anymore." Her small, childlike hand touched her scar again.

"There was a nice man in a black mask. He held my hand and told them: no more!"

"Wait," Boba breathed, "Nice man in a black mask? Karking Darth Vader??" The men winced at Boba's language again.

Rey nodded happily. 

"But your scratch, they wanted you to forget?" 

"Yes. Then my head hurt bad. But he helped me."

Din had the start of an answer.

"Thank you," he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him, a tooth missing.

Mission now set, Din quickly turned to leave, Fett caught his arm at the elbow. 

His voice a hiss, "Wait. If you go now while they are docked or anywhere near that hub—it's a death trap Din. They would never give him up easy. You will get swarmed and will lose any trust you ever gained."

Din knew he was right. But he had a thought of those Imps hurting him like they hurt her, with maybe less reservation because he wasn't child—maybe they didn't think that way. No matter, it clawed at him, seared in his mind, urging action. He knew he didn't have long. 

"You heard her about forgetting. Natus—Luke—How many times do you think…"

Fett looked down at Rey.

"I can't leave him. Like you can't leave her. He knows something is wrong. I can't let him forget. Not now." Not when Leia is there too.

"I'm not going to put her back in danger."

"I would never ask that of you."

"I know."

Din stepped through the latch separating the ships. Boba continued, "Reach me if you need a quick escape."

Din nodded, the door between them slid shut, and the ships separated.

—-

Leia had felt the Descant dock with a low rumble and a jolt so subtle it would have gone unnoticed if she weren't trapped in a bright, blank cell. The rumble and the jolt, however minor, were a disruption in the otherwise unchanging monotony, a reminder that the galaxy outside still moved and shifted; she could only pray that the pawns she put in place were strong enough to shift the tide in her direction. It was what she excelled at, after all.

Her intricate braids were held up by a sharp blade that, at a moment's notice, she could brandish or slowly use the tool to chip away through the backside of the door's control panel. She could knock out a trooper, commandeer a pod, and be in lightspeed minutes before an alarm would even sound. Leia knew she would neither fight nor flee, and the opportunity, the ability, and the willingness to do so were more torturous than anything the cell itself could muster.

She mediated some, always keeping her brother and his whereabouts in a quiet corner in her mind. Before everything fell apart that day an eternity ago, he had been a steady constant to her–-and she knew it went both ways. In some way she always had known of their shared blood, drawing to him like a magnet in her head. Now, Leia knew she also still had a home in that quiet part of his mind, but it felt like that home had been boarded up, or the path to the home eroded away.She still felt him. Kept him close.

Thus Leia knew when the Mandalorian executed his part of the plan. Neither of them had been clear on specifics, just��say his name. Get through to him. Find a way. 

Well, the hunter certainly found a way. A blush found its way to her face, the tips of her ears turning a shade of red. Leia was, thankfully, able to tune out their connection momentarily, choosing to focus on… literally anything else. Even her dull box. 

She didn't fail to notice, before tunning him out, his feelings of dread soften and even turn to bright comfort she hadn't felt in a long time. How rare, she thought, love in a place like this.

Leia froze the instant she felt him again. With her absence, he had gotten close; a plume of worry and fear surrounded his movements—that's what snapped her attention to him. Maybe the Mandalorian got through to her brother a bit too well…

The seamless panels of durasteel parted with a light mechanical whirl. The corridor beyond was bathed in more of the cool, sterile light casting sharp shadows on the metal floor. A breeze, carrying the faint scent of recycled air and machinery flooded inwards as her brother stood in the doorway panting, looking like he was living through a nightmare.

"Leia," he paused and sucked in more air, he had been running, "what do I do?"

She jumped to her feet from where she had been failing to meditate. An impending dread was closing in on them both. It was nameless but in the air nonetheless, as real as them both but nowhere to be found. But he was there, seeking her like all the other times before.

"Leave this awful place with me. I have help–lots of it–they are coming soon, we just need to leave and get outside."

"I cannot abandon my father and Master. Or are you suggesting I leave and be with rebel scum?"

He wasn't as far long as she had hoped. Leia pushed down her own panic to speak, needing to be heard more than she needed water or to breathe.

"You've called out to me before. We've met like this briefly, a few times. I need you to remember. Remember me now Luke. You know something is not right."

"I don't know!"

"Focus on what you feel." Her eyes were wide.

"I don't know you!" He pointed a wicked finger at her, his body quivering.

Leia clamped her mouth shut, absorbing the hurt. She took a step forward so that his quivering crooked finger poked her straight in the heart. She could feel his pain seeping through his anger and confusion.

"You came to me just now," she whispered, "why."

His voice made more of a choking sound than actual words. "The Empire is good. I know it to be true. We need order to the chaos. But there are deep and painful secrets being kept from me. Everyone knows but me. And then you show up."

He growled and she didn't dare to stop his flow of words.

"I can't write you off as a fool like my officers would like me to believe. I spoke to a scientist---they are manipulating force users with an operation—I. They are doing something terrible to me, and I don't even know what it is."

"It's true. They are doing something to you, I'm not sure what. But over and over again they make you forget when you remember—when you remember me. They are hurting you." 

Even still, he shook his head like he couldn't fully believe her, "How have I known you all of my life when I've never met you before?"

"I am your sister, Luke."

He dropped his accusing hand with a soft gasp. He knew very few things about this universe and much less about himself, but he knew this to be true.

"And we haven't known each other for very long. Not a lifetime. But I…I feel the same."

Family. 

More than just him and Father. 

"Leia," his voice broken, "help me."

She rushed to him, grasping his face in her hands with gentle urgency and pressed their foreheads together. Energy of the Force bloomed from her, amplifying the beauty of the planet that lay beyond the walls of the Descant. Through this, he tangled his hands into her hair, holding onto her with all his might, a plea for permanence, he would never let go, not when she was this close. Never again. He loved her. 

The floodgates opened, and memories rushed in. The ones with comfort. Feelings of friendship—closeness with faceless people he knew so well. Flashes of family, Leia was there, but so were other people. A home, a stove, cinnamon, nutmeg, warm bluemilk. An old man and woman's faces etched with lines and crinkled eyes—the woman's simile. 

The smile was contagious, it bloomed on his lips, a simple joy. Leia felt it too and she shared her warmth with him in the Force. He wrapped her into a hug, squeezing her somehow even harder. 

More memories followed, a cascade lightheartedness. Laughter—oh, the sound of it was like music, so pure and rare. Someone's laugh, bright and unrestrained, resonated through his mind. It spoke of simpler times, of shared jokes and carefree moments with friends and a droid. He laughed, very light with the memories.

Another laugh, no a cackle, shattered this world–cutting through his mind like the jagged lines on his skin. This wasn't a memory. 

The walls of Leia's cell reeled open with a mechanical hiss. Palpatie—glowing eyes peering from his hood—his clawed hands outstretched at his sides undoing the illusion of the cell. The larger room was lined with data pads, testing tubes, an operating table with restraints cipped open, waiting. 

An interodroid buzzed next to him, and behind that was Pershing, the man didn't look up, he just pushed up his glasses from his hardened stare at the floor. 

Despite the bile, he fell on one knee. Leia stayed tall—lips morphing to a scowl, defiant as the day she was born. They were still so close, he could feel her warmth next to him in his bow.

The soulless cackle continued, and more memories hit him. Bad ones. Sadness, fear. The old couple lay burned, home on fire, the smell of their flesh. Father struck down a cloaked figure, and a horrified scream escaped his own lips.

"Natus, my boy," Palpatine spoke, a squeaky gravely wine, "I came all the way here because I felt your pain."

Natus wouldn't have felt this pain. These memories didn't belong to him, these memories belonged to the other one, the one ripping him in two. The one Leia reached. Luke.

Yet, he still felt the wave of shame and embarrassment that not only was his weakness palpable to his Master, but it was strong enough that it compelled Palpatine to check on him. And to see that he was failing. 

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, casting his eyes to the ground. 

Then, Luke reminded him about those memories. Did those memories feel like he was a failure? Certainly not.

"It is my sincerest apologies you had to find out this way, but the princess, manipulative as ever, forced our hand."

"Liar!" Leia cried.

Palpatine continued diplomatically, ignoring the outburst of the girl beside him. "You were sick. Your mind hemorrhaging from a concussion. I had my best scientists save your life. We need to check your mind often…for your saftey. Only the Empire has the technological resources and the facilities for such unprecedented advancements." 

His yellow-bagged eyes grew, "Without me you will surely…" he paused a crawling, tingling feeling, as he placed extra emphasis on every syllable, "...parish."

"Then why not just tell me?" His voice not as strong as he intended. Still on his knees. 

Why didn't you tell me? You told me that Darth Vader betrayed and murdered my father. 

Your father... was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be the Jedi and "became" the Sith Darth Vader.

His head throbbed.

"The scientists thought that would hurt you more." As his Master continued Pershing didn't budge, didn't look up. Locked, frozen. "But I am telling you now."

A cold washed over him in the Force.

"You know it's not true, trust your feelings."

Search your feelings. You know it to be true. 

Impossible!

"Nonsense. I have loved you, boy, and cared for you for as long as you can remember. I want what is best for you. Come with me now."

The interrodoid buzzed closer. But it wasn't going for him.

It was after Leia.  

"NO!!!"

Then he was falling. Falling. Falling through the clouds.

He searched the Force, frantic for something not bolted to the ground to throw–to collapse the Descant into itself as to how he had done with the Profundity. In half a breath, he scanned the room, sensing every detail: the muscles and veins of windpipes, Pershing's abnormally fast heartbeat, and his shaking hands on a remote button.

There was a slight hiss; he felt a single drop fall a short distance—the sound soft through his own screaming as the drop mixed with a solution. 

Before his breath could be finished, the Force stopped slowing his perception of time as the sound of screaming durasteelpropelled itself at them, followed by a wall of fire. He felt himself thrown to the floor—reaching out to block debris with the Force. 

With an unidentifiable wail, Pershing and Palpatine vanished into the sea of flames. The chemicals ignited along the walls, shattering—pops and bangs—spitting their glass and spilling onto the floor.

Leia's hand found his, yanking him up and pulling him through the chaos. Flames licked at his feet, his cape singeing, smoldering black firey holes into his pristine uniform. The smoke swirled around them, shifting to shades of green and magenta, as they struggled to breathe, sprinting through the demolished opening.

With one glance back into the room, he saw the operating table, restraints still open, reaching out to them. The broken interrogation droid lay amidst melted, warped surgical tools and scattered syringes, vanishing into the thick smoke.

Trial 3.C—

Trial 14.A stim–

Leia!!! I'm here—

No this is wrong—

Trial 21.D—

Trial 27.B, stimulating superimposed inhibitor chip…Pain. 

He was limping badly. The onslaught of memories couldn't be stifled, and everything and anything was a trigger. He was vaguely aware of the smoldering patches burning in rings into his body as they ran. 

The old couple told him to run. That woman after him. He was smaller then, his legs carrying him as fast as he could through the desert. Sand kicking up as he ran and ran.

Was he crying? He was aware that Leia had taken his communication device and was giving commands into it, but her words didn't register in his mind. 

Bleeding and broken. Alarm shrieking and echoing through the red-flashing halls. 

"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured."

"We just need to make it out of the Descant!" Leia cried above the jolt of the speaker.

"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate—"

They turned a corner, then another, and another. He kept a strong enough posture to pretend to be in possession of Leia. It worked; troopers practically leaped out of his way—just as they had done every other time he had made the same path with crazed eyes and blood-stained clothes. Because Natus is a monster. 

Horrors he committed came to him. He gasped, and a tear fell. 

They pasted another dozen soldiers all of then running paying them little mind. But it only took one to put two and two together. One com-in and they would all descend upon him.

"Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or—"

A horrible screeching sound ripped through the air, and they followed—leading them to the outside world lit by starlight and burning ships. Hundreds of ties rocketed past them, in the disarray hitting each other, causing multiple collisions in the sky as the tie-fighters desperately returned to their designations, incapable of making a lightspeed retreat by themselves, like cockroaches in the light as rebel fighters loomed down from the heavens. 

An attack of this scale must have taken months to plan. How had he let this happen under his nose? He was thankful.

"Watch out! Go. Go!"

Dazed, he felt as though he were watching himself in a holo--removed from the situation and scenes providing him information seconds behind as he tried to filter through the onslaught of memories.

Leia seized his hand again, jerking him down as a ship hurled itself just above them, slamming into the Descants' hold. Fire and steel tumbled down on them, forcing them to jump blindly, limbs flailing in the air, hitting the ground hard. Tumbling, rolling, damp grass and foliage clinging to him. 

Leia hauled him up once again. 

"Hurry, to the landing spot! We can't slow now—I have you. We are so close!"

Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted the Descant behind them. Troopers were all but running—loading equipment and prisoners back on board. The red lights still flickering, illuminating them in the hellish light, revealing their chains. 

—-

The Crest fell from the sky with a roar.

Din only had seconds after completing the jump to discover the firefight he had been dropped into. By that point, the Crest was already spiraling downwards with a cracked thruster. 

Din's arms strained with the might of pulling up on the controls. He aimed for a patch of trees; it was the best he could do. If he survived and found the siblings, they would have to steal a ship or make that call to Boba. He wished he had told Leia he would come back for them. He would just need to survive this… controlled crash.

It was the beskar that had saved him. 

When he awoke, ears ringing, approximately ten minuets after the impact. Muscles protesting, he dragged himself out of the shards of transparisteel, treelimbs, and smoldering rubble of what used to be his home. 

No time for sentiment now. 

Once his feet were comfortably on the aborial floor Din toggled through the settings on the visor. He ignored the chaos in the sky with swarming X-wings, ties, and the Star Destroyers beginning the slow ground-quaking take-off process. It remindied him of tired banthas trying to stand as they were swarmed by flies. Maybe his humor wasn't fully gone. And somehow he knew Leia was responsible for all of it.

He instead opted to scan the chaos on the ground. No signs of the twins. Maybe they were still trapped inside. Din's heart dropped. He could see the Executor beginning lift off and the Descant's ion engines in the distance—behind three other Star Destroyers—slowly flicking to life. 

Platoons of troopers, plastasteel armor that reflected red lights, marched to their respective ships. Some set up cannons to fire into the sky, while others brandished jetpacks and launched into the air.

Perfect.

A squad of four flew overhead, keeping a fair distance from each other. Timing was crucial. Din reached out, targeting the lagging trooper with his grappling hook. As the trooper flew just above the trees, Din pulled the trigger. The rope shot out, wrapping around the airborne soldier. Despite digging his feet into the ground, Din was flung into the air. 

"What the?!"

They began tumbling and spinning out of control, going higher and higher. Din managed to unclip the pack from the man's chestplate. The engine cut immediately, and they both dropped. With strength he managed to clip the plastasteel to his back, and the engine roared back to life pulling Din skyward while the trooper kept falling into the darkness of the forest below.

Using the pack's momentum, Din navigated the battle, staying low enough to avoid the dogfight above but high enough to evade ground troops. 

Dawn began to creep over the battlefield, the beginnings of light threatening to rise through the forested mountains on the horizon.

Then he saw him. Gideon holding the kid.

Nothing else mattered. He pushed the jetpack to its limit, rocketing towards the fighter where Gideon was forcing the struggling child inside. The kid spotted Din first, using the Force to slip from Gideon's grip. 

Gideon turned just as Din collided with him, both crashing to the ground, a blur of punches and kicks. Pain shot through Din's back as he hit the fighter.

Gideon clawed to his feet, an awful black beam igniting in his hand. Unlike Luke's crimson lightsaber, this blade seemed to devour the light around it, a void of death. The blade pressed to Din's throat—Gideon chose this moment to monologue.

"Hello Din," his voice cold, a cruel twitch of his lips as he revealed to know his name, "I want to do a favor for you," he flashed his teeth, "Assume I know everything. Your bond to Grogu, your blossoming feelings for that little angsty twat, your deal with Princess Leia Organa…You see, I want to help you Din—"

That wasn't a good sign.

"I don't like Natus either. Force users and their obsessive entitlement stand in the way of the true potential of the Galactic Empire. I will be at the center—"

Din whipped around, kicking Gideons leggs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a thud. 

The man reeled, eyes crazed, slamming the black saber into Din's despairing attempts to block. He dodged and intercepted another blow, Din was forced to be defensive in this fight, taking him out of his element as he possessed more technique than Gideon displayed. 

With a particularly hard swing aimed at his neck, Din dropped himself to the floor, sprang back up, kicking the other man down on the chest, the saber retreated to its hilt clattering across the rough gravel and roots. 

Din scrambled, grasping onto the blade to take away Gideon's advantage, swiftly clipping the hilt to his belt, secure. His. When Din whirled, bracing himself from an inevitable kick from the man who was a tad too slow to beat him to the deathly weapon, a blow never came. Instead, Gideon had the kid, his ears down, in one hand and blaster in the other. 

There was a soft "Patu." The man slowly took a step backward.

Something cold and dark paulsed in Dins blood. He thought he had seen some of the worst things the galaxy had offered in these years since his parents and constantly searching through scum pits. But this was the first time he had ever been too terrified to move. 

With all of his concentration, Din slowly raised his hands, dropping his blaster. 

Gideon spat out a tooth, blood dripping from his lips, and limped another step backward, his cape hitting the entrance of the ship. The engines rumbled, the door closed and began to lift into the air. 

Anger raged in his core. 

One. Din breathed, trying to claw himself back together.

The wind from take-off whipped his cape with the long grass that had been trampled from their fight.

Two.

He felt the rough but tattered texture of the glove face brush against the hilt now clipped to his hip.

Three.

The pack shot a plume of smoke and fire. Din was hidden in the clouds in an instant, following like a hawk above the slowly rising fighter carrying his kid. 

The pack's engine cut as the saber ignited. His stomach plummeted, and with an awful sound, the screeching metal and burning chemicals, the top was sliced off of the fighter, sending it spinning. Going down down down.

He heard the child's delighted giggles.

Din turned to see the kid floating (falling) next to him in the air, ears flapping in the wind, almost like a miniature parachutes. 

"Hang on," he grumbled, placing the kid on his shoulders. 

A hand thrust out of the tumbling wreckage clining to Din's cape for purchase but he jetted off—Gideons hand slipped past the cloth. The burning ship continued to fall, finally exploding in the distance.

No one would be able to survive that. Din thought.

Staying in the air, he turned his attention to the fight below.

—-

"Luke NO!!" Leia screamed feeling helpless to her bones.

After all of the tears, months of planning, years of holding out hope, all for just the smallest glimpse—any semblance of his past self—returned to her. And now she was about to lose him because he was being himself.

He held in his straining hand three Star Destroyers. They jerked and lagged in the air, and their ion engines, with nowhere else to place their energy, began crackling storms, rolling in the clouds. 

Splinters of trees and leaves littered the artificial clearing as the forest had been stripped to its roots—the Force releasing itself in the might it took to keep the ships from leaving. 

A tear of blood fell from her brother's eye, it splattered on his white cloak with the dropps of blood from his nose. 

"I know what will happen to them when the Empire is done with them," he whispered. 

The Executor groaned and there was a sound of thunder. The ships shuttered. 

"Luke! Please this will hurt you."

It was Din. He ran up to them, the child clinging to his shoulder. Din held out his arms as if he were speaking to a rabid, wounded animal. 

Luke looked back to them both, his cape smoldering and burning in places as it lashed around behind him. 

"You above others should know," he strained back a scream of pain, stumbling, "they were loading the lab equipment and people. How many others could there be like me? It's too dangerous! They will just keep hurting."

"They lost their leadership and most of their artillery today," Leia tried to reason, "This attack is a massive blow. We will have secured dozens of those ships; we can let three leave. It will take them a while to regroup. We can take them then. But we need you alive."

Luke shook his head, another tear of blood, "No. I more than deserve this."

He opened himself to the Force, beiging to relax in its presence despite the pain. He was aware that like during the battle with the Profundity his feet were no longer on the ground. His arms stretched open—he may have been screaming but he wasn't sure. 

The ships began to move backwards through the sky. His vision formed foggy and white but he knew he could do this.His energy continued when he was no longer aware of a physical world. 

He heard the pleading voice of the Mandalorian. He felt his connection with Leia. Her love and compassion had never left him despite all this time and all the awful things. He felt clarity. 

Names began to come to him. How fitting he would remember them now.

Aunt Brue. Uncle Owen. 

Tatooine.

Obi-wan--Ben.

Anakin.

"My son, come back to me." 

Father?

Luke's grip slipped for a moment, and he plunged back into the physical world. The ships screamed and shook. 

He turned his head slightly, and sure enough, Vader was there.

"Father, I don't want to fight you. But I cannot let them get away."

"I know," Vader didn't move. Both the Mandalorian and Leia had blasters pinned on him. "You are my son, not a lab rat."

Vader lifted his arm, grasping onto the ships. A breath escaped Luke in relief simultaneously to the choking sound of his father's mechanics. The ships began to pull back further and faster. 

They could do it. Together. 

It was a moment, perfect for a breath but spoiled, when he saw Leia and the Mandalorian thrown backward, clawing at their throats. 

Then there was a cackle. 

"I was there for you in your worst moments. I raised you. This is the thanks I recive? You traitor and stain."

Purple lightning escaped Palpatine's pale hand and long yellow fingernails. 

Then Luke remembered Endor.

A sickly smell of ozone and burnt metal, flashes of sharp purple light. Luke dropped his grasp on the Star Destoyers. Panic seeped into his bones—his heart beating faster than if he received adrenaline to the neck. The blank mask peered down on him. Palpatine's obsessive laughter. And the pain that crisscrossed his body, scaring every surface. His biggest mystery. The secret shrouded in darkness the pain. He couldn't breathe. It was as if he were locked in a Force chokehold—trapped.

His father's mechanics sparked, and he could feel his pain. His father still held onto the ships despite everything. There was a strangled, modulated cry. Lighting traveled the tension in the Force like a current, zipping through his father as a conduit and a massive bolt rung outwards. Hitting one of the battleships. Vader fell to his knees. The energy from the ion engines built with the lighting traveled back to his father, striking Palpatine and expanding outwards. 

Two Destroyers slipped his father's grip, disappearing into hyperspace--the third burst.

More lives called out in the Force. 

Luke whipped his head to see Palpatine's pained face one last time as the figure turned to ashes, blown in the wind. Only the cloak remained.

The last pieces of the Descant sparkled in the sky like a meteor shower. 

He was free.

There was a strangled mechanical breath, and Luke rushed to his dying father.

—

Leia helped Din to his feet; they had all seen much better days. The kid crawled back onto his shoulder, sleep threatening his movements. 

The three of them waited quietly from the dim treeline as Luke held his father in his arms, the dark mask cast on the ground next to them, watching the sunrise together. The Descant's falling particles caught the dawn, reflecting hues ofgold, pink, and lavender over the landscape before blinking out. She saw them exchange a few words, but Leia stayed back—Vader was never her father. 

Anakin disappeared into the Force. 

Luke tried to stand twice, relenting. He fell on his knees—his face to the rising sun, letting the warmth hit him and the memories flood in. There was a joy to it, remembering himself. But each contrasted painfully, a twisting dagger, with a memory of what he had done. 

"What was he like?" Din whispered just above the vocabulator. 

"Kind."

"He was kind before." She gave him a distrustful look. But he continued, "He was. It was buried sometimes, but he was."

"I guess it was something they couldn't take away."

—-

"So I guess this is it." 

The day was bright, too happy for a goodbye. A cargo freighter blazing the resistance insignia took off nearby, blowing the blond's hair. Dozens of ships were now filled to the brim with whatever the Imps couldn't take with them. Leia said it was the largest victory since the desctruction of the Death Star.

The noise was so loud it cut off what he was going to say to Din, so he stopped. They just looked at each other. The words weren't needed anyway. 

Din knew what he needed to do—to say goodbye. Din's hands shook in such an uncontrolled way that it was almost embarrassing as they locked onto the rim of his helmet and lifted upwards, above his jaw. But just before he could look at Luke in the afternoon sun without a screen in the way, his wrists were gently caught. Despite Luke's hands in cuffs, the visor fell back into place.

'No,' he mouthed, shaking his head under the noise of the freighters taking off and landing. 

Don't waste that on me. It was unspoken but heard. Clearly. Like a voice in his mind.

Two guards came and escorted him away up the ramp, and Luke was gone.

END OF PART I

*~*~*~*~*~

Did I just attempt to wrap up the OT, Mando s1 and s2 in 7k words? Yes. I did.

Also what does END OF PART I mean? Absolutely nothing! It makes the most sense in my brain to mark this as the rough halfway point. Yay we made it this far!

[madeholyy]

home & hearth ; leon kennedy / reader

nothing more leon than potentially confessing at a really unconventional moment [ confessions ]

“Hold still.” Leon breathes, warm fingertips dancing across the dips and curves of your face, ghosting over supple skin with a meticulous touch. In the dim light of the abandoned Umbrella facility hallway, he glows. You're enchanted with the way his shimmering blue eyes are focused intently on the injury you sustained above your left eyebrow. There’s a tickle from the way the blood lightly trickles down in the smallest stream, falling down the angle of your brow bone. You close your left eye, grimace at the sensation and you’re tempted to itch it. However, Leon is adamant you keep your hands on your lap while he assesses the damage. Never did you take Leon Kennedy for a medic, but you supposed it’s a skill anyone in the field should learn should the time present itself. A first aid kit was familiar to you and you’d patched him up more times than you can count, but rarely did the time come for him to do the same for you. Not as if you never were wounded, but you were self sufficient and quick.

His warm breath fans across your face as he murmurs to himself, “Won’t need stitches, but let me clean you up.”

When he pulls out an antiseptic wipe, you cringe. He doesn’t miss the way you eye him and it causes him to chuckle.

“That’s gonna sting.” You point out with a slight distressed intonation.

“Yeah, crazy how disinfecting does that.” Leon is quick with the sarcasm, leaning closer to your face and ripping the packet open to retrieve the small wet wipe. You squeeze your eyes shut. He drags it gently over the cut and you hiss in discomfort as soon as it makes contact. There were a lot of pain levels you could tolerate, but you never were able to successfully get over the sensation an antiseptic wipe brought on.

“Damnit—“ You scrunch up your nose, “That’s annoying.”

He hums in acknowledgement, finishing it up before pulling out a single butterfly bandage from his person. Prepared. It was reasonable. You carry similar items around out of necessity and you would be surprised if Leon didn’t. He carefully placed it down before taking the smallest step back to admire his handiwork.

“Call me Dr. Kennedy from now on.” He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes twinkling with amusement. You merely rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile that curled on the corners of your lips. For as long as you have known him he was always the type to make silly little jokes and witty remarks. Sometimes he was just plainly a smart ass. It was endearing most days and comforting on others. The job you both had was emotionally draining and took a huge mental toll on anyone. It was a miracle you’d managed to make it through your first mission without completely psychologically breaking down, but that wasn’t much of an achievement. You leaned back against the wall as you remained seated on the crate in the middle of the hallway. Leon took this time to check on his handgun, but you wondered if he actually suspected anything could be wrong with it or if he wasn’t sure how to carry the conversation.

“Alright, Dr. Kennedy.” You leaned back with your hands bracing your weight behind you, kicking your feet which dangled over the edge of the crate. Leon snorted, holstering his handgun and crossing his arms once more.

“Yeah, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out.” He had his mischievous little smirk on his face and you wondered if he considered himself some sort of comedian. Many of his remarks were so strange you couldn’t help but laugh. It only spurred him on to continue making them despite the small ounce of secondhand embarrassment they’d give you. And you fully had the heart to tell him they were dumb.

“Let’s get going before I die via your dumb jokes.” Sliding off the crate, you landed on your own two feet with a slight stumble. You rotated each ankle for a second to wake them up and stretched your arms straight up in the air. Breaks, no matter how short, always left your body more tired than rested.

It was only a few hours ago that you both had begun your mission to collect a very important file from the computer system inside an old Umbrella Facility. Not much information was relayed to either of you of the contents within; only that it’s important you recover it as soon as possible. However, you were not alone here. That much had been obvious from your previous encounters. Lurking within the shadows were experiments roaming outside their containment. From information gathered in your search, you’d learn this was not a planned exodus from their facility. It was a catalyst from the Raccoon City incident and subsequent trials. Getting out would not be easy for these experiments, but it didn’t seem they were in any hurry to explore the outside world above them. No, they were far more simple minded and few had any actual purpose outside of doing what parasites and viruses do; overcome and control.

You could understand why Leon had been assigned this mission, but your specialty was stealth. Close encounters were not your strong suit and you were not trained to be in the heat of combat. Instead, you were initially groomed for the shadows. Although you were equipped to handle just about any situation should the occasion arrive, you were used to covering another agent's back and sneaking about. Assassin wasn’t the word they would use, but it was how you were nonetheless viewed.

Shattered glass from the lighting fixtures above your heads crunched under the weight of your boots. The bulbs flickered, struggling to stay alight from the damage they sustained. Your finger gently tapped the side of your handgun in anxious anticipation for the next encounter. You stayed close to the left wall with Leon standing very closely behind you. The heat from his body radiated off of him and ghosted the surface of your skin with its warmth. The close proximity made it difficult to stay focused, but the paranoia creeping up along your spine did enough to keep your attention. The light faded out quickly the deeper you both went until you were left in absolute darkness. Turning in your flashlights, you glanced around. There was an eerie silence filling the air and you felt as if it were suffocating you. Sweat beaded on your forehead and cascaded down your face. No matter what you faced previously, it did nothing to ease your fear. Bioweapons were dangerous and your composure wavered despite the mask you adorned to appear neutral. It showed in your pupils as they dilated from the adrenaline response coursing through your body and in the way your shoulders tense as if you were trying to keep yourself together. 

“Ease up, will ya?” He spoke in a soft voice, and you could hear the smile in his words.

“What a comfort you are…” You mumbled with an eye roll. Leon placed his hand on your shoulder blade. It was meant to actually appear comforting, but you nearly jumped out of your skin with a sharp gasp. You wanted to hiss at him to not do that again, but a low moan echoed through the darkness. Goosebumps decorated your skin as a chill ran along your spine, causing you to shiver. You wanted to turn off your light and hide in the darkness; pretend you were nothing. But Leon stepped up next to you. There was something about him at that moment. It was on the tip of your tongue, but the words were so far from your grasp you couldn’t describe it. Though you do know it made you feel guilty. It was easy for him to catch the telltale signs of your anxiety and fear. More than once did he step up to ensure you felt safe and protected despite you both being agents in the sign line of work.

“Let me lead the way.” He was firm and left no room for argument. You merely nodded. With your agreement, he aimed his handgun forward and moved along the narrow hallway. The closer you both got, the louder the moans were. They were harrowing and barely there and inhuman all the same. A luminescent glow brightened the inky blackness and you could just make out the window which allowed you to peer into a lab. Each step closer brought a near crystal clear view of an inhuman silhouette pressed against the near indestructible glass. You both paused and calculated your options. You could either move forward and risk the creature inside breaking loose and attacking, or you could find another way around it via alternative paths. Not a single bone in your body felt at ease walking right past it, but even a different hallway could lead you both to something far worse than your current predicament.

Leon turned to face you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. You chalked it up to him thinking strategy, but you wondered if he was just waiting for your call. He had told you a long time ago that he trusted your judgment back during a particularly difficult mission in Taiwan. Cautiously, you dared to speak up in hushed whispers, “Under.”

His eyes followed yours to the space beneath the window; a blind spot if it could even see. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second in surprise before relaxing into an unreadable expression. With a nod, he waited for you to take the lead. You slowly stepped closer with careful steps among the loose debris. Your descent towards the floor on your hands and knees was ever so cautious and deliberate. The shadow on the wall stayed in position to where the creature was, but nothing indicated it knew of your presence. Everything about its build was subhuman from its heavily deformed head and long, lanky arms. It was freakishly tall from what you would tell. You were thankful you did not have to look at it head on for you’d be unable to forget the image ingrained in your head due to it. It was ideal to minimize contact with as many as you could to ensure a smoother, quicker success.

After what felt like ages, you both made it past your unwelcome guest and around the corner far from its prying ears (if it could hear). You leaned up against the wall, inhaling deep breaths to steady your beating heart. Leon wiped the sweat from his brow. It seemed more of an annoyance to him than anything, but you were easy to scare in complete honesty. His eyes soften when he finally levels his gaze on you, moving closer, but not too close. His presence was meant to be soothing and not overwhelming. He affirmed his intentions by gently petting your head, sliding his hand down the side of your face in a comforting caress. You snorted, waving his hand away.

“What are you? My boyfriend?”

“I could be.” You froze, staring up at him with wide eyes. He pats your cheek, laughing softly before walking away. You hardly had any time to catch up on the conversation. Pushing yourself away from the wall, you match his pace down the hall as you both enter an ill-lit area.

“You don’t just get to walk away after that.” You hiss, bumping up against his back and causing him to lurch forward in a misstep.

“I can do whatever the hell I want.” Leon teases which only frustrates you further.

“So you want to be my boyfriend?” You attempt to turn the tables, but he only hums in thought; unfazed by your question.

“How about we talk about this after we finish up.” Was all he said before he turned your attention back to the task at hand.

Despite what Leon said, you two, in fact, did not speak more about it after. Well, at least not your idea of “after” which is directly preceding the original mission. You were impatient, sure, but you were antsy. It could have just been a bit which wouldn’t surprise you. Leon very well could have been pulling your leg and expected you to catch on immediately, but that wasn’t the case. You were confused. Confused in the long helicopter ride home and as you sat with some doctors who checked you over as protocol. The light in the room was blinding thanks to the crisp white walls and white, well, everything. It was sterile and bland as expected. Your fingers gingerly touch along the white bandage above your eyebrow. Hours ago Leon had cleaned you up as best as he could, his face dangerously close to yours in concentration. You could remember the heat rushing to your cheeks as you studied the blue of his eyes; the way they shimmered and entranced you.

The years had flown by, but your feelings for him remained the same as they always had after your excursion in Raccoon City. He kept you level-headed in the midst of terror; a light of hope in a lifeless place. He always had the resolve you did not and, for that, you envied him. Determination found a home in the marrow of his bones, leaving naught a second thought in the face of great peril. It was embedded deep within his personhood and was one of his more admirable traits. You didn’t know why you joined him in becoming an agent at the time, but now you know the reason. You had fallen for him, plain and simple. You wished to share in future victories with him, understand him like no other, and be near him as much as physically possible. He felt like home. He was your home. And you had resigned to never being with him in the way you wanted, but he lit a hope deep within the hollow cavity of your chest. A blazing fire of endless possibilities and opportunity with just a few words.

You were snapped out of your thoughts with the heavy door opening, whipping your head upward to see who came to visit. Leon peeked in, a curious look in his eyes before smiling and entering.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” You tilted your head, beaming up at him.

“Nah, just an extensive check-up. They just let me leave my room.” He took a seat in the stool in front of you; the one the doctor used when he went over your file with you.

“Did you mean it?” You blurted out. You wanted to cut to the chase. If he was only joking then you needed to know immediately.

“What do you think?” Leon matches the tilt of your head. There’s a mischievous twinkle swirling in stunning blue.

“I think you were, but you weren’t either. Honestly I’m confused. I want to believe it wasn’t a joke, but you’re so hard to read.” Pausing, you gauged his reaction before continuing, “It was just so…sudden and out of nowhere. I can’t have you playing with me like that.”

There it was. The slight tremble in your voice towards the end of your sentence. It was embarrassing, but unavoidable as your feelings welled up inside you. Everything you had hidden within you all these years was bubbling up the surface at an uncontrollable rate. You had spent so much time meticulously calculating your every move and response to him to avoid this, but the dam broke. You were vulnerable, you were naked.

“I don’t know why I said it either. I mean, I do, but I don’t know why I said it at that moment.” He looked down at his hands as he gestured to express something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“I want you to mean it. Like, a lot. I never wanted someone more in my life, Leon.” Now it was your turn to look down at your hands, but you were picking the skin around your fingernails nervously. The sound of him standing on his feet redirected your attention back to him. He stepped forward, leaning down at eye level with you.

“I mean it. I don’t know if we’re gonna have a happily ever after, but I don’t need one. I just want to know I got to love you.” There it was. That word stole the air right out of your lungs. You could hardly breathe under his intense gaze. His eyes looked down at your lips then back up to your own. There was a question in his eyes.

Can I?

You inhaled, leaning up to bump your nose against his. He takes the opportunity to close the gap and it leaves you breathless. His lips against your soft, plump ones. The way they fit so well together as if you were made for each other. It’s so soft and gentle and warm; it leaves no room for uncertainty. He only pulled away a millimeter, resting his forehead up against yours.

“I’m kind of a mess by the way.” He murmurs, hot breath fanning your face, “I’m scared of commitment and I won’t always believe how you feel about me.”

It was honest. Unequivocally honest and real.

“I’m the same way, don’t worry.” Your fingertips graze along his cheekbone, the most sincere and genuine smile he had ever seen gracing your face. It was unadulterated joy. It was infectious, too, as he found himself grinning from ear to ear right back before leaning in for another kiss.

[plumpedxprincess]

The Breeding Facility (Part 1)

reader insert | accelerated pregnancy

this has been in my drafts for so long… part 2 and 3 coming soon

~~~

You arrived at the facility around noon. What used to be an old college dormitory was now the home to a breeding facility, where people of all different backgrounds could come to help the population crisis currently plaguing the world.

You had heard about these places before, where people come to constantly be reproducing. You had never expected yourself to want to come to a place like this.

You were a bit scared to see the changes that would occur to your body. You weren’t the tallest person ever and your flat chest and thin stature didn’t boast well for breeding. But the facility had accepted your application almost immediately.

The lady at the check in desk was heavily pregnant with more than one child. You wondered how many children she was carrying, how far along she was. She gave you a friendly smile before she ordered another women, also heavily pregnant, to guide you to your room.

All you had was a small bag of personal items, since clothing and other necessities were provided for you. You followed the waddling lady, finally coming upon your own room.

It was bare inside besides a nice bed, a desk, and a couch. There was a bathroom next to the door, and a window near the bed.

“Thank you,” you tell the woman.

She rubs her stomach as she reads your file. “Looks like your first appointment is in an hour. Take the hallway down to the end and turn left. Look for Dr. Ambrosia’s room.”

She waddles off and you set to placing your belongings throughout your room. After an hour, you follow her directions to your new doctor.

On your way there, you see various pregnant people on a walk together, waddling as fast as they can through the corridors. You peek into a few of the other dorm windows to see people of all different stages of pregnancy.

“Welcome,” your doctor says as she situates you on a chair with stirrups on it. She is the only person you have seen who isn’t pregnant, which makes sense, you suppose, since she and the other doctors need to care for the other pregnancies.

“Now, you’ve never been pregnant before, correct?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you smile at her, “I feel like it’s kind of obvious.” You gesture to your flat stomach.

She grins back, “Well, we can fix that.”

She shuffled through a few papers, “Now, we start everyone out with one baby, but since this is a breeding facility, these pregnancies are accelerated. Typically, for solo pregnancies, we narrow down 9 months to 9 days. You will give birth in just over a week.”

You feel surprised at the fast pace, but you also feel yourself growing eager to get started.

“From there, we determine if you are more suited for an even quicker 5 day solo or a 10 day with multiples. We go from case to case, so you’ll be able to choose what exactly you want to do. After each pregnancy you have a rest period as well.”

She goes over some medications to take to reduce stretch marks, nausea, and growing pains, since everything happens so fast.

“Sound like you’re up for it?”

You nod eagerly at her.

“Great! Then we will can start with your insemination.”

~~~

The first three days were fine. Mild morning sickness and a little back pain as your body got used to taking the accelerator medication along with finally being pregnant.

You were starting to love the facility. There was green space to spend time outside, there were three buffet style dining halls, and you could pretty much do anything you wanted. Your only job was to grow.

You finally had a nervous burst of excitement on your fourth day, when you woke up to a noticeable bump. Along with your new belly, your breasts were larger, and your hips a bit wider. Your nipples were sensitive to the touch, but not in a bad way. It wasn’t a super big change, but it made you eager for the following days.

With so much access to food finally, you gained more weight with each meal.

On your fifth and sixth day, the changes to your body had you running down to the little mini mart near the check-in office to buy a vibrator. You hadn’t realized how turned on you would get from your new body, constantly rubbing your new belly and ample curves.

Day seven came and you finally went back to the doctor’s wing, for a check up with Dr. Ambrosia.

“My, you are taking to this pregnancy very well! Have there been any issues at all?”

“Not that I can tell,” you say, absentmindedly caressing your bump. You had seen many others doing that, and now you realized it was just something that happened unconsciously. You loved feeling your protruding midsection.

The doctor ran a few tests to make sure everything was going well. By the end of the visit, she suggested bed rest for the next few days since it was your first pregnancy.

You mostly snoozed through the next few days, transitioning between eating food that was sent to your door, napping, and getting off. Your full belly was bigger than you had expected, but you loved the feeling.

You felt kicks occasionally, knowing your child was restless to leave your womb.

Late in the evening on the ninth day, you headed to a dining hall before you were scheduled for labor. Your belly was huge, leaving you waddling down the hall like the other women you had seen. Your back ached and you had noticed your butt had gotten bigger too.

Your clothes weren’t fitting entirely well, but since it was the last day, you didn’t seem to mind all that much. The shorts you wore left little to the imagination, showing off your larger thighs and hips. You loved your thighs and how soft they were, gently rubbing them when you sat to eat.

Your shirt stopped around your belly button, leaving your stomach exposed beneath your navel. You noticed a few of the ladies you sat with were the same.

You feasted on a burger and fries, drinking a large soda along with it. The carbonation and greasy food filled you up well, making you feel full.

It was just about time for you to head to the birthing wing, and like clockwork, you felt your water break. A part of you was nervous and anxious to get the first birth over with. But you were sad to see your belly go. You liked it a lot.

As you struggled a bit to get up to begin the walk to the labor rooms, you smiled to yourself. This was only the first pregnancy. There was sure to be more in the future, bigger and better than this one.

You couldn’t wait.

~~~

[racecarcat]

who is rhiddon vidhya? i’d love to know

Let me warn you… the Rhiddion, Vidya, and Cato saga consists of FAR too many characters of my ocs to the point it could be considered its own plot in itself. That being said I can explain the Rhiddion/Vidya dynamic pretty well ^^ (this is my most developed oc group I kid u not)

SO Rhiddion (whose real name I decided would be Jade… and then the hsr Jade came and I never changed it since but it’s not like anybody uses it$ is a member of the “Jubilant & Joyous Circus!” elation faction I made up, and Vidya is a Stellaron Hunter! They’re longtime rivals and used to be friends until Vidya quite literally kicked him off the planet.

To briefly summarize their whole dynamic and past work one another; they used to be students at the Intelligentsia Guild who were considered “the best of their time” and were often butting heads because they were always fighting for that #1 spot in each of their classes together that they were always evenly matched against one another—Cato (another oc) was the only one who could settle them down and get them to become at the very least close and Vidya and Rhiddion only managed to get closer because of Cato.

They went on and graduated at the top of their classes and went on to build a laboratory on a planet with a thriving ecosystem! Therefore they could study and cultivate and record their studies in peace, and life went great for them for a long, long time.

That was, until Vidya took a personal expedition for mysterious purposes and came back entirely and completely differently—she locked herself in her study for about 6 months before she was forcefully checked upon by Rhiddion for her mental wellbeing where he found her room a mess and covered in papers and energy drinks and it looked like someone had ransacked the place. Apparently Vidya had been hardly eating, sleeping, or even drinking or doing any basic necessities for herself because she was researching something Rhiddion couldn’t mentally comprehend. Vidya claimed to have “received the gift of the future from the erudition” and went crazy trying to figure out what it meant.

Rhiddion and Vidya get into an extremely large argument about her mental state, and Vidya claims that he’s been hiding the last piece of information she needs to figure out what vision she was given meant. Rhiddion claims to not have.

And so, because Rhiddion doesn’t tell her anything, Vidya claims him to be disloyal to their research facility and gets many people to be in the democratic vote of exiling him. So he gets an anti-gravity device attached to him, and he’s sent off into space.

And this is where their lives split—where Rhiddion meets a young girl named Jyotika (soon to be named Machiko) and Vidya continues her descent into madness. As for Cato, she finds the information Rhiddion has been denying having to Vidya.

TLDR: Vidya and Rhiddion went from academic rivals to friends to coworkers to mortal enemies and Vidya sends him to go join the circus.

And unfortunately it doesn’t stop there this causes a MASSIVE series of chain reactions for a lot of characters. Hehe I fear you’ve unlocked a rabbit hole myla 🤭

[spicerackofblorbos]

Chapter 2: December

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions (to be continued as writing is ongoing)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it. If you missed the first chapter, you can check it out here! The last one was pretty long but that's because it had to set up a lot of stuff, so this one is a little shorter. The interactions with Levi are short (heh) but I promise the next chapter will have a lot more. Buckle up buttercups.

☾ Word Count ➼ ~5.6k

The town of Jinae started out as a cute crossroads village of sorts. It held only the bare necessities for those traveling from one major city to the next. That meant that small motels, dinky diners, and two-pump gas stations peppered the main road going in and out. A modest residential zone paired with an all-in-one school rounded out the town. Jinae’s purpose was clear; providing the needs to those just passing through.  

However, Jinae saw an enormous growth in just the span of 25 years. A pharmaceutical company called Titan LLC sought to place roots in this small village, building a research facility in the hills 10 minutes away from the downtown area. With the prospect of new jobs came more people and more people meant an inevitable expansion to create space for them. Thus, the little village turned into a quaint, bustling town. It was also this company that brought you and Hange into small-town life.  

Hange had been a part of Titan’s company for a few years, working in a facility in your hometown. Because Titan was privatized medicine, you were not allowed to know much of what her job entailed. All you knew was that she was a lab technician and spent most of her time studying and working with viruses.

Hange often joked about making zombies, but part of you wondered how much of her statement was a joke and how much of it was wishful thinking. But then she had been given a promotion to head-researcher and they requested that she be relocated to the facility in Jinae. Hange was quick to accept.   

Unfortunately for you, their new position is the reason why you found yourself cursing at the intricate filigree mask that dug into your face. It made any attempt to look down at the spread of auction items before you difficult. You glide your fingers across an informational plaque pertaining to an art piece that sat behind it, not really minding what the art piece really was. Your mind wandered to the argument you and your sister had a couple weeks ago.  

For context, Jinae hosts a winter gala every year as a way to boost community through the networking of big and small businesses alike. All proceeds from the gala’s events, tickets included, would go into improving the town. But, in more recent years Titan had become one of the town’s biggest benefactors and subsequently the gala’s biggest sponsor. Hange was pretty wishy-washy with the details, but they mentioned that part of the proceeds now goes into Titan as funds for their future projects. Of course, it made you suspicious, but it was not the reason why you were so upset at the time. 

This was the first Christmas Eve that you were not home with your family. Generally, by this time you would be lounging around with your other siblings, drinking hot cocoa and watching silly little holiday movies. Hange was upset about that too but with her new position, their attendance at the gala was mandatory. Titan had mentioned something about making the company personable and being a part of the community. You understood for the most part, but you were still frustrated that you were not wearing soft pajamas and were instead tripping over a dark, floor length evening gown.  

The thought of the previous conversation makes you huff as you continuously make your way through the auction items, again not really taking note of the piece before moving on to the next. You’ve heard of silent auctions before but have never seen one in person. It was quite strange to you, but you quickly find it’s an interesting concept as no one really had to interact with anyone else. After about the 20th display, your eyes start to glaze over. You think maybe your time would be better spent elsewhere, but then your eyes catch a familiar donor’s name on a plaque card.  

Were they here? 

You lean over to take a closer look at the small text on the card.  

“To You, 2000 Years From Now: A History of Ymir”  - First Edition  - Author: Frieda Reiss  Graciously donated by No Regrets Café 

You peek at the item behind it. It’s a light blue hardcover book, no more than maybe 300 pages. The cover was canvas with gilded text. In the center sat an embossed trunk with several branches shooting off in a myriad of directions. It reminded you of a leafless tree. You were not very familiar with the goddess Ymir due to the lack of religious background your home had growing up. But you did pick up bits and pieces as you got older, so you at least recognized the name.  

Lost in thought, you straighten up and take a step back. As you do, you’re knocked forward as you collide with something behind you. A cold liquid splashes down your exposed back making you gasp in surprise. When you turn around, you’re faced with a very angry man dabbing a cloth at his wine-stained dress shirt. He stares at you furiously and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment.  

“Can you watch where you’re going?! This is a very expensive shirt!” He screeches at you. His sudden volume startles you, causing you to flinch. Hands shaking, you attempt to unclasp your clutch to reach for your phone. 

“I don’t want your money! I want an apology! Do you know how long this will take to get out?!” His round spectacles flash at you as he scowls. He jerks towards you with his hand up in an accusatory point at your chest. 

You manage to fish out your phone but your tremoring, sweaty hands cause your phone to slip out and hit the ground with a loud ‘thwap’. At this point, everyone around is staring at the loud scene and whispering to each other. You look back up at the man, frustrated tears threatening to brim over. With no way to communicate, you’re reminded of the times when you were a child. You ball your fists in an effort to hold yourself together, nails digging into your skin.  

Suddenly you see someone bending down in front of you and picking up your phone. Standing up, they peer up at you with familiar sharp, gray eyes. A breath hitches in your throat as you immediately recognize him. He wore a half mask covering his scarred side, but you knew instantly it was him. He observes your face intently and you’re not certain if he recognizes you.  

“Excuse me, sir. I’m in the middle of something. Would you kindly move?” The man sneers. Levi narrows his eyes at the voice and spins around to face the tall stranger.  

“No, I don’t think I will. Apologize to the lady.” Levi’s voice is dry and devoid of emotion. 

“I beg your pardon?” The man’s face contorts in bewilderment.  

“Then beg.” Levi folds his arms across his chest and glowers hard. When he’s only given a shocked silence in return, he continues, “Apologize to the lady, I won’t ask again.” His voice is now icy. 

“Well, I never...”  Blanching, the man mumbles a ‘sorry’ before stumbling away.  

“Oi! Hydrogen peroxide and cold water on that stain immediately!” Levi calls out to the man. Without checking to see if the man heard him, he rounds on you. Your mouth sat agape as you stared down at him. His gaze is still hard as he inspects your face. When your tears start spilling over and you choke on a sob, his eyes widen in surprise. He steps forward right as you pull back, holding your arms up to stop him.  

Through blurry eyes, you spot the French doors separating the ballroom from the rest of the convention center and rush towards them for a quick escape. You run through and down a few hallways, a loud bang resonating behind you as the heavy doors close. You almost don’t notice the hurried heavy set of footsteps following you.  

You slump down on the first bench you see, curling up on yourself against the wall. You notice how badly you're shaking, and your tears come even faster. Clenching your dress in fists, you attempt to take deep breaths as you hang your head low, staring at the floor. The bench shifts as Levi sits next to you. He hands out your phone as well as a white handkerchief for you to take. You do so without giving him a second glance, taking the cloth to dab the wetness from your eyes before shoving it right back into his hand. You note the black coloration staining the white from your makeup. 

How unbelievably embarrassing this is for you. You’re not able to speak up for yourself, then you’re humiliated by all the criticizing stares. And now you’re practically falling apart in front of someone you still hardly know. You didn’t want Levi to see you like this and it made you angry at how pathetic you felt. You open your notes app and type out a quick message.  

‘I didn’t need your help.’ You don’t even look up as you hand him your phone. He quietly scoffs at you.  

“Huh? What do you mean you didn’t need help? You were visibly distressed. And that asshole would not leave you alone.” He places your phone back in your open, awaiting hand. You snatch the phone from his grip before he lets go of it, your fingertips brushing across his causing him to flinch. 

‘I’m not some damsel in distress for you to save. It wasn’t your place, and you don’t get to decide what you think I need or want.’ Frustration flares in your chest as hot tears threatened to fall yet again. You turn your head away in case they do. He digests your message in silence, the only things heard were the muffled sounds of the orchestra and your sniffles. What you don’t notice is the shot of pain that flashes across his face before falling back into his neutral expression.   

“Tch, I don’t know why you’re acting so defensive; I was just trying to help. Maybe show some gratitude, brat.” He snaps back. 

Your head whips up to glare at him. Levi’s posture was much more closed off and defensive than before. His hair is slicked back, and he wore a simple black suit with a white cravat in place of the usual bowtie. He's scowling at you, unamused. The audacity makes that same frustration in your chest bloom into a fiery blaze.  

‘Are you being serious right now?’ You practically throw your phone at him, your anger now evident on your face.  

“As a matter of fact, I am. I’m not the one who can’t communicate. Why are you even here?” His eyebrows furrow into a knot to match your furious expression, voice icy again. He shoves your phone back into your palms and you’re already typing away. 

‘I can communicate just fine, asshole. I’m not about to thank you for something I did not need. And for the record, I didn’t even want to be here!’   

“Why did you even come then?!” 

‘Why did you?’ Your phone skids across the floor from the excessive throwing of your phone, you’re not sure who threw it. 

You bolt to your feet at the same time as him, frosty expressions aimed at each other. The tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. You hear waves crashing in your ears as your pulse races from the heated argument, chests rise and fall with heavy breathing. The past month, you two had gotten along, but now it felt as if you wanted to strangle him.  

“My little strawberry!! Where oh where did you run off to??” the shrill voice of your sister comes echoing down the hallway. Without giving Levi a second thought, you turn on your heel and start heading towards where the voice came from, picking your phone up from the floor as you go. You clutch your dress in both hands and pull it up to keep yourself from tripping on it, not caring that your worn-out combat boots were peeking out. There were definitely a few tears escaping from your eyes, rolling down your face and onto the floor as you stalked through the halls. 

Who did Levi think he was, scolding you like that. You two barely knew each other, so how could he assume that you needed help. He never took time to ask anything about you, save for those few questions at the bar a few weeks ago. You’ve only seen him a handful of times since then; It became the new normal to see you and Hange hanging out with the co-owners of the ‘No Regrets’ café after hours. Even then, Levi continued to be the man of few words. He’d offer grunts or scoffs in return for conversation in between sips of tea. And truly it never bothered you. But that also meant you and Levi had never had a real conversation. You knew nothing about him, and he knew nothing about you. 

You almost run headlong into a wall of a human as you round the corner, completely lost in thought. They catch you before you tumble backwards and fueled by the argument mere moments ago, you slap their hand away. You stare up at sky-blue eyes boring into yours and instantly regret it. You sign a quick apology, looking away from Erwin’s piercing gaze. He only examines you with silent consideration. 

‘If you’re looking for your ass of a friend, he’s back there.’ You sign to him stiffly.  

“Oh, well, I was actually looking for you. Hange needs you for something... are you okay?” Erwin asks softly. You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, continuing to avert your gaze. As if that was answer enough, he says nothing else. Leading the way, he starts walking in what you could assume to be Hange’s direction. You follow close behind, staring at the back of his shoes as you went. You both walk in silence, and you mentally thank him for it. Once you step back into the ballroom, you spot a familiar frazzled brunette conversing with one of her coworkers. 

“Hange!” Erwin waves them over and they hold up a finger. After a few minutes they bound over and wrap you in a tight hug.  

“Oh my lovely, I heard about what happened and when I tried to find you, I couldn’t! Where were you?” She pulls away from the hug and studies your face. Their look of relief is suddenly replaced with a look of deep concern.  

‘Can we go home now?’ You sign to them before they can say anything, pleading with your eyes.  

“Well, I need to make a few more rounds but, I suppose we can leave. Give me about 15 minutes and then we can head out, okay?” They grab your hand and squeeze it reassuringly. With a reluctant nod they run off, leaving you with Erwin. You wrap your arms around yourself, and a heavy sigh escapes your lips. A couple moments of silence pass until his deep voice breaks it.  

“I don’t know what happened but try not to be too harsh on Levi.” You glance up at him but he’s not facing you, instead he’s surveying the crowd. He continues, “Levi has a rough demeanor. He may not always know how to handle emotions properly, his included, so I would caution you not to take it personally. In truth, he did not want to be here. I’m the one who dragged him out to make pleasantries with other businesses.” 

You don’t really know what to say to that, so you don’t. You still felt inklings of anger lingering in your body; you weren’t ready to let it go. To be and feel so humiliated in front of Levi was too much and you hadn’t had time to process it. Your heart squeezes as you remember the way Levi looked at you before you ran out of the ballroom. Something had startled him. Did your emotional reactions disturb him in a way he wasn't expecting? It could explain why he was so brusque with you. 

You glance up at him as he turns to you. You explore his face while you attempt to figure out what it is you wanted to say. Erwin’s eyes were bright and inquisitive, and it struck you how much of an antithesis he was to Levi. Erwin’s warm, soft nature clashed heavily with Levi’s cool, blunt personality. While Erwin was a summer breeze, Levi was a brewing storm. Whereas Erwin felt like a radiant sun warming you through the bone, Levi felt like a raging bonfire with flames threatening to lick at your skin and leave burns. Levi was not welcoming in any capacity and yet you were drawn to him like a magnet.   

‘He’s very stubborn, isn’t he?’ You sign at him finally. The blonde man chortles at your deadpan expression.  

“He very much is and based off what I know about you in the short time I’ve known you, I would say you’re the same.” He winks at you with a grin. You huff as you fold your arms across your chest in defiance.  

You wonder if that was an insult or compliment. You haven’t given much thought to the possible similarities and differences you both had, though you didn’t expect to be so explosive together. Whether it was just bad timing or you two just didn't get along as well as you thought, you didn't know. But what you did know was that you wanted to be home as soon as possible and out of this suffocating gown. Your eyes wander around the ballroom to try and find where your sister went off to. The only sights you see are people mingling and laughing, the dancing all but forgotten. Levi hadn't come back yet, and you felt your heart tug at the thought of him again. How frustrating he was to you.  

Finally, you spot Hange coming towards you with a wide smile, her jacket already pulled on with yours in hand. She must have stopped by the dinner table to grab yours on the way back. You step in to meet them halfway, shrugging on your coat the second she hands it off to you.  

"Well Erwin, I'm afraid we must part ways again. Keep me updated on your travels tomorrow, yes? I'd hate to find out you went out in blaze of glory by sliding off the highway." Your sister jokes as she walks past to give Erwin a playful punch on the arm.

Travels?  

You spin around and raise your eyebrows at him as you sign, 'You're going out of town too?' 

"I am, I'm going to visit my family for the holidays. I hear you will be doing the same as well. So, you," Erwin pats Hange's head with fondness and continues, "better let me know when you both arrive safely to your destination. And I will do my best to do the same." He flashes you one of his glittering smiles.   

'What does Levi have planned for tomorrow?' You can't help but ask. You internally kick yourself for your curiosity.  

"As usual, he's planning to open the cafe for a little bit in the morning and then he's going to visit his - someone close to him." Erwin shoots you an inquisitive glance, the corners of his mouth twitching as he responds. 

Levi working on Christmas seemed a little excessive to you and you speculate that those dark circles under his eyes were due to a workaholic nature. But the last part bothered you more than you cared to let on; Who is it that he had plans to see?  

"I know it's only been a month but that sounds like such a Levi thing to do. I think since the cafe will be open, we'll stop in to get a boost of caffeine before heading out. What do you say, my darling?" Hange wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. The thought of being near Levi again after what just transpired makes your stomach flip. In an effort to conceal your discomfort at the idea, you just roll your eyes and nudge your sister with your elbow.  

"It won't be a long stop I promise, then we can get to mom and dads in no time!" It seemed to work on Hange because she took your annoyance as taking too long to get home.  

After quick goodbyes and safe travel wishes, you find yourself staring out in the winter night as Hange drives down well-lit streets. The lamps flash on your face every other second as you pass them, your arm is propped up against the door’s console with your hand cradling your chin while you stare out. It's silent between the two of you for a while until Hange pipes up at a red light. 

"So, what happened between you and Levi?"  

Your head whips around so fast that you hit it against the window and your sister guffaws. You wince as you rub at the sore spot. She's staring straight at you with a sparkle in their eyes. Their enthusiasm makes you think she's looking for a specific answer, but you won't play that game. Turning to face them so they can see you clearly, you do the biggest eye roll you can muster.  

'It's nothing.'  

"It doesn't seem like nothing. You were crying before Erwin brought you to me. Plus, Erwin texted me what he thought happened. I just want to know your side."  

'It's nothing.' You repeat more forcefully.  

"Well alright then, missy." Hange teases, dropping the conversation. The light turns green, and the car starts off again on the wet pavement. You notice it had started to snow, that big fluffy kind of snow that stuck to the windows where you could see the little snowflakes if you looked close enough before they melted away.  

You turn back in your seat and huff. You were not as angry as you were before, but irritation still scratched at you. You were tired of thinking about Levi tonight. The only thing you wanted on your mind was the warm bed waiting for you just 20 minutes away. But you should have known that getting that silver-eyed man out of your brain was futile. It didn't matter that other people kept bringing him up, all you could see was him.  

"Erwin told me it's his birthday tomorrow." Hange mumbles quietly, causing your ears to twitch as they pick up what was being said.  

You only glance at them through a side eye, afraid your face would give away any indication of that statement bothering you. You bite your cheek and look back out the window at the passing assortment of buildings. Would he be alone on not only Christmas but on his birthday as well? You then remember Erwin mentioning something about him going to see someone close to him; was it a girlfriend? At least he wouldn't be alone. But that just bothered you even more. 

'God, he is so frustrating.' You think. You press your forehead against the cool glass, relishing how it felt against your warm skin.  

.

When what felt like the 100th customer had asked him why he was working today instead of spending time with his loved ones, Levi's eye twitched. Like with all the others, he slid their order to them and turned around without so much of a scoff. Today's traffic was busier than he anticipated, and it made him antsy. He only planned to be open for a couple of hours but with him being the only one in the shop he didn't have a chance to flip the signs off quick enough. Luckily the clientele didn't stick around, opting to take their orders to go before they travelled wherever the hell they were going to.  

He was in the middle of steaming milk when Hange walked in with a small box and a huge smile. For once there wasn't a line, so they leant up against the register while he worked on the lattes for the couple waiting at the end of the bar. Not a single word was said as she just stared holes into his skull.  

"If you're just going to sit there and say nothing, will you at least go unplug the open sign for me. I'm closing." Levi requests as he shoves the cups to the couple. They mumble a ‘happy holidays’ to Levi before shuffling out the door, Hange locking it behind them.  

"Well Merry Christmas to you too, Shorty." They tease as they slide up to the register again. Their eyes were shining brightly behind their glasses as they beamed a smile down to him.  

"What do you want, Four Eyes?" 

"Well for starters, I'd like a sugary English breakfast tea latte and the boldest coffee you have. Both mediums please! Aaaaand," she pulls out the small box she came in with out from behind her in a dramatic flourish. "This is for you." She places the box gently out on the counter and slides it forward.  

"What the hell is that?" he asks unamused as he rings up the orders. Breakfast Tea? Does that mean you're out in the car right now?  

"It's a box!" 

"Well obviously, why is it here?"  

"It's for you, dumbass. And before you say anything, no it's not from me."  

There's a deafening silence as Levi processes what Hange says. ‘Not from them’ meant logically it would have had to come from you. That very thought makes his stomach somersault. Hange starts rifling through their bag as Levi takes the box and places it behind him on another counter.  

"Don't worry about it, it's on the house." Levi mutters as he walks away to start on the drinks, his mind wandering as he went into autopilot again. If this box was really from you, did that mean you weren't mad at him anymore? Especially after last night, you bestowing him a gift was the last thing Levi expected. He felt a pang of guilt, not a lot but enough to make him regret some of the words he chose to spit at you. But then he remembers that defiant stubbornness of yours. It really grated on him, and it made him want to fly out of that door to confront you right then and there. He shakes his head at the thought. 

Levi finishes pouring a heap of sugar in the tea in front of him, making sure to be precise with the amount. His mind flits to the memory of your first visit to the café so long ago. Sliding on the heat guard, he then places it next to Hange’s steaming coffee.   

“Thanks, Shorty.” Hange picks up both cups and gives Levi a wink. 

“Tch, just get out of my café, will you? I have somewhere to be.” Levi pulls off his apron and hangs it up on the hook by the back wall. With his back turned, he hears Hange shuffling behind him. “What now?”  

“Nothing. It’s just,” they pause. “You two are just so alike, it’s scary. Stubborn and too proud to ask for help.” When Levi doesn’t say anything back, the doorbell rings then he’s left with silence again.  

After stepping over quickly to lock the door, he wipes his hands on a towel and saunters over to the box shining in the afternoon sun. It was a navy-blue rectangular container, about 6 inches in height. Golden constellations wrap around the whole thing, ones he could make out easily. On top sat a tule bow and a note.  

Thanks. 

Nothing else.  

Levi clicks his tongue and pops the lid off carefully. Inside sat something small and metal. He gently pulls it out with just his fingertips and upon a closer inspection, he’s shocked to find it’s a can of loose-leaf tea. Specifically, an herbal blend that’s supposed to help with relaxation and sleep. A sudden explosion of emotions came crashing down on him. Levi places the can back into the box and sets it back down before leaning against the counter behind him to steady himself. Something you had said to him a month ago reverberates in his head.  

‘Words are not always needed to convey intent.’ 

What was your intention with this, Levi contemplates to himself.  

He wonders if you like the tea. 

Half an hour later, Levi pulls up in the parking lot of the town’s general hospital. The lot was sparse, so he was able to get a good spot right at the front. He grabs the bouquet that rested gently in the passenger seat then sets out into the cold wind, heading for the visitor entrance.  

“Ah, Mr. Ackerman, welcome back and Merry Christmas.” the receptionist calls out to Levi as he steps in the sliding doors. Levi just nods in acknowledgment as he approaches the counter, doing his usual routine of signing in and taking a visitor tag.  

“How is she doing today?”  

“She’s coherent and very much looking forward to seeing you.” She smiles up at him. Levi just hums and starts in the direction he’s traveled many times before. An elevator and a maze of hallways later, he stops in front of a familiar door and raps softly against the wood. 

“Come in!” an airy voice calls out. With that, he opens the door gently and enters the room. The curtains were wide open which let in warm rays of sunshine. The whites in the room were illuminated by it, giving a very angelic glow to everything. A pallid woman sat in a bed, propped up with many pillows, and she stares lovingly to the raven-haired man standing with her favorite flowers.  

“Levi.” 

“Hi mom, Merry Christmas.” He shuts the door behind him and limps over to the chair by her bed. He places the bouquet on her lap in which she scoops them up right away to sniff them. She sighs in contentment at the sweet smell. She places them on the table next to her, promising to get a vase for them when he leaves. Then she turns back to her son and pulls one of his hands into her own and cradles it softly.  

“It’s good to see you. How are you doing today?” She squeezes his hand gently, and he stares up into eyes that match his own.   

“I’m fine. I just saw you a couple days ago, you know.” Levi rolls his eyes at her, but a genuine smile breaks out on his face. “But how are you?” 

“It’s a good day today, I think. Your uncle came by earlier but had to run off for something work related.” She waves her hand towards a large stuffed dog that sat in the corner. It had a red hat flopping in its smiling face.  

“Tch, of course he did.” 

“Don’t be so hard on him, Levi. Besides, he helped me get this for you.” She pulls away from Levi’s hand then reaches for one of her bedside tables. She pulls out a small, gift-wrapped package from a drawer and hands it to her exasperated son.  

“Mom, I said I didn’t want anything.”  

“I know but it’s your birthday and I’m your mom, so open it.”  

Levi rolls his eyes again and unwraps the paper with precision, opting to pull at the tape instead of ripping it off in one go. It’s a silver metal frame with sparrows flying around the border, a picture of his mom and him when he was just a toddler inlaid in the middle. A moment of them laughing with each other as she squeezed him in a bear hug, frozen in time. He grips the frame in both hands with care.  

“Kenny helped you with this, huh?” Levi swallows down his feelings, holding the frame close. 

“Well, the picture is mine, but he helped with the frame. Who knew that man had taste?” she chuckles softly.  

“Thanks mom, I’ll put it somewhere special.” Levi unzips his messenger bag and carefully places it in a secure pocket. Then he grabs a thermos he prepared before leaving the café, full of fresh black tea. He pulls out two teacups as well and pours the tea in each before handing them off.  

“You’re too sweet to this old lady.” 

“Tch, you’re not that old.” 

“Either way, I love you, my little Levi.” She takes a delicate sip from her cup as she settles back into her pillows. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Levi does the same with his teacup, staring out into the winter landscape through the window. It had started snowing again. He didn’t realize it, but his eyebrows furrowed as his mind wandered back to you. Were you safe? 

“Did something happen?” Her question breaks Levi out his reverie. He almost chokes on his tea, but he straightens himself up and clears his throat.  

“No. Not really. Just trying to figure someone out. They remind me of her.” Kuchel just hums in response. He continues quickly, “I brought some books, but I also have a couple of movies with me too. What do you want to do tonight?”  

Kuchel places the now empty teacup on her lap and thinks for a minute before relaxing back into the bed with her eyes closed.  

“Will you read to me?”  

Levi nods and reaches down to pull out a book about a mystical land with complex creatures and a band of misfits finding a family in one another. A small smile tugs at Levi’s lips as he curls up in the chair and starts reading, feeling at home.

☾ Previous Chapter: November ☾ Next Chapter: January

[peachnewt]

Midnight Snack - Dogs vs Moths

Necessity is the mother of invention. But being bitter, pissed off, and determined is at least a sibling to invention.

Two weeks after New York's finest rolled out their Robot squad, consisting of ten robotic "dogs", they were used in the suppression of a protest. Originally a peaceful protest until someone yanked a flag out of a protestor's hands and ripped it while shouting expletives. Yelling, pushing, phones capturing the phenomenon of one idiot baiting an already wounded social movement.

Of course the cops came. Of course they set the robotic dogs on the ones holding the signs asking to be heard. There were more protestors than baiters, therefore they were the ones that needed to be "quieted down".

Of course people got hurt.

One woman broke three of her fingers, trying to get her sleeve out of the robot dog's joints, and ended up being dragged 9 yards. One teenage boy suffered a concussion, knocked out when a robot dog ran him over and made him fall onto a curb. And one elderly man, not part of the protest or baiters, just a guy trying to get a bag of apples from one side of the street to the other, tried fending off one of the robot dogs, only for his cane to accidentally strike the cap off the canister for the flamethrower option that the police assured the public "was not operational", and "had safety measures that made what happened a one in a million chance".

The fiery plume had been seen three blocks away. People ran, flattening signs, bodies, and the fallen apples into mush. The old man was still in a burn ward a week later.

Social media threads tried pointing out the countless dangers and damage the dog-shaped robots had done. The press conference given by the police commissioner had called the deployment of the robots a "success against those who would work against law and order".  He neglected to mention that the protestors had a permit for their protest and it had been legal.

Of course outcry against the robot dogs were stifled as hypothetical "good reasons" to use the robot dogs were passed out. Dangerous domestic situation? Use a robot dog instead of cop. Fire in a building? Use a lightweight robot dog to find survivors quicker, making fire and rescue more efficient. Need a guard for a daycare facility against "child predators"? Robot dog; cheaper in the long run, and doesn't have to pass a background check.

Why would a child try to pet the robot dog and get their fingers caught in the joints and seams? That would never happen. It's not a pet, the child should know better.

And yet the police unit with the ten robot dogs had an elementary school submit names for the robotic units. Names like Spot, Basil, Fluffy, Corncob, Piddle, Optimus Prime, Shadow, Terminator, Frankenpup, and Ash.

Of course some people got angry.

And Will was more than angry as he read article after article and social post about the ten robot dogs being hailed as "law enforcement's best friend".

Louis had walked by with another stack of patents and eyed the steaming mug of tea in Will's hand. "Fanboy, any harder and you're going to break that mug."

Will glared at the screen and put down his tea. "Have you seen this?"

"Yes." Louis put half the patents on Will's desk before sitting at his own. "And you should hear what Megan had to say to it."

"Right. She's a former cop. She pissed?"

"She's been going through her contacts to find anyone associated with NYPD or company that made those robotic canines and sold them. She wants to yell at someone so bad.

"How bad?"

"There might be an impromptu combat tutorial later tonight. Make sure you're wearing your cup if you're going to be dumb enough to be the "volunteer" again."

Will hissed and adjusted his hips in the chair. He didn't want to remember the last time he forgot.  "Noted."

Thankfully the "combat tutorial" was cancelled by alarms blaring and Will and Louis running off to find something that someone else found and shouldn't have.

Instead Megan posted an article on the community board of things to do when encountering a robot dog.

1 - Run

or

2 - Smash the hellhound with a long blunt object. Then run.

Three weeks, and another "successful deployment of robotic units" later, a high school robotics team from a small town in Oklahoma submitted their winning design to the patent office. The submission was a formality, for the students, and teacher in charge of the robotics team, had uploaded the schematics to the internet under public domain.

The winning robot was a moth whose hollow body was little bigger than a can of spray paint, and wings over two meters wide. A head with two curly feelers and wide jewel-like eyes, contained a spraying nozzle.  The wing span was necessary due to what it's hollow body would carry.

A can of expanding foam.

They had named it Sky-ju. Probably because naming it Mothra wasn't allowed for copyright reasons.

With the schematics came a video file showing how the robot would flutter off the ground, swoop, hover, and, with the instruction of the person holding the controller, spray the expanding foam on a cardboard cutout shaped suspiciously like a robot dog.

The robot dog was smothered, and the Sky-ju flitted off to spray another day.

Of course Will followed a link to give a charitable donation to the school's club.

A day later someone submitted an altered patent for the moth, but a third of the size, and instead of holding a spray can, it could hold a small bladder full of salty, sticky, pickle juice to aim at the joints of robot dogs. And this one came with a black furry covering for the body that could be removed and cleaned.

It had been named Fluff-ra. And kids were allowed to pet it without fear of their fingers being stuck in joints. As proven by the video posted later that day of kids taking turns with Fluff-ra in a park, squirting down empty soda cans.

There had been a "support me" link. Or course Will bought a Fluff-ra acrylic charm. It would go perfectly with his collection of other nerd-flavored charms he hung on his Christmas tree like ornaments.

Louis, of course sipped his coffee, and shook his head. "You know there could be problems with this getting into the wrongs hands."

Will sighed and signed off the latest patent for a three chambered thermos.  "I know," he admitted.

"What's  to stop someone turning the moths into flamethrowers? Or to give it a can of Axe spray to fumigate someone's house? Or bought by the police and filled with pepper spray?"

"What would have stopped the NYPD from using those dogs against protestors instead of using them for fire and rescue like they promised?" said Will. "I know me buying an acrylic charm doesn't do much in the face of an institution that relies more on brute force than de-escalation. But I need to keep hope somehow."

"I didn't mean to shoot down your hopes and dreams It's just..." Louis finished the last of his coffee. He shouldn't drink another today. Not if he wanted to sleep on time. "It's hard to see them when I've seen a lot of people using things the wrong way for the wrong reasons."

"That's why you have me as your partner," said Will, smiling.

"Hm. Didn't think we would end up in a moral discussion about robot moths and dogs."

"Nearly came close to an argument," said Will.

"Probably," admitted Louis.

"You can make it up to me."

Louis cocked an eyebrow, thinking of all the ways he could "make it up" to Will. "Oh?"

Will grinned, so saucily that it could have been bottled and sold for barbeques. He leaned over and whispered to Louis. "Godzilla verses Mothra movie tonight? The original 1960s version?"

Not what Louis expected. But he would run with it if seeing an old monster flick would make Will happy. "Okay."

"And then maybe afterwards... you could pretend to be one of the moth fairies and me a lost explorer on an island?"

"There are fairies in a Godzilla movie?"

"You'll find out."

Of course he would.

---

You can watch Mothra vs Godzilla free on Tubi, Shout Factor, and Youtube!

[theprettynosferatu]

I

The gigantic metal beast landed with a thud. Not the most graceful of homecomings, thought the handler. It didn’t matter, of course. No damage to the mech, four enemies down, a few needless but thrilling maneuvers for the video drone capturing every moment. A successful mission any way one cut it. The handler looked up from the screens, towards the solid, tangible reality of his ward.

Even after years together, even after a hundred missions, the sight never failed to impress. Himiko emerged from the cockpit drenched in sweat, every curve of her body glistening under the hangar lights. She stretched. This was a performance too, even if she didn’t know it. Her booty shorts and miniscule top were as much a necessity as an asset, and her “dismounts” were something of a phenomenon among the viewers. 

Every second in the cockpit was filmed, every motion in combat captured from several angles, every landing documented to be masterfully edited and broadcast to the population. She was a soldier on two fronts: fighting the rebellion while also being someone the company could parade in front of everyone, someone people could root for, someone they could obsess over. Better to have them focused on her skin, those shorts, her beautiful face. Even her mech, the Enkidu, was part of her brand: it was an older model, a classic -or a relic, depending on one’s point of view- that tended to be particularly punishing for pilots. The goddamn thing was an oven, relying on overheating systems for sudden bursts of enhanced performance with minimal heat dispersal to spare the operator. Hence, booty shorts and top. The effect was simple, eloquent: she was a warrior, an underdog willing to do whatever it took to destroy a more advanced enemy. Underdogs were good. People cheered for them. 

The handler shuddered. If Himiko knew he had been the one to suggest her brand…

Well, there were many things Himiko didn’t know, and every asset needed a brand, a simple phrase that could be marketed, displayed, sold. “Sexy, rebellious underdog”. Everything orbited that one concept. Her clothing, her public appearances, even her fighting style. She was as artificial as her mech and didn’t even know it. Damn it.

The handler chased the feeling away. Things would be worse for Himiko without him. He was good to her. Hell, compared to other handlers he was downright angelic, if the stories were true. Even the whole “underdog” gimmick was… mild, next to what other pilots were saddled with. The company had to cater to many tastes, after all. “Ruthless, cold bombshell”. “Cheery, optimistic angel”. “Seductive, psychotic killer”. A pilot for every desire, and joint missions were true events, advertised and promoted with taglines like “...But can they work together?”, or “Angel and Demon together!”. The strategic purpose of such missions was a secondary priority, if it was a priority at all.

Yes, “rebellious underdog” wasn’t that bad, all things considered. The handler went down to the launching bay.  

“I fucked up with that second mech”

“It still went down, didn’t it?”

“Messed up my aim. I Could have downed him quicker. Fuck!”

Himiko was one of the few pilots allowed to swear. It fit her brand. Well, truth was Himiko was one of the few pilots able to swear, but that wasn’t something the handler liked to think about.

“May I shower?”, she asked.

“You may”, he replied.

Himiko flashed him a quick smile and headed for her quarters. The handler watched her leave. He wondered, as he had done so many times before, if he was the only one that could see something between sadness and rage in her eyes.

II

“We were going with something like… ‘Guts and Glamour’, when the op was just Himiko and Adrian, but now that Ruby’s part of the whole thing…”, said the handler.

“‘Guts and Glamour’? Really?”, scoffed Mark.

“You know them marketing boys like their alliteration, Mark. We work with what we got”, added Katrina, a bit offended.

‘Guts and Glamour’ had been her idea, in fact. A bit on the facile side, but the handler had to admit his partner had nailed it on the head. Katrina was rough, but one of the best, after all: that was why she had been saddled with Adrian. “Vain, cocksure prettyboy”, had been the concept and the pilot delivered in spades, which was a blessing and a curse. He was easy to hate as much as he was easy to desire. The company liked to try some “hate that you love them” concepts every now and then. They thought it was a complex character. A pain in the ass for a handler, that’s what it was. Sometimes the public saw their skills and were won over. Other times…

Well, tragic deaths were quite moving too.

Ruby, on the other hand, was a tried and true idea. Fiery, sexy redhead. Not much to do with that, but her genetics did the heavy lifting. Something for the basic teen boys.

“Right, right. Well, Maybe we can keep it. Ruby’s glamorous too”, said Mark.

“Nah. Won’t work. Three pilots, ain’t it? We need three keywords, short, punchy. And I don’t think we have a third ‘G’ word to throw in there. And Ruby has… no offense, but I wouldn’t call it glamour, exactly. I mean, not your fault, bud. But…”, trailed off Katrina.

“No offense taken. We aren’t shooting for high class with Ruby. What you see is what you get, pretty much. And she loves to let people see”, replied Mark.

“You sure got lucky with the whole heat gimmick, right? Himiko can show off and still come across as tough”

It took a moment for the handler to realize Katrina was talking to him. He poured himself another drink, and saw the other two handlers onscreen joining him in a toast across space.

“I guess”, mumbled the handler.

“You know, I don’t know what’s better: fucking the hot redhead everyone thinks is slutty, or being the only one that knows how freaky the rebel girl can get”, giggled Mark.

“Come on, man. That’s the kind of joke that gives handlers a bad rep”, said the handler.

Silence stretched, infinite, plastic.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, man. You tapped that, and you know it”, retorted Mark.

“Say what you will about Adrian, but he makes up for his preening with some stamina”, said Katrina.

“Stop it. It’s not funny”, muttered the handler, shifting in his seat.

“We’re not being funny. This shit ain’t for broadcast, pal. Save the PC shit for official events. It’s just us shooting the shit, here”, said Katrina.

“Wait. You don’t really… you know…”

“Fuck my pilot? Eight days a week, cowboy. Jesus, are you bullshitting me right now? It’s like, the one benefit we have. Sure, it’s not on the fucking brochures, but come on! We have genetically enhanced clones that are programmed to obey and designed to be hot! You think the company doesn’t know what’s bound to happen? Nature’s gonna nature, I say. And it’s not like they’re… people-people, you know?” said the woman on the screen.

“They’re clones, sure, but… they’re still people”, said the handler.

“You mean to say you never thought about it?”, asked Mark.

“Think about it… I mean, I guess. Like… you can have fantasies about anyone, right? But fantasies are one thing and… doing shit is another”, said the handler.

Katrina laughed.

“So let me get this straight: you’re all alone in your compartment, jerkin’ it to a girl that’s right fucking there, next door over, and who would do whatever you told her to do if only you had the balls to command her? God, that’s pathetic. You have a feast in front of ya and keep eating those saltine crackers from ration packs, honey. Okay, real talk: are you gay, or ace, or…”

“No. Bi, actually”, said the handler in anger. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t wrong to…”

“See, I think I get the issue. I’ve seen it a couple of times. Clones are not like you and me. Clones obey. And they don’t feel bad about it, because they can’t not obey, feel me? It’s just the way they’re made, you know? She wouldn’t feel violated or… I don’t know, used. Not in any degree above what happens whenever you send her on a mission. She’s designed for it. It’s all she knows and all she can know. And if we are being honest… let me ask you a question: are you scared for her when it looks like a mission is gonna go tits up? Are you anxious when you give her a combat plan and don’t know if it’s the best course of action?”, asked Mark.

“Of course”

“Me too. Every single time Ruby goes inside that mech I’m sweating bullets. I care about her. It’s my job to make her thrive, man. That’s what we do. You know who’s never scared going into combat? Ruby, or Adrian, or Himiko. Can you imagine that? Climbing into a big ass combat mech and not being terrified? But they’re not like us, and you know what? I kinda envy them. They are at peace. They have their missions, and the complete, unshakable focus to do their best every time. Combat, a photoshoot, an ad… same to them. Just missions. They don’t have to make choices, or suffer the pangs of uncertainty. There’s something beautiful there. A purity. They are what they are, do what they’re assigned to do, and those two things are the same thing. They have clarity of purpose. They’re not burped into existence like the rest of us. And when I tell Ruby to wrap her huge tits around my cock and get me off, it’s another mission to her. Nothing more, nothing else. You ask me, they’re the lucky ones. So, word of advice: care for your pilot. But don’t fall for her. ‘Cause you’d be falling for a shadow”. Said Mark between drinks.

The meeting went on. The handler didn’t really pay attention to whatever title they had decided to give their joint mission in the end. 

III

The mission had been a success. In the end the marketing people had decided to play up the “one guy, two girls” angle. Would love blossom on the battlefield? The people saw Ruby saving Adrian from a cowardly sneak attack. The flirting had been heavy and constant. Of course, Ruby had made no such heroic save, but editing could perform miracles. 

The handler was glad Himiko hadn’t been picked to move the romance plot forward. Sure, affairs between pilots existed only for the cameras, in parades and interviews, but still. Himiko’s brand wasn’t appropriate for such things. But if he was being honest, it wasn’t the sanctity of the image that bothered him. He had been with Himiko from the beginning. He had designed her brand, advised on her fighting style, added flair and soul to the character. Himiko belonged to the company, sure, but in a creative way, Himiko was his. The strong girl in the posters and vids, the firebrand adored by millions… he had created that, as much as the geeks at the genetic farms. Perhaps even more.

The handler couldn’t say when he had gotten out of bed and walked out of his room. He found himself in the hallway, steps away from the pilot’s compartment. She -it- would be there. His creation. His product. Hours of work, gallons of sweat and tears and anxiety and effort put into her… into making her a phenomenon, beloved by millions. And what did he get? He was anonymous. He was a shadow- worse, a shadow of a shadow, unrecognized, unrewarded.  

The door slid shut and Himiko went instantly to her feet. Pilots were light sleepers by design, always ready. They slept in the nude, so they could get into their outfits instantly. Shame was not something they felt, less of all in front of their handlers.

“Do we have a mission?”, she asked.

The handler paused, entranced by the soft curves of her pilot. It didn't matter how much he saw of her, it always made an impact somewhere primal, deep inside his soul. No, not her. The product, he reminded himself. The word escaped his lips before he could stop it.

“Kneel”

There was a moment there, barely longer than a lightning strike. Himiko’s eyes flashed with confusion, a hint of outrage, and then set on complete, focused determination as she went down on her knees. She looked up at the handler, ready to obey. The handler felt almost drunk, giddy. So many men and women looked up to this girl, adored her, saw her as a role model and object of desire… and now she looked up at him. It was intoxicating.

“Remove my underwear”

She did so with the efficiency of a close quarters combat expert. He barely had to shift to let her cast the fabric aside. One part of him couldn’t believe it was this easy, even as inside him a quieter, stifled side of himself screamed. It was too late to go back.

“Suck my cock”

What followed was akin to vertigo, beyond anything he had ever felt before. He couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes. The handler wasn’t a virgin, but he might as well have been. Himiko took to her mission with the zeal and determination of a true warrior, changing speeds, pressure, angle, using her tongue, her lips, her throat. The handler felt something in the base of his spine, an orgasm building from somewhere deeper than anything he had experienced in his life. Overcome by the maelstrom of sensation, he had for a moment forgotten what was happening, sent hurling away from reality by the pilot’s skills. His eyes snapped open.

He saw Himiko. Strong, fierce Himiko. Her expression was one he had seen a thousand times in the cockpit, the focus of an operator in that special zone where only the mission existed, where only her objective mattered. He saw a programmed response, and a reminder of what she really was. Of what he was doing.

“Stop”, he muttered. She instantly did. He caught his breath.

“Could you… could you pretend to enjoy it? Like… like you… want me?” God, he felt pathetic. The feeling, however, lasted only a second. Himiko smiled, a smile no one had ever seen before, a smile that didn’t fit any poster or propaganda piece. It was mischievous, flirty, like they were accomplices in a secret, loving affair. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real. She made it feel real to him.

She made him feel special.

Suddenly there was a sense of fun, of warmth to her actions. She moaned and purred with every lick, teasing him, smiling and biting her lips, making him feel as if for that moment his pleasure was her pleasure, that he was all that existed, that his cock was the most beautiful, most entrancing thing in the universe. His moans mixed with hers as she worshiped him with her mouth, her hands, her breasts. It was sex and devotion, fun and partnership, lust and love. It was too easy to believe it all, too perfect to resist. The handler wanted the moment to last, forever if at all possible. When he told Himiko to get on the bed, she leaped in joy and looked at him as she stretched on the mattress, eyes full of anticipation, a teasing challenge to her lover. 

He dove into her arms. He kissed her stomach, her perfect thighs, her neck. He wanted her, wanted to devour her, to be with her and for her to be his, totally and completely. He wanted them to belong to each other, to seal a partnership that had, in his mind, been growing for years. Her shallow breathing, her whimpers and soft moans begged him to do it, to take what was rightfully his. His hand softly caressed the inside of her thigh, barely touching it, moving upwards slowly, savoring every second. When he felt the wetness between her legs, he couldn’t help but wonder if that too was a conditioned response. He pushed the thought aside and let himself drown in her lips.

She was tight, and he managed to stop himself, teasing her clit. He didn’t want to hurt her. It occurred to him that Himiko was, in fact, a virgin. He would be careful. He would be gentle. He would take it slow. 

But she was a warrior on a mission. 

“Do it”, she said, panting. “Take me. Fuck me. Use me! I’ve seen you looking at me… my ass, my tits, my face… they’re all yours. Yours. Stop being a pussy and fucking ram that big cock inside me! I want it… I want you to treat me like your whore, your toy, whatever the fuck you want… just give me that cock! Please!”

The handler didn’t know if Himiko had been studying him, gathering information for precisely such an event, but it didn’t really matter. She knew exactly what to say, exactly how to say it, with a mixture of begging and demanding, commanding and submissive at the same time. She knew what to say to blow away any lingering hesitation, to obliterate any morality that might be holding him back. He entered her with fury, with anger, with lust, with the strength of years of repressed emotions and confused feelings behind him. Her legs surrounded him, brought him closer as she came with a melody of moans and tiny screams. Her nails dig into his back. The pain was the one thing that kept him from cumming. Had that been luck or a calculated move on her part?

With all her martial skill, she reversed positions and got on top. 

“My turn”, she smiled.

He had fantasized about this moment for years. Himiko showed him just how limited his imagination was. She was mercurial, flowing from one position to another, from one attitude to another. She was whimpering and fighting against her own pleasure one moment, pinning him down and riding him with a wicked smile the next; she feigned innocence on second and then delivered babbling, perverted barrages of dirty talk without missing a beat. She made the bed feel like a playground where everything went, everything was allowed. She made him feel safe. Wanted. 

Eventually, exhaustion got the better of him. Unlike Himiko, he was a simple handler, not a trained fighter. He fell asleep in her arms, postponing the inevitable reckoning with what he had done for a handful of peaceful, perfect hours.

IV

The handler called in every favor he had. Burned a few bridges, too. It was necessary, he told himself. It was for Himiko, he told himself. It was the right thing to do, he told himself. Anything to make the voice inside his head shut up for a few seconds. 

As a handler he had access to general genetic records: after all, he needed to know what his pilot was capable of, what enhancements had been made to her. There were other bits of information, however, that only the people at the genetic farms had and guarded jealously. But after a solid two weeks of begging, threatening and cajoling, he had managed to get a copy of what he needed, an answer to the question that had been tormenting him- and now he lingered, too scared to open the files. 

Himiko was a clone. But somewhere out there there was an original. Or maybe there had been one, long ago. Whoever Himiko was made from was probably an old woman living in secluded luxury. That was the standard deal: a comfortable life of complete anonymity for the donors. They were usually athletes, sometimes models or soldiers, sometimes people with very specific characteristics that might appeal in a pilot, given a few adjustments. The handler didn’t know what would be worse: to find out the original was out in the world, or to find out Himiko’s genes had been taken from an old blueprint and the original had passed away. He just knew he needed to know, because Himiko deserved to know. Not that the pilot had asked, of course. But he needed to… do something for her. Yes, do something big for Himiko. That would make the voice shut the hell up.

He opened the files and started reading, a terrible dread growing in his chest.

Sample obtained through Rebirth Protocol.

It was there in black and white: a rumor discarded by almost everyone, embraced only by the most fringe of lunatics. And it was real. The Rebirth Protocol. Forced acquisition of samples from captured rebels before their executions.

Himiko’s original had never lived a life of peace and comfort. She had been a rebel. A fighter, like her clone. One battling the company at every turn, transformed into an obedient asset in an act of perverted, vengeful poetry. And he had been complicit. He had made Himiko one of the most recognizable faces of the company, a key pillar in its efforts in the battlefield and in the war on the minds of the people.    

The handler threw up. He copied the files to his personal device, shaking. He could feel his determination wavering. No. He had to show her, and he had to show her immediately.

Himiko smiled as he entered. The handler felt terrible for issuing that particular order. Knowing what he knew, the smile felt like a dagger. 

“Himiko, look at this”, he said, pulling up the files on the screen. It was all there. Himiko’s original name. Pictures taken during captivity. Video of her flying a rebel mech. He looked at the pilot. Something was stirring inside her, he knew it.

“She looks like me”, muttered Himiko.

“She is you. In a manner of speaking. But… you were…”

“I was a rebel. I… Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted! Fucking granted!”

“I feel… something. Anger… no, not anger. It’s more… righteous. A fire. We… I… refused. Refused to be under the boot of the company… we… there was more to life. More to being a person than just working and consuming and… Why? Why do I remember these things?”

“I’m not sure. If you were a rebel pilot, it’s possible they copied not just your DNA but some of your neural pathway patterns, to transfer combat experience into… your new self. Maybe she… you, the real you… is still in there somewhere. Kei. Your name was Kei”

Himiko was crying without moving a muscle. Tears rolled down her perfect face.

“Kei…” she muttered.

“You are Kei”

“I am…”

An eternal pause.

“I am Himiko, pilot for the company”, came the emotionless response.

“No! You don’t have to be! You were a proud fighter and can be that again! We can… we can leave. We can escape, together. Disappear. Go to some forgotten corner of the galaxy, and…”

“Pilots are not allowed to travel without company authorization”

The handler stormed out of the room.

Sleepless nights on unauthorized communication channels, places where the company couldn’t snoop. Editors uploaded outtakes of pilots messing up, or candid footage of pilots in showers and locker rooms. Handlers shared the… art they had compelled their pilots to make, a notion he would have refused to believe not long before. Gene freaks debated new techniques, mulled over the possibilities of more extreme genetic modification. And the handler read it all, looking for the answer to a singular question: was there a way to break the conditioning?

He wasn’t the first handler to wonder that, he discovered. A few before him had been shouted down, accused of being potential rebels. Some had gotten tidbits of information, ways in which perhaps, in theory, the compulsions could be lessened, if not erased entirely.

He tried them all. Flashing lights. Shock diet. Memory regression. Hypnosis. More and more Himiko was becoming like her other self, like Kei. And yet, after every attempt, he issued a single command.

“Slap yourself”

She did so. Every single time.

“I’m sorry”, she said.

He was on his knees, his head on her lap, sobbing. It was pointless. The company had her, and by having her, they had him. There would be no escaping, no happy ending in their own secluded corner of the world. Only dreaming.

Maybe dreaming wasn’t so bad. One could get lost in a beautiful dream. Perhaps even forget it was a dream, every now and then. That was the best they could hope for: to steal small moments of counterfeit happiness from a world too miserly, too cruel to allow the real thing to thrive. Didn’t Himiko deserve those moments, that respite? Didn’t he deserve them too?

Defeated, he rose to his feet. The handler looked at the pilot’s sad eyes.

“Himiko… love me”, he commanded. 

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[paper-gold-theories]

I always thought that Goldheart was going to use Miss Heed's imprisonment to kick her out but looking as PEACE is covering up her actions further he so can't do that and has to keep her in Golden Rule.

I thought so too, but now I think it makes sense as P.E.A.C.E. needed to keep a neutral stance so that they still look like the hero in the situation:

The people who were mind controlled by her want to see her behind bars, so they arrested her to make them look like the hero.

However, P.E.A.C.E. still needed to cover up a scandle that an acclamied heroine was mind controlling people for her own selfish reasons and P.E.A.C.E's involvement against it. So they just said she was locked up for kissing a villain in order to manipulate public opinion, such as those not involved in the mind control and rely on the news to get their "credible" source of information so they still look like the hero

So GoldHeart can't kick her out for a small reason as kissing a villain. As people won't believe she would be kicked out, which is a serious punishment, for that small reason like that, hence making them them suspect that she did something so horrible that she deserved the of kicked out and confirm people's suspicion that the rumour that she was mind controlling people for her own selfish reasons and P.E.A.C.E's involvement was true.

However I believe that GoldHeart had no intention of clearing her name and was fine with leaving her in the facility because she had no villains under her control which prevented them from doing crime, she was making no progress with the formula, was involved in a scandal that took months for him and P.E.A.C.E. to fix, much to his frustration, (I kinda imagine GoldHeart is frustrated here not only because Flug put a wrench in his plan, but he is also thinking about how much work he has to do clean up this scandal 😂)

And after the scandal, working with her would be considered a brand risk that would furthur damage The Golden Rule and more importantly his reputation.

Evidence to support this was when "Miss Heed is confident that GoldHeart will come after Flug, and seemed deluded when she hoped that GoldHeart will come from her"

Having the same deluded reaction that GoldHeart will love her if she becomes the most beloved heroine after Flug perfects her perfume.

So I believe that GoldHeart probably made it abundantly clear that he is not interested in her and she is only in his team out of necessity to make the perfect formula for his plan to end Villainy.

Also, to save their reputations he and the other Golden Rule Members probably just posted an insincere post on their social media account "wishing her a speedy recovery in rehab" and say the same thing when people asked them what they think about her during an interview after the scandal in Cosmopolis. Acting similar to when a news reporter asked GoldHeart about SunBlast.

However I believe that GoldHeart would go with the flow of the situation.

Porccini mentioned in Chapter 12 of The Risky Heist that "heroism can be bought" and that's what Miss Heed's father did by making a deal with P.E.A.C.E. and using his villan connections in order to clear his daughter's name and restore her position as hero.

After Miss Heed's reputation was cleared after giving "evidence" that she was wrongly "imprisoned", GoldHeart and The Golden Rule would have no choice but to work with her again and side with her story, because of the deal with P.E.A.C.E and also because it would not make sense if he doesn't.

Afterwards she will probably be reinstated as a heroine and get her city back from the "Justice Guardian Friends" who was sent by P.E.A.C.E. to look over Cosmopolis while she was locked up.