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simultaneously-sick-and-calm · 3 years ago

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»pairing: Man from the Railroad!Atsuhiro x fem!reader

»word count: 3.2k

»Part 1 | IS IT A GOD INSIDE YOU, GIRL? (1st OGoA AU piece by @get-shiggy-with-it )

»summary: A deal is struck and a desire indulged.

»a/n: part two!! Thanks to my beloved @get-shiggy-with-it for beta reading for me. I hope you enjoy!

»warnings: Appalachian folklore, piv sex, fingering (f receiving), monsterfucking (if you squint), implied tragedy (mine disasters, death of workers/children), some reader backstory, historical AU 1800's mining town, Old Gods of Appalachia podcast AU, 18+ MDNI

The Man from the Railroad was no less intriguing when he returned one evening weeks later to meet with your brother. Just as you'd suspected, he’d practically leaped at the opportunity to cut a potentially lucrative deal without the ever-present gaze of your father looking over his shoulder. For years he had been trying, and failing to make dear old dad believe that he was ready to take over the company. Much to his chagrin however, it was clear that while your father didn’t really trust anyone with the specific ins and outs of the business; the man had seemed in recent years to bristle just a little less when approached by your soft questioning voice, over the harsh cut of his son’s.

This time upon entering the parlor room Atsuhiro took your hand in his own immediately, bringing it once again to the soft plush of his lips in greeting. The heat under your collar seared up the length of your neck, settling once again on your cheeks. “My darling lady! How lovely it is to see your enchanting face. A sight for sore eyes, indeed.”

“Why thank you, Sir. Once again you’re proving to be far too kind.” You brother failed to stifle a huff, clearly irritated that you were distracting his mysterious benefactor. The noise of it shook you back from the daydreams threatening to pull you under.

Pushing from your mind the thoughts of hands at your waist...or how his lips might brush over more of your skin in that same gentle way they caressed your fingers; you guided Atsuhiro’s attention to your brother, finally introducing them. “Henry, this is the Man from the Railroad who asked to see you the other night.”

“Yes, of course!” came your brother’s too jovial attempt at making himself appear likeable. Guiding your guest away without so much as acknowledging your presence. “I was so pleased to hear that you’re interested in our little family affair, kind Sir. Please follow me and we can speak more privately in the office.”

“That sounds just delightful. Lead the way, my friend.” Casting one last glance over the shoulder of his perfectly pressed suit, Atsuhiro winked and followed your brother through the office door.

And just like that, you were once again left standing alone at the desk, consumed by the lingering heat of his lips against your skin. And oh lord above you were hungry for it. It wasn’t an overly familiar feeling, admittedly, but you were no stranger to this kind of desire...to this yearning that threatened to burn you up from the inside whenever you caught wind of him. Which had been often over the last several days.

Since his appearance it seemed as though he was everywhere. Word spread of groups gathering in the large fields just outside town, all to listen to him speak. He promised them purpose, good and honest work that would better not only their own lives but those of all who surrounded them.

Fathers and sons.

Wanderers and vagrants.

All were welcome to join him in working for the Railroad. There was a place for every good, hard-working man among his ranks, and every voice who whispered about this black-suited man with the green bolo tie seemed almost as smitten as you.

Even as all the rumors and the chatter flowed like the streams at the base of the mountain. As the other young women in town flushed and swooned at the sight of the hat sitting proudly above the group of men that surrounded him; you held on to one small thing. The way that his given name tasted on your tongue. It was bitter and sweet, rolling over the plush of your lips with an uncertain kind of hope. For all the tongues that wagged about his sudden and overwhelming appearance in your small hometown, none of them referred to him by any name at all.

Only you had been bestowed the privilege--no, the honor, of having a name to breathe out into the darkest moments of night when every beautiful slope of his face occupied your mind. Those fleeting seconds when all you could hear was the gentle tone of his whispering in your ear, imagining the way that it might deepen and rasp under your kiss. The way it would feel to have your fingers intertwined with his own, or trace them delicately over the sharp line of his jaw and the gentle turn of his grin. All of a sudden the ornate handle behind you turned, startling you once again from your daydreams.

Henry’s voice, followed immediately by the soft floating drone of Atsuhiro’s were just on the other side. You caught just the tail end of their conversation as the door swung open. “Well, Henry my friend, I am simply delighted at the prospect of our future endeavors together. I think that with your manpower, and my connections we can truly turn the tide in this battle. Industry is the path to the future, and we must move along with it. Ever onward and ever forward, as they say, hmm?”

“You’re absolutely right, Sir. I think this is the start of a great partnership.” Henry hadn’t sounded so enthusiastic about anything, aside from maybe a free round of drinks at his favorite watering hole, in years. “We have many who would love to be a part of the kind of thing that you’re offering, and I think that my father especially will be looking forward to seeing all your plans come to fruition.”

Fruition. That was quite the word choice for Henry, and you did your best to stifle a chuckle. Usually by this time he was long inebriated past the point where words with a second syllable became a struggle for him. The attempt was admittedly half-hearted, and the smallest of sounds slipped out before it could be reigned back into the confines of your chest.

Thankfully, Henry was already in the midst of pulling a coat from the rack, and making his way out after a hearty handshake with his new partner. “Wonderful to meet you, and I’m sorry that I have to run out so quickly...I, uh have another meeting to get to.'' He tipped his hat in Atsuhiro’s direction and added a muffled “Sister. I’ll see you in the morning. Please make sure that the good gentleman has all of the information that he needs before you go.”

The both of you murmured farewells in return as he hurried out--no doubt late to boast about his success to the usual crowd of drunkards and fools with whom he spent most evenings. And with his hurried exit, you felt the heat under your skin creep back into its former home. Warming your face in what must have been a world record time. Absently you lifted a hand to brush a stray hair from your eyes, hoping in vain that the action might shake you out whatever state these daydreams had thrust you into. A beat passed in silence, and then another before you felt Atsuhiro’s eyes find you across the small space. He was so much closer just an hour before and still you felt like you’re burning up from the inside out at his attention.

Steeling yourself against your own hesitation, you turned to face him and tried to find your voice among the rabble of butterflies that currently occupied all of the space that used to cradle your lungs. “Henry, seemed to be rather taken with you, Sir--”

“As much as I enjoy hearing you refer to me so formally, my darling girl. You are well aware of my name.”

His hungry stare could have consumed you. In fact, the longer you stood there, with just a few steps holding the rigid distance between you, the more of you became quite certain that it would do just that. Every quip that you might have hoped to throw back sizzled away on the molten heat of your usually sharp tongue. “Y-yes, I am aware of it.”

“Then why,” three smooth strides closed the distance between you, bringing him impossibly close, “my dear, do you seem so insistent on forgetting it just when I want to hear it the most?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I know a great many things. Things that others do not, and could not know. Like the way that your lips curl so lovely around my name in the stillness of night. It's a tantalizing sound my dear, and I am eager to hear more of it."

He was so close as he spoke, the way his breath danced over your lips was astounding. Being so close to him felt similar to the way you had imagined in the several days since he last filled the space around you, but there was also something altogether unexpected about it. Everything about him seemed to surround you, compressing into a space far too small for any physical being to occupy.

The heady smell of him had you intoxicated, clinging to every inch of skin that lay exposed in the cool autumn air that rolled through the open door. His very presence was heavy, like the blankets of fog that clung for far too long at the mouths of caves, or the last sticky days of summer heat that always lingered on the mountain air.

As a child you could recall the way it felt to taste air like tonight’s on your tongue. The way that it invaded your senses, and bit back as if it had teeth all its own sharp and jagged, in their futile attempts to keep the turning seasons at bay. If it weren’t for the way Atsuhiro’s fingertips burned a path along your cheek as they moved smoothly from temple to jaw, you might have been lost to its chill.

He knew.

He knew everything.

More than just the way you spoke his given name. More than the flicker of hope that melted away at the wax seal surrounding your heart. More than the way you melted into his embrace in the same way now.

The glint in his earthen eyes gave way to something more than human, a sum of parts greater than just the man himself who now pressed his body so close to your own. And in that moment, every story your grandmother shared, every warning weaved intricately into the design of the tales came back to you. Along with one other...

Your grandfather didn’t often indulge in storytelling, but he made sure to tell you one. The one about the man from the company with a green bolo tie and sharp silver tongue, that he had met as a younger man. The man who never shared his name, but worked beside him for years to open the mine. To set your family's legacy on its path, one which would eventually lead to this great reaping of the effort he had sown generations ago. You hadn’t ever figured out if the tale was laced with warning like all the others. Honestly, you couldn’t remember any other details, but now you were quite sure that it would make no difference.

You were certain of just one thing. What he needed, and what you wanted were one and the same.

What he sought from you was an opportunity for indulgence. The shred of his humanity that remained among whatever else made up the mass of him was wavering. Flickering like the prayer candles adorning every window in every home as they mourned the things he and his revolution stole from them. He knew that you understood what he was -- what he wasn't, really, and that you weren’t afraid. The weight of your acceptance seemed to settle on his shoulders, and he crumbled into you.

“Atsuhiro...” You whispered into the lips that ghosted over your own.

He tasted like the first crisp breeze of the season. Sharp, and tinged with inevitability, but heavy with understanding that the death of all things familiar lay in wait at its heels.

Desperation overtook him, painting a new color on his usually monochrome pallet. Teeth and tongue fought hard to remain in control, and he won. Licking into your mouth and sighing beautifully when finally you relented the battle of wills and allowed him to consume you completely.

The hands that moments ago were caging you in, now began to roam. Kneading, sliding, savoring every pliable part of you. Hooking a hand beneath one of your knees, Astuhiro lifted your leg, guiding you so shift backward until you found yourself seated on the desk. You used the leverage to lock your legs around his waist and pull him into you, the action bunching your skirts around your waist. Mewling when your hips were finally pressed fully together, you felt the smirk return to his face. Finally you felt him, hard and hot, even through the few remaining layers of clothing that kept you apart.

He pulled away then, tilting your face to look up at him and relishing in the way you groaned at the loss of his heat. Not to say that he was faring much better, it had been so long since he allowed himself this small pleasure, and you were so willing. He was surprised at himself, really, for managing to hold it together this long already. “This is not the first time you have been touched like this, is it, my pet?” He purred into your ear as fingers traced a soft line up the length of your leg, halting to knead the soft flesh just inches away from where you both wanted him to be.

“No, it’s not--hmmm, please…”

He could practically feel the pulsing, the soft wet heat of your waiting cunt. The pretty sounds you made going straight to his cock, and he wanted more. He needed to hear you cry out his name in strangled ecstasy. “Please what, my darling girl? You’re doing so well for me already. Tell me what it is that you need?” he crooned, relishing in the way you preened at even the smallest bit of praise.

“I think,” you began, once again finding the bravery within yourself that his presence seemed to pull out of you, “that it is you who needs me, Atsuhiro.”

He was, for a split second, shocked at the way you took his face in both hands, pulled him to your level and kissed him hard. It was beautiful, this growing fire in you, and as it overtook his senses, he thought for a moment about how he could have loved it--could have loved you--in another life. Or even in his own, back when he was truly just a man. When his name was his own to give freely and did not come with so steep a price.

But now was not the time to linger on such fantasies.

The hand trapped between your bodies made quick work of your underwear, baring your needy cunt to him at last. And Atsuhiro groaned, an altogether animal sound at the slick he found waiting for him there, and he used its abundance to ease first one long finger, then a second, in time into the heat of you. Stroking gently, he explored the soft velvet of your walls until he found it, the spot that made you keen against him. The dark whimper of his given name that fell from your lips when he began to circle the bundle of nerves in sync, was almost more than he could bear. Never in all his time spent on this wretched earth, had he heard something so beautiful.

Now, you were no sweet spring blossom, innocence was something you left behind long ago. But the delicious way he played your body like a violin was foreign indeed. None of the clumsy hands that rushed to lift your skirts had ever made you feel so good.

"Astu--Ah!" You gasped against his shoulder, feeling for all intents like a spring wound too tightly. One hand wound itself tightly in his silky hair and the other blindly searching for the smooth buckle at his waist. Panting, struggling for words between ragged breaths. "Wait! Wait, I--fuck--I want to feel you."

"Yes, of course my dear."

Sliding from your seat on the desk, you beckoned him to follow and settled back into the plush of the sofa. You barely caught the way that his breath hitched as you finally loosed him from the confinement of his clothes. Taking a moment to admire him, you allowed your fingers to trace the lines. Strong smooth stomach giving way to slender hips and and cock that you might even say was pretty. Impressive, certainly, but not in any way that made you fear pain. Rather he looked as though he was made to fit together with you just right.

And oh, how perfect it was.

Atsuhiro trembled as he sank to the hilt into your warmth, and the both of you sighed as he began to move.

Slowly.

Gently.

The moment stretched and was reverent in a way, as though the both of you understood its gravity. He angled and nudged that heavenly spot again, and the way you clenched around him forced a low groan into the air between you.

He looked up with wide eyes, struck again by the reality of you.

Never in any of the handful of times that he'd chosen to indulge in his baser instincts had the object of his fixation been anything more than a pretty face and a warm body, in the end. And he had the small handful of marbles in his breast pocket to prove it. Each one a reminder that he was no longer Sako Atsuhiro. He couldn't risk leaving a loose pair of loose lips with something so powerful as his own name.

But you…

You were something altogether different than the rest. Unexpected. Secure.

He could lose himself in you.

And as you came undone around him with a whimper of his given name, he did just that. Vaulting with you over the precipice. He worked you both through the high, and in return you kissed him deeply.

A while later, still entwined on the old velvet sofa, your name, whispered softly in the surrounding stillness pulled you back from the edge of sleep.

"Hmm?" You asked gently, afraid to disturb the peace. You knew that this was borrowed time.

"You know that I cannot--"

You silenced him with lips against his own. "I know."

"Thank you, my dear."

You awoke the next morning to a stack of those shiny cards on the desk, and a note. Scrawled quickly over the surface were just a handful of words.

These are for the men that your brother wishes to send my way. Keep none for yourself. Ever onward and ever forward.

-A

Next to them in the slim vase where you'd left the blue marble, now was only a long white feather. Very much like the one you'd noticed missing from his hat.

#sako atsuhiro #mr compress x reader #bnha #mha #sako atsuhiro x reader #old gods of appalachia au #the man from the railroad!Atsuhiro #tw monsterfucking (maybe)

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meimae · 4 years ago

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Language Learning Through Immersion: One Year Japanese Update

11/03/2021

I did it, you guys! I’ve successfully reached my very first year of Japanese language immersion! I honestly thought that I would have given up by now, but this really has been a fun and ultimately rewarding endeavor.

Studying the language has been at the back of my mind for years since elementary school, I just never really knew how to go about it before, and I always thought that I could learn it in a classroom setting someday. That someday for me was in two elective courses in university, and while those were fun as well, it did not give me the same gains that I have achieved in this past year.

It’s probably easier to quantify learning a language in a classroom setting, especially when going through a program to earn a language degree. Learning through immersion, however, I had to really consider what my goals should be on my own. Eventually, I stumbled upon an article saying that for an English speaker, Japanese was exceptionally difficult to learn and that at least 2,200 hours must be spent with the language to reach a certain level of proficiency. So I said to myself, “well okay internet, if you say so!”, and set that as my long term goal going forward.

Spoiler Alert: I did not hit that goal in my first year. I am not crazy and will never listen to Japanese in my sleep regardless of what Khatzumoto (the creator of All Japanese All the Time) says.

I did, however, hit a total 1,226.65 active immersion hours in my first year, so I guess I’m still a bit nuts. That is 874.96 hours of active listening and 351.69 reading hours. I also did 270.59 hours of passive listening, also known as the time in the very beginning of my immersion where I was using Japanese subtitles (therefore not really concentrating on listening alone). That’s a cumulative 1,497.24 hours spent with Japanese. That’s more than halfway towards my goal!

To further break that down for curious animanga fans out there, that’s 973 episodes from 109 anime, 765 episodes from 33 dramas, 7 movies, and 967 chapters from 107 volumes of manga (21 series). Here’s my anilist and mydramalist to see what I’ve read/watched.

During all this, I was also doing my daily Anki reps and now I have a 530 day SRS streak (includes the time prior starting immersion and only doing RTK and some vocabulary cards) and a total 8,857 sentence cards. I’ve been averaging 406 cards daily (because I’m trying to cure my leeches) and I spend about an hour per day doing reps and learning new cards. I don’t really track my time on Anki, but I do have a set timer that goes off after 1-1:30 hours.

What I haven’t touched upon at all is output. I have not gone out of my way to find a tutor or a language partner. There’s still plenty of input out there to immerse in before I even consider outputting.

Graphs, stats, and more thoughts:

Here's my current card count in my main deck (minus the cards in my new/learning queue and leeches I've been relearning which are in separate decks):

That one day in 2019 where I did not do my cards because I was seriously doubting whether I can actually stick with language learning this time around will forever haunt and inspire me to keep going everyday.

Workflow and Tips

You might be wondering, how do I have a lot of time? I started this whole endeavor in the middle of a pandemic, which eliminated the option of me going to a language school, and a slew of other things I were considering doing last year became impossible (and if anything, very scary to do in a pandemic). All I can say is that, things work out eventually if it is His will, and if I can learn a skill before everything properly settles back down again, then why not?

I wake up at 5 in the morning everyday to either do my Anki reps or read until the time when I need to get up and I listen to compressed audio throughout the day. The biggest tip is to switch the time you spend watching/reading in your native language to your target language instead. Listen to a podcast during your commute, watch an episode during lunch break, read before going to bed, do your Anki reps in the bathroom if you have to.

But, if you’re feeling burnt out, there is no reason for you to not take a break! I have been watching a lot of Among Us streams before bed, and I chat with my friends from time to time. Language learning is not a race.

More Stats

Here are a couple of grids of the kanji characters that I have encountered at least once in my immersion and how well I have answered them in my vocabulary/sentence cards.

It's interesting that after almost 9000 words, I have yet to encounter every single character from the Remembering the Kanji 1 (RTK 1) book by James Heisig, which teaches you the most common use characters that are part of the 常用漢字. Which brings me to the question, was writing down every single character being taught in RTK worth it every time it came up in my reviews for the first 3-ish months I was reviewing them? Maybe, maybe not. It certainly removed my anxiety whenever looking at blocks of text in Japanese, but the longer I think about it, the more I feel I should have switched to Recognition RTK earlier. Still, being able to write in proper stroke order is cool I guess, and it also helps me when looking things up in the dictionary.

Here’s the same grid but in JLPT order:

I clearly need to grind those N2 and N1 level cards! Speaking of which, I have apparently almost covered every single character that could possibly appear in the JLPT (except for the N1 which I have only covered half of) in just a year's time. If the JLPT word frequency lists I’m using are accurate, I have about 2,000 words more to go to to cover most vocabulary that could appear in the test. This makes the "10,000 sentences/words to fluency" argument a reasonable milestone to aim for for Japanese learners if said aim is only to pass the test. That said, 10,000 words is just that, a milestone. It's more akin to a comfortable level of comprehension, but not my own concept of fluency which is being able to read with ease, speak articulately, and write comfortably.

READING IMMERSION GRAPHS

My biggest motivation for tracking my stats is for the purpose of seeing whether my reading speed is improving over time. Reading speed is also easier to measure than listening comprehension which is kind of subjective, so I had a lot of fun making these. What I found is that for the first volume or chapter of whatever it is I’m reading, I always take the time to get used to the writing style of the author. My speed really improves whenever I keep reading the same topic over and over again. On the other hand and quite obviously, looking up many new words in a row and trying to parse sentences slows me down.

Manga: Reading Speed Progression per Volume

I clearly love ちはやふる and I am not ashamed to admit it.

I need to start reading longer manga. When I do, I’ll probably split this graph into less than and greater than 20 volumes. Imagine if I start reading something ridiculously long as 名探偵コナン or ワンピース, these graphs will start breaching the bounds of time and space.

Novels: Time Spent Reading per Chapter

#neverforget the time I read chapter six of Norwegian Wood for 9 hours when it took me less than half that time in English RIP. Also, my interest in Kitchen plummeted LOL. Still planning to finish it don’t worry.

I also need to start branching away from manga and start reading more novels and light novels, too just so I can make more pretty graphs.

Visual Novels: Time Spent Reading and Daily Word Count

Also known as images that clearly show that I’ve already spent several days only reading the prologue of Island. I’m not sweating. 切那 needs to stop using words I don’t know in succession. More thoughts on this VN far into the future.

Thoughts on Immersion

I can’t really say anything else other that that it works for me, and needless to say if you’re considering this method, remember that the SRS is your friend but immersion should be your one true love.

Prior to all this, I couldn’t even read a sample paragraph from Genki without being confused to my very soul. Yes, I know, it’s embarrassing, but that’s the truth. I was way more scared of failing my Japanese classes than my actual thesis for my bachelors degree, I kid you not. I would quite literally spend all my free time in university trying to understand grammar, memorize vocabulary, and answer my workbook exercises with little to no success.

I tried so hard to get all the grammar “formulas” into my head for 1.5 years and it only brought me more confusion. I’m never going back to traditional classroom study for language learning, but I will still refer to grammar books when I need to, and not because I feel like I need to answer 4783342 different workbook exercises like my life depended on it.

I still can’t believe it, but with immersion this statement is actually true to a point, don’t try shadowing anime/or calling your boss anime language slurs, use your common sense:

study anime to understand Japanese > study Japanese to understand anime

Future Goals/Plans

2,200 immersion hours was my initial goal, but honestly I feel like that number could be much higher. There’s still a lot of stuff I don’t understand (news, politics, sciences, etc.), so I’ll make attempts to cover more of those things in my immersion.

I’ll continue reading more, because that’s a natural SRS in itself. Try to read longer manga, more novels, visual novels, and light novels, and maybe news articles.

I’ll try to mine as much “JLPT vocab” as I can before making any attempts at taking the JLPT. I noticed that a lot of the words I know don’t appear in the JLPT word lists as much, even though they appear a lot in media/daily conversation.

Continue mining all words I don’t know because all words are useful anyway. There is no such thing as useless words. I never really understood mining only “interesting words” or words that “pop up” in your immersion. As I said in my previous blog post, 美人局 is an interesting word and I certainly caught it being said in my immersion, but in the three languages I know, I wouldn’t know when I would be able to use such a word, as compared to something like ジャガイモ which is a significantly less interesting word, but is certainly useful to know.

I have managed to talk up a storm, but if you have any questions regarding my process or recommendations for new immersion material, please feel free to send an ask/reply to this post. I love hearing about other people’s language learning/immersion journeys.

See you on my next post!

#language learning #japanese language #language acquisition #study blog #langblr #studyblr #graphs #language immersion #japanese #visual novels #manga #novels #anime #dramas #movies #youtube #podcasts

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

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Emergency! Part 1

Part 1 – Plane Crash

Summary: Dean and Cas are partners at Fire Station 51’s paramedic squad and are responding to their first of many. A plane crashes into an apartment complex, multiple fire stations respond to put out the fire and rescue any victims trapped. But RN, Y/N Y/L/N, happens to live in the very complex involved in the plane crash. Though unharmed, she commits her time to aid and assist in the victims coming out of the building and the plane. The rescue turns sideways on Dean when a beam drops onto Dean, damaging his oxygen tank, he quickly turns into a victim as he quickly succumbs to smoke inhalation and becomes Y/N’s patient.

Warnings: Mild angst (relationship), slight language, fluff?

Square: Firefighter!AU ( @supernatural-jackles Tell me a story Bingo)

Word Count: 1,784

Mobile Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: DOA = Dead on Arrival. Y/L/N = Your last name. But I hope you guys enjoy!

She got up at her usual time of 5am to be at the hospital by 6:30am.

Not much of a coffee drinker, she just got her a mug filling up with soda, the soda being her caffeine for the day.

She got into her scrubs, grabbing her nametag, pens and her personal notepad.

Ready to hit the road before traffic begins to pick up on the freeway in Los Angeles, she grabs her wallet, phone and keys she locks up to leave for her day at work as a Registered Nurse at Rampart emergency hospital.

Just as she got to the street to her car, there was a loud noise growing louder. She looked in the direction of the noise to see a plane, crash landing into her own apartment complex.

Ducking beside her car at the impact of the plane she was also thankful for her timing.

Quickly she dials 9-1-1.

Dean got up at his usual time of 4 in the morning to begin his 24-hour shift at the station.

Dean is a paramedic and squad member at station 51.

He pulled his truck into the parking lot, still trying to wake up.

His partner was already there.

“Cas, do you ever sleep man?” Dean asked.

“Slept on the couch again.”

“Are you and Hannah okay?”

“No, we had a big fight again last night. I don’t know what I can do for her anymore.” Cas says, defeated.

“Just end things man, you need sleep, and you need some peace of mind. I got room at my house for a roommate if you need a place.”

“Thanks Dean, but I already had plans of ending things with Hannah, last night was just the nail in the coffin of yet another failed relationship.”

“She failed it man, you did nothing wrong.” Dean encouraged.

“Thanks man.”

Dean offered a kind smile and a pat on Cas’s shoulder.

“Ready for another long shift?” Cas asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, my dad here yet?”

“Yeah, he’s in the office why?”

“Wonder if he got the invite to Sam and Jess’s wedding.”

“Bought damn time that kid popped the question honestly.”

“I know, he and Jess dated for what seemed like forever.”

“You really think they’re still sore at each other, I mean John of all people should know he can’t control what his kids want to do.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, that’s why I was gonna ask if he got it.”

Cas nods.

“I saw you put in for a three-day weekend, what’s going on?”

“Just wanting to take a trip out to the campgrounds outside of town to the family cabin, Dad says the deck could use some work and I was gonna kill two birds with one stone. Camp out and help dad fix up the deck.”

“That sounds cool.”

The fire stations alarm sounded.

“Truck 27, squad 27, engine 47, squad 47, Engine 51, squad 51, structure fire at Purgatory Apartments 1366 south Millard Ave.”

“Lots of trucks and engines responding, must be big.” Cas states. Jumping into action.

“Must be.” Dean says running to the squad truck, jumping into the driver seat, Cas jumping into the passenger.

Dean turned the keys in the ignition, roaring the Ford Truck to life, and turning on the lights and siren. Heading out onto the road, with the firetruck, Engine 51 following behind.

“This is RN Y/N Y/L/N, I have multiple victims at 1366 Millard Ave. A plane crashed. 3 already DOA, I need help right away.” She says into the phone.

“We’re working on it; we already have multiple firestations responding to your location. Just keep aiding in the victims as best as you can Ms. Y/L/N.” dispatch for 9-1-1 says.

She continued chest compressions on a victim and did 2 rescue breaths. And checked his pulse, still no change.

She sat her phone off of her shoulder and on the ground, so she could focus on reviving the victim.

One more attempt at cpr, she checks his pulse, still no change. Placing his hands over his chest, she says a silent prayer.

“I’m sorry.” She tells the people watching over her as she worked.

“Where is your help?” a lady asked furiously.

“They’re on the way, LA Is a large ass city, and you know how traffic is in this town.” She says.

She was already frustrated with the losses she didn’t need an attitude from anyone.

The sound of wailing sirens in the distance brought relieve to the nurse as she worked tirelessly on the victims.

Engine and squad 27 and 47 being the first on the scene.

“There are people trapped in the buildings, and there were about 45 passengers on this flight. 4 are DOA so far.” Y/N stated to the captain of the two fire stations as they approached her.

“Alright, I’ll send my guys in.” Captain of station 27 stated.

“I’ll let the other stations as they come in to assist.” Captain of station 47 stated.

Another fire engine’s siren wailed as it approached.

The men jumping into action.

“Winchester!” the captain of station 47 shouts as he approached engine 51.

“What do we got?”

“Unknown number of victims trapped in the complex, 45 passengers or so from the plane. 4 of them were DOA. Oh, and she’s a nurse, thought I’d mention that she could help us out.”

“Right,” John Winchester, captain of station 51 agreed.

“Alright guys, we got to work fast, there are people trapped in these two buildings, we need to clear them out. Tran, get the engine ready so we can use the hose. Gabe, and Michael, work on the fire with the other stations, Benny, Raph, and Charlie, aide the paramedics, either from 27, 47 or Dean and Cas, we need to save as many as we can, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

“Get to it.”

Everyone went to where they were instructed to. Dean and Cas got their equipment from their truck and went into one of the buildings, full fire fighter gear.

“Dean!” John called out.

Dean stops, giving John his attention.

“Be safe in there son.”

“I will dad. Don’t worry.” He says, running in.

There were a good handful of people able to move and get to safety on their own, and another handful Dean and Cas had to carry out of the building.

One woman, sprained ankle from trying to escape hastily, as Cas carried her out she nearly flew out of the man’s arms.

“My daughter, she’s in her room!” she cries out.

“I’ll get her, Cas, get her out of here.”

Cas nods, doing as told.

Dean inspected the rooms, finding a seven-year-old girl, hiding beside her bed covered in a wet blanket.

“Hey, I’m Dean, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

The girls nods.

Dean kept a protective arm around her as they exited her room.

A beam creaked, and gave way above Dean, hitting his back.

He heard a loud pop, like a large pop can exploding.

He found it hard to breathe through his oxygen mask.

Taking off his mask and tank he saw rupture in his tank.

“Shit.” He hissed.

His lungs were quickly taken over by the smoke, he started coughing immediately.

He noticed the girl was already gone.

He tried to get up to hurry and save himself but he felt a sharp pain in the back of his leg.

He looked behind him, he saw the beam pinning him down by his leg.

Overcome by the coughing, his world began to turn black.

Y/N finished placing a splint on the womans ankle when a child ran up to her and the group of firemen.

“Jamie! Baby!” her mother cried out, holding her arms out to her daughter.

“Mommy!” she cried.

“Where’s Dean?” Cas asked.

“A beam fell down and knocked him down. He’s stuck.” She says.

Without another word exchanged Cas took off to the apartment they rescued the woman.

The fire was slowly getting under control and it was easier to see inside the apartments. Cas was able to spot Dean out in the apartment easily.

He laid on his stomach, still and unmoving. Cas can see the beam pinning against Dean’s thigh.

He saw the beam was not supporting much of anything. He ran out, seeing Michael carrying an axe.

“Mikey, I need that!” Cas shouted.

“What’s up?”

“Dean’s stuck.”

Michael ran towards Cas and he saw Dean, inspected the beam. Saw the same as Cas, the beam not being much of importance to the structure, he begins working on breaking the beam in half.

The wood was badly damaged by the fire, he was able to break it in three strong hits.

Once he was free, Cas picked Dean up and carried him out over his shoulder fireman carry style.

Once he reached the nurse, she prepared an area she could work on Dean.

“Is he breathing?”

“He didn’t have his mask on, the tank was damaged.” Cas answered.

“More than likely smoke inhalation, lay him here and I’ll start working on him.

He did as told, laying him flat on his back.

She checked his pulse, and breathing, matching up to the fireman’s statements. And began chest compressions.

After 35 chest compressions she gave 2 rescue breaths. And checked his breathing, he’s breathing but it was shallow.

She placed on an oxygen mask over his mouth.

After ten minutes or so of the mask being on him, he began having a coughing fit as the air returned back to his lungs.

“He’s gonna be okay but we need to get him to the hospital, need to check out that leg.” Y/N said.

The men and women of station 51 nodded, agreeing with the nurse.

Later that night as she made her rounds, she walked into Dean’s room.

“Good evening Mr. Winchester, how are you feeling today?”

“Sore.”

“That’s expected having a beam pin your leg down, and the smoke inhalation.”

“You saved my life, thank you, Miss….”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. And it’s no big deal, all part of the job.”

“Right, saving people.”

“The family business.”

“You’re family work here?”

“Yeah, my mom was head nurse at this very hospital, and my dad was a neurologist here. I was basically born and raised here.”

“Nice, my dad’s captain of station 51.”

“Awesome. But other than that, no pain at the moment, you don’t need anything?”

“No, just a number.”

She smirked, with a nod.

Writing on her notepad, her number. She ripped the paper out, handing it to him.

“Call me sometime, Winchester.”

He held the paper, unable to hide the wide grin.

“Definitely will.” He says as she walks out, continuing her shift.

Are you excited yet? I’m posting as I write this, probably a bad idea, but story of my life. Like what I got so far? Let me know, ask, reblog. Feedback is fuel. :3

Dean girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @jayankles, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @jeaniespiehs20, @akshi8278, @lyarr24

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/18/2021

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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years ago

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Prey on the Heart

Summary: Valtor is on the hunt when his hound makes an unexpected discovery - Griffin is on the premises and defenseless against his rage over her betrayal. Valtor has to decide what catch he’s after - her head or their love. AU.

CW: Blood, dog bites, injury neglect, non-graphic violence and sex

This has been an outlined idea for almost 11 months. It was supposed to be an entry for Whumptober last year but I managed to turn it back into romance instead of torture somehow. I never got around to writing it unti today the universe conspired to bring it into existence and I am so happy to have finally finished it!

Love Again by Dua Lipa is giving me feels for this AU so give it a listen if you want.

The tufts of yellowed grass barely rustled under his feet as he followed the hound south. A little further and they'd leave the borders of the Coven's estate for the uninhabitable wasteland his mothers hadn't bothered to purchase even at the low cost of Obsidian land.

The rainless summer had left the otherwise infertile ground dry and cracked, no prints marring it's hardened surface. The hound was relying purely on her animal instincts and despite the boost from his magic, his senses couldn't catch up. He was barely keeping up with Violet herself glancing around for a trace on the foliage of what she'd sniffed.

He caught a strangled scream without the need to strain his ears. It was loud and clear despite the attempt to muffle it. He'd thought it was an animal the hound had shot after but that scream... It was a human voice. A familiar voice.

He followed the sound, steps hurried and heavy on the ground to chase away any game in the vicinity but he'd have his prize regardless. Unless he was dreaming or under one of mother Lysslis' illusion spells.

He called the dog back to lead him to where she'd left her victim. He'd seen Violet do her thing under Lysslis' training. Whenever she got her teeth into something, it wasn't getting away before she let go. And it wasn't getting away after that either.

Violet's teeth had a wet red tint to them, muzzle damp with blood and saliva as her nostrils expanded voraciously with every breath from the heavy copper smell. She circled him frantically and dashed forward only to run back to him in an attempt to prompt him to catch up with her speed. At least she was happy with her find.

An unusual circle of trees formed a perfectly lined up clearing in the forest. Stepping inside it left him face to face with a lone tree in the middle that was keeled over and charred. It must have been stricken by a lightning but its sturdy, forked roots had grounded it deep in the soil to make it the only thing standing in the clearing.

Leaning on the other side of it, partially concealed by its thick trunk, was none other than Griffin. Her hands trembled as she tightened the knot on the bandage she'd wrapped around her bleeding calf. She hissed when the dirty rag she'd torn from the hemline of her tattered and muddied dress constricted the tender wound Violet had left in her wake. And to think Griffin had been the one who'd gifted him the hound when she'd still been a pup that had fit in the palm of his hand. Valtor had even named her after Griffin, the striking shade of her hair coloring everything from his sketches to the very dreams his subconscious concocted. If she hadn't left so soon after presenting him with the puppy, Violet may have remembered her scent. Not that that would have given her a chance against Lysslis' conditioning of all hunting dogs, including Valtor's personal hound.

Griffin's eyes pinned the hound where it was pacing from one side to another behind Valtor's legs with her tail wagging and her labored breaths filling the silence of his own lungs. The sight of him had Griffin's whole body tensing as her hands hit the tree bark behind her back and she scrambled to her feet.

Her movements were lagging from the pain and panic dripping from her hunched form. Her hair fell down her back matted with red where she'd brushed it back with bloodied hands. Large chunks of unrefined obsidian crystals were strapped to her wrists with clumsy threads of silver into bracelets that ran up her arms under her sleeves.

She'd made those herself–in a hurry–her magic pulling the crystals and metal straight from the core of the planet. They would have impeded any other witch considering his own mothers' magic was notably subdued by the large deposits of obsidian under the planet's surface but not her. Crystals were one of her areas of expertise–and the reason why she'd walked into his life–yet even her knowledge had failed her along with her luck. She'd made it to the very edge of the territory controlled and owned by the Coven under the protection of the black crystals she'd adorned herself with to ward off dark magic but still not far enough.

It had been fear cutting off her magic to prevent her from fashioning herself a bandage the way she'd crafted her protection charms. Her golden eyes were wide like pits of inextinguishable fire and her chest wasn't moving to push the ample cleavage her dress left exposed into the forefront of his mind. She'd had an easier time drawing breath with the weight of his head nestled over her ribcage, over her heart beating steadily with the promise of her presence.

Valtor's step forward echoed like a gunshot in her body. Her back pressed into the tree, muscles pulled taut with compressed energy readying her to pounce.

"Run." His first word to her. He could have lost a bet that it would be a vile curse in a lost language only she could understand. "I dare you." She'd turned her back and left unprompted. If she still abode by that logic, then she'd have to stay.

Griffin swallowed. "You're going to hunt me down like an animal?" Her teeth gritted as she strained against her eyes slipping from his form.

His fingers clenched to white around the cold metal of his shotgun. Her jaw would have been dust in his grip where he wanted it to tip her head back and pin her gaze with his. She'd forced him to endure far greater pain being the one left behind. She hadn't earned the right to writhe and scream in agony.

"Violet here is an animal," he extended his hand and the hound pressed her head into his open palm. She always obeyed his calls, never running off where she wouldn't hear him and come back. "She is loyal and dependable which is more than I can say about you." He may have named the dog after Griffin but he'd raised Violet to never follow in her footsteps.

"So I am less than an animal to you, too?" Her gaze darted to the dog and back – to the piece of herself she hadn't stolen from him.

Valtor frowned, hand stilling between Violet's ears to make her rub it in his fingers insistently. He ignored her.

"What do you mean to me too?" Once again Griffin took precedence. Over his hunt, over his dog, over his own heart. Only his stomach sank from the prediction of what he'd hear from her mouth.

"You think I came here on a picnic with only the dress on my back?" Griffin stood steady on her feet, her tenacious nature breathing life into a smirk he had to bite back.

He hadn't given thought to the circumstances of their meeting. Her aching form in front of his eyes was everything. One blink and she'd melt away, swept up into another one of the portals the locations of which she was best at estimating. Indeed her presence on top of her disheveled state posed multiple questions he hadn't paid mind to. He was making it too easy for her to deceive him again.

"Your mothers chased me down and electrocuted me to the point of nearly frying my organs," her arms crossed over her belly to raise alarms in his head. If anything gave him the strength to best mother Tharma, it would be the rage over touching what was his. Griffin was a central part of that even if revenge was all that was left between them. That and the truth she spoke. "They kept me locked up for weeks in a tiny shoe box where I couldn't even stand up straight and only let me out last night. Right as darkness fell for me to read on the star-filled sky that it was the first day of hunting season."

There was disdain in her voice instead of the fear everyone else held for the way his mothers took beauty and strength and twisted it into despair. They had taken her love of astronomy and turned it into the herald of her death sentence. Just like they'd repopulated the area around their estate with hunting game only to have their fill of murdering unsuspecting animals.

Griffin's eyes burned so fiercely he half expected the tree behind her to catch fire. "They let me out to be your prey." And she'd dashed for the quickest route out of there. She hadn't come back for him.

"You betrayed me."

Violet sat down on her hind legs, body taut like a string and tail beating harshly into the dust. She would leap at the smallest shift in him.

Griffin was like a rock in front of him. His fire wouldn't touch her and his bullets would bounce back at him. "They are enslaving people and I didn't know I was helping them."

He hadn't told her. All he could have given her had been the illusion of a choice. She never would've picked him if he'd let his mothers force her to lay the world at their feet. It had been the only chance the two of them had had to be together.

"I had to put an end to it."

"You betrayed me!" Valtor raised the shotgun, his hands shaking too violently to aim it more precisely than just in Griffin's general direction as he stalked closer. Violet was growling on his left to keep his flank safe. "I gave you my everything. You were all I had and you left!"

All the riches flowing into Obsidian under his mothers' direction and Griffin's accurate calculations of opening portals to other planets were resources for the Coven's needs, not for his personal use. He wasn't even allowed in certain rooms of the mansion. The magic in his very veins had been embedded there by his mothers' efforts and lessons. Griffin had been the one building a little home with him in the room they'd come to share, she'd been the one putting a heartbeat in his palms only to leave him clutching empty sheets with a cold blade sticking out of his chest.

"Bursting your heart into atoms is exactly what you deserve." He stalked closer, the cool barrel of his shotgun and Violet's razor-sharp teeth were his only defense. The obsidian on Griffin's wrists weakened his magic and the shine of her eyes had obliterated his resolve to chase her down even from his memories.

Griffin's eyes hardened, hands balling into fists. "If you're going to shoot me, do it!" she grabbed the shotgun and pressed it into her bare skin.

The force threw him off balance and he stumbled forward, pushing the stiff metal into her sternum while her breath invaded his mouth with their faces inches apart. "Do not. Tempt me," he growled, his fingers twitching from her audacity to wrap around her throat and force more breath from her.

"Do it!" Griffin was still gripping the shotgun close to her heaving chest unafraid of the fire that could burst from the contact. "I knew this–seeing you again–would be the end of me. But if taking the shot is what will take your pain away, then I'm ready to go. As long as it will let you live." Her eyes lost focus and her head lulled, a small smile tugging at her lips and his heartstrings as her gaze dropped to Violet.

The dog was pacing behind him to no reason or direction. Her nose was lowered into the dirt in defeat.

Valtor forced Griffin's head back with the barrel of his shotgun until their eyes were locked together. "Do you think I'm that dumb? That I'll believe you after all your lies?" He had to watch out for the hands. One wrong move and they'd be in his chest again. Or his would be in her hair under the clink of his forgotten shotgun to draw a moan out of her that would melt him in a puddle at her feet.

"It doesn't matter what you believe, what either one of us believes." Vulnerability was sealed in her eyes like they were amber preserving history. Bullets wouldn't work on them. Shattering them would only spill the truth of his own wrongdoings. "It will not change the fact that I love you." A gasp came – from him or from her. "You can cut me open and reach inside me to feel it if you need to. It will still be there once my heart has stopped. Not even the planet can absorb it."

His hands shook as the shotgun trailed back between her breasts. The dry ground would soak up her blood instead of water and the forest would claim her body but the energy pouring from her wouldn't disappear in the well in the planet's core. Obsidian absorbed negativity from all over the universe to cleanse it and Griffin had thought it fair to trade protection for resources borrowed from other planets when it had little to no of its own. But she was offering her life to him for nothing in return. She was offering the purity of her love and that wasn't something the planet could protect from or swallow.

Valtor licked his lips. His mouth watered in her proximity for her to plant her deception into it. Yet his tongue hardly moved with his words in the breeze her breath was on his taste buds. "You're playing mind games. This is nothing more than manipulation." She could be an inch from his face and hop into a portal to the other end of the universe in the blink of an eye. And he hadn't been able to follow despite the pull in his heart.

"Nothing's stopping you from pulling the trigger. Or taking your hunting knife and carving out my heart." The blade weighed on his chest from its secret pocket as her voice reverberated through him. "Go ahead! Eat it like I always knew you would. And once its in your system, so will be my love." Her hand slid down the barrel of the shotgun, her fingers bathing his in their heat. "It will be a part of you, flowing through your veins and making you mine forever. Death by your hand does not scare me. I'll never die inside you."

The metal burned in his hand. Or that was the love for her that had never gone out. Not even at the look of the vast blackness of the sky where she could have disappeared forever. "You know I won't-"

"I know you want to." Griffin's hand slipped on top of his, colder than the blade of his knife over his heart. "But you won't. You pull that trigger and you lose me forever. You're not going to cause yourself that pain. Not even after I ran away." Her skin was like stone grinding against his to chip away his resistance. She knew him to his selfish core. Having her love forever inside him where he wouldn't be able to touch it wouldn't be enough even if she wouldn't be able to leave again.

"How could you bring my heart back after you fled with it?" It was right there clasped between her teeth. A kiss would free it and tugging at it with all his might would rip it to shreds. It was a miracle Griffin hadn't chewed it to bits when Violet's teeth had sunk into her flesh.

"Because we belong to each other. With each other." Her heart trembled in her pulse point for him to see. "No portal between worlds can change that. Not the one that took me away and not the one that brought me back."

How could he kill her when simply hating her would pull her out of his arms? Taking a step back would make him crumble under his self-loathing. He couldn't be the one to take her away from himself. Not when she was right there like a vision. One only she could make come true.

"Would you have ever come back if my mothers hadn't dragged you here?"

"Does it matter?" her voice was like a gunshot in his ears, like the weapon in his hand had gone off pressed into his own chest rather than hers.

The metal clanked as it hit the ground where he threw it and a shot echoed through the forest on accident that had Violet barking frantically. It could have been Griffin's magic wringing the bullet from his shotgun to drop him dead – he didn't care. His fingers had the freedom to tangle in her purple tresses again and a moan greeted him on her lips when he pulled her to his mouth.

No. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what could have happened when she was in his arms, chest pressing into his with her ragged breaths. She returned his kisses, teeth sliding over his lips to mark her territory like her life depended on it although she could pick up his shotgun and leave a hole in his chest. All she had to do to get away with murder was part with several hairs and blink back the tears from having them torn away in his death grip. Yet, all she was grasping at were the lapels of his coat to hold him in the reach of her kisses. She was still giving him everything she had with the threat to her life gone. It was all the proof he could want.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he hoisted her against the tree. The bandage on her calf was wet with blood under his fingers but she was pulling him closer like she'd lost her mind to love and couldn't understand it was impossible to push herself into him more. Her magic would be no use for healing in her state and his would be no use at all.

Her skin was still soft despite the odd chilliness that had fallen over it and broke under his teeth on her collar bone to let him have her blood. Her wet flesh welcomed him as he entered her once he'd pulled all the fabric of her dress and underwear out of his way. His fingers dipped under her neckline to find her breast but brushed over dried mud instead. The rough surface of confusion threw him back into a questioning stare aimed at her.

"My chest was pierced by the Obsidian belladonna your mothers pushed me on." Obsidian threads from the land ran through the plant to claim each part of it and give it a crown of crystal-edged petals. The black crust was like a blade that cut through the flesh to release the poison of the belladonna directly into the bloodstream. Only Griffin's magic had saved her life from the toxins rushing from the roots to the petals of the plant. "The blood from the wound would draw the dog to me for sure in case my deep frozen state interfered with my scent." She didn't have to tell him it had been mother Belladonna's idea and magic to do all of that to her.

Valtor ran his hands over every inch of her in his reach. Her skin had remained cold after a full night of running. He had refrained form startling her with his magic but the heat of it passed from him into her to leave her body all his to claim with Belladonna's frost retreating from it. Griffin was burning now, hot moans dropping from her mouth with every thrust as she reached a hand under her dress to stroke them both further into the heights of pleasure. His open-mouthed kisses to her neck let him feel every breath and his tongue leaving a warm, wet trail over the column of her throat had her gasping. He'd cover her all in himself to erase the horror they'd been subjected to.

"We have to get you out of here." His mothers would finish the hunt themselves if he came back to the mansion without a trophy for their walls.

"Get the dog out of here." Griffin's voice wavered as she moved her palm under his shirt to brace herself on his abs. She let out a shuddering sigh, eyelids falling over the suns of his world. "We don't need public. She already saw enough." Griffin licked her lips, head falling back to thud against the tree trunk lightly with every push of his hips into her. Her back would be bruised with reminders of the movements they'd shared like they were one.

Valtor's whistle had Violet's attention and he sent her to keep the perimeter clear. His mothers wouldn't dirty their hands right away and she could hold her own against any other Coven member to buy him and Griffin time to talk.

He'd spend eternity watching Griffin's face scrunched up in concentration as she grabbed at her pleasure, hips matching his motions, but they had no more than a couple hours. "We need a plan."

Griffin knit her eyebrows at his interruption. "I had one right before they dragged me out of my life. I found a small island of pure amethyst orbiting an uninhabited planet." Energy currents turned all kinds of crystal structures into mini heavenly bodies. Someone with her talents had no trouble finding all the curiosities of space. "I was going to go there. Live on the planet and meditate on the island to clear my thoughts and overcome my grief." Amethyst was good for that. Just the shade of her hair cleansed his mind from agony to leave him clutching harder at the purple strands to keep them from slipping through his fingers.

"I wasn't dead." Abandoned but not dead. Not yet. He'd retreated into the dreams of a sky set ablaze in violet by a rising sun. They'd become his poison and his cure until she'd come back to put his heart back together.

Griffin's eyes snapped open, tears gleaming all over their gold. "I was dead to you."

"Not dead. Never dead." His fingers slid over the top of her breast to the wound she'd closed with mud to make her the one shivering. Her cold, lifeless body stuffed in his mind would force him apart at the seams.

"I was hoping there I would come up with a strategy for future action," Griffin continued to distract him. She rolled her hips into him and gave him a moan to ensure her success.

"Good." He leaned in to pant against her ear. "You continue according to plan then." His mothers would never look for her there. The only resource they'd ever pursued was human lives. His job had been to keep her distracted so she'd do the groundwork unknowingly.

"What about you?" He could hear her frowning over the pain of her nails digging into his abs.

He grabbed her wrist and pressed it harder into him so she'd be branded over his body. "I can't come. They'd put everything into finding us. It'd be more dangerous."

Griffin pushed her body flush against him, all of her weight falling on his muscles with her back barely brushing the tree. Her teeth were gliding over his neck but she pierced him with her voice instead. "You can't go back without my corpse."

He kissed her forcefully, tongue stuffing her mouth to trap the words there. They'd suffocate with no oxygen and Griffin yielded to him for a moment, pulling him closer until they were out of breath.

They fell back on the tree and a whimper was forced from her lips. Their mouths were just an inch away, breath mingling between them in perfect harmony. He had to be the one to speak first and keep the magic alive.

"You left once because there were people who needed help." Because he'd lied to her that that wasn't the case to keep her to himself. Her heart was bigger than his and he'd tried to cut it down in fear of the difference between them.

"Valtor-"

"I'm not losing you again." Because her heart was so big, he had a home. And she could give the same to others, too. "Once you have a plan, we end this once and for all and you'll never leave my side again." He had to let go of her hand to slip his fingers between her legs and drive her wild with his love for her.

Griffin was the one grabbing his wrist now. "I don't want to leave you with them again." Her fingers clasped his in a firm grip despite the trembling of her body. "They'll pay you back for not bringing their plan for us to fruition."

"They can't. Without you they need someone else to open portals for them." He'd picked up enough from the time they'd spent together to do that job without giving her perfect results. No one else could fill that role for his mothers' plan and the punishment for letting Griffin escape hadn't been nearly severe enough thanks to his usefulness. "You already gave me a weapon against them." He stroked his fingers over her arousal. It was only his place to be the source of her shaking. She deserved all the pleasure she could stand.

"I've made you a weapon for them," Griffin arched into his touch to escape the guilt she was trying to pile on herself.

Valtor thrust into her with all the vigor she'd given him to make her eyes roll in the back of her head and her thighs quiver around him. "They won't get to use me long but you're the only one who can find out how to stop them. You have to be protected." If his mothers wanted her dead instead of brainwashed and turning Obsidian into their empire of slavery, then she was dangerous enough to bring them down. "I'll come for you. Now come for me."

"Valtor."

It was not a scream of passion. It was an uttered love confession that made him weak in the knees. Supporting her was the only thing keeping him upright through his weakness. She was still bleeding – not just from her calf, but from her chest, too. If having his heart hadn't mended the wound he'd left on hers with his lies, he had to give her more. He had to send her away to heal so that the world could become a home for them again.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #au #prey on the heart

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kk095 · 4 years ago

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Heart of a Champion

Iva Haugen was an up and coming professional tennis player from Norway. She was a naturally beautiful 23 year old girl who was tall and thin, standing at 5'9 with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. Iva was in the United States training for an upcoming professional tournament with her coach and a few other pros who were participating in the same event as her. Her training was going exceptionally well, and she really liked her chances in the upcoming tournament. Unfortunately, fate had other plans for the young tennis pro.

After several hours of training yesterday, Iva felt as if her heart was going to leap right out of her chest. She attributed this symptom to nerves about the tournament and excessive exercise that day. While showering off back at her hotel a little while later, the heart palpitations returned along with sudden, severe dizziness. After her shower, she felt a bit tired and decided to take a nap.

Approximately 30 minutes later, one of the other tennis pros who was friends with Iva entered the room; it was Lara Nielson, a Swiss tennis player. Lara wanted to see if Iva wanted to hang out that night and grab as bite to eat. However, Lara found her friend passed out on the bed and not responding to her voice. Lara shook Iva, but all she did was groan weakly. Iva's eyes were rolled back and her breaths were fast but shallow. Lara knew something was seriously wrong, so she called 911.

When paramedics arrived on scene minutes later, Iva was still drifting in and out of consciousness. The medics asked Lara a few questions in an attempt to assess the situation. The questions were routine such as: “any medical conditions?” “is she on any medications?” “did she use any illegal drugs?” “any injuries that you know of?” “any allergies?” Lara answered no to all these questions and insisted that Iva was previously healthy.

After that brief conversation with Lara, the medics began their initial assessment and set up equipment. One medic snipped off Iva's top, only sparing her dark blue bra to set up a 5 lead ECG with a portable heart monitor. Medic #2 set up 2 large bore IVs and hung a bag of normal saline, and then set Iva up on an o2 mask with high flow oxygen. On scene, Iva's vital signs were: BP 162/103, heart rate 126bpm, pulse oxygenation 98%. The ECG showed Unifocal PVCs with narrow Q waves. With these stats in mind, the medics knew this was a cardiovascular issue of some sort and decided to bring her into the ambulance and transport her to the emergency department.

During transport, the medics pushed vasodilators in order to regulate her blood pressure, but the young tennis star continued to deteriorate. Her heart rate was dangerously high, and she was now unconscious, barely breathing. For the purpose of airway management, the medics decided to intubate their attractive, foreign patient. Her head was tilted back and the laryngoscope was placed into her mouth. A 7.0 ET tube was then carefully navigated into her airway, and secured with a blue tube holder.

Around 2 minutes after intubation, the young athlete’s condition worsened, converting to pulseless v-tach. The medic snipped off Iva’s dark blue bra, exposing her B cup breasts. The defibrillator pads were then stuck onto her bare chest and charged to 150 joules. Iva jolted around on the gurney in response to the controlled dose of electricity. The heart monitors still displayed pulseless v-tach, so the medics decided to shock her again at 200 joules. The 2nd shock made the young woman's chest shoot up, arching her back a bit. Shock #2 converted the young woman to v-fib, so a full code blue was initiated.

Epinephrine and atropine were injected into Iva’s IV, and CPR was started while the defibs were being recharged. The young athlete received deep, harsh chest compressions from the medic. Her perky, B cup breasts bounced in sync with the compressions while her head lolled around a bit. Once the defibs were ready, the medic backed away and delivered a 250j shock. The shock caused her nude body to bounce around in response, but v-fib was still present on the heart monitors. Another shock was delivered, but it had no effect whatsoever.

CPR was still in progress upon arrival to our emergency department. At that point, Iva was shocked 4 times, given 2 doses of drugs, and had a total down time of 6 and a half minutes. Once we had her in the trauma bay, we transferred her onto the table and resumed the code. One of our ER nurses took over compressions. She delivered strong, rapid compressions that caused the patient’s belly to ripple and bounce outward. I then began ordering tests: I ordered stat trauma labs (CBC, BMP, tox screen), but I also threw in a cardiac enzyme test to rule out an MI, and a D-dimer to rule out a blood clot. The next order of business was to order an echocardiogram since the medics’ account of what happened suggested a heart problem. With CPR ongoing, an echocardiogram was performed. The echo showed mild left ventricular hypertrophy, and major thickening of the intraventricular septum. I immediately knew this was hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. “page cardio. If we get a pulse back, she’s gonna need surgery.” I called out. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy is a condition where the muscular wall between the bottom 2 chambers of the heart is abnormally thick. This can cause major problems with bloodflow into and out of the heart. Not every patient with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy has a long history of symptoms, which is why it can cause a sudden cardiac arrest.

After all my diagnostic tests were completed, we decided to shock Iva again. The defib pads made a whining sound as they charged. Once the pads were ready, everyone backed away and the shock was delivered. Iva’s feet leapt up above the table and slammed back down, showing of the prominent, silky wrinkles in the soles of her size 10 feet. V-fib still ran across the heart monitors, so another shock was delivered after a cycle of chest compressions. The next shock caused the young lady to jolt violently on the bed as the electricity ran through her dying body. This shock sent Iva into PEA, so CPR was resumed at that point.

The next rounds of epinephrine and atropine were pushed, along with the first dose of bicarb. The drugs and several rounds of compressions failed to produce a shockable rhythm. Iva was given more drugs at the 12 minute mark of the code, but she still remained in PEA. Her chest was starting to get bruised from all the compressions she’s received. Her fair complexion quickly turned into a ghastly white, and she was beginning to become cool to the touch. The situation grew increasingly tense, but she still had pupil reactivity so the code ensued.

It took another 4 and a half minutes, but Iva was able to be converted back into v-fib. The defibrillator pads were charged and everyone backed away in anticipation of the shock. 300 joules of electricity were sent into Iva’s lifeless body, causing her to twitch violently on the table. With v-fib still displaying on the monitors, a cycle of compressions were performed and the next shock was delivered moments later, causing her battered body to react violently to the shock. This shock sent Iva back into PEA, so CPR was resumed at that point.

The ER team maxed the young athlete out on drugs and performed numerous cycles of chest compressions on her, but she failed to respond to the life saving efforts. After a 22 minute code, the ER team ceased their efforts and called time of death at 16:41.

The ambu bag was detached and the flatlined heart monitors were shut off. The defibrillator pads were peeled off her battered chest while another nurse disconnected the ECG electrodes. Lastly, Iva’s lifeless body was covered and a toe tag was placed.

We unfortunately broke the news to Lara, Iva’s coach, and a few other tennis pros who came to the hospital after hearing what happened.

Iva’s death was honored with a moment of silence on the 1st day of the tournament, and this experience encouraged Lara to become an advocate for providing more in-depth sports physicals to athletes in all sports.

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chronic-resus-needed · 4 years ago

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Going Home

Highschool romances rarely led to a lifetime partner, but that was the case for Hugo and Simon. Coming out to his conservative parents in high school wasn't easy for Hugo, but Simon was worth it and it was Simon and his family who took him after he own parents kicked him out. For the first time in four years Hugo was going to see his parents. He had been against it, but Simon was encouraging. He said Hugo deserved all the love in the world. So off the went. It was spring break, their last spring break before they finished college, so the two twenty-two year-olds decided to make a small road trip from their University in Chicago back to their hometown in Owensboro.

Hugo was nervous, he didn’t want to face a second rejection, but that wasn't why he kept stealing glances at Simon as he drove. Simon had been up half the night dealing with what seemed like the longest asthma attack in history. He had waved Hugo to bed each time he came out to check on his boyfriend who sat behind a nebulizer. Eventually they had both fallen asleep on the cheap futon in their tiny living room. Simon swore he was fine and up to the trip, but he still looked tired, his bright eyes duller than usual and when Hugo had awoken with his ear pressed to Simon's chest he could still hear a faint rattling with each breath. "What, do you want me to take over?" Simon joked as Hugo glanced over for the umpteenth time, "I'm fine. You're fine. This is going to be a good day." Hugo only mumbled under his breath making Simon laugh. He reached over from the passenger seat to rub Hugo's muscular back. "Everything is good."

They were almost two hours into their five our trip when Simon first coughed, there was nothing but endless highway before them. This was the dullest part of the drive. Simon reached behind into the back seat to grab his duffle bag, his chin length blond hair shielding his face as he did so. When he sat back up he brushed it behind his ears and began digging through the duffle bag. "You really should keep you rescue inhaler where you can find it," Hugo chided. Simon held up the yellow inhaler with a triumphant smirk, "I knew exactly where it was." Hugo shook his head, "Sure, under all the other crap you shoved in there because no one ever taught you how to pack."

"Don't make me laugh when I'm trying to breath," it was a joke, but his small chuckle did lead to coughing. Simon brought the yellow inhaler to his lips and took a deep lung filling breath of the medication. The affect was immediate and he felt his heart rate pick up from the albuterol. "See? Everything is fine." He leaned over and exhaled playfully into Hugo's face, "But I do need to pee." Hugo gently pushed Simon's face away, "You do realize we have like two hours of nothing ahead of us. I can pull over?" Simon scrunched up his nose, "If I get desperate." Hugo rolled his eyes, "You're such princess sometimes." The bickered good naturedly about Hugo's 'brutish' nature and Simon's 'princess qualities' for a bit.

Hugo was large, six foot three, broad chest, and a gym rat. In contrast, Simon was only five foot eleven. Like Hugo (because of Hugo dragging him to the gym), he was fit, but he lacked Hugo's bulk. Where Hugo was built, Simon was toned, slender. They fit perfectly together, complimented each other. Hugo was practical, organized, reliable. Simon was more care-free, spontaneous. Simon reached across the car to run his hand through Hugo's dark hair as they fell into silence.

Silence was unusual when Simon was around, but Hugo had a lot to think about. When he got like this words just weren't enough so Simon just reminded his boyfriend that he was there, that he wasn't alone. The silence also didn’t bother Simon today, his chest was still tight. He flicked on the radio to add some background noise.

The tightness didn’t go away and the inhaler was pulled back out. It was harder this time, hard to draw in a full breath, and the full dose of medication never made it through. He rubbed at his chest and coughed in an attempt to open his airways. Now Hugo looked away from the road, "Still?" Simon nodded, he was beginning to wheeze. "Might be," he paused to breath, "a problem."

Hugo may be anxious in nature, but he was good in a crisis. "Alright, hang on." With one hand still on the wheel he pulled out his phone and opened GoogleMaps. The nearest hospital was just under an hour away. He mad an illegal U-turn to switch sides on the highway, he would cut that time in half.

Ten minutes passed and the wheezing could be heard over the radio and Simon was beginning to sweat from the effort of sucking air into his swelling airways. He tried the inhaler again, bringing it to lips, but his breaths were too shallow for the medication to do its job. "Hugh" This was the point where Hugo knew his fear was valid. Simon was scared. "Hey," he reached over and grabbed Simon's hand, bringing it to his own chest. "Just breath with me," he took slow deep breath. Simon could feel as Hugo's chest expanded and contracted, so steady, so strong. He tried to match, he did, but couldn't. Although he was beginning to heave with effort his rate of respiration increased, becoming rapid and shallow. By twenty minutes Simon's shoulder's were hunched. He had a vicelike grip on Hugo's right hand, his free hand was at the collar of is shirt, the fingers curled around the fabric as if he dragged it downward as if exposing his neck would make breathing easier.

Thirty minutes and the color was gone from his face, his lips were taking on a bluish tint. His breaths had turned into strained painful gasps with pauses in-between as he tried and failed to draw in more air. All the while Hugo kept talking, his voice soothing and encouraging, "You're doing good, one breath at a time." Hugo glanced at his phone, they were still fifteen minutes away, the endless highway had turned into a town. His foot pressed heavily against the accelerator. "Simon," he looked at his boyfriend whose eyes were closed, "Simon!" He shook their joined hands and Simon's blue eyes opened, he sucked in a shallow breath. "Simon if you die in this car I swear to god I am breaking up with you." Simon smiled weakly, but couldn’t speak. Their wasn’t enough air to waste on words.

Thirty-eight minutes, they were so close. Horns honked as Hugo ran through a red light. Simon's wheezing as stopped, his eyes were half open, his head slumped against the passenger door window. The grip on Hugo's hand had gone slack. "Simon!" His chest was so still, so unnaturally still.

The next few minutes were the longest of Hugo's life, but as he pulled into the ambulance bay he couldn’t even recall how he had goten them there. All he could see was Simon, Simon not breathing, Simon dying right beside him. The palm of his handed pounded on the car horn as he pulled in to catch the attention of anyone, anyone could help. He didn’t even bother to turn off the car before he was out and opening Simon's door.

His boyfriend's lips were blue, his face grey, and his body was dead weight as Hugo scooped his smaller frames into his arms, carrying him bridal style inside. "He isn't breathing!" It was a small hospital, only a level four trauma center, but the staff reacted quickly. Simon was pulled from his arms and whisked away, they wouldn't let Hugo follow.

They took Simon's now lifeless form into a trauma room, Simon would have been shocked at the number of the people in the room. One person placed an IV, one began cutting off his clothes as a third hooked him to various monitors, a fourth had an ambu bag pressed against his face trying to force oxygen into lungs, but met resistance. "He's not moving any air," a fifth person began chest compressions as the EKG he was attached to showed asystole. With each compression on his slim frame his chest caved inward, his belly extended, again and again. "Push a round of epi and atropine." He was already at Simon's head ready to intubate, "He's swollen shut." The would have to trach him.

As compressions continued as betadine was spread across Simon's neck and the doctor then made an incision into his trachea. A clear tube was placed into the incision forcing his windpipe open and an ambu bag attached. They had bypassed his swollen airways to get precious oxygen into his lungs. With the trach established they began to breath for him, forcing air into his oxygen starved lungs. Now with his airway secured Simon's chest rose with each artificial breath.

Despite the fresh oxygen his heart remained still in his chest and a fresh set of arms took over compressions. When they paused for a pulse check there was no change, another round of drugs were pushed. It had been eleven minutes since he arrived. Seventeen since he had drawn his last breath. Another pulse check and the drugs had forced his heart into a shockable rhythm. Compressions resumed while the defibrillator charged. "Clear!"

In the hall Hugo was forced away from the trauma room. His car was still idling outside and security was forced to take his keys to move it when Hugo refused to leave the waiting area. How could he just wait? He needed to do something, needed to help. The only thing he could do was to call Simon's parents, to let them know, but doing that, it felt like a bad sign. He would call them after Simon was awake, when things were okay. Because they would be, Simon would be fine, Simon had to be fine because Hugo couldn’t live without him.

Back in the trauma room Simon's back arched as 200 joules shot through him, his toes scrunched and then unfurled as body fell back to the gurney with a soft thumb. V-Fib still showed on the monitors. "Clear!" A second shock and again the paddles pulled his chest into the air, lifting the base of his neck clear off the gurney as his whole body jolted. His left arm slipped off the gurney and banged against the side of the gurney as chest compressions were resumed. He had fallen out of V-fib into pulseless electrical activity.

There was tension in the air his team discussed their next steps. The doctor shone a light into his unseeing eyes, his pupils were reactive. Resuscitation efforts continued and another round of drugs were pushed. No changes were observed at the next pulse check and a fourth round of drugs as administered. His pale chest was bruised from their efforts and there a crunch with each compression. At least one rib was fractured if not broken but the nurse currently beating his heart between his sternum and his spine didn't let up her efforts. Finally, V-fib was restored and everyone stepped, but the doctor wielding the defibrillator backed away from Simon's prone body. The doctor pressed the paddles to his pale chest, "Clear!" No change. There a few beats of chest compressions as the machine charged as a fourth shock was delivered. The heart monitor showed a spike as the charge coursed through Simon, followed by another, and another as normal sinus rhythm was returned.

Once stable, Simon was left in a critical care room, hooked to a ventilator which continued to breath for him. Hugo wasn't permitted to see him until he was being transported to the ICU. Their reunion was brief. The site of his unconscious boyfriend lying so still and frail on the gurney, a respiratory therapist pumping an ambu bag to mechanically breath for him was frightening, but Hugo still leaned over and planted a kiss to Simon's forehead. "You scared the shit out of me," his hand found Simon's and gave it a squeeze that wasn’t returned. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

#resus #cpr #asthma

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trickthecloak · 4 years ago

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Whumptober 2020 Day 5

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

"C'mon," Will grit out, panting as he readjusted his friend's arm over his shoulders again. "Keeping helping me. C'mon."

Gilan was trying; however, there was only so much one could do when he had a large gash through the back of his thigh, rendering the leg practically useless. Factoring in the blood loss... Gilan was in no state to help anyone, and Will knew it.

Without warning, Gilan buckled. He'd have pulled both of them to the ground had it not been for Will's agility and reaction time. Will ended up on one knee, bracing a hand against Gilan's chest to keep him semi upright. "Gilan. Gil, hey. You're alright. C'mon- up-"

"Will," Gilan gasped out. "This isn't working."

The younger Ranger ignored the words, instead taking the time to check the rough field bandage he had thrown on Gilan's injury in a feeble attempt to stem the blood flow. The fabric was soaked through and skewed, and Will bit out a curse. Absently patting Gilan's chest a few times, Will then propped his friend against his shoulder and prepared to readjust the slipped bandage, because Gilan couldn't afford to lose anymore blood to the forest floor-

"Will, you've gotta go."

"Yeah, we're going, just give me a moment to fix this," Will replied distractedly. Gilan hissed in pain as the bandage pulled tight, reaching fingers out to insistently grab Will's sleeve. Their weak grip made Will pause and turn to meet Gilan's bloodless face. "What?"

"You have to go."

Will simply stared for a moment before his face twisted. "Don't be stupid," he snapped. "I'm not leaving you, so just stop."

Wearily wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Gilan doggedly shook his head. "They're going to catch up, and... I can't keep going."

"Yes, you can!"

Gilan gave a faint, sad smile. "No," he answered gently, sounding immensely tired. "I can't."

"Then let them come," Will snarled, drawing his saxe. Gilan's face scrunched in distress.

"No! Just get out of here! Think about Halt - you don't want to that to him, do you?" The older Ranger hissed, locking eyes with Will. For all the pain they were in, they were also alight with defiance.

Will scoffed and pulled the bandage tighter, making Gilan groan. "Don't be stupid. Halt has two apprentices, idiot. Neither of us are dying here, alright? Now, c'mon, time to back get up."

"You didn't see him after you were taken to Skandia," Gilan wheezed, breath hitching as Will yanked him back up. "You didn't see him in Arrida. He lives for you, Will. Please, just go. Better me than you."

Gilan sounded so resigned, so sincere, that for a moment Will just gaped at him. "... Why would you even say that?" he said finally said, tone heated and face horrified.

Gilan was spared from answering by the sound of rough trampling through the underbrush. Both Rangers automatically turned toward the sound, and a long moment later, Horace burst into view.

"There you two are! We couldn't find you, and the blood trail, and we had to take care of the others, and Halt is finishing up with them, and..." The knight gasped for air, eyes frantically roving up and down his two friends, at Will supporting an ashen Gilan. "Gilan. Will, what do we need?"

"Yeah, the horses are nearby, Horace, right?" Will said tightly, and Horace nodded as he moved forward to take Gilan's weight. "Good. I'm going to get them. Horace, stay here and get more compression on the wound. I'll be back soon."

If Horace noticed the tension or the way that Will refused to look at Gilan, instead passing the latter over to Horace and immediately stalking off into the trees, he didn't comment on it. Instead, the warrior pulled out his own handkerchief, and with a quick apology to a quiet Gilan, pulled it tight.

Gilan gave a pained yelp, and it was almost a mercy when he finally passed out into Horace's shoulder.

"You need to stop putting holes in yourself," Halt said, briefly resting a hand on his former apprentice's hair before retreating and settling into one of the chairs. They had tracked down a healer in a small, nearby village, and Gilan shrugged from the cot where he sat propped, the gash underside his thigh looking far more manageable now that it was carefully and neatly wrapped in crisp white bandages. He'd been lucky. "Any deeper," the healer had said in wonder and relief, "And you'd be looking at a limp for the rest of your life. As is it, you should be all right, so long as you let it heal properly."

"You're telling me," the tall Ranger said lightly in response to Halt's complaint, though there was an undercurrent of strain in his tone. Halt flicked his eyes to Will, who sat slumped in his chair with his feet propped on the small table, twirling his throwing knife between his fingers. The tension in the room was practically tangible.

Halt raised his eyebrow. "Is everything all right?"

An awkward silence followed, before Will suddenly slammed his knife flat down on the table. "No, everything's not all right. This one-" he gestured roughly to Gilan, "Tried to make me leave him today because of some stupid notion that his life is worth less than mine. He even went as far as to suggest that only my death would be upsetting to you, Halt - that he would hardly factor in at all in comparison. And as much as I would like to blame it on delirium from blood loss, I need an explanation, for my own sake, at least."

Heaving a breath, Will leaned back again and crossed his arms, eyes trained heavily on Gilan as he waited. Gilan's face had gone practically grey during Will's rant, and he opened his mouth wordlessly for a moment before closing it again, looking very much like a cornered animal under Will and Halt's stares.

It was Halt who broke the silence. "Gilan, is this true?" he asked, his expression and tone carefully blank. Halt knew Gilan would never flat out lie to him, and felt himself sink as his first apprentice withered under the question.

"It's not like that," Gilan answered finally, face hot and throat tight because it wasn't like that and he hated being on the spot like this. Halt and Will had a special relationship, everyone knew that. Gilan knew that. Will had experienced his first taste of family only when Halt had taken him as an apprentice - Halt, the first person who had truly wanted Will for being Will. And with Halt, came the Rangers, a tight knit group that was practically a family in itself... and more specifically, with Halt came Gilan, practically a built in older brother, due to Gilan's former position as Halt's apprentice. Gilan loved Will. Gilan had a family of his own and a plethora of father figures. Gilan and Halt's relationship was different - Gilan simply hadn't needed the older Ranger the way that Will did, a fact that Gilan understood and respected.

However, as much as Gilan understood that, and as much as he convinced himself that being the second favorite didn't hurt... sometimes it did.

"It's not like that," he repeated, then fluttered a hand towards the youngest Ranger. "Will is... Will. You two need each other." You wouldn't need me, hung unspoken in the air.

Halt didn't answer for a long moment, absorbing the words. "When I apprenticed you both," he said finally, "I took an oath to protect you. This oath still stands. I don't mean it lightly when I say that I would die for either of you in an instant." Halt nodded to Gilan. "I need you to understand how important you are to me."

Gilan nodded slowly, his eyes shiny. Halt leaned forward to tightly embrace the younger man. Gilan responded in kind, clinging to his mentor like a small child. Halt whispered something in his ear, and when they pulled away, Gilan was smiling.

Will leaned in for his turn, all anger -no, fear- gone from his being. "Self-sacrificial is a bad look on you," the youngest Ranger said as he firmly hugged his friend, and Gilan gave a wet laugh.

From the doorway, his arms full of food, Horace smiled. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he'd resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that he would always be a half-step behind these Rangers.

The warrior cleared his throat. "I have food. Anyone interested in a cup of coffee?"

A resounding chorus of "Always" answered, and Horace knew everything was fine.

#whumptober2020 #no.5 #on the run #ranger's apprentice #fic #injury #self deprication #i don't really like this one #i keep hurting gilan

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years ago

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Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,239

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland

AN: I need to quit fooling you people. Because the trust issues are going to get worse. Maybe this is a silver lining? Maybe? Yes? ...I’ll go away now.

Chapter 55: Sea

“Praying that we’ll remain in this desert till the end. Praying that this isn’t truly our reality.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Two Days Later Jeju Island – Seogwipo South Korea

When Taehyung first came to, he felt warmth blanketing his entire body. Every so often, a gentle brush of cool air passed over him. His limbs ached and it felt like a stone was being pressed against his chest. Breathing was a seemingly impossible task. When he could breathe, the sensation of phantom glass fragments scraped along the insides of his lungs. Coughing was a regular occurrence. Through said coughing fit was how he was able to pull himself back to consciousness.

For a moment, he believed he had, in fact, died. There was a part of him that even accepted it. But he wouldn’t have accepted it with a smile, of that he was most certain.

There were people waiting for him; people he would potentially be leaving behind.

The faces of his brothers and of the woman he loved yanked him from the abyss.

An old man sat next to him, moving a fan slowly over his body. Sweat seemed to cover him from head to toe and there was a large basin of ice beside him. Again, Taehyung coughed and tried to sit up. But the old man placed a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to lie back down on the futon. What energy he managed to muster quickly slithered out of him, the weight of exhaustion overwhelming him all over again.

Had he actually died?

“Don’t make such a fuss,” said the old man.

The stranger’s skin was bronze from being out in the sun, his worn and wrinkled hands and face gave testimony to the life he lived. His hair was a salt and pepper gray, frazzled from being whipped around in the ocean breeze just outside. Despite his seemingly austere appearance and gruff tone, his dark eyes were gentle as he continued to move the fan back and forth over Taehyung’s prone form.

Taehyung squinted slowly, the light peeling in from the window almost blinding him. He tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes, but found it more difficult than he’d anticipated. Sensing his distress, the old man shifted so his small frame could block as much of the light as he could.

“Where am I?”

The question croaked from Taehyung’s throat, surprising him. Attempting to swallow, he mentally reeled at how terrible he sounded.

He heard the man scoff, a sympathetic smirk pulling at his thin lips. “My home,” he replied simply, resting the fan on his knee, “you’ve got the devil’s luck, young man.”

Taehyung tried to smile but realized it probably looked like a grimace. “You don’t know the half of it, Oroshin.”

He watched the man’s smile widen a measure. “You’re young, but I see you still have some manners.”

Again, he attempted to sit up and failed. The old man seemed to take pity on him, reaching out with his thin arms to help him. When he was up, Taehyung winced at the tight feeling around his chest. He rubbed at it gingerly as the elder pressed a cold compress to his temple. Willing himself not to shrink back at the sudden cold, his eyes wandered around the abode to serve as a distraction.

He could tell that it was the home of a local fisherman. Quaint, humble and quiet; save for the crashing of waves along what he could only assume was the beach nearby. The salt was prevalent in the air, seeping in through what cracks existed in the house. Even though he could feel the cold wind, the floor was warm beneath him.

“Did you save me?”

Dipping the cloth into the ice water, he wrung it out and pressed it back to Taehyung’s head. “The gods saved you, my boy. You were already washed up on the shore when I stumbled across you.” He watched his eyes shifting to his shoulder and Taehyung reached up to touch the dressings over his injury. “I managed to purge the toxins out of you.”

His eyes narrowed. So it was poison, he thought angrily, shifting his gaze to the space between his knees, Lee Jooheon, you son of a bitch…

Taehyung lifted his eyes to meet the old man’s. “How long have I been out?”

“Couple of days now. The worst of it passed yesterday.”

Even though he still ached all over, Taehyung quickly shifted to sit on his knees, bowing his head low to the old man. “I’m in your debt, Oroshin.”

“Nonsense. It’s human nature to help those in need.”

Taehyung raised his head. “It’s a cruel world we live in now. Your kindness is rare in it.”

“Your view of the world is too narrow, my boy.” The old man lifted the fan and smacked Taehyung’s wrist with it. “Now enough of this. Sit comfortably.”

He did as he was told, sitting with his legs crossed in a more comfortable position. “Oroshin, I hate to burden you further, but would you mind taking me into town? I need to get back to Seoul as soon as possible.”

For an uncomfortably long moment, the old man peered at Taehyung – as if gauging what his motive was. But there was only one thing on his mind. He needed to get back to his brothers and warn them of the danger that was coming. There would still be time for them to find Eden and return her to the place she belonged.

…at Jungkook’s side.

Jooheon’s words slammed through his body like a wrecking ball, causing him to visibly shudder. Taehyung couldn’t believe it now that he was lucid. How had Jungkook managed to hide such a huge secret from them all? Then again, they’d all been so busy anticipating the moves of the Jade Fangs that a lot of things could have gone amiss. Something as small as eloping could easily be overlooked.

That didn’t mean he was any less salty about it.

When I get back, he and I are gonna have a little chat…

“Well,” cut the old man’s words through his thoughts, “it’s a good thing this washed up with you then.” He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out Taehyung’s wallet.

He bowed as he took it from him, opening to see the paper money was worthless. So were his cards. But his ID was still intact. That was the only thing that mattered. If he could prove who he was, getting money would be easy. He peered at the old man expectantly who raised his brows at him.

“I’m assuming my phone didn’t make it?” The elder shook his head and Taehyung sighed. Of course it wouldn’t have made it. That would have been the luckiest break he could get outside of being alive. “I’ll just have to buy another one.”

“Eat something and then I’ll take you to town. You can’t function on an empty stomach.”

Taehyung flashed him his best boxy smile despite the agony he continued to feel. “Thank you, Oroshin.”

After filling his stomach with three full helpings of rice, soup, and freshly caught fish, he thanked the old man profusely for his kindness. When he asked his name, the elder simply smiled and told him to come back when all his business was taken care of. Taehyung promised he would return to repay him for saving his life.

There wasn’t much time to waste. He needed to procure funds to buy a plane ticket back to Seoul. He would worry about a phone once he landed safely. Besides, Taehyung didn’t think he could handle the slew of missed calls and voicemails demanding to know of his whereabouts. He went on blind faith that everything was okay; that his brothers were able to find something out on their end since it was obvious that his own trail was a perfectly placed trap.

The flight back to Seoul was only an hour, but he felt like time crawled at an agonizingly slow pace. The time he had alone on the plane was enough to cause Taehyung to fester in his own guilt. He was angry at himself for falling for such a setup, and he was even angrier that he hadn’t seen it for what it was.

Maybe Hyungwon was right, he thought bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he stared out the window, we’ve gotten fucking soft.

But he stood by what he said. This wouldn’t have been a problem had they taken the Jade Fangs out five years ago. Sacrifices be damned. At least they could avoid the headache inducing bullshit they were suffering right now.

He replayed the scene on Dragon’s Head Cliff repeatedly. No matter how many times he thought about it, Taehyung’s conclusion was the same every single time.

…if I hadn’t dodged, whatever came at me would have hit me straight on. He frowned. They were really trying to kill me.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Curling his hands into fists on the arm rests, he closed his eyes – attempting to stave off an oncoming migraine.

They would be dealt with.

They would all be dealt with.

Taehyung wouldn’t rest until he made sure of it.

Seoul - Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

As soon as he landed in Seoul, he purchased a phone at one of the stores in the airport, activating it on the spot. There were several voicemails and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to listen to them. Now that Taehyung could confidently say he’d met the Reaper at the Gates of the Underworld and walked away, the only person he wanted to see was the woman carrying his child. He had to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming; still sleeping from the effects of the poison.

Taehyung needed just a little more reassurance that he wasn’t dead. That he wasn’t already in Hell.

Hailing a cab, he gave instructions for the driver to take him to Raelyn’s hospital. The woman was so stubborn, insistent on continuing to work as her belly continued to swell with the life in her. Taehyung told her constantly that she didn’t need to work anymore, especially while she was with child. But she was hellbent on having her way and who was he to deny her the freedom to do as she pleased?

He’d have been a fool to try.

Taehyung quickly paid the cab driver, thanking him for getting him to his destination so quickly. He raced through the parking lot, up the steps and just barely clipped his shoulders in his impatience in waiting for the sliding doors to open wide enough to give him entrance. One of Raelyn’s co-workers that he recognized spotted him, her expression forming into shock before melting to discomfort almost immediately. He skidded to a halt in front of her, blocking her path as she seemed to mentally prepare herself to flee.

“Eunsoo-ssi,” he huffed, attempting to catch his breath, “where’s Raelyn?”

She averted her eyes, shrinking back from him as he took a step toward her. Canting his head slightly, he couldn’t hide the confusion on his face. She’d never treated him like this before. In fact, he remembered her playfully doting on him like she would a younger brother. This sudden standoffishness seemed a little unwarranted.

“She…” Eunsoo paused, taking a breath, before lifting her face to meet his gaze. Her brows were furrowed harshly and he could swear that her eyes looked glassier than they had just a few seconds ago. “She’s at the funeral hall.”

Taehyung frowned. “Why?”

“I’m sorry, I have to finish my rounds.”

Eunsoo quickly bowed, side-stepping him to disappear around the corner to the next hall. His gaze followed her as he was left in the main lobby alone.

What the hell is going on? he thought as he made his way toward the elevators. Pressing the button to give him entrance, he pressed the button that led to the mortuary floor where funeral services were typically held. Did something happen to one of their co-workers?

It didn’t take him long to make it to the funeral hall. Various other families were dressed in their traditional mourning attire and rows of wreaths with white carnations lined the walls. White ribbons hung from them, traditional hangul printed on them with the names of the deceased. He barely took notice of them, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of Raelyn.

The weight of sorrow that filled the hall was palpable, making the uncomfortable feeling welling up in his chest almost unbearable. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but Taehyung swore that a dark cloud of dread was hanging over him. He quickly shook his head, attempting to chase the nagging voices from his mind.

This was crazy. He needed to get his head together.

Just as he took another step, he stopped as someone dashed out of one of the rooms. He blinked when he realized the woman dressed in a traditional white mourning garb was Jimin’s older sister. She covered her mouth, smothering a sob, and Taehyung could only blink when she paused just seconds before colliding into him. It seemed to take her a moment to recognize who he was, as it did him for her. Her face was puffy and swollen from all the crying she’d done.

“N-Noona,” Taehyung stammered out, an icy sensation slithering down his spine, “what are you doing here?”

Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably, her hands reaching out to grasp at the sleeves of his jacket. “Oh, Taehyung-ah,” she choked out, curling her fingers into his arms, “Jimin-ie…he…he…”

Slowly, he craned his neck to peer at the three wreaths lining the walls just outside the room she’d vacated from. He read the names on each of the ribbons draped over the wreaths. Taehyung’s heart froze for half a second before slamming viciously against his chest.

“No way,” he murmured, looking back at Jimin’s sister, “…Noona.”

Instead of answering him, he watched her collapse to her knees – a wailing sound bursting from her. Taehyung heard his very soul shattering as he pivoted on his heels, his legs carrying him into the mourning chamber.

It was crowded, bodies shuffling around as people cried or whispered among themselves. Taehyung didn’t bother removing his shoes as he stepped up onto the small landing. He saw Raelyn out of the corner of his eye. She was the first one to spot him, making her way toward him. But instead of relishing in the comfort of her embrace, the very thing he had so desperately been seeking out since he’d woken up, Taehyung stepped just out of her reach. His eyes focused on the three portraits situated on the table where various foods and flowers were placed.

“Taehyung-ah.” Seokjin called to him, but his voice sounded muffled from the incessant buzzing in his ears. He heard him say his name again and he still couldn’t hear it well.

All he could focus on were the smiling faces of Jungkook, Eden, and Jimin looking back at him from the black frames encasing their visages.

As he took another step, he saw someone move to step in his path – blocking his view of the pictures. When he lifted his eyes, he was now staring into Hoseok’s stern face.

“Where have you been?”

Taehyung continued to stare at Hoseok, blinking slowly as his mind attempted to catch up. He opened his mouth to speak and found he couldn’t find the words.

“We thought you were dead.”

The phrase shook Taehyung; rattling his bones. He visibly flinched, took a breath, then glared up at his older brother.

“Hyung,” he finally managed to say, his voice dropping a full octave, “what is this?” Raising a hand, he pointed to the side of him and gave a wide flourish to the entire scene surrounding them. “What the fuck is this?”

A hand fell on his arm and he felt Raelyn’s swollen belly pressed against his side. She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, suppressing a sob as she pulled him close. His body felt stiff, like he’d turned into a marble statue. This was all some joke. It had to be. There was no way that any of this was real.

“How?”

“The Jade Fangs were responsible,” cut in Seokjin.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way that—”

Yoongi sighed gently. “You told us her location, Taehyung-ah.”

It was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his body.

“W-What?” That was impossible. He hadn’t been able to obtain that information. “I didn’t—”

“We realize that now,” added Namjoon. When Taehyung glanced at him, he nearly hiccupped at the dark expression painted over his brother’s face. “They texted us from your phone. It was all a setup from the start.”

Again, silence filled the small space around them save for the members of Jimin’s family who came, as well as friends.

“They’re gone, Taehyung-ah.”

Twisting his face to look back at Hoseok, he noticed his other brothers crowding around him in a semicircle. It wasn’t until his vision went out of focus that Taehyung realized he was now crying.

“What?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do—”

Hoseok’s face softened, his brows furrowing before he closed his eyes. “They’re gone.”

The sun slowly set over Seoul’s cityscape. Lights blinked with life in succession, illuminating the darkness. Taehyung listlessly stared out over the vast expanse while standing on the hospital’s rooftop, lips puckered out while indulging on a sucker. He didn’t remember running from the mourning chamber. He didn’t remember banging his knee on the steps as he tripped over his own feet upon his ascent.

No one chased after him. They knew better. They knew he would likely implode if they did.

Taehyung didn’t stay for the cremation process. He would have thrown himself into the flames right along with them. Selfish? Of course he was. He was man enough to admit that all he could see was red.

Pulling out his phone, he crushed the candy between his teeth. Scrolling through the numerous voicemails left by Hoseok, he stopped until he saw Jimin’s name. His thumb hovered over his name, trembling, before he pressed down on the screen.

It automatically played the message on speaker mode.

“Ya, Kim Taehyung,” came Jimin’s voice from the receiver.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, hearing the pained chuckle that followed.

“…you son of a bitch. How could you just take off for the gates of the Underworld alone? Huh?”

His grip tightened on the phone, feeling his arm shaking from the force of his hold. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence before he heard Jimin speak again.

“Don’t even think about stirring up a bunch of shit without me. Jungkook and I will be there soon.”

Without any warning, Taehyung fell to his knees. The phone fell with a clatter beside him as his hands gripped onto the roof’s railing. His whole body shook, his silent sobs rattling through him. The tears that streamed from his face were hot and thick. He swore he could feel his own blood leaking from his eyes.

Jungkook.

Jimin.

Eden.

They were gone.

Mercilessly ripped away from the life they more than deserved to live.

Someone had to answer for this.

Someone was going to answer for this.

“I’ll make them pay,” he growled, glaring at the landscape as he ground his teeth together, “I swear to your God, Jimin-ah…”

I’ll fucking kill them all.

6 notes · View notes

shellyeah90 · 4 years ago

Text

I don't usually post personal or even opinionated things. I primarily use social media for the memes and my preferred form of communication while here is gifs. But, to put things simply (because there aren't words to fully express my feelings), I am pissed.

Our state is in crisis and instead of handling the situation, Texas citizens have been failed in so many ways. No one here was ready for this storm. Hurricanes, we can handle. They happen yearly. But a statewide winter storm? We've never had one here. The cold, the ice, the windy chill... we don't know how to function in it. Other areas who are used to this weather can poke fun, but maybe consider hunkering down in your home because there's too many people to evacuate the city, being stuck while your power goes out and there are 130mph winds outside, watching helplessly while water rises above your roofs and ruins everything you've worked so hard for all of your life, and wondering just how you're going to keep your family safe long enough to catch a boat out. Because we do that shit. And it gets worse every year, but we keep working together to keep each other safe and help each other out. We smile and are friendly with each other, but we don't make fun of people in helpless situations.

Texas citizens aren't equipped for winter storms. We don't have snow tires, snow plows, or salt trucks. Our clothes aren't very warm, they're not snow or wind resistant, we don't typically use gloves, scarves, or whatever other accessories are used in snow. And we wear the same shoes in winter that we wear for any other season. Our homes aren't insulated for cold. Our pipes aren't insulated for ice. Our winters don't generally fall below 60°F and we're not prepared for it to.

So, when climate change (yes, it's real) took it's toll and brought a real winter to our state, it became a crisis... a statewide disaster, even. And the leaders that we rely on, the ones that were voted into office and are paid for by our taxes, not only failed their state, but showed calloused disregard for their citizens.

On 8am Monday morning, my husband and I lost power. And, with our water being sourced from a well, we had no access to water, either. At the time, we still had cell service and were in contact with friends that had lost power at 2am. It was approximately 25°F outside. At the time, it was 68°F inside of our house.

Hearing that the Super Stop on the corner of North Main and Cedar Bayou Lynchburg was open, my husband and a neighbor walked down together. The roads were iced and it was too risky to drive. They arrived to find that the owner was charging cash only and not using his computer (no paper trail) so that he could charge double for everything. $7 for a 24 pack of bottled water. $14 for a 4lb bag of charcoal. It is baffling how someone can take advantage of a terrible situation. It sickens me. But we needed water. And our neighbor needed charcoal. So price gouging continues in a vicious cycle.

We don't have children, but we keep many different exotic animals that need certain climate conditions in order to survive. It took two hours for the inside of our house to drop 18 degrees, down to 50°F, reaching deadly levels for most of our pets.

Our bearded dragon (Merlin), no longer having his heat sources, slipped into brumation. He is 3 years old and has never had to brumate before. Our pixie frog (Prince Charming, also 3yrs), burrowed down and began to hibernate for the first time. It was too dark for us to check on the red-eyed crocodile skinks (Big and Red) or the Vietnamese centipede (Burton), but they had seemed to burrow, as well. We couldn't see the axlotls (Silly and Willy) but we believed they were okay. Our green bottle blue tarantula (Pennywise), curled up and died. We blocked the windows to try and keep the cold from coming in and covered up habitats to try and keep in warmth. The green cheek conure (Jigsaw) and parrotlet (Navi) seemed to be well, just stressed and confused. We gave them extra seeds to keep them warm. The rats (Hannibal, Dorian, and Bilbo) huddled to keep each other warm. We had already blocked off the outdoor aviary containing a pair of finches and a pair of parakeets for the colder weather and they were all nesting to keep warm. The day before, my husband had brought in a half-frozen, near-dead lizard (Draco) and he was alive but not well in his temporary rescue home. The dogs (Kuzco and Lulu) and I all bundled together as we waited (and prayed) for our power to come back on soon.

The power did not come back on. And the temperature continued to drop. Still cuddled together, we could only hope that the inside of our poorly insulated home would at least stay above freezing point. But it did not. After a horrible night of silent, shivering attempts to sleep, we found that our house was at 32°F exactly.

The birds are my husband's babies. They've bonded and he loves them dearly. And as I was tending to my dogs, I had to watch him come out of his office cradling Navi in his hands. He had tears in his eyes when he murmured "Navi didn't make it." And it took everything that I had to hold myself together for him.

I waited until he went back into his office, still holding Navi, to be with Jigsaw before I checked on Merlin. To my horror, my bearded dragon was no longer just brumating. He wasn't just limp and unresponsive. He was frozen stiff. He wasn't moving at all. He was gone.

In a desperate effort to save their lives I called for my husband to go to the car with me. We bundled them in blankets and rushed to the only place where we could find warmth. With the car's heater on full blast we both held our beloved pets and prayed for a miracle. In our rush of panic, we both made attempts at compressions. We petted our babies to get their blood flowing. We did everything that we could think of to save them.

I remember holding my breath when I thought I saw Merlin take his. I watched closely to make sure that I wasn't seeing things. And when I saw his spikes moving and his stomach shakily inhale and then slowly exhale, I shouted excitedly "he's breathing!" My husband, also excited, leaned over to see. And we smiled at each other when the breathing continued. I watched my dragon revive. And I will never be able to describe the extreme sense of relief that I felt when he finally opened his eyes and looked at me.

Our little Navi and my sweet husband were not as lucky. And my heart is still breaking for them.

With a new sense of fear and loss, we brought our creatures into our bedroom and shut all of the doors. We stuffed clothes under the gaps in the doors. We blocked the windows as best as we could. We cuddled and bundled and just hoped that we wouldn't lose anyone else. There in the dark, freezing silence, we also discovered that cell service was shoddy, at best. We had no communication and no connection with the outside world, which seemed to have frozen over in an apocalyptic nightmare, we waited and hoped that power would come back soon. It had been more that 24hours, after all. Surely the electric companies would have figured out how to actually roll the blackouts by then, right? They had promised rolling blackouts. They had said it would be 30-45 minutes. That would have been well enough for everyone. We could have survived that. My babies could have survived that. My home wouldn't have become a freezing death trap if the blackouts were rolling. But they didn't roll. I had friends that never lost power. I had friends that went without it longer than we did. And all we could do was hold our beloved pets and wait.

By some luck, my husband and his brother were able to text each other, even though our cell phones were basically useless, and he invited us to his home. They had a generator. They had running water. They had warmth. Hope was on the horizon. But roads were still icy and chances of making it safely were slim. With our pets so at risk, and some barely alive, we felt we had no other choice. We loaded up the car with Merlin, Prince Charming, Jigsaw, the dogs, and whatever food we could fit. We didn't even pack clothes for ourselves. We just wanted to fit as many of our animals as we could and some food since they said they were low.

My husband fed Silly and Willy, making sure they ate. We read they could survive freezing temperatures and hoped they would be okay until we returned, whenever that would be. I filled up every bowl of food in my rats' cage and every water bottle, guessing it would last 2-3 days and hoping they could keep each other warm. It was still too dark to see my burrowed skinks and centipede. We tried to place everyone, including Draco, in the warmest areas (although with the house below freezing, there was no place that could be considered warm). We gave the outdoor birds as much food and water as we could. Every window was covered and every door was shut. We did everything that we could think of to protect our pets.

Stressed, weary, and down-trodden, we began the drive across Houston. Many roads were closed. GPS was down. Texts and calls weren't guaranteed to make it through. And there were so many people that still sped along the roads as if there weren't ice caked over it. We watched vehicles slide. We watched people, not knowing how to react, slam on their brakes when they lost traction. We kept our distance from other drivers and drove slowly, carefully, to our destination. We just wanted to keep our family safe and alive. And, fortunately, we only hit ice twice and both times we made it safely back to traction. A trip that usually takes about an hour with traffic took us over two with no traffic. But we made it.

Our sister-in-law was waiting for us in their standalone office where she had prepared a heater and space for our creatures. They set it up because it was warmer than anywhere in the house. And they diverted energy from their generator just for our pets. Uncomfortable and in tiny, traveling enclosures, our babies were lined up on their desk. They were far from home and didn't have their UV lights, basking lights, giant habitats, or familiar surroundings. But they were alive. And they were warm.

Relieved that at least some of our babies were well, we focused on getting the dogs settled and unpacking the food. We had brought nearly everything from our fridge and freezer, which we had saved by simply opening the doors and letting the chill of our house keep it cool when the power went out. Now we were packing it in snow to keep it cold. I went inside to comfort my dogs. Kuzco, my 10mo shepsky, is very skittish and I was worried about how he was doing. He and Lulu, my 8wk aussierottie (whom I had only gotten a few days before), had been quarantined in the dining room with the table being used as a wall. Kuzco couldn't see anything but the occasional child coming up to say hello. He was happy for the company but scared of the dark. As I was trying to comfort him, my husband came inside and said "you need to come and hold your dragon again." And the sound of his voice and the look on his face had me nearly breaking my leg to get out of that barricade and to my Merlin.

Between the rush of packing in the dark and the stress of everything we'd been through, I'd forgotten a few important things: Kuzco's calming treats, thermometers, hygrometers, and my contacts (my glasses are several years old and I can't really see well with them). We had been so relieved at having a warm space for our babies and having finally arrived there safely, that we hadn't realized the office was not yet warm enough for them. At least, it wasn't warm enough for Merlin.

He had been licking at the air, so I knew that he was dry. In my concern, I mixed water in with his fresh soil so that he could have some humidity. Again, I had forgotten the necessary tools to measure his heat and humidity, so I was just guessing. And in these mistakes, the damp soil got cold faster than the office could get warm and he began to freeze again.

I found my dragon brumating once again. This time, he was only partially stiff, so I knew that he hadn't left me yet. I held him close to my chest and sat in front of the heater, once again trying to revive him. We also placed the soil in front of the heater to warm it up and dry it out a bit. Eventually, Merlin became alert again. But I was sick at having gone through so much, come so far, reaching what I thought was safety, and almost losing him again.

After making sure that he and his soil were okay, I again had to leave him to tend to my dogs. My husband was busy with Jigsaw and the unpacking. Prince Charming, fortunately, was doing just fine. I made sure both puppies ate, drank, and pottied outside. And, after a long, damn near impossible day, my husband and I were able to sleep. Or rather, we were able to attempt to sleep.

I will never be able to thank my in-laws enough for everything that they did for us. They have 4 children and 2 dogs of their own. And they had their mom and her cat staying in their living room. It was already stressful for them to not have power when they had their own family to care for. But they took ours in, as well. And I will always be beyond grateful for that.

That night, in my nieces' bedroom, I held my dogs and wondered if I would have to endure the loss of anymore of my babies. And as I tried to find sleep, my Kuzco began to hyperventilate. He had just lost his brother, my Xander, a week before. And now he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people where he had to be isolated because the cat was not a fan of strange dogs (she literally went out of her way to attack him, even when he was barricaded). And my dumbass had forgotten his calming treats. All I could do was hold him tight and tell him it was okay. It took a while, but I finally got him to sleep. My husband set alarms and got up every two hours to check our other babies in the office and make sure that the generator was full and running properly. I don't think either of us really slept that night.

The next day, we checked with our neighbor and landlord to find that we still did not have power at our house. And my in-laws' house had lost water pressure the night before. Everyone in Houston had. So now, there were masses without power, without water, without cell service, and without the necessary means to survive the freezing temperatures that were now not only outside, but inside most homes.

On top of the obvious stress, my typical anxiety was kicking in. On a good day, I struggle to be social. And these were not good days. I was a guest in someone's home and I couldn't express how thankful I was because I felt so exhausted from all of the stress, grief, and constant fear. I felt terrible for feeling terrible. But I couldn't force myself to smile or be happy when I wasn't even sure who would survive or for how long. With the roads constantly melting and refreezing and more sleet/rain on the way, I wasn't even sure when we could get home or if we would have power when we needed to go home. I had left pets that I loved and the ones that I had brought with me were still not guaranteed to make it.

My in-laws were still so accommodating. But they wouldn't really let us help to clean or cook and that made us feel worse. In my anxiety, I kept thinking that I was in the way or that I was upsetting everyone. I still do. I don't like depending on anyone. It's an awful feeling. But in this case, it was necessary. I had no other choice, because I couldn't bear to lose another of my precious babies. I couldn't bear to see my husband's face or hear his voice crack as he told me we lost another one. Not if I could help it. I would do whatever I could to take care of them.

I took a moment of reprieve to watch Kuzco play in the snow. I hate the cold. But shivering out there, the feeling of needles pricking over my body and the cold burn of the wind as it cut through my 4 layers of pajamas and sweats, was worth it to watch my shepsky in his own winter wonderland. He ran around in their ice and snow covered backyard as if it were a mystical land and every icy slide and snowy mound were a magical discovery. And when he saw the snow flurries began to fall from the sky his furry face lit up with pure joy. I watched my happy not-so-little puppy excitedly jump up and try to catch the snowflakes in his mouth. His blue eyes were so bright and brilliant. And we both came alive in that moment. I wish we could have stayed there. But the snow turned to downpours of sleet and, unfortunately, we had to go back inside.

I had planned to keep my dogs in the office with me that day, but they were kind enough to put the pets on rotation, so my dogs were no longer confined. They were able to stretch their legs in the house and play with my nieces and nephews. They played fetch and they wrestled and they even played with balloons. The girls taught Kuzco how to keep the balloons from hitting the ground. It was fun to watch him jump up and boop the balloons with his nose whenever they called his name. Meanwhile, my pets in the office all seemed to be well. They were alert and lively. I still had no way of knowing their temperature or humidity level. But it looked like they would all pull through. Kuzco still had his moments where he would panic. It was a busy house with lots of people coming in and out (and even the generator scared him), but we gave him some extra love and calmed him down each time.

That night, the power flickered on for about an hour before going out again. Our landlord said that ours, too, had been on for a bit before going right back out. The rest of the week was still showing freezing temps, but maybe the powers that be were finally starting to figure out how to actually handle this crisis. Later, the water pressure increased. And, late that night, as we lied in bed and tried to sleep, the power came on. And it stayed on.

I didn't sleep. With wifi, I was able to pull up the security system to our house and see that we, too, had power. And I watched it through the night. There was movement in my rats' cage. I couldn't see how much food or water they had left, but they were still alive. I checked the temperature and watched it rise as the heater stayed on. Excited, I waited for my husband to wake up so I could tell him. I wanted to go home. I wanted all of us to go home. I had babies to check on and they all needed to get back into their controlled climates with a healthy supply of food and water. We all craved a feeling of normalcy.

My phone began to show notifications again... all of these emails and gaming things that reminded me the world was still out there, spinning like it should be, while my world had stopped and frozen still. For a while I was angry. How could things outside of my winter apocalypse still be happening normally? How could the rest of the world just keep on moving while I had just been struggling to keep my family alive? And then I saw memes and jokes on social media. And I got angrier. My family had been devastated. And I know I'm not the only one. I can't be the only one to have lost loved ones. I can't be the only one to have watched loved ones suffer. I can't be the only one to have stressed and worried about what's going to happen and what I'm going to do if/when it does. And yet there are people out there laughing at our situation. While families struggle to stay warm, to find food and water, to make it without the GPS, data, and communication that we're all accustomed to, to care for their elderly and disabled, to keep their children from crying and their pets from dying... there are actually people making jokes about it. Yet when our corner of the world gets record breaking winds and floods we step up and help each other. Companies do what they can to help the people. Employers cut their employees slack. And the rest of the world watches in awe. This is a record breaking storm for us, one that we were in no way equipped to deal with. And instead of empathy and aid, we're getting ridiculed? The only ones I see giving a shit are the people. The citizens that have been affected by this unprecedented crisis are all offering to do what they can while the government, power companies, and water companies make excuses. It's bullshit.

Our power was out from 8am on Monday morning to 10p on Wednesday night. For approximately 62 hours my home had no climate control. I have no way of knowing how cold it actually got inside. But below freezing is unacceptable. And to find out that there were some who went without even longer while some never lost it at all... who fucked up? Because someone surely did. And don't let them blame their failure to roll a blackout on a bad grid. They were just too lazy to figure out another solution.

We arrived home to piece back together what we could and try to reestablish our sense of selves. What had only been a few days felt like weeks of walking around in a living nightmare. The outside birds were still chirping. Draco actually survived and, due to our TLC, is better now than when we found him. Burton is hibernating (there's some sluggish movement, so I know he's alive) and I hope he wakes up soon. Silly and Willy are just fine. Hannibal, Dorian, and Bilbo are all okay, they just need some cuddles and de-stressing time. Big and Red froze to death. I found their stiff bodies near each other and in their ivy plant.

Due to fluctuating temperatures, we lost all of the food that we did not eat at our in-laws'. And most of the roach and cricket colonies that we use as feeders for our pets have been wiped out.

We have Merlin, Jigsaw, and Prince Charming back in their habitats. Charming and Merlin are grumpy, but they've eaten and they're well. Jigsaw is back to normal. Kuzco has finally calmed down and is happy to be home. And Lulu is completely clueless about the entire situation.

But this situation cannot die. It cannot go without resolution. Something needs to be done. For years, Texas has been told to fix the power grid. Texas insists on having its own so that they can avoid federal regulation. This is at the cost of being able to rely on the rest of the country and use its energy when we need it. All because Texas wants to be like the middle-aged husband holding out hope that he'll one day divorce his wife. Here's the thing Texas: your ugly ass wife is the only one who will tolerate you and you're too fucking helpless to take care of yourself. So stop buying those pretty, young things in the bar those drinks and then crying because they won't go home with you. Stop wasting your money on those hot rods. And own up to the fact that you need to work on yourself to be happy. Fix your fucking power grid and stop playing the blame game! Also, do something about the water situation. Take care of your damn kids. They shouldn't be struggling to survive, dammit.

Gas stations and grocery stores are empty wastelands of ruined food where people scour to find whatever they can to make due. Everyone's resources were destroyed from loss of power. And trucks haven't been able to get through the icy roads to resupply.

One winter storm should not send a civilized society into the stone age. It doesn't matter where you're at, your government should be prepared. Your elected officials are supposed to be taking care of this shit, not running their mouths. Meanwhile, there's an audacious mayor who grew such a big mouth he was forced to resign. The vote got Tim Boyd into office, folks. And here's what he has to say:

"The City and County, along with power providers or any other service owes you NOTHING! I’m sick and tired of people looking for a damn hand out! If you don’t have electricity you step up and come up with a game plan to keep your family warm and safe. If you have no water you deal with out and think outside of the box to survive and supply water to your family. If you were sitting at home in the cold because you have no power and are sitting there waiting for someone to come rescue you because your lazy is direct result of your raising! Only the strong will survive and the week will perish."

Yeah, he must have forgotten that those people he's bitching about are the ones that elected him into office and that they pay the taxes for his salary. And, in case anyone was doubting it, it is, IN FACT, the city and county's job to take care of its citizens. A government's basic functions are providing leadership, maintaining order, providing public services, providing national security, providing economic security, and providing economic assistance. And, as far as power providers and other services, I have contracts and I make payments. So YES, they owe me exactly what I pay for: the electricity, water, and cell service that they agreed to give me in the contracts that we both signed. So, Tim Boyd, as much as you try to backtrack and say you didn't mean it and you wish you could rephrase everything, we all know the truth is that you're just an idiot who doesn't give a fuck. I wonder how long you went without electricity. I wonder if you worried how long your family would survive. I wonder if you cried and had to bury any loved ones. This "week" will surely perish. It will be behind us, along with all of the other bad weeks that we've seen come and go. And so will you. Good riddance. You can spend your free time working on your grammar and spelling.

As far as Ted "Fled" Cruz goes, I hope he gets impeached. He sat by and watched while his state fell to shit, while his citizens suffered, and then he flew to fucking Cancun. Sure, he can say he was just dropping off his family, but we all know he only came back because he was getting flak for it. Do you know how many parents had to comfort their children in the freezing cold darkness of their quiet homes? Do you know how many scared families had no way out and no where to go? These are your citizens! And this is all after he actually made fun of California for their grid, knowing that ours needed to be fixed, knowing that we would suffer when disaster hit. He was elected to be our leader and he failed us so spectacularly. Where was the guidance for the power companies? Where was the communication? Where is the aid? People were unable to work and unable to provide for their families. And no one is offering to help them. Our resources have been diminished. What is the game plan?

And not only were there people taking advantage and price gouging during this dreadful time, but it continues to go blatantly unchecked. Plumbers are charging $800+ just to look at a problem with no guarantee of solving it. Gas station owners are marking everything up when they know people can't afford to not buy. And even the power companies are talking about charging more for the electricity that was used this past week, because it was in "high demand."

I will say that Xfinity gave us a credit on the days that our power was out, knowing that we were unable to use it. And my brother-in-law, who owns his own renovation company, is giving free consultations. He doesn't even give estimates until he's sure about the issue. And my aunts, who have always been such a blessing to us, were sweet enough to send us a door dash gift card so that we wouldn't have to worry about shopping right away.

And I cannot say enough how thankful I am to my brother and sister-in-law for providing us with a sanctuary for our babies. They were going through enough on their own and still, they invited us over and gave us warmth and safety. It was nice seeing them, my nieces, nephews, and near-mom-in-law, even under the circumstances. I'm sorry I couldn't be better company.

In the meantime, to all of you who went through it during this awful crisis, my heart is with you. What happened to the people of Texas during this weather is beyond unfair. It is intolerably savage. We deserve better. We deserve elected officials who care about us enough to step up and take care of us during a disaster, and not just when the media is on them. We deserve to get what we pay for and have our contracts honored. We deserve to have a power grid that can sustain us when we need it most. We deserve to have blackouts rolled instead of just having half the grid shutdown to fend for itself. We deserve to have a water supply that we can rely on. We deserve to have the cell service that we pay for. We should never be kept in the dark and in the cold.

This should have been a fun time for us. We see snow once every few years, if we're lucky. We should have been out there with our sweatshirts and sweatpants, sledding down the streets on whatever we could find, from trash can lids to screen doors. We should have been building icy snowmen and making snow angels. But instead, most of us were just trying to survive. We were running out of laundry and using every blanket that we had to keep our families warm. We were wondering if the food would make it and rigging ways to prepare it. We were scrambling to find water. We were worrying and trying to get in touch with friends and family with phones that were, at best, battery-draining flashlights. If we had generators, we were still struggling and conserving gas because there was none left at any of the stations. And if there was, the stations didn't have power to access it. And there are many more experiences that I'm sure I'm not covering because I was fortunate enough not to have to live through it all. But my heart aches. It aches for everyone that had to endure this tragedy that none of us should have had to endure.

My husband and I are still recovering. And this is far from over. But if anyone needs it, we'll help if we can. Just reach out. If anything, we can all be here for one another. Fuck Texas. It's not the state or the city that takes care of us, obviously. It's each other. We have always been able to awe and inspire with how we step up and take care of our fellow citizens. And that's just what we'll do.

For anyone interested in my sources or further reading, here you go:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electric_Reliability_Council_of_Texas

https://www.texastribune.org/2021/02/18/texas-power-outages-ercot/

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2021/02/17/texas-power-grid-why-state-has-its-own-operated-ercot/6782380002/

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2021/02/18/state-energy-winter-protections-lacking-reports-have-suggested/4490501001/

https://ktxs.com/news/local/colorado-city-mayor-resigns-after-controversial-facebook-post

https://www.cnn.com/2021/02/18/politics/ted-cruz-cancun-texas-disaster-electricity-power-water/index.html

https://www.cnn.com/2021/02/19/politics/ted-cruz-cancun-texas/index.html

https://www.chron.com/news/houston-texas/article/Ted-Cruz-Twitter-California-blackouts-energy-power-15953893.php

https://www.cnbc.com/2021/02/17/how-the-texas-power-grid-failed-and-what-could-stop-it-from-happening-again.html

https://www.kvue.com/article/news/local/texas-ercot-power-outage-energy-demand-price-change/269-53ab63e2-8dcf-4485-8b9b-be6ad75316b4

https://www.curbed.com/2021/02/texas-blackouts-energy-grid-failure.html

https://www.texastribune.org/2021/02/17/texas-power-grid-failures/

https://www.chron.com/news/houston-texas/article/Ted-Cruz-Twitter-California-blackouts-energy-power-15953893.php

#texas #winter #winterstorm #statewidedisaster #statewidecrisis #tedcruz #fledcruz #timboyd #poweroutage #blackout #epicfail

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spookyceph · 4 years ago

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I posted all my ShigaDabi Week entries on Ao3, so now it's time to catch up here.

Day 4 | Trust

Summary: Tomura and the League arrive at Deika City to face Re-Destro. But first, Dabi has some explaining to do.

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: Swearing, mild blood

Burn a Bridge, Build a Raft

“This is the place, huh? Not too big, not too small.”

Tomura knew he should look down the hill and see whether Spinner’s assessment of Deika City measured up. After all, it had been his decision to come here, both to rescue Giran and end the stalemate with Gigantomachia. If the others wound up dead, crushed by Sensei’s still-loyal servant or picked off by these Meta Liberation Losers, it would be because they’d followed him.

Well. Except for one.

“Man…why did I get dragged into this?” Wincing, Dabi clasped a hand to the back of his neck.

Though Tomura hadn’t seen him since he’d fucked off to test high-end nomus almost two months—two shittygruelingmiserablegoddamnedlonely months—ago he noticed something was amiss immediately. Details no one else would pick up on because, frankly, no one else had been waiting six weeks to receive word—just one little I’m alive, or sorry, or didn’t mean to abandon you lol—from the stapled sack of shit. Details like how flushed his unscarred skin looked. The amount of dust clinging to his coat. How his balance wavered, one boot almost tangling with the other, as he barely sidestepped Twice’s measuring tape while being hollered at for his callous attitude toward Giran’s plight. The fact he’d upset Jin to begin with proved the whole situation had gone sideways.

No one else noticed. But no one else knew Dabi like he did.

“Stop.” Tomura’s voice cracked through the air like a rifle shot. Everybody froze, gazes leaping to him. Everybody but one.

“Compress,” he continued, losing some of his volume but none of his command.

The magician snapped to attention, hastily securing his mask back over his face. “Er, yes?”

Not taking his eyes from Dabi, Tomura held out one hand. “Water.”

“Ah! Oh. Of course.” Compress didn’t even attempt to hide the relief in his voice at being off the hook. Taking a marble from one of his coat’s many pockets, he converted it back into their canteen and passed it over.

With his empty hand, he pointed to Dabi, then over at the line of trees marking the forest border. “You. Go sit.”

“Oooo,” crowed Toga. “Someone’s in trouble…”

Dabi blinked, switching a bewildered stare between her and Tomura’s finger. Some sense of meaning must’ve sunk in because, eventually, a dent appeared in the middle of his eyebrows and he plodded his way toward the spot indicated.

No one dared utter a word when Tomura stalked after him.

Dabi halted at the first tree he came to, gawking up at it like he’d never seen such a thing before. He didn’t even register Tomura holding a hand up near his cheek. Scalding heat rolled off scarred and unmarked skin alike, as suspected.

“Goddamn it, you’re burning up. Take your coat off.”

Again, like a deer in headlights. The already brilliant blue of Dabi’s eyes shone brighter still—practically incandescent. Feverish. Unfocused. Resisting the urge to just Decay the damn thing right off him, Tomura pushed the heavy garment from his wayward partner’s shoulders and helped him shrug free of it. His fingers showed blister-red after handling the leather; no doubt touching any of the metal reinforcing the sleeves would’ve earned a first- or even second-degree burn. He dropped the coat to the leaf-littered ground.

“Sit.”

This command proved easier to grasp. With no hint of his usual poise, Dabi plopped down, crumpling against the tree’s trunk. Tomura knelt beside him and held out the canteen.

“Drink.”

Slowly, as if afraid the container might bite, Dabi lifted it to his lips and sipped. Instinct took over at that point. Eyes going wide, then squeezing shut, he tilted his head back and guzzled the rest. Panting, he took a moment to catch his breath. When he reopened his eyes, clarity and personality had returned, if with weariness tagging along behind.

“Hey, mophead.”

Two words, spoken in that familiar, quiet, and currently cracked voice, nearly accomplished what a month and a half of constant fighting and sleep deprivation hadn’t. Tomura didn’t break, though. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t make a sound. He didn’t reduce the tree to splinters by smashing Dabi’s skull through it. He didn’t Decay the sheepish smile off his (stupid handsome fuckinghatehimsomuch) face. Neither did he give in to the impulse to collapse into the scarred arms that would’ve caught him and never let go. He couldn’t afford to. Every iota of rage and pain and razor-edged glee needed to be reserved for whatever Re-Destro had waiting for them at the bottom of the hill. To expend any of it now could cost him or the rest of the League their lives. So, Tomura corralled his stampeding emotions with a temporary fence of practicality.

“Can you fight?” His tone came out blander than stale bread.

Dabi’s smile dwindled. He scanned Tomura’s face for any sign that his presence meant more than an extra pair of boots on the ground. Catching none, he took a long inhale and settled into tight-lipped resignation.

“Yeah. Got a little piss and vinegar left in me. What’re we up against?”

“An army of deluded morons. The usual. We’ll need to keep them distracted for about an hour and a half.”

“What happens after the clock runs down?”

“Gigantomachia shows up and proves their philosophy is a pile of shit like everyone else’s.”

That dropped Dabi’s jaw. “You’re still fighting that thing?”

“What’d you think we were doing out in the middle of nowhere? Meditating and earning merit?” Tomura snapped before cursing himself. The sneaky bastard had always had a knack for poking his emotional pressure points—for getting him to do exactly what he swore he wouldn’t. Collecting himself, he wiped his expression clean again.

“Are you going to be any use here or do you need to sit this out?”

Blue eyes searched for cracks in Tomura’s resolve. As perverse luck would have it, he noticed the tracks of rusty red smeared down Dabi’s cheeks at that moment. They’d seeped like tears from the drooping scars that made up his lower lids. More crusted the staples in his chin and near the hinges of his jaw. Tomura’s stomach writhed like a dying animal. What the fuck had Ujiko been making him do? Had he been testing the nomu by fighting the damn things?

As if reading his thoughts, Dabi touched the bloody streaks. “Whatever you need me to do, consider it done.” A pause. No—a hesitation. “I just have a couple of things to say first. If you, uh, want to hear them.”

This asshole…Tomura had to curl his hands into fists to keep from clawing at his neck. Telling him to shove it sideways with no lube would be satisfying in the present, but Tomura knew, just like Dabi did—just like he’d counted on—the mystery would turn into a distraction he couldn’t allow. Worse, if one of them survived this battle and the other didn’t…He yanked his focus back before his imagination could drag it down into that abyss. The exasperation in his sigh didn’t need to be exaggerated.

“Fine. Out with it.” He wouldn’t go away with any regrets—let Dabi carry them all if he wanted.

“Okay. First item is my family name. It’s Todoroki.”

Every calculated reaction he had lined up imploded, leaving Tomura’s mind a void.

A grim little smile spread across Dabi’s face. “You didn’t know. I’m surprised.”

Tomura shook his head to get the gears turning again. “I…suspected. After you told me your given name. Especially watching how you acted after All Might retired.” Endeavor’s rise to the number one spot on the hero rankings and Dabi’s new habit of leaving the charred corpses of low-level villains littered around the city had started too close to each other to be coincidence. A powerful fire quirk…blue eyes in the family…an older son who vanished from the news feeds abruptly…no, it hadn’t been difficult to fit the pieces together at all once he’d realized they were there in the first place.

“Why tell me this?” Tomura asked, tone teetering between genuinely curious and accusatory. “Why now?”

That smile still pulling on the seams in his skin, Dabi stared down at his hands resting in his lap. “Just wanted you to know why I really stayed behind with Ujiko, I guess. When I saw I’d be useless against that giant, I figured it’d be an opportunity to handle my personal shit. I could look for a way to take out Endeavor without being a burden on you and the others. Go figure, I failed big time.

“Oh, sure, me and dear old Dad went toe to toe when I took the first high-end nomu out for a test run, like I said I would. But then that wannabe recruit I was looking into kind of fucked me over. And then Miruko showed up. And I was out there all alone, with no one to back me up, just how I’d wanted it.” A strangled laugh hiccoughed out of him. “So, Ujiko had to bail me out in the end. I completely overheated during the fight. My brain was so fried I even forgot the damn high-end on the field. If you hadn’t had the doc send me out here, he probably would’ve chopped me up and fed me to the rest of his pet projects. Anyway…I told you all that to tell you this.”

Dabi drew a long, shuddering breath and looked up square at Tomura. “I was wrong. I should’ve trusted you. The others too. I should’ve trusted that you would’ve helped me if I’d asked. That you’d want to. I’m sorry. I’m a reckless dick. And I didn’t leave because of you.” Closing his eyes, he let his head thump back against the tree and swallowed hard. “Just didn’t want to cash in my chips with you maybe thinking that was the case.”

Verbally eviscerating him for the sheer volume of his idiocy—take down Endeavor alone, didn’t want to be a burden, overheated to the point of collapse—should have been Tomura’s first instinct. However, it found itself blocked off before it even arose by one confession that kept echoing in his head.

I didn’t leave because of you.

The volatile energy buzzing in Tomura’s bones settled and faded out. Rather than leaving him depleted, it gave way for a new source of strength to rush in and replace it. One that set something in him right, like a dislocated joint popped back into place. The spot was still sore, still tender, but once aligned it made him whole and clear and sure the fight waiting for him was already his.

Reaching out with ring and pinky safely tucked against his palm, Tomura gripped Dabi by the chin. Those remarkable eyes fluttered open, startled but fixed solidly on him.

“It’d be easy for you then, wouldn’t it?” Tomura’s voice came out low and vicious, his dirty, broken nails digging into leathery scar tissue. “To just die here and not have to back up any of the shit you said? But you’re not going to get that luxury. I won’t allow it. You’re going to live just so I can have the pleasure of watching you beg and plead and grovel to earn my trust again. Understand?”

The tiny shiver that ran through Dabi, and the flicker of tongue over his bottom lip spawned a new reason to live that tied with Grind Re-Destro into the dirt for first. Patchwork hands landed on his forearm, petting and tickling. The smug bastard even dared to smile. “Perfectly, boss.”

“Good.” And then, because he was dangerously close to kissing him, or stripping him naked with his teeth, or something else otherwise unbecoming of the next King of Villainy, Tomura stood and added, “You look like hammered crap, by the way.” The hand that had clutched Dabi’s chin switched to offering him help up.

The smile sprawled into a crooked grin as the gesture was accepted. Dabi picked a bit of dead leaf from the hopeless mess of Tomura’s hair before tucking the locks behind his ear. “And you’re beautiful, as always.”

He snorted and tried to sneer. Really, he did. “Lying sack of shit.”

Any further attempts at flirting were cut short by an exclamation from Toga.

“Someone’s coming!”

After a final squeeze, Tomura let go of Dabi’s hand. For the first time in too long, they went to meet whatever came their way gladly, head-on, and, more important, together.

#shigadabi #shigadabi fic #dabi x shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #dabi #canon compliant #league of villains fanfiction #league of villains fanfic #also on ao3 #ao3 fic #shigadabiweek

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koalas-koalas-everywhere · 4 years ago

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Where did the idea that Merlin is bad at healing magic come from?

Ok, that was a clickbaity title, I know where it came from: that scene in the Crystal Cave where he can’t heal Arthur’s wound. Possibly, also his struggle to heal him from the poisoned arrow in The Coming of Arthur Part 1. However, although I understand 1) the desire to nerf him at least a bit and 2) the delicious irony of someone as good as Merlin and who would like to be gentle as much as he does being crap at healing magic but good at combat, I don’t think this is very accurate.

I mean, this belief is the farthest thing from baseless. I mentioned TCC, and I can’t explain why he’d be unable to heal Arthur other than lack of skill (beyond theorizing that the magic of the Cave was impeding him because he was supposed, destined, if you will, to ask for Taliesin’s help and agree to look at the crystal in exchange, which admittedly doesn’t have much support from canon, or Merlin’s general lack of magical ability that caused him, for example to make a rose instead of a strawberry for Freya, although that was in the previous season). Then there’s TCoA, although that one’s a bit... complicated, for reasons I’l talk about in a minute, and, last but not least, there’s the Hollow Queen, where Merlin tries to heal himself but he can’t. Besides that, there are some instances when he didn’t try to heal people so we can extrapolate that he was unable, like when Mordred is hurt in The Beginning of the End, when Will and Freya are dying in The Moment of Truth and The Lady of the Lake* or when Arthur passes out in The Last Dragonlord.

The one from TCoA is complicated, because as I said before, he struggles, and by the time the scene cuts off it seems like he failed, but when Arthur wakes up, he only seems to have problems with the wound itself, not the poison, and doesn’t feel the pain until he walks on it. Then, without a hint of the fever he had before, he walks all the way to Camelot, a day or more, until he can’t go on anymore, but Merlin tells Gaius the spell didn’t work, BUT then Gaius says the wound’s infected, not poisoned, which would be explained by the whole traipsing about with a wounded leg and no treatment, so... I’m not sure what to make of it.

Then in THQ, there were the ameliorating circumstances of being... you know... dying from poison. It’s more a matter of power than healing skills (when he tries, his eyes flicker like cheap old lightbulbs when he tries to do magic). But we’ll count it.

So that makes it 5 times he would have liked to heal someone with magic but couldn’t due to what we can assume is a lack of skill (I’m not counting Mordred because I don’t think he’d dare to use magic in that case, since Morgana seemed to want to be involved and kept up to date in his treatment, proved by how she watched as he did it without magic), two of which are dubious because he seems to be at least partially successful or because there were extenuating circumstances.

Then there’s times where there were people to heal but the circumstances were... peculiar.

One was his father in The Last Dragonlord. He dies much more quickly than Will, not to mention Freya, which suggests an even worse wound than the one the woman who grew up with Druids, notable healers, said was too deep to heal. Merlin says he could save him, but Balinor cuts him off so he could give his last words, presumably because he, a man we also know possesses some healing skills, knew it was pointless. I really have to wonder if there was anything any ordinary sorcerer could have done (I mean, not to victim-blame, but I didn’t see Balinor trying to heal himself), that even Merlin himself pre-The Diamond of the Day could have done, so I’m reluctant to draw conclusions about his healing abilities from this.**

While he heals Gwen in With All My Heart, technically he does it not through any healing magic but by taking her to the Cauldron of Arianrhod and summoning the Triple Goddess, so it doesn’t help measure his skills either.

Additionally, (and here’s where I start to answer one of the most important questions in this post, which has remained unsaid until now, but which has underlined every single line to the moment: “what the fuck are you ranting about you big dumdum if all you’re going to do is agree that Merlin’s bad at healing?!” It’s about the refutation) there’s his healing of Morgana in TCC. This one’s also weird, because he does heal her, but he needed Kilgarrah’s help to do it. It’s possible that he only gave Merlin the spell, like he did with Sigan, but he has a strange sound effect in his voice when he casts it, so it could also be that he had some extra guidance from Kilgarrah to help him along, such as a power boost or an instinctual understanding of how to perform the spell. Like the last one, then, I don’t think this example gives us any reliable information on his healing skills.

But! It does start us off on the next part of this discussion, which is the times Merlin has successfully healed someone.

The earliest example of this is The Mark of Nimueh, where he heals Gwen’s father, Tom. He just sneaks in, puts a poultice under his pillow, casts the spell, sneaks out, and done! Man awake in seconds, cured by morning. Of course, success isn’t as interesting as failure (might be the reason why they continued this particular storyline by having Gwen accused of sorcery instead of just letting her live), but two things stand out about this healing. The first is that Merlin used a poultice for it, which will come up again later, so make a note of that. The second is that this happens before TCC, so it’s unlikely that Merlin just took that failure to heart and tried to improve.

But, TCC is the next time since then that he makes an attempt at healing magic, which, whew, talk about a time gap! That’s two seasons, and at least 2 1/2 years! Make a note of this, too. The time after that is, at least, in the same season - TCoA, in which we’ve settled that Merlin seems to have partial success with Arthur’s wound. (“Yes, you’ve already said this before!” Just go with it.)

Next, there’s The Wicked Day. We know that he did the spell right because everything went to shit. Once more, he used aids for the spell, a potion and incense form sage.

The very next episode, Aithusa, without a clear idea of what they’ve been given, only that they’ve passed out and have difficulty breathing (he might have figured out what it was from the smell of the poultice that he found in the stew), he manages to save all four knights and Arthur from poisoning, this time only with an enchantment.

Then he heals Gwen’s leg in The Hunter’s Heart. Once again, only a spell. Funnily enough, it’s the same wound he tried to heal in TCC, only in a different place.

Last but not least is the poison Gwen uses on Arthur in A Lesson in Vengeance. By the time Merlin has an opportunity to treat him, he’s moments away from death - Gaius says his heart’s nearly stopped, and Merlin himself doubts he has the power to heal him. No potions or herbs, although it’s interesting to note that he does motions similar to chest compressions.

So, to keep tally: his success rate when dealing with poisons and drugs is 100%, and it’s the same for times when he got to use aids such as potions and poultices. It also applies to all healing attempts not subject to extenuating circumstances (magical interference such as the Lamia’s spell or the blade being forged in a dragon’s breath, and when Merlin had to heal himself while he was dying) from TWD forward.

We can see him improve from TCC (season 3) to ALiV (season 5) - he actually makes significant improvement from TCC to TCoA, and from there to TWD and Aithusa. It seems like he learned from his experience in TCC and decided to make up for his lack of natural talent at healing magic by studying. And here’s where it gets really funny. Because we’ve established that there was a time, long before TCC, where he healed someone successfully, and that was Tom, in TMoN. If you’ll remember, around that time Merlin was much more likely to fail the first few (hundred) times he tried a spell, like the one to make that dog statue real and the one to enchant a weapon to fight the griffin. So, way back then, Merlin went, made a poultice, cast a spell and succeeded on his first try, when before (and after) that he’d have difficulties with new spells.

It... actually looks like he had a natural talent for healing magic.

Okay, hang on! you might say. You spent the first half of this fucking novel talking about his healing goofs, don’t come at me with this bullshit now! you might say.

And here’s where you should pull out those notes I asked you to make. Because between TMoN and TCC there’s a world of difference.

To start off, in the first one he had preparation. He’d been able to look for and study an appropriate spell in his book shortly beforehand and, most importantly, he had a poultice. He’s had a perfect success rate when using those. Look at Dragoon - I’ve talked before about how hilarious it is that Merlin struggles to turn off a spell most have trouble achieving, let alone keeping up. In that first ep, Queen of Hearts, Merlin prepares a whole ass ritual to age up,*** but later needs a potion to go back to his own age. On the other hand, every time after that he just casts the spell and he has no trouble undoing it. While it’s conjecture, it’s a pretty solid theory to say that potions and the like, as I’ve been foreshadowing, function as aids when casting spells. They can be necessary, but sometimes they just give the sorcerer a boost. It follows, then, that any spell cast without them will be weaker, such as, say, the one in TCC.

But! He doesn’t use potions for almost any of the other times, either!

Well, that’s kind of tied into my next point: time.

As we’ve established, almost three years go by between TMoN and TCC, and Merlin doesn’t try to heal anyone in that time. He does, however develop his magic in other ways. By The Moment of Truth he can summon a tornado! By Le Morte D’Arthur he can cast the spell he so struggled over in Lancelot! He can summon a shield that can withstand dragon fire! Went against a Sidhe and a Pixie! He- okay, he got better at combat magic. You might see where I’m going with this.

But right then, he needed to heal Arthur! He’d done it before! But... he’d gone rusty.

Honest to God. Yes, this is conjecture. No, I don’t have any proof other than what fits with canon. No, I don’t think it was intentional on the writers’ part.But in my mind and in my heart this is what happened. He was originally good or rather decent at healing magic, but after not using it and instead doing other kinds of magic for so long, during what were technically**** formative years for him as a sorcerer, that he actually lost the hang of it. To be fair, though, he makes up for it pretty quickly.

I didn’t think this through to the end before I wrote it, when I started I thought I’d just conclude there were more examples of Merlin being good at healing magic and that would be it, but putting it all together I’ve found a probably unintended pattern of Merlin having a natural talent for healing, but being forced to neglect it for the sake of combat magic. In conclusion, I’m sad.

*Scenes which I just watched to make this post and now I’m crying fucking hell what I do for stupid meta.

**I don’t apply the same logic to Freya because the length of time that must have passed between the scene in the tunnels and her death by the lake, not to mention the amount of jarring that she must have gone through in the trip, makes me think that there probably was a window of possibility there that they just didn’t have the resources to take advantage of. And. I mean. The strawberry scene. I’m just more likely to believe Merlin still had a way to go, magic-wise, but it’s also because of this that I’m not convinced that this is about him being bad at healing, specifically, as much as not being that skilled in magic overall.

*** I also rewatched the scene where he does it and ho-ho-ho-holy shit, his excitement at his idea is adorable.

****Because he was born with magic, he learned ways to use it way before going to Camelot, but this was a new stage of his studies that consisted f different things learned and different ways to learn them and different ways to apply them.

#Merlin BBC #Merlin #am I metaing yet?#I said in conclusion I am sad your honor

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yellowcanna · 4 years ago

Text

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi) if you squint

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Available on AO3!!

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◅ PREV MAIN NEXT ▻

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CHAPTER 13

MOONLESS NIGHT (NIGHT 3: TUESDAY)

This story has been beta'd by Momentary_Flight

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Sunday 8:32pm—Yokohama

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“What the fuck is this?”

Shigaraki Tomura stood at the top of a building as he stared down at the brightly lit street below him.

People were walking around like normal.

People were going about their night like normal.

People were laughing like normal.

And all of that added together was anything but normal.

“This is…Yokohama?!” Spinner gaped in disbelief before he whirled around to Kurogiri. “Didn’t you say this is a city ruled by criminals?”

"It's…supposed to be," Kurogiri replied unsurely.

"Then perhaps we ended up somewhere else?" Magne looked up at the clear night sky. “I don’t see any signs of that barrier we broke through.”

“Maybe this barrier also has a warp power?” Toga suggested.

“So…are we in Yokohama or not?!” Twist shouted in confusion.

“Are you blind?” Dabi snorted at his companions.

Before an argument could break out, Shigaraki spoke.

"This place is Yokohama."

“Indeed.” Mr. Compress twirled his staff around before pointing it down at the street. “Take a closer look at those people.”

Everyone looked back at the people walking about. They only needed a glimpse to know what Mr. Compress was referring to. After all, where e lse in the world could they find a bunch of people looking like the carbon copies of each other?

“Old Humans…” Magne mumbled before her head snapped up upon catching a glimpse of a shadow from the corner of her eye. “They sure are annoying. They’ve been following us since we came through the barrier.”

“Can we kill them?” Toga was already reaching for her knife.

“Forget them.” Shigaraki’s blood-red eye darted to the narrow alleyway beside the building they were on. There were three punks at the bottom, each of them armed with a baseball bat as they chattered and smoked. "We need to find a temporary hideout."

Half an hour later, the group arrived at an abandoned warehouse. It was run down and filled with dust, but it at least had a proper roof. It was a perfect temporary hideout for them.

Shigaraki walked around the warehouse, leaving footprints on the dusty floor.

"C-can you please let me go now?" The man in Magne's grip asked with a trembling voice. He was from the trio back in the alleyway.

“Yeah, you did a great job.” Shigaraki strolled back to the man and wrapped all five of his fingers around his face.

Everyone watched with cold eyes as the man shrieked. His body began to disintegrate into ashes, starting with his face. Once the body was fully gone, Shigaraki looked down at his palm, then to Kurogiri.

“Kurogiri, can you warp us out?”

Kurogiri’s glowing yellow eyes narrowed before purple mist erupted from his body. The villains watched as the dark mist flickered. It tried to form a warp portal, only to disperse before trying again.

After several failed attempts, Kurogiri ended up opening a portal three meters beside him.

"I cannot warp us back out," Kurogiri said as Shigaraki picked up a small piece of cement that had fallen from the wall. "It's the same as trying to warp us inside the city. My Quirk isn't able to go past the barrier. It seems that I can now only warp within the city."

Shigaraki tossed the piece of cement into one end of Kurogiri’s portal and watched it fly out from the other.

“So we have to crawl through that hole we made if we want to leave?” Magne frowned, not liking that idea.

"But what exactly is that barrier?" Spinner asked. "None of our Quirks worked on that thing, not even Shigaraki’s. I’ve never heard of any material that can do that.”

"I am afraid I do not have an answer to that," Kurogiri replied as purple mist took the form of a human body once more. “The master had spent years researching the barrier of Yokohama, but he was unable to find anything. The only thing he was certain of is that Yokohama’s barrier is neither technology nor power.”

“Oh?” Mr. Compress perked up in surprise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Twice gaped.

Dabi raised a brow as his fingers lightly tapped on the crate he was sitting on. He gazed up to the sky, looking through the hole in the roof and to the stars twinkling in the night.

“You’re not saying this thing is alive, are you?” The raven-haired villain asked.

"No, I do not believe so," Kurogiri replied.

“What else can you tell us about Yokohama?” Mr. Compress asked.

“I have nothing more.” Kurogiri shook his head. “I have already explained to you about Ability users. The master rarely spoke of Yokohama.”

Rather than not talking about it, it was more like something had happened in the past that made All for One not want to think about it.

Truthfully, Kurogiri knew he shouldn’t have allowed Shigaraki to come here. Since a long time ago, All for One had instructed all of them to never go near Yokohama. Unfortunately, with All for One’s capture, Shigaraki was in a mess. He had completely lost his way and only calmed down after they received information of U.A High School planning a class trip to Yokohama.

It was the mention of Yokohama that pointed out a new path for Shigaraki. As the master's disciple, he too knew about the situation within Yokohama. The master had told him how dangerous Yokohama was, but he wanted to see just what a Hero-free world was like with his own eyes.

“I want to see it…” Shigaraki told Kurogiri when the latter tried to stop him. “The hidden boss behind the final one.”

Kurogiri glanced at Shigaraki who was standing in the middle of the warehouse.

Perhaps the master had anticipated this as well.

"For now, we need information," Shigaraki announced as he turned to his team. “Dabi and Mr. Compress will go out and gather information.”

“Eeeh?” Toga whined. “Then what about the rest of us?”

"We wait here," Shigaraki said as he sat down on a dusty old chair.

“No! I want to go out too!” Toga complained.

“Same here!” Twist shouted, raising his hand like an elementary kid.

“Now, now, calm down.” Mr. Compress waved his hands to calm his comrades. “We’re in the enemy’s territory. It’ll be risky for us to split up too much. We’ll bring some food back, what do you all want?”

Just like that, Mr. Compress smoothly put out the flames before it even ha d a chance to ignite.

"Also, if those guys out there follow you, let them," Shigaraki added. “Don’t do anything unnecessary.”

"We know that much," Dabi muttered as he and Mr. Compress headed outside.

Thus began the League of Villains’s first night within Yokohama.

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Present

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“For a couple of brats, you have some guts to come into a nightclub." The orange-haired man said as he came to a stop before the kids.

“W-what do you mean?” Kaminari stammered. He didn’t know why, but there was a strange pressure slamming down on him when he met the man’s eyes.

“What’s it to you?!” Bakugou shouted, standing up. “We can be here all we want!”

“Y-yeah!” Mineta joined in, finding some confidence through Bakugou. “We’re legal!”

The red-haired man snorted out a laugh. “Listen here, kid. No adults would ever call themselves legal.”

“But we’re all sixteen! We can be here!” Kaminari argued.

“Yeah, for Yokohama citizens that is.” The man replied, causing all of them to freeze up in shock. How did they get found out again?!

“H-how—” Mineta spluttered, unable to finish his sentence.

“Anyone can tell with one glance that you’re outsiders.” The man spoke with amusement lacing his husky voice. He looked over to the waiter. The moment their gaze connected, the waiter hurriedly walked up to him with his hands folded behind his back and his posture straight.

“How may I serve you, Chuuya-sama?” He inquired respectfully.

“Tell me what these kids order.” The man called Chuuya said.

“Yes.” The waiter bowed before he began listing out the drinks in perfect order from first to last.

“Sakura Martini for the lady in the inner booth.

Sake Blossom for the lady with the ponytail.

Peach Fuzz for the russet-haired lady.

Tangerine Ginger Sake Sangria for the lady with earmuffs.

Matcha Highball for the long-haired lady.

Raspberry Sake Tea for the lady in the outer booth.

Sake Bomb for the gentleman with ash-blond hair.

Red Eye for the gentleman with red-hair.

Umetini for the dark-haired gentleman in a varsity jacket.

Cassis Grape for the petite gentleman.

Lychee Martini for the gentleman with blond hair and a black streak.

Fuzzy Navel for the blond-haired gentleman in the brown trench coat.

Mango Margarita for the strong-looking gentleman.

Samurai Caeser for the blond gentleman with long bangs.

Ginza Mary for the gentleman with the blue scarf.

Lemon Drop for the gentleman with the knitted hat.

Sake Mojito for the warmly dressed gentleman.

Japanese Sling for the gentleman with glasses.

Shochu Melon Citrus for the green-haired gentleman.

Umeshu for the gentleman with split coloured hair.”

The waiter barely took any breaths in-between as he recited the long list of orders in what could only be described as perfection. The students stared at the waiter with wide eyes. No one had any idea how in the world that waiter pulled it off.

When the red-haired man gave the kids a pointed look, more than half of them ducked their heads in guilt—like children caught stealing from a cookie jar.

“Remove the alcohol in all of those and replace it with something nonalcoholic.”

“Yes, Chuuya-sama.”

“Hey!” Bakugou hollered but was ignored by the two adults.

“What about the Spirit Bomb, Chuuya-sama?”

“Why the heck are you asking him?! I’m the customer here!”

“Hm.” Chuuya waved his hand dismissively, looking as if he couldn’t care less. “Replace it with milk.”

“As you wish.” With another bow, the waiter walked off to bring the kids their new orders.

“HEY!!!”

“Kacchan!” Midoriya hissed softly, looking back at the man every now and then as he tried to calm his childhood friend down. After all, this person found out who they were and could kick out any minute. The fact that the man even let the waiter give them drinks meant that they were being allowed to stay.

Fortunately, Bakugou was aware of this as well. He grumbled as he plopped himself back down into his seat, refusing to speak another word to the singer.

“After you finish your drinks, leave,” the redhead told them with his arms crossed over his chest. “Kids should act like kids and go home by their curfew time.”

“…Yes,” they replied dejectedly. They watched as the redhead leaned against the wall, seeming to have no intention of leaving. It was obvious that the man had his eyes on them now.

There was a moment of awkward silence as they stared at the man who was just scrolling through his phone.

“Um…Chuuya-san?” Midoriya called hesitantly. That was what the waiter had addressed this man by, right?

The singer looked up.

“Are you the owner of this place?”

The redhead didn’t respond. He stared at the boy, to the point where Midoriya was starting to fidget in his seat, wondering if he had said something wrong.

“Well,” the man closed his phone and shoved it into his back pocket, “I guess you can say that.”

Midoriya blinked at the vague answer. Did he mean that he wasn’t the only owner?

"We are sorry!" Iida, the ever responsible class-president, stood up as best as he could in the limited space of the booth and bowed at the man. "We didn't mean to intrude into your club like this! Thank you for letting us stay!"

A waiter walked up to Chuuya and held up a tray with a single glass of wine like an offering. The red-haired man took the glass by the stem and swirled the red fluid inside around. His movements were swift and elegant.

"I'm only letting you stay until you finish your drinks," he told them, taking a small sip at his wine. "‘Being out this late isn’t for kids like you."

"We're sorry." Yaoyorozu dipped her head in shame. As a straight "A" student growing up in a good household, she had rarely ever been scolded, so this was a harsh hit on her.

“We’re sorry as well.” The rest of the class except for Bakugou followed.

“Um…Chuuya-san, we saw you singing on the stage, you were super amazing!" Uraraka said as the other girls instantly nodded in agreement.

“Yes, it was amazing!” Ashido praised.

“I’ve never heard of anyone that can change pitches like that!” Jirou added.

“Yeah!” Hagakure was waving her hands in the air.

For the first time since he appeared before them, a smile lifted the redhead’s lips. It was a small smile, but with a handsome face like Chuuya’s, a small smile was enough to get the girls flustered.

Thankfully for them, it was at that moment that three waiters came over to their little corner, each of them carrying a tray of colourful drinks.

Everyone watched with stars in their eyes as they received their drinks. Each of them came with a paper straw and fruits decorating the rim of the glass.

“…It’s so good!” Ashido beamed when she took a huge sip of her drink. "It's like cola, but raspberry flavoured! I can even taste the tea!”

"You're right, this is good!" Uraraka gasped. “It’s all bubbly!”

“It’s sparkling water,” Asui croaked happily.

“I didn’t know sparkling water and plum juice could taste so good! Hey Todoroki, is yours the same as mine?” Sero asked, looking over to Todoroki whose drink looked identical to his.

“Yes.” Todoroki smiled as he looked down at his glass.

Despite not having any alcohol, the people that made these drinks took the effort to make them resemble the pictures on the menu. While everyone was admiring and tasting their drinks, Bakugou was glaring at his milk.

The milk was poured into a rocks glass with one gigantic ball of ice floating at the center. There was a layer of coconut flakes over the surface and around the rim of the glass. As the finishing touch, there were two cranberries skewered by a toothpick balancing on the tip of the ice.

It was obvious that whoever made this was trying to give this glass of milk a wintery theme.

However…it didn’t change the fact that this was just a stupid glass of plain milk.

“Woah Bakugou! That milk looks so good!” Kirishima commented, not noticing how the look on Bakugou’s face was getting worse.

“Yeah, that milk sure looks great, Bakugou!” Sero whistled while trying to restrain his laughter.

“That’s the fanciest milk I’ve ever seen!” Kaminari didn’t have the restraint that Sero did and was clutching onto his stomach as he laughed.

“Let us see over here too!” Ashido called from the other table.

With a roar, Bakugou grabbed his glass. He tossed the cranberries away and dumped the entire glass of milk into his open mouth. The rich milk floated down his throat, but Bakugou had completely forgotten about the large globe of ice that was now stuck in his mouth.

The boy's face distorted from rage as his teeth ground against the gigantic ball of ice. Bakugou could spit it back out, but his pride wouldn’t allow that to happen, so he ended up sitting there trying to grind the ice apart with his teeth.

The other students quickly went back to talking about their drinks. They’ve known Bakugou long enough to know when to stop their teasing. As they talked, the grinding sound of ice continued to echo by their ears.

“Um, the money—” Yaoyorozu stood up, about to pull out her wallet when Chuuya held up a hand to stop her.

"It's on the house,” the singer told them before waving one of the waiters over. "After you're done, this guy will escort you out the back door. It'll be bad for business if a suspicious group of people like you walks out the front door."

"Thank you so much! We appreciate it!"

“Yes! Thank you!”

"Thank you!"

An echo of thanks came from the students, but the man only brushed it off. Those bright blue eyes only gave them a brief look before he turned, his jacket flapping around him as he walked away.

The waiter that the redhead had called over just stood there dutifully, looking as if he was going to keep standing there until they finish their drinks. Under the man’s stare, there was no way anyone would dare to overstay their welcome. They hurriedly finished their drinks and followed the waiter to the back door that was next to the bar.

There was nothing in the back aside from a long, plain white hallway. At the very end of the hall was a door made of wood. No words were exchanged the entire time they walked. Some of them wanted to talk to ease up the strange atmosphere, but the presence of the waiter made it hard for them to find anything to talk about.

Once they had arrived at the wooden door, the waiter opened it and the cool night air blew in. The man held the door open with one hand folded behind his back and bowed. Startled by such formality, they walked out the door one by one, bowing back and thanking the waiter as they went.

The sky was completely dark.

The street they came out to was just as empty as the street by the club’s front door. The street lights were functioning properly, but it didn’t make the place any less eerie.

Midoriya glanced back at the building they came out from. Unlike the front of the club that had nothing but a black door, the back looked more like an ordinary house. There were windows and all, but the hallway they walked through clearly didn't have any other doors that lead to the rest of the house.

He frowned, feeling as though he had overlooked something important.

The moment the last person—Koda, walked out, the waiter closed the door shut. In the silence, everyone could hear the clicking sound of the lock being turned on the other side. They stared at the door, then to one another, and finally to the empty street.

Perhaps…they should have asked for directions?

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BAM

The slamming sound of the iron door was drowned out by the music and voices. When a group of oddly dressed people (especially one with hands all over his body) walked into the club, it attracted some attention, but the people around just brushed it off as some weird early Halloween cosplays.

Shigaraki Tomura looked around the club before his eyes landed on the glass staircase with black-suited men standing guard.

“There.” He walked straight towards the stairs with his hands tucked in his pockets.

When those suited men saw them approaching, they immediately blocked their path.

“State your business,” one of the men demanded.

"Tell your boss we're here to see him," Shigaraki told him.

The guards didn’t seem put off by his attitude. One of them went up the stairs, most likely to report while the other two continued to stand guard.

The League of Villains didn’t mind the wait. They stood there idly, taking their time to look around the club.

Shigaraki eyed every person that passed by them. After taking in his surroundings, his eyes eventually landed on that stage. There was a band playing and a singer singing, but that singer was only mediocre in terms of looks.

Nothing about him stood out.

This made Shigaraki frown as he thought back to all the information Dabi and Mr. Compress had collected.

For an organization that controlled an entire city, there was very little information about them. The top brass within the Port Mafia were a complete mystery, yet strangely enough there was information on the boss himself—as well as those next in line to the position of boss.

The first and foremost piece of information they found was about the succession battle—or the Selection War as they called it. This peaceful little city wasn’t as peaceful as it seemed. It had only been two short days and they’ve already discovered countless organizations moving within the shadows.

And whenever there was movement, there were always two individuals involved.

The White Reaper and the Rabid Dog of the Port Mafia.

It was as if all the eyes within Yokohama were on these two so-called successors. While they couldn’t find any information as to what their powers are, one thing for certain is that the White Reaper and the Rabid Dog were no friends. Everyone in the underground knew that if these two were put in the same room, they would tear each other apart and wouldn’t stop until one side is dead.

The next piece of information would be about the boss of this joke of a crime syndicate.

It was said that four years ago, the previous boss of the Port Mafia suddenly retired, handing over his position to the current boss. Where that retired boss went, no one knows. All they knew was that the new boss was formerly nicknamed Demon Prodigy in the underground world.

While they weren’t able to find out why he had gotten such a name, they were able to come across some interesting gossip, and that was this club right here.

It seemed that the Port Mafia boss had his eyes on one of the singers. Since that singer only sings on Tuesday nights, the Port Mafia boss will always come to the club at this time without fail.

Shigaraki looked up when the guard came back down and gave a curt nod to his companions. Without a word, they stepped aside, making way for the uninvited guests. Shigaraki didn't spare these grunts another look as he walked upstairs with the rest trailing behind him.

Although he looked completely laid back, Shigaraki’s mind was turning as he played out countless scenarios of what this Demon Prodigy would be like. At the same time, two phrases continuously circled inside his head.

These were phrases that were heard repeatedly during Dabi and Mr. Compress’s investigation. Whenever the Port Mafia was mentioned, these two phrases would turn up without fail.

“Those who oppose the Port Mafia will be crushed by vicious gravity.”

And,

“Double Black.”

Shigaraki exercised his fingers as he arrived at that last step. Ruby red eyes locked on to the man sitting in a black round armchair with guards lined up beside him. There were three guards on each side, each of them dressed in the same fashion as the guys at the staircase.

The leader of the League of Villains had run countless simulations inside his head of how their first meeting would go.

…Never had he imagined it to be like this.

“Oh my!” Magne had to suppress a delightful gasp as the rest of the League of Villains arrived. Like Shigaraki, their eyes naturally fell to the person sitting at the center of the platform.

The man has short brown-hair curling at the tips and was dressed in tailored black suits with a long maroon scarf hung on his neck.

And sitting on his lap was another man.

This second man was dressed differently than the rest of the suited men here. Anyone could tell he was one of those locals that came to a nightclub to have fun. His clothes were disheveled with the straps of his tank tops falling off his shoulders and his jacket pulled down to his elbows.

Long slender fingers of the brown-haired man slid into those wavy orange locks. At first, he stroked the hair as if it were the finest silk, but the next moment he fisted the strands and pulled harshly.

The orange-haired man fell back with a sharp gasp leaving his open mouth before the rest of his voice was sealed by a pair of hungry lips.

Even with the loud music, the League of Villains could hear the moans and slick sounds being produced between these men’s connected lips.

None of them could see the face of the brown-haired man. With his head turned to the right, the only thing they were able to see were the bandages covering his left eye.

When Shigaraki snapped out of shock and disgust, he noticed that it wasn’t just the face. The man’s neck and even his arms were covered in bandages. The leader of the League of Villains furrowed his brows as he squinted at the redhead.

This must be that singer the Port Mafia boss had his eyes on.

Finally, the brunet pulled away from those kiss swollen lips with a wet pop. The sound made Shigaraki gag, but he held it back. His crimson eyes were locked onto the man like a hawk as he watched that face slowly turned, revealing a single dark eye that stared back into his.

“You’re the boss of the Port Mafia?” Shigaraki frowned. He had imagined countless times what this person would look like…but he never would have guessed for him to be so young. As grating as it was, the brunet looked around the same age as him.

“And?” The man leaned back against his chair, not forgetting to pull his little boy toy along. “Who might be asking?”

Shigaraki’s brow twitched. From how casual and laid back the other was behaving, it was obvious that this man didn't view them as a threat at all.

No, it wasn’t just him.

Crimson eyes fell to the redhead. He was comfortably nestled against the Port Mafia boss like a cat. His head was tucked under the Port Mafia boss’s chin and his fingers played around with the man’s scarf. He occasionally rubbed his cheek against the man’s neck and whispered words they couldn’t hear while blue eyes filled with mockery looked down upon them.

"You've been watching us for the past two days," Shigaraki stated.

“It’s common knowledge to introduce yourself when you’re the ones that came to me,” the Port Mafia boss pointed out. He grabbed the hand of the hooker that was traveling a little too low and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

Seeming to take this as a sign to continue where they had left off, the redhead sat up. He wrapped his arms around the brunet’s neck, leaning in for a kiss when he was stopped by a slim finger pressed against his lips.

“Be a dear and go sing me a song.” The brunet spoke softly to the redhead, but loud enough for the League of Villains to hear. With the same finger that touched the redhead’s lips, he hooked the man’s tank top straps and pulled them back over his shoulders. After that, he grabbed the black fedora by his side and placed it onto the other’s head.

The redhead wasn't happy. He glanced at the guests and let out a small huff. He slid off the Port Mafia boss’s lap and sauntered around the table.

He didn’t even look fazed by the group of disturbingly dressed people and walked forward as if expecting them to make way for him. The League of Villains naturally wouldn’t step aside, but the redhead had no intention of backing down either.

In the end, he roughly shoved past them. Each villain received a rude knock on the shoulder as the hooker forcefully walked through them and down the stairs.

“The heck’s his problem?” Twice wondered out loud.

Never had any of these villains been ignored by ordinary civilians like this. It was one thing for the Port Mafia boss, but another thing entirely for a lowly prostitute.

This helped them become fully aware of their situation.

These people of Yokohama—none of them saw them as threats.

"We are the League of Villains," Kurogiri spoke with a hand against his chest as a polite gesture. “We have simply come to pay our respects to the boss of the Port Mafia.”

The brown-haired man crossed his right leg over his left and laced his fingers together over his knees. “Ah yes…” he said as if just remembering, “that little gang that All for One made.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed when the man brought up his teacher’s name. While All for One was no longer a secret to the public after his fight with All Might, Shigaraki had a feeling there was more to it than that.

“Tell me, who came up with the name? I’m quite curious as to who is the one with such a…tasteful naming sense.”

Anyone could hear the sarcasm dripping from the man’s tone as they watched his lips curve upwards in a mocking smile.

“You—” Spinner was going to step up but Shigaraki quickly held out a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“You know about All for One,” the young leader of the League said with certainty.

“Unlike your world that prefers to keep secrets from their citizens, Yokohama is extremely open about our history.” The brunet leaned forward and picked up the glass of whiskey on the table. He swirled the golden fluid inside the cup as ice cubes clattered against one another.

Shigaraki watched this man's movements carefully. In enemy territory, they couldn’t let their guards down. Every movement, every word, Shigaraki was trying to decipher just what this man’s intentions were.

"Have you heard of the story of Icarus?" The Port Mafia boss suddenly asked. No one in the League of Villains responded, but the brunet didn't mind the lack of response and continued. "Despite his father’s warning, he grew too confident in his newfound ability to fly and flew too close to the sun. In the end, his wings melted off and he drowned in the sea.”

“What is your point?” Shigaraki gritted out.

“Oh? You don’t understand?” The man blinked innocently. “Then perhaps you’ll understand a fairytale better? Once upon a time, there was a little ant that viewed the world around him with contempt. He didn’t understand why he should work for the sake of the colony just because he was born as an ant. So when a mysterious power began to appear, he used all of his tiny legs to grasp onto this power. He decided that instead of continuing to serve the Queen, he would become the King and create a new world governed by new laws.”

The clanking sounds of ice cubes continued as the man swirled his glass around and around.

"He gathered his little ant followers and beat the opposing ants that stood in his way—including his brother who had hatched out of the same egg as him. He successfully took over the colony, but, overgrown with confidence, he decided to take over the world. As the first step in his conquest, he decided to target the elephant that lived near the ants' nest. With his little army of ants, they stormed into the elephant's territory…only to be squashed under its feet."

The man grinned at the League of Villains and took a small sip of his whiskey.

“They tried to bite the elephant, but their jaws were so weak and small that they couldn’t even break through the dried mud clinging onto its skin. They tried to crawl towards the elephant’s face and ears, but the elephant only needed to stomp its feet to shake them off its body. They tried to overwhelm the elephant with their numbers, but all the elephant needed to do was blow through its trunk and the ants would be swept away into the wind.

In just a matter of minutes, the army of ants was no more. The only one that remained was that tiny little ant that started this fight. In a panic, that little ant jumped into the ocean to escape the elephant, not knowing how it was so insignificant that the elephant never even saw them as enemies, but mere pests."

As the brunet spoke, he slowly poured the whiskey onto the floor, little by little until only ice cubes were left.

"A funny story, no?" The Port Mafia’s boss looked up, his dark eye locking directly with Shigaraki’s through the gaps between the fingers on his face.

Shigaraki was seething. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides and his body was shaking with rage.

Kurogiri tensed, ready to warp them out any second. It wouldn’t be wise for them to face off against the Port Mafia on their territory. Just as the dark purple mist on his body began to flicker, Shigaraki’s shaking stopped.

Kurogiri stared at Shigaraki in surprise. He hadn’t expected the boy to be able to restrain himself and force himself to calm down under such blatant provocation.

“So...” The Port Mafia boss leaned back to get comfortable in his seat, like a child would before playing his favourite movie. “What does the League of Villains want from the Port Mafia?”

"I came with a proposition, but it looks like there's no need anymore," Shigaraki spoke in a dull tone, causing the man to raise his brow.

"HEY, ALL OF YOU OUT THERE!" A voice screamed so loudly that it felt like the entire nightclub was shaking. “WHERE’S YOUR ENERGY?! DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE ALL DONE!”

A massive wave of cheers shook the club even harder than the loud voice had. The League of Villains turned. From this high up view, they were able to perfectly see the stage below. A familiar redhead was standing on the center of that stage, holding a mic in his hand and surrounded by a band.

“IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?! THE NIGHT IS JUST STARTING, SO LET’S HEAR SOME REAL CHEERS!”

If possible, the cheers increased by tenfold.

Dabi was frowning.

Spinner had to cover his ears.

Twice, affected by the mood, cheered along with the crowd.

Magne also looked quite interested.

Toga just yawned.

Mr. Compress tapped his staff lightly against the floor.

As for Shigaraki and Kurogiri, the two of them only spared a brief look behind them before focusing back onto the Port Mafia’s boss. Said boss didn’t seem to care much about them, as he too was focused on the stage below.

“Hit it up, Tachihara!" The redhead snapped his fingers. The booming sound of guitars echoed across the club as the crowds roared.

“Woah uh oh—oh oh!

Woah uh oh—oh oh!”

The drummer with a bandage across his nose sang into the mic as his drumsticks danced across the drums.

“Woah uh oh—oh oh!

Woah uh oh—oh oh!”

The colourful spotlights that had been flashing across the club were replaced by flickering red lights. The yellow spotlight that had been shining on the stage also bled into red. In an instant, everything within the club was swallowed by the red light and at the center of that light was a single man.

“Woah uh oh—oh oh!

Woah uh oh—oh oh!”

Blue eyes slowly parted, looking across the crowd and towards the VIP section. At that moment, the redhead’s aura completely changed—as if he had become a completely different person from when he was sitting on the Port Mafia boss’s lap.

He pressed his lips into the cold metal of the mic and began to sing.

“What is the true identity of this uncomfortable feeling

Which lurks gently inside of you as if being entangled

Soaking me so empty that it burns me out

And having the chaotic afterimage lingering!

Receiving unwanted stimulation and peaceful contradiction at the same time

Making me subtly and exquisitely crazy!”

Shigaraki clicked his teeth at the disturbance, but he looked back at the Port Mafia boss and continued where they got cut off.

"I've always wondered what a city ruled by criminals was like," Shigaraki said as he held his hands up. “Everything that Villains have been fighting for—a world completely free of the existence of Heroes and law which Yokohama has achieved...”

The League of Villains all stared at the Port Mafia boss sitting high up on his throne.

“I’m super troubled to taste the act of being loved

Continue to pay for the pain it brought

Opening a trance enough to make my heart shiver for a moment

I’m being controlled by the increasing anguish

Even though I know it’s only a Momentary Love.”

“It’s nothing but a joke.” Shigaraki’s hands fell to his side from the lack of motivation. “The boss of the world’s largest crime syndicate is here drowning himself in alcohol and hookers while the city is being run by a government that is still functional. The Port Mafia is nothing but a joke." Shigaraki huffed disinterestedly as he turned and began to walk off.

The rest of the League followed him. Obviously, they shared the same thought.

“Even though I deemed this stretched love to be no good

I thought that I wanted to hear more of your pure and innocent voice

That I heard while gazing at the night sky

The moon up there is beautiful.”

Shigaraki only felt the red light around him brightening before his entire body was slammed into the floor. The marble tiles underneath him shattered from the force. He let out a dry, breathless cough, having the air knocked out of his lungs. He tried to move, but it was as if an invisible force was crushing him from above.

He couldn’t even lift a finger!

When red eyes darted around, he realized that he wasn’t the only one. The rest of the League was the same. They were all lying within a crater created by the force, all of them unable to move. Shigaraki practically broke his neck trying to turn his head just so he could look up at that man sitting high up in his seat.

That single blackened eye was looking down at them with a smirk lifting his face.

“I’ve thrown away those regrets of love 200 million years ago

This uncertain despair is a necessity

This wild and crazy dance which supposed to be flat, just like a scattered flower petal

I became too absorbed to it that I keep tripping my footsteps

Opening a trance enough to make my heart shiver for a moment

I’m being controlled by the increasing anguish

Even though I have this Momentary Love.”

“You know, it’s very rude to talk during a performance,” the Port Mafia boss said disapprovingly while tapping his finger over his knee. That seemed to be a signal as the six guards by his side whipped out their guns and took aim at the group immobilized on the floor.

Immediately, Kurogiri tried to activate his Quirk to warp them away, but they only saw a blur of black, and Kurogiri was gone.

No one could react to what had happened.

It was only when they heard a loud crash followed by the wind blowing by did they realize what had happened. This power—whatever it is—had flung Kurogiri away.

“Let’s try to forget you little by little, until I can remember you no more! ALL TOGETHER!”

“WOAH UH OH—OH OH!” The crowds sang to the song. “WOAH UH OH—OH OH!”

“I want to swallow a flood contains only of joy

I’m super troubled to taste the act of being loved~!”

“WOAH UH OH—OH OH!

WOAH UH OH—OH OH!”

“Gravity…!!” Shigaraki gritted his teeth.

"I wonder…just what gave you the impression that you could come and go as you wished?” The Port Mafia boss chuckled as he rested his elbow on the chair’s armrest and leaned his cheek against his knuckles.

“I want to swallow a flood contains only of joy

I’m super troubled to taste the act of being loved~!”

The singer grabbed the microphone stand and stomped a foot onto the speaker at the edge of the stage. “IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?! SCREAM LIKE YOU MEAN IT!”

“WOAH UH OH—OH OH!” The crowds were practically hollering from the top of their lungs at this point. Their faces were all red, not certain if it was due to the screaming or the red lighting.

“Continue to pay for the pain it brought

Opening a trance enough to make my heart shiver for a moment!”

WOAH UH OH—OH OH!”

“This is Yokohama. Ants should crawl back into their hole.” The Port Mafia boss raised his glass of ice cubes, sending them a meaningless cheer.

“I’m being controlled by this increasing anguish—NOW SING IT!” The singer pulled the mic away from his lips and pointed it towards the audience.

“LEAVE THE KISS FOR LATER!” The crowd sang together in perfect harmony.

At the very back of the club, where no one paid any attention to, the members of the League of Villains were lifted into the air one by one.

“I’M BEING CONTROLLED!”

“EVEN THOUGH I KNOW IT’S ONLY A MOMENTARY LOVE!!”

Their bodies crashed through the sturdy brick wall. The sound from the impact of their bodies and the shattering wall were drowned by the singing of the crowd. Within the quiet night outside, the villains flew across the street and smashed into the building on the other side.

Shigaraki slammed into the ground. He would have bounced off from the force and kept rolling, but Kurogiri appeared, warping all of them away and back to the warehouse that they set as their temporary hideout.

Even though Kurogiri intervened, many of them suffered heavy bruises and maybe even a cracked bone somewhere from the rough treatment. Shigaraki coughed as he painfully pushed himself over so that he was lying on his back and staring at the dirty ceiling of the warehouse.

“Do you have your answers now, Shigaraki Tomura?” Kurogiri came over to check on the boy he was assigned to watch over.

“Ah,” Shigaraki slowly smirked.

Everything had gone according to his plans. All thanks to these Port Mafia bastards looking down on them.

Just from these two days of the Port Mafia watching over them, Shigaraki already knew that they didn’t see the League of Villains as threats. It was this underestimation that gave Shigaraki the confidence to waltz into their little party. If the Port Mafia had no intention of killing them before, they wouldn’t now.

This meeting only further confirmed this.

These Ability users obviously thought they were much stronger and looked down on people with Quirks. As the people sitting at the top of the food chain, it was even more so for them. These were people who wouldn’t bat an eye at a tiny ant crawling by their feet because, to them, they weren’t even worth wasting their time on. Even if that ant got in their way, the most they would do was kick it away. To those with their heads tilted so high up, allowing their shoes to become dirty from mere ants was the same as smearing dirt over their faces.

That's why Shigaraki betted on the fact that the Port Mafia boss wouldn't kill them and lured him into using his power.

His bet was spot on.

“Crushed by vicious gravity…” Shigaraki recited as his body throbbed.

The way he was slammed down, lifted, and thrown…this wasn’t something as simple as turning gravity on and off. That man can freely change the gravitation of objects.

Shigaraki was a hundred percent certain that it was gravity manipulation.

Then here comes the main questions…

How many people can that man control?

What was the range of that power?

Were there conditions to activate that power?

Shigaraki recalled that man’s smug look and the way his fingers so gently held the delicate glass in his hand. For someone that had used his power on eight people, he didn’t look the slightest bit affected. His grip over the glass didn't change either. If it were a Quirk, there would have at least been some signs of strain on the body, but there were none.

Even though Kurogiri had explained that these Abilities worked differently from Quirks, Shigaraki was certain that even amongst Abilities, this gravity manipulation was amongst the strongest ones. Why else would that phrase about gravity constantly pop out in their investigation?

Shigaraki also knew that the power the man displayed was simply a demonstration. It was most likely not even a fraction of his real strength. That was the kind of person their opponent was.

Confident and arrogant—yet he had the strength and the brain to back it up. Shigaraki wasn’t going to naively think that the word prodigy only refers to his strength. The man was no doubt a cunning one. However, he was a young man who lived at the very top of the food chain, believing that the entire world revolved in the palm of his hand.

Shigaraki laughed.

He didn’t care how he looked to the others right now. All he knew was that he was going to crush that man. He will pull him down from the clouds and crush him along with that pitiful pride.

So what if the ants in the story failed to take down the elephant? That was a story from hundreds of years ago. The large elephant in that story was long gone. The only thing left behind was an elephant living inside a fortress created by its ancestor's remains. An elephant that had grown up without any natural predators around.

After this confrontation, Shigaraki was certain that the Port Mafia would remove their surveillance on them. For an overly confident and prideful man like that, he would purposely do it to further humiliate them and show them how insignificant they were.

Now, they have free access to this entire city.

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh, Port Mafia.” Shigaraki cackled.

The Selection War.

That will certainly be interesting.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

“This is bad!” Kaminari panicked as he looked around the empty street. How could there not be a single person around?! “We’re completely lost, aren’t we?!”

“What should we do?” Hagakure looked around at her classmates. “Should we call the teachers?”

“But if we call they’ll find out!” Ashido gasped in horror. She can already imagine their homeroom teacher’s face when he hears of what they did!

“Hey! Look over there!” Mineta pointed towards the park in front of them. Everyone looked over and saw the shadow of a person sitting on a wooden bench beneath a lamppost. Relieved that they had finally found somebody, they hurried over.

Once they were close enough to get a clearer look as to what the person looked like, all of them were shocked.

Sitting on the bend was not an adult, but a child.

They couldn't tell if the child was a boy or a girl, but the kid had split coloured hair like Todoroki. When the kid turned around at the sound of their approach and looked up, the first thing the teens noticed were those mismatched eyes.

The left iris had a circle, while the right was a star.

Having been born and raised in a world where people came in all shapes and forms, none of Class 1-A was surprised in any way by the child’s eyes. What surprised them was that when the kid turned, the doll in their arms became visible.

It was a grotesque looking doll bleeding out of its hollowed eyes.

“Who are you?” The child asked in a sweet, angelic voice.

┏━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━┓

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#bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #bnha crossover #soukoku #shin soukoku #my hero academia

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kinkykinard · 5 years ago

Text

Doctoring December - Day 25

For @thefanficfaerie.

Fandom: MCU. Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader. Prompt: Requester’s Choice - Sprain. Word Count: 1946. Rating: 13+. Warning(s): none.

“Damn it.”

You collapse back to the ground after a third unsuccessful attempt at standing and kick the root you’d tripped over a short while before with your uninjured foot, cursing its existence. Running a hand over your face, you flop backwards into the snow, shifting uncomfortably as wetness starts to seep in through your clothes.

Reaching into your jacket pocket, you fish around for your phone, praying you can get cell reception where you are. A quick glance at the screen reveals no bars and you curse again, stashing the phone once more. You kick out in frustration, this time cursing your no-good dog, the one who had ditched you the second his leash was free of your hand.

In all the irritation, you fail to notice the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow nearby. You don’t realize you’re not alone anymore until you hear a familiar bark and snuffle. You turn your head just in time to watch your border collie bound over to you, his breath condensing into clouds around his face, half-obscuring him from view.

“Hey, Bandit, you naughty boy,” you say softly, reaching up to give his neck a scritch as he leans in to lick at your face. “Okay, okay, I’m glad to see you, too.”

“Are you alright?” A man’s voice calls from a short distance away, startling you.

You turn your head, grabbing onto Bandit’s collar so he can’t escape again.

“Excuse me?” You ask tentatively.

A tall, handsome man dressed much more appropriately for a wintery hike in the woods than you are appears at your side, taking a knee and meeting your eyes.

“Are you hurt?” He asks. “Your dog was pretty frantic when he found me, led me right back here.”

You roll your eyes, giving Bandit a good rub behind the ears, earning yourself another kiss. The stranger holds out a hand, Bandit’s leash dangling from it.

“I took it off so he didn’t get himself caught on anything,” he explains. “Anyway, do you need a hand?”

Your brain slowly starts to catch up to what’s going on and your expression relaxes. You nod gratefully.

“Yeah, yes, please,” you say quickly. “Thank you.”

He holds out a hand and you take it, holding on tightly and pulling yourself into a sitting position. His hand comes to rest on your back, steadying you as you settle, letting go once you’re comfortable. You take quick stock of yourself, searing for any other signs of injury, feeling glad when you find none.

“So what happened?” The stranger asks.

“I was taking Bandit out for a walk when he saw a squirrel,” you explain. “He started pulling so we ran into the woods. It was all going swimmingly until we came across that root there and, well, the rest is history.”

The man’s gaze flicks to where you’re pointing, and then slowly travels up your body from your feet, wordlessly taking in your general condition. He makes a wordless noise of consideration.

“Are you able to stand up?”

You shrug.

“My ankle hurts pretty badly, but I guess I won’t know until I try,” you reply.

The man nods, holding out a hand to you. You reach up to take it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He’s strong and easily able to assist you, and you take a moment to appreciate his physique beneath the winter clothes before snapping out of it. You flash him a friendly smile.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “And I just realized that I haven’t even introduced myself yet. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles back, keeping a hand under one of your elbows to steady you as you flamingo a bit, balancing on one foot, not quite ready to test the other one yet.

“Steve,” he replies. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You laugh a bit, nearly toppling over. Luckily, Steve has great reflexes and wraps an arm around you, pulling you up against his chest before you can get too far. You grimace a little at your awkwardness and look up to meet his gaze.

“I wish it was under better circumstances, but yes, you too.”

You shift away a little, hopping awkwardly, and grit your teeth. You slowly lower your injured foot, crying out in agony the moment you set it down and put any weight on it. A white-hot pain shoots up through your ankle and you buckle, nearly falling over again. Thankfully, Steve catches you easily, gracefully sweeping you off of your feet and into his arms. Bandit runs around the two of you, barking his concern. Tears form in your eyes as you fight to steady your breathing amidst radiating waves of pain coming off of your injured foot.

“Looks like you’ve done a fair bit of damage there,” Steve comments. “I’m a paramedic, and if it’s alright by you, I’d like to take you back to my place and take a look at that for you. I live just through the trees there.”

You feel your face heat in embarrassment at your predicament and you shake your head.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you decline. “I’ll be alright. My car’s just back in the direction of the dog park. If you can help me back there, I’ll be just fine.”

Steve frowns.

“I don’t think you should be driving on that foot,” he insists. “Really, it’s no problem. I can wrap it for you, you can warm up for a bit, and then if you’re feeling alright I’ll happily drop you back off at the dog park to pick up your vehicle.”

You think on it for a moment, weighing your options, and finally agree when you realize that none of your ideas are any better than his.

“That would be great, thank you,” you concede. “I really appreciate it.”

Steve smiles and nods, adjusting his grip on you a bit to make sure you’re secure before heading off in the direction he’d come from. Bandit trots behind the two of you, content to behave now that you’re being looked after. The walk is a little bumpy, but also fairly short and within a few minutes, a row of fences comes into view. Steve carries you toward a gate in one of them, setting you down on your good foot for a moment so he can open it before picking you back up to carry you through it. Bandit follows and the gate swings closed in your wake.

Inside the house, Steve sets you down on a couch in the living room and you hover awkwardly, not wanting to get melting snow all over his floor.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back,” Steve says warmly.

You nod, setting your feet down, wincing as pain blossoms in your ankle again. You sit back a bit, shifting until you find a comfortable enough position to settle in. You’re not left to your own devices for long before Steve returns with a medical kit and a few towels. He sets them down on the table and pushes it out a little further, sitting down on it opposite you. He shakes a couple of the towels out, throwing them down at your feet to mop up the muddy mess your boots are creating.

“I’m going to take your boots off, okay?” He says.

You give him permission and he gets right to work, starting with the boot on your uninjured foot. He makes quick work of the laces and sets the boot aside once he’s done, moving in for the other one.

“This is probably going to hurt,” he warns. “If you need me to stop, just say so.”

You nod, already gritting your teeth against the coming onslaught of agony. You take a slow, deep breath as Steve carefully lifts your foot into his lap, shutting your eyes tightly as he starts to untie your laces.

The first flare of pain as he starts to wiggle your boot off is intense, but it subsides fairly quickly to a dull throb and the rest of the procedure isn’t nearly as bad. It takes a minute or two but eventually you’re free of both your boot and sock, and Steve’s warm, competent hands are cupping your ankle, supporting it a little.

“How’s that?” He asks, glancing up at you.

“Fine,” you say lightly. “A little painful, but I can take it.”

Steve makes a noise of acknowledgement.

“This isn’t a contest of your bravery,” he remarks. “I’m going to examine your ankle now and it’s probably going to hurt a bit more, but I don’t want you to be tough, I want you to be honest. If something hurts, let me know. It could be important.”

“Okay,” You agree. “Go ahead.”

He looks down again, carefully tilting your foot one way and the other, testing your range of motion. You hiss occasionally as the pain becomes more intense with the manipulation, but overall he’s very gentle and you can hardly complain. Soon enough, he’s finished with his assessment and he goes back to cautiously steadying your ankle between his hands.

“Looks like it’s most likely just a bad sprain,” he explains. “I can’t say for sure without an x-ray so I recommend you get one, but I think you might’ve gotten lucky. If you can hold on another minute, I’ll wrap it for you and that should make it feel a whole lot better.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. “Really, this is too kind of you.”

“Don’t mention it, I’m happy to help.”

You smile, watching as he reaches into his kit and pulls out an elastic bandage. You take a few slow, deep breaths to ease the pain as he begins to wrap it around your foot and ankle, relaxing as the compression around the injury eventually starts to feel good. By the time he’s done, it feels well-supported and stable and you find yourself feeling glad that he’d been the one to find out, knowing you could never have wrapped it so effectively yourself.

“Done,” Steve says a moment later. “If you lift your leg for just a moment, I’ll grab a pillow so you can prop it up for a bit.”

You do as he says, watching as he stands and reaches for one of the cushions on the couch. He settles it under your foot and you rest it on the coffee table, wiggling your toes a little and wincing in discomfort at the pain it brings.

“I really should be getting back to my car,” you say. “If the offer still stands, that is.”

Steve chuckles as he repacks his kit, zipping it up and taking a seat on the couch next to you.

“It does,” he assures you. “But if you don’t have anywhere to be right away, I’d love to have you for a little while longer. At least until your clothes dry and you warm up a bit.”

Only as he mentions your clothes do you realize how soggy you are and feel yourself start to shiver a bit. Steve gestures for you to unzip your coat and he takes it as you shrug out of it, hanging it over the arm of a chair nearer the fireplace across the room.

“I really don’t want to impose,” you insist, though your protest sounds weak, even to you.

“It’s no trouble, honestly,” he says kindly. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re warm and dry before I let you go.

“Well, you’ll have to let me make it up to you, then,” you say firmly. “Dinner once I’m back up and about?”

Steve’s expression softens and he smiles warmly, nodding.

“It’s a date.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Doctoring December Masterlist

#Doctoring December 2.0 #MCU #Steve Rogers #reader insert #fanfiction

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jenroses · 4 years ago

Text

So this is some backstory I wrote a few years back about the apocalypse. Four years later, I think I may have been overly optimistic about how long it would take for things to fall apart.

~~~ The apocalypse wasn’t fast, and it wasn’t easy. Parts were dramatic and rapid, say, when the United States dissolved into chaos in 2020 and six new nations emerged from the rubble. The Pacific States of America became the progressive destination of choice, between California’s wealth and the Pacific Northwest’s natural bubbles of relative safety between the mountain ranges. Canada followed a few years later into disaster, with French Canada going its own way and British Columbia joining the Pacific States. The continent was re-shaped again by rising sea levels and sinking earth falling into the empty aquifers and the remains of fracking operations.

The biggest issues early on were in the Confederacy, The Republic of Texas, and the Great Plains Republic. Rampant deregulation combined with widespread corruption resulted in the complete loss of vast areas to poisons both visible and invisible.

Chaos in North America bred chaos elsewhere. A brief nuclear exchange in 2038 left vast parts of the Middle East, East Asia and the Indian Subcontinent uninhabitable. Washington DC and Moscow were hit, but as neither were particularly politically powerful by that point, the political fallout was less than the actual nuclear fallout of the 8 bombs. The EMPs from strikes in Israel, India, Pakistan, North Korea, China and Tripoli took out communications and governments alike. In the resulting chaos, many nuclear materials were “liberated” and attacks with “dirty” bombs became common in many areas of the world.

Texas did not fall to bombs or to the poisons or to war, but to the increasingly tight focus of the sun through God’s magnifying glass, with temperatures soaring beyond the capacity of failing machines to compensate. Between the floods, hurricanes, and summer temperatures upwards of 150° F, without a larger federal infrastructure, civilization in the Lone Star quickly stopped working, and those who relied on the grid were forced to flee ever-climbing temperatures. California, being a large and wealthy state and later the cornerstone of the new Pacific Union, managed fairly well at first. Two dams were built to try to protect the Bay and the Sacramento Valley from rising seas, but the Golden Wall fell to sabotage before it could be completed, and Vay-deo dam, as the locals called it, cracked in the Big One, causing one of the largest, most rapid floods in history in what was already a time of great floods. Los Angeles didn’t fall into the Pacific, the Pacific fell into Los Angeles in creeping, inexorable inches, but the heat and drought and weather sent people north long before a large section of the metropolitan area was submerged. A dirty bomb in Hollywood in 2045 sent anyone who was still in the area, north.

The Northeast crumbled under the weight of too many people and not enough resources. The flooding of New York was an afterthought compared to the bombing of Washington, which didn’t do anywhere near as much damage as the civil uprisings of the 2020s. Pockets of well-armed wealth remained, tiny Corporation States which promised survival in exchange for freedom once it was obvious that the federal government was not coming back.

Refugees were everywhere, fleeing the food shortages, the fallout, the rising waters. In 2048, rampant use of greenhouse gasses, combined with ever rising ocean temperatures and acidity combined to cause massive slips of land ice into the ocean in both hemispheres. The seas had already risen more than predicted, but the catastrophic shift of ice from land to sea brought sea level an average of 33 inches higher worldwide. In some places, the net effect was closer to 40 inches. The impact on water circulation was severe, and Europe plunged into an ice age. The surge stopped, even subsided a bit as storms dropped record amounts of moisture into the mountains in a winter that would not quit, but the damage was done, and the lowlands were abandoned. The death toll was unimaginable.

It was 2050 before things were stable enough for the PSA to do more than triage the daily catastrophes. New technologies had been developed on the fly to deal with immediate problems. Domes and filters to protect from fallout. Desalination to give the mountains near the Bay Area water, and then water reclamation everywhere as people stopped trusting anything that came from the sky. Mechanical pollinators helped keep people fed. Every home had a garden, indoors or out, on a wall if need be where space was limited, shelving systems with tiny twinkling LEDs and recirculating water.

By then, the birth rate in what had once been the United States had declined from around four million babies per year to four thousand, and of those four thousand children, eighty percent were born early. Fully half of those births were within the PSA.

It was when they realized that the pregnancy rate across the continent was likely close to two million that it became clear that something was fundamentally wrong with humanity’s ability to sustain pregnancy. Individual tragedies became a countrywide fear and then a worldwide terror.

The bees were mostly gone by then, the few remaining hives living in research facilities in Oregon, Washington and British Columbia.

Animal births faltered and stopped, but by that point the science of meat meant the vast majority of animal protein in the PSA was vat grown, indoors, no brain, no bones, no ethical backlash. Refugees came looking for food, but fewer and fewer children accompanied them.

Concerted efforts sprang up at universities around the world, but as each fell, their best and brightest converged on the last functioning, tech-capable democracy in the world.

The internet was no longer reliable enough for worldwide communication due to lack of maintenance of infrastructure and widespread sabotage, but the tech corridor of I5 and the data centers survived, and the PSA sent out drones with food, communication equipment and emergency supplies. Carbohydrates, protein, fats, vitamins and minerals, harvested and reassembled from dumps and compressed into shelf-stable bricks, accompanied durable, simple water purifiers, basic survival supplies, and informational pamphlets - pictorial as fewer and fewer people in the rest of the world knew how to read.

The earliest iteration was called Project Dove, and the mission was to get as much information about humanity in other parts of the world as possible. Some of the drones were shot down. Some made contact and returned. A few simply vanished without a trace. The birth data that did come back was terrifying. Starvation in many areas was too widespread and rapid for the drops of supplies to make even a dent, but in the places closest to the PSA, they were a lifeline, and not always happily received. They had included information on birth control in the drops, because of the high rate of maternal death in unsuccessful pregnancies. What they did not do was put contraceptives in the food. But despite their adamant statements to the contrary, they could not shake the rumor.

Food Not Bombs, the second iteration of the humanitarian project, became not a nice pacifist organization but the only foreign policy that worked. Nutrient drops from the PSA, sent by drone, happened regularly across all territories that might be able to still threaten the PSA with terrorist attacks, and irregularly anywhere the PSA wanted information.The rhetoric against the PSA across the rest of North America was fierce, and fueled splintered and uncoordinated attacks by civilians, but after the Independent State of Exxon-Mobil was cut off completely from these drops for 12 weeks following their last incursion, no established government made any official attempt to wage war on the PSA.

The last year babies survived past infancy, anywhere in the world that the researchers could contact, was in 2059. 200 children were born within the domes of the PSA and nowhere else, where early doming and fanatic attention to clean food supplies kept the novel endocrine disruptors out longer than in most places. Their parents came from all over the world. However, a terrorist attack by religious zealots caused widespread contamination in the middle of 2059, and no more babies were born after that; though many pregnancies were documented, most failed in the first 30 days, and none survived past 15 weeks. Families with children banded together in several clusters, so that their children could take advantage of the wealth of expertise at the universities. But as the population of young people dwindled, first daycares shut down, then elementary schools, and families tightened their clustering so that the remaining children could be educated together. The Last Generation grew up with the knowledge that either they would figure out how to fix humanity’s problems, or that humanity would end with them.

Rapid transit built in the ‘30s still functioned from Eugene to Vancouver, and Seattle’s industry persisted even when families with children fled south to higher ground and less upheaval. Half of Portland was underwater, but the larger metropolitan area survived with varying levels of liveability.

The University of Oregon ended up being the last fully functioning school by default, with enough agriculture and infrastructure to make it livable and just enough isolation to make it hard to get to for those without means. It was one of the oldest system of domes on the West Coast.

It wasn’t invulnerable. The Jefferson Dissent, which began half an hour south of Eugene and ended in the mountains of Northern California, sent occasional raids until wildfires obliterated much of the area in the Great Draught.

Parts of the school lay in disuse and disrepair, but groups of research scientists had colonized parts of campus that would otherwise have fallen by the wayside. A large team of scientists worked on nanotech and microtech in conjunction with the biology department, modeling tiny machines after viruses, bacteria and insects.

In Portland and Seattle, competing teams of fertility specialists worked on the problem of the crashing population rate, but it was not until the agricultural specialists in Corvallis pitched in that they started making real progress at extrauterine gestation.

They found the problem quickly, once they understood the magnitude of the issue. Without the political chaos of the 2020s, they might have picked up on it ten or fifteen years earlier, when it was still fixable. But by the time it was determined that complex endocrine disruptors, wind- and water-borne, had spread worldwide in storms and floods and in the food supply, their epigenetic and generational effects were beyond easy remedies. Pregnancies might happen, but more things went wrong. In the war between placenta and endometrium, the endometrium had found a potent ally. Autoimmune disorders were endemic. And the last straw was a new disruptor, one which managed to interfere with the shift to placental support.

Anyone who became pregnant died where medical support and birth control were inadequate. The resulting demographic shift did not help the political situation. The PSA became a refuge for people with uteruses. More conservative nearby nations screamed about the Godless heathens stealing their women. Within the PSA, gender was seen broadly as a social construct, though there were enough different religious and cultural groups with different ideas that the notions of binary gender were not completely obliterated.

“God’s punishment,” the religious called the deaths during pregnancy. Science was blamed. Scientists were blamed. The last green places were blamed. In the transformed labs and classrooms of the last universities, frantic efforts were made to counteract the toxins in the environment, to find some way, any way for the human race to survive past the last generation.

The population aged.

Suicide rates skyrocketed early, and surged even further when the fertility collapse was made known.

Animals started to be born that had been gestated from stored cells in vats, restoring extinct species from scratch, but the human puzzle was a tougher nut to crack. Fetuses could be grown, to a point. A few even made it to scrawny, translucent viability, but the children did not survive long, even with the highest tech support.

Some changes were made to the tanks, with a regular program of stimulation, vibration, and auditory recordings. And a small cohort of infants were born, to cautious but joyful researchers. But the children did not adapt well, once born, and while they lived, the behavior issues and profoundly antisocial behavior they exhibited pointed to some deep flaw in the underlying gestational program. Babies screamed when held, preferring mechanical soothers. Language development was minimal, with babies averse to unfamiliar voices. Development was stunted and consistently unusual from child to child. They did not form attachments to the people who desperately wanted them.

At first, the researchers thought it was autism, but when autistic adults who specialized in the care of autistic children were brought in, it became clear that something different was going on.

Brain scans were done which found profound abnormalities in many parts of the brain, abnormalities which were uniform across the cohort.

As the children got bigger, slowly, they began to lash out, and it became obvious that the extrauterine gestational process was not going to be the answer as it stood.

The resulting scandal was huge, and an ethical oversight committee that had been bypassed on the grounds of emergency was reinstated. Meanwhile, The Babylon Cooperative worked frantically to salvage the human race, as the planet deteriorated around them.

It became clear that cleaning the Earth would be a much longer-scale process than humanity could survive. The rest of the planets in the solar system were even worse. There was a Mars colony, a desperate, abandoned group of settlers too old to reproduce, the planned resupply missions scrapped when the world fell apart.

No one wanted to say it, but there was a strong possibility that by the time the fertility problem was solved, there would be no one left to raise the resulting children.

Computing progressed, even in the chaos, in part due to breakthroughs in biosynth. DNA was a compact and complex data storage medium, and its structure could be used and mimicked to create self-replicating devices that stored their complete process in tiny spaces, scavenging what they needed from the materials around them. When the problem of controlling growth was solved, a research team made an excursion to an old dump, dropped a gluey ball of nano- and microtech on top of the trash, pointed a strong light source at the area to be salvaged, and waited.

Nanobugs were developed which could selectively break down molecular bonds. Microbugs were created to analyze, sort, inventory and group raw materials, and when that process was finished, they could then assemble into larger devices that continued the process of refinement and reconstruction. The self-replicating technology meant that a properly programmed bug could be placed on, for example, an old office building, or a pile of rubble, climb to the highest point, and digest it into a thousand more of itself, then consume the spawned bugs and create larger, more complex machines out of the result, eventually creating new structures in place of the old, from materials on site.

The end result was a pile of sugarplastic bubbles filled with raw materials and isolated waste products, which were set aside for more study, and along the edges, new gluey balls for other dumps. The remaining machines waited for further instructions.

Someone asked if they had to be so sticky, and if they needed to have an artificial light source. “Not in an undomed dump,” the lead scientist said. “Plenty of bright light out there.”

The “genetic” programming was altered, and the next generation looked more like large pillbugs than badly drawn jellyfish. When the researchers built in the ability to power themselves from the waste heat of the molecular breakdown process, they could even work underground.

The raw material distribution included so many rare elements and complex hydrocarbons that as soon as word got out, and a few of the “pilebugs,” as they came to be called, were stolen, whole new resource battles broke out where there was not tight social control.

Control tightened everywhere.

Biological interfaces with microscopic sensors and transmitters allowed many researchers to streamline their efforts with direct neural-computer wireless interfaces. Gone was the larger worldwide web, but enough had been saved, and the PSA had dedicated much of its resources to maintaining connectivity up and down the coast. Seattle was the hub, with redundant data backup of much of the cloud everywhere they had enough locals and infrastructure to support it. Redundant archives became a cultural obsession of a dying world. A hardcopy repository was started, in case civilization collapsed beyond help and humanity somehow survived.

The pilebug programming was a closely held secret, because of the potential for harm. Backwards engineering was impossible for those without the Co-op’s resources.

Within the PSA, the Babylon Cooperative became a dominant power. There were only a few people who truly understood how the bugs worked at a core level. It was clear that the potential applications were huge, but there just weren’t enough people who comprehended them well enough to make use of the tools to their best effect in the available time. Training the remaining young people became the driving goal of the Pacific States.

As the PSA stabilized, it became clear that the entire population was suffering widespread psychological trauma. Efforts were made to train people to cope with the resulting stresses in productive ways, with varying success. Community beautification efforts were promoted as therapeutic.

Within the research clusters, neurodiversity was seen as an asset. New ways of thinking were prized, quirks and coping mechanisms supported, special interests encouraged. “Think outside the box” became “There is no box. The survival of humanity depends on new ideas.”

Skin-based links to the net abounded, traceries of gold at the temples and key points on the head for those who used it the most, headsets for more casual users. With the development of ever smaller and more powerful transmitters, it became clear that mental states could be influenced, if not controlled, and those without links grew increasingly suspicious of those with. Thus, “old-fashioned” data inputs did not die out, but the speed gains of working with a direct connection were obvious to those in the Co-op.

A wider culture of inclusion—motto, “We need everyone”—made for eclectic neighborhoods around the University, but farther from the research clusters, old tendencies for humans to sort themselves into distrustful subcultures persisted. As the years passed and no children played in the streets, nihilism and social unrest grew. As it became easier to rebuild and more people returned to school to learn about the newest technologies, the University grew, and changed, and became more isolated. Most people who came into the University were there to join the research projects, and only those trained for specific purposes in the larger nation ever left.

In 2077, the last freshman class, about 80 students, gathered at the University of Oregon. The classes ahead of them were still attending, but what had, in its heyday, been a campus with 20,000 students was now a campus with 1500 researchers, 2000 educators and about 4000 students.

The speed of the population crash showed nowhere more than here. 2% of the student body were freshmen. 6% sophomores. 10% were juniors and 15% were seniors. The rest were grad and community education students of varying ages. There was no tuition. There was also no real salary, but the University, as the seat of power for the Babylon Cooperative, was already self-sufficient enough and powerful enough in the region to trade for whatever was needed. A monetary system still existed, of sorts—the robust local and regional networks also allowed for sophisticated tracking of barter of resources, skills and labor, but the social support networks that had come out of the Fall had matured well where they were allowed to thrive.

Where the science was tolerated, housing could be grown, and with greenhouses built into the designs, food grown within the housing. Even computing resources could be grown.

The science was not tolerated widely. Even within the PSA, dissent came and went in waves. Never monolithic, when crisis gave way to chronic, old divides resurfaced. As the population aged and skepticism about possible scientific solutions grew, rumors and rivalries brought political change.

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