#and his warehouse is 20 MILES AWAY

[mooifyourecows]

Something interesting I learned is that here in Illinois, if the weather gets real bad and snowy, they just SHUT THINGS DOWN? Like stores close and stuff???? Wow that's pretty cool, like, in Idaho, they wouldn't even shut the schools down in a blizzard unless the buses physically could not drive through the snow drifts. And stores and stuff NEVER shut down. They expected you to trek through two feet of snow to get to your shitty minimum wage job, no excuses.

One winter, the snow was so bad and so thick, and the temperatures so low, my dad had to come save me from my house in his tractor because nothing else could get down my lane. And my partner's boss still expected him to get to work on time lmao fuck that guy I hope he's dead now

But here, they get a little bit of snow on the ground and everyone is like "better not risk it, see you next week".

Fun!

[fratttymatty]

Back To The Past

(All characters are 18+)

Eli Turner was an adventurer in the truest sense of the word. At 20 years old, he had explored every nook and cranny of his college town, seeking out abandoned places like they were treasures waiting to be uncovered. His favorites were old warehouses, deserted schools, and forgotten buildings that whispered secrets from the past. But his newest obsession was an abandoned mall on the edge of town, a place he’d heard rumors about but never visited. People said it had once been a bustling center of activity in the 1980s, but when the new shopping center opened a few miles away, the old mall was left to rot.

Eli loved the idea of stepping into a space frozen in time, untouched and decaying, as if it were a momentary glimpse into a world that no longer existed. His friends thought it was weird, but to him, it was perfect. He loved exploring the past, especially when he could do it on his own terms.

It was a warm, late summer afternoon when he finally decided to go to the mall. He grabbed his camera, a flashlight, and a backpack filled with snacks, then hopped on his bike. The mall was located on the outskirts of town, far enough that most people had forgotten about it. As he pedaled there, he imagined the bustling crowds, the neon signs flashing, the music drifting out of stores. What did it feel like to be there in its prime? What was it like to experience a place that was now nothing but a faded memory?

When Eli reached the mall, he stood at the entrance, eyes wide with awe. The sign that once read "Crystal Springs Mall" was barely visible, the letters half-faded and chipped, but he could make them out if he squinted. The doors were locked, but that didn’t stop him. He was no stranger to finding a way in.

The side door was slightly ajar, as if it had been waiting for him. With a quick push, Eli entered the darkened mall, his footsteps echoing off the empty halls. The scent of must and old wood filled his nostrils as he turned on his flashlight and began to explore. The escalators were frozen in time, frozen in place, as were the stores. He wandered past long-forgotten stores like Champs Sports, Sam Goody, and Orange Julius. His heart raced as he took it all in.

He made his way to the food court, and there, in the center, stood an old fountain, its water still. He crouched to get a closer look, his flashlight scanning the cracked tiles and faded murals. Everything about this place seemed wrong, but also perfect, like stepping into a dream or a forgotten memory.

And that’s when it happened.

The ground beneath him seemed to shudder, a soft vibration underfoot that sent a shiver up his spine. He stood up quickly, scanning the area. There was nothing unusual, but something felt off. Almost as if the mall itself was alive, waiting.

Eli turned to leave, but his body froze when he noticed something that hadn’t been there before. In the middle of the food court, there was a strange door—one he was sure had never existed. It was old-fashioned, wood-panelled with a brass handle that gleamed even in the dim light. His curiosity gnawed at him.

Before he could think too much about it, Eli approached the door, and as he did, a sudden gust of air swirled around him. The door creaked open, as if inviting him in. Without thinking, he stepped through.

The moment Eli stepped through the strange door, he felt a jolt, as if the very fabric of the world was being rewoven around him. The air shifted, thickened, and for a heartbeat, everything went still. His senses sharpened—colors seemed to snap into sharper focus, and sounds that had been muted became overwhelmingly clear. His head throbbed as if trying to process a flood of information all at once.

As the world around him began to settle, Eli looked down at himself. The loose, comfortable college clothes he’d been wearing—skinny jeans, a hoodie with a faded logo, and scuffed sneakers—were gone, replaced by something entirely different. His T-shirt was now a tight, bright red one with a sports brand emblazoned across the chest, his jeans fit snugly and tapered at the ankles, and his sneakers were high-top, almost too pristine to be real.

But it wasn’t just his clothes that had changed. His body felt... heavier, more substantial. He’d always been lean, wiry—now, he was broad-shouldered, muscular, his arms thick with strength that had never been there before. His reflection in the window of a nearby store sent a jolt of disbelief through him. The face staring back was the same, yet different: square jaw, high cheekbones, sharper, stronger features. It wasn’t the face of the Eli who had spent his nights exploring forgotten places and reading in quiet corners—it was the face of someone who belonged here.

His hair... that was the biggest change of all.

He ran his hands through his hair and froze. What had once been a messy, tousled mop of dark brown hair was now... something else entirely. His fingers met thick, wavy curls that felt foreign to him. It was soft but voluminous, and it seemed to have a life of its own—bouncy, fluffy, and wild. As his fingers ran through it, he felt the shape of it fall over his neck in a kind of perfectly chaotic way. It was like he was looking at a grown-out, curly mullet—a style that screamed 1980s loud and clear.

"Whoa..." Eli... no, Ryan—he was pretty sure his name was now Ryan—said aloud to himself, his voice deeper than he remembered, a bit huskier. He tugged at a lock of hair, mesmerized. It was like something from an old high school yearbook, a style that belonged to the jocks and cool kids he’d seen on TV but never thought he’d embody.

"Looks good on you, bro," came a voice from behind him.

Ryan spun around to see a guy in a leather jacket—definitely a classic 1980s style—grinning at him like they were old friends. He felt a surge of recognition, like this person was a part of his life in a way that felt so comfortable, so familiar. He wanted to give the guy a high-five, maybe throw an arm around his shoulders, but he didn’t even know his name yet.

"Yeah, thanks," Ryan replied, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that something was wrong—something about his old life. The more he looked around, the more everything felt right, like he was always supposed to be here. His reflection, his clothes, the new energy in his body—it was all in place. He was him. This was who he was.

He flexed his shoulders as if testing the new muscles, and they felt... perfect. Strong, solid, like they were meant for something. He stood a little taller, his posture straighter, more confident. His hair, now a fluffy, curly mullet that seemed to fit him effortlessly, bounced with each movement of his head. As he ran a hand through it again, it felt natural, like this was how it was always meant to be. The feeling of his old self—the Eli who wandered the world quietly, curious and introspective—began to fade, like a dream slipping away from his consciousness.

The guy in the leather jacket clapped him on the back. "You coming with us to the arcade, or what?"

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said with an easy, confident grin that didn’t feel forced, but like it had always been there. The invitation felt more like a command than a suggestion, and Ryan was eager to follow.

As they walked, Ryan’s hair bounced with every step—his mullet a little more wild now, the curls not just waving in the air but taking on a life of their own. It was as if his body was fully embracing this 1980s persona, from the way he moved, to the way his clothes fit, to the loud, proud, irreverent style of his hair. Every inch of him screamed jock, popular, alive.

There was a strange satisfaction in it. He didn’t need to think about it; it just was. He was Ryan now, and that was who he would be. The mall, the strange door, his old life—it all seemed distant, like a dream he could barely remember.

As they reached the arcade, the flashing neon lights welcoming him in, Ryan felt the last remnants of Eli's existence slipping away. There was no need to wonder about his past, no need to think about the life he’d left behind. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The past? It didn’t matter anymore.

Ryan grinned at the sound of the arcade machines beeping and buzzing around him. He was home.

Over the next few days, Ryan fell into his new life with eerie ease. He went to high school, hung out with his jock friends, and spent hours in the arcade. The more he lived this life, the more natural it felt. His old identity—the curious college student who loved abandoned places—faded into a distant memory, something he barely remembered. His new world felt more real than the one he had come from.

He no longer cared about the past. The idea of his old life, of being a gay college kid who explored forgotten buildings, seemed silly now. His mind didn’t yearn for solitude or adventure. Instead, he cared about football games, parties, and the approval of his friends. His body, too, had shifted to match this new life. He was bigger, stronger, more attractive in a way that made girls—and even some guys—look at him with admiration.

But deep down, somewhere in the back of his mind, a small part of him remembered something—a fleeting image of an old, abandoned mall, of exploring on his own terms. But it was distant, fading like a dream, until it, too, vanished completely.

And as Ryan stood on the edge of the football field one crisp autumn evening, watching the lights of the school shine down on him, he didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. The past was gone. He was home.

[neonovember]

Do they know you’re with me?

pairings: battinson x fem!reader

summary: this city always found a way to take another part of bruce, until all that was left of him was Batman. But taking you? Now that was just downright stupid.

warnings: very graphic displays of violence, feral!bruce wayne, misogyny, assault, fluff, angst, literal murder

word count: 4.9k

a/n: watched batman for the second time and decided to dip my feet into the seeping black oil spill that is bruce wayne and his fucked up morals. + you end up driving the fucking batMOBILE

You don’t remember how you found yourself sprawled on the floor of a rotting warehouse 20 miles from the inner city streets of Gotham, all you can do is feel the brick stones beneath the weight of your body, scratchy and old, crumbling beneath the grip of your fingers.

The slits of sunlight that cast shadows across the floor look like mirages. The fuzzy edges of your vision not quite clearing despite your desperate blinks. You want Bruce, you want him now.

You scrawl to the bordered-off windows, stuffing fingers into the space between the pieces of bordered wood, trying to pry them open, you’re exhausted, you don’t know why, your entire body is just aching, your limbs limp and feeble, sore from an exertion you have no memory of. The thought makes you shudder unconsciously, why is it so hard to remember?

Your mind is a collection of big black oil spills, they spread, when you try harder to think back to hours before. You don’t like this, god, everything fucking hurts

You continue this limp pathetic excuse of an escape, eyes burning with tears as the wood refuses to budge, the flashes of Bruce teaching you self-defence engulf your mind.The smell of old rubber, your complaining and his gruff condescension clambering on the gym floor as he taught you a left hook, how to twist under an assailant, how to fight smart instead of hard, how to knock a 200lb man unconscious- it all falls flat now, settles on the floor amongst the rotting moss and burrowed insects, what a fucking joke.

You can’t help but feel the discerning glare on Bruce’s face at this moment, watching you stifle as if you hadn’t spent weeks together preparing for this exact moment.

You’re pathetic, he’s wasted air and time on you. The image of his face pulls the tears on your waterline down your cheeks, and you collapse against the warehouse walls as you crumble. You relish the burn of your nails digging into your palm, letting the burn radiate through your hand as you roughly hit your head against the moist rotting stone.

This was it, the last of your name left to rot next to wet hay and dust, all you’ve worked for, all you’ve done, swept away and taken with the autumn wind. You know it’s horrible but isn’t this such a pathetic way to die? Not in combat, the blood and dirt of your struggle signifying your sacrifice, but because you were weak, brittle and foolish like your father had always said.

You stuff a fist into your mouth, reprimanding yourself, you will die, you will get your head spilt on this floor if you don’t get up, right fucking now. Forcing back the guttural groan back into the ribs of your chest, you survey the damp warehouse for any way out, and your eyes catch the glint sparkling against the rays of the rising sun.

Metal, something hard, something you can use to pry open blanks. It might be oxidising into rusted dust in the seconds that pass but it’s something, and that’s good.

Staggering towards it, you hold your weight against the warehouse walls, practically hopping with your one good foot towards the sledgehammer. You grasp the metal into your weak fist, and relief washes over you as the weight of it reassures some real damage.

Your eyes catch the bordered wooden door, secured with a padlock drilled into the metal bars, this warehouse is left to its mere skeleton, the metal rotting as peaks of asbestos break free.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, you shuffle your body towards the door, crouching closer to inspect the latch, your ears catch rambunctious laughter and the crash of bottles far to the right of the rotting warehouse. Your assumed assailants celebrating your capture perhaps, you shudder as you recall your unconsciousness moments ago. What else had they done to you?

Bringing the heavy hammer down into the padlock, the dust from the door flutters to the floor. You pause as you await the sounds of boots running to ensure your capture again, but it does not come. The laughter and boom of their festivities conceal your escape.

Giving the padlock two more hits, it finally gives way, cracking through the metal as you rip it from the door handle. You breathe through your nose as you take a tentative step forward, slipping through the gap you’ve forced open.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the pitch-black darkness that surrounds you, and soon you realise the warehouse is much bigger than you thought. Rows of brimstone columns hold up the rows of metal fixtures, slits of moonlight filter through the expansive window roof, the stench of old machinery and dye hinting to a possibly old fabric factory. You don’t want to consider how those big machines could be used against you, the idea pushed back down in your mind.

Shuffling forward, you catch the shadowy burst of light coming from your right, licks of orange and yellow crawling up the decrepit walls. A fire of some sort, surrounded by your assailants casts shadowy figures that seem huge and monstrous.

You begin searching for an escape, a latched window you could force open, some hole in the wall, anything. You come up empty, the towering walls looking down on you almost sealing your fate. You’re at the hands of these men to do as they would like, and for a moment you’d wish you’d listen to Bruce and let him attach that tracking device on your watch, violating or not.

You press your fingertips to your eyes as you try to think, the only plausible chance of escape is to move closer to the right wing of the warehouse and slip past their drunken state whilst their guard is let down.

Pressing your back to the wall, you venture forth, pressing forward with the tips of your toes as your sneakers squeak against the dirt floor. Making a turn your feet crash into a wayward liquor bottle, the glass chattering beneath your feet. You wince as you hear the men stop their guffawing at the sound, ears picking up your mistake. 

“What the fuck was that?” You hear the gruff throaty sound of someone yelling.

“No idea, ya sure you kept our girl locked and tied??” Another replies, you have to keep from retching at the sound of them referring to you as “their girl”. The way their slimy mouths wrapped around the word had you sick.

“Don’t fucking tell me you forgot rookie, or else you’ll fuckin join her ass” The man from before argues, anger riddling his tone.

“Hey! Relax aight? He padlocked that shit, there ain’t no way she’s getting through it. So sit the fuck back down Daroll, it’s probably some fuckin’ rat. You know how this city is, with all its fucking filth clogging the streets, turning those animals into the size of goddamn cats” The man replies, in a calm tone. He seems to be the ring leader of sorts, the rest of the men falling in line and replying in unison.

“At least now we’ve got Bruce Wayne’s girl tied back there, this time we’ll get our goddamn compensation from this city. I’ll make sure of it” The man replies.

You shiver as they refer to you as some sort of bargaining chip like Bruce would send millions in a briefcase in return for your safety. You don’t doubt that he would, but the thought scares you to no end. If this played out how they wished for it, what would stop any common thief from snagging you off the streets of Gotham in return for their “reparations”?

Bruce had to set an example, and you don’t doubt the events that would follow would be a bloody mess of fists and broken bones. You can’t help it, but something deep within you preens at the thought, Bruce, clad in his dark element, falling over the assailants like a spreading darkness.

But the fear of being left to rot in some warehouse on the docks of Bleak island is still there, and who’s to say Bruce would even find you? Your body, left in an unmarked grave once they got what they wanted, or better yet, thrown into the city’s river to be used as fish bate.

“Bruce fucking Wayne, man if there’s one name I hate in this goddamn city. Shit, you can barely escape it from the way they’ve plastered his face on every inch of Gotham” A man says

“Ya know the news outlets, always love a fucking sob story, actin’ as if families don’t get massacred by us daily” The man laughs, and they soon join him, falling back into the harmony of throwing back beer bottles and throwing knives at rats scurrying away.

Once you feel their ears aren’t catching every tiny sound, you continue your venture through the warehouse, the grip of the sledgehammer is firm in your grasp and it tethers you to the ground. If they did find you, at least you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Catching the view of the group of men, huddled around a large bonfire, they each wear the same worn dirtied clothes, maroon jackets and washed-out plaid shirts that peek through. Beer cans and stunted cigarettes litter the ground, chests full of what you assumed would be weapons and drugs strewn about.

From the way their expansive shoulder stretch the material, you grapple with the fact that these men weren’t your typical scrawny thugs looking for a fix. They had decent muscle, the kind that could crush your neck within their grasps. And you were in their very own lion's den.

Gulping down the fear radiating down your back, you catch the stream of moonlight peeking from a cracked open door. A hope stirs within you, and you force yourself to swallow your fear as you calculate the very short steps you would need to make before finally escaping.

Stepping forward, your eyes are strained on the group of men, never letting your eyes leave them as you slip past from the shadows of the warehouse walls.

You’re so close, the door practically at arms reach before you are yanked hard by an invading hand, your neck rag dolls back as the mysterious man shoves you against him.

“No!!” You scream, as he leans into your neck, the faint smell of tobacco and beer causing you to wretch your face away.

“Looks like I found our very own little lady tryna escape” The man yells towards the huddled group at the centre of the warehouse. You thrash against him with all your might, limbs flying with little control as you try and rip yourself from his grip.

His chest is like a wall, laughing down at your frail body thrashing against his own, he presses your backside into his own as he grinds from the side of your eye.

“If you want it rough ya could’ve just said that doll” The man snarks, hand reaching down to grip your chest before you bite down on it, hard.

“You fucking bitch!!” He rips his hand from your mouth before his fist is colliding with your face. Your brain takes a minute to register the pain, almost blinded by the force of it, before you groan loudly. The white-hot pain spreads across your face and down your neck, throbbing with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

Your neck lies limp across his chest and he drags you towards the men looking on in amusement. Throwing you to the ground, your eyes meet scuffed boots that press against your bruising cheek.

You try and get yourself up before the boot is pressing onto your back, imprisoning you to the floor.

“Seems like you got in a little tussle huh?” The man you’ve recognised as the leader of the pack speaks down at you.

“You see, we wanted to make this as painless as possible for you, but now you had to go and try and escape didn’t you?” The man pulls you from the floor, dropping you onto a plastic chair that presses onto your back.

You don’t dare to look up to the man, he’s got a good foot on you and he looks at you like a formidable statue.

“Look at me when I speak to you” The man roars suddenly, pressing a dirty finger to your chin, forcing your chin to meet his thundering blues.

Forced to look up at him, you take notice of the features that make up his face. Blond hair dirtied with blood and dust falling over his face, the scratching scrawl of a yellow stubble that spreads across his jaw and neck. Brooding dark brows hang over his deep silver-blue eyes. His features are conventional in the way a Prince Charming or cover model would be, but the snark and deep hatred that seeps into every one of his features cast an malevolent shadow, and sets your heart to pound against your chest.

“Don’t you see? My men wouldn’t have hurt you if you’d- if you’d just listened. Why can’t anyone fucking listen, huh? Do you think I want to do this?” He screams at you, hands flying arms they press at his chest in some sort of act. His features morphed into a facade of anguish as if he had no choice but to chain you in a rotting cell.

You bite your tongue to stop your sharp mouth from scoffing in his face, the taste of copper is one you swallow regretfully. You eye his erratic behaviour, the way his body moves around like his a life wire, it’s one you’ve seen before.

Some unmarked drug that had taken over the streets of Gotham, one the GCPD has been scrambling to find out but coming up with loose ends. Bruce himself had warned you of its destruction on mostly unassuming teenagers and drop heads, the way the high would go on forever, before descending into a madness fuelled by the user's deepest fears. Sending you into a psychotic breakdown you can’t escape without throwing yourself from a building or shoving a pistol down your throat.

He seemed to be at the peak of it, relishing in the euphoria and grandiosity it granted him.

Your eyes catch the shadow of a winged cape, up high and cloaked in the darkness of the ceiling, and you have to press your fingers into your thighs to stop your face from showcasing the relief that washes over.

Bout damn time.

Your eyes focus on the man again but glancing from the corner of your eye as you catch your winged saviour perched on the ceiling's metal columns. He raises a gloved finger to his lips, mouthing one single word.

Distract.

You blink twice to show you understand, before diverting your eyes back to the erratic man who’s begun to sneer at you in disgust.

“What do you think you’ll get out of this?” You mutter, and he reels back at you in shock, before a smile pulls at the slit of his lips, eyes blazing with a fury that sets you on edge.

“I always knew he liked em’ mouthy” The man replies, before stepping forward.

“Bruce isn’t going to sacrifice the security of his name just to give you all some fucking pocket change. You think he’s that stupid?” You reply in a voice you hope is every bit steady and confident as you think.

That man narrows his eyes at you, as the rest of the men look on in eagerness. Ready to watch you get ripped to shreds by their beloved leader, salivating at the thought of you bloody and bruised by their fists.

“Bruce is too soft for this city, spending all his damn time boarded up in that manor, all that money just left to gather dust.” The man begins, resting his body against a barbed-wrapped bat.

“For years, Gotham had griefed that man, reconciling that The Bruce Wayne was no longer a symbol of hope for this city”

“But then there was you, that sweet little thing that forced him out of his fucking cave. And boy did the media love you, how couldn’t they? A precious doll that got Gotham’s billionaire to open his manor gates again” The man replies in disgust, spitting next to your shoes.

“And then he was back to being the public’s favourite rich, billionaires boy. All we’ve worked for, everything we’d done to prove he was like the filth that crawled through these streets out the fucking window”.

“Whilst people like me, like us, good hard working people, were left to get drowned by the muck and filth of this city. The swamp that sludges and clings to the streets. Now I’m not that religious, but how the fuck is that fair?”

“I know you aren’t stupid, different from the other woman he’s plastered to his side, anyone with two fucking eyeballs can see that. Which makes it all the more reason that we’ll get what we need no matter what”. The man smiles at you fondly, as if he hadn’t just threatened your life mere moments ago.

His eyes light up at the look of disgust you throw at him,

“Oh don’t look at me like that baby, It’s just business. Brucey will give us our well-deserved money, and we’ll give him back the one thing he cares about.” The man replies, before raising his bat to press gently into your chest.

“You.”

Your ears catch the swift swoop of air before your eyes register the enveloping black armour that glides across the warehouse.

It happens quickly, one moment the self-proclaimed leader is chanting, murmuring Bruce’s fate before he is knocked down by a batted creature

“The fuck?! Is that Batman-“. You hear the murmur of confusion litter the men, as they catch glimpses of a swallowing darkness descend into their safe haven.

The rest of the men don’t get a second to reach for their weapons before he's taking them down with his bare hands, picking them off, one by one like fleas.

You watch on as Bruce collides a man's face into another, smashing their skulls until their faceless and bloody. One brave thug throws a wooden crate at him, and he catches it swiftly, throwing it into another’s back.

The sound of splitting skin and the crunch of bone seems to go on forever, the grunts of Bruce’s voice the only sound he makes as he throws limp bodies like rag dolls across the dirt floor.

The rest of the thugs scurry like ants, escaping through the side door and jumping into rusting pickup trucks as they watch through the review mirror in heaving horror.

Batman has left one men in particular behind, wanting to take his time with them, the ferocity of his unneeded rage doesn’t escape him, his fists are practically dumb as they are split and bleeding from colliding with bone.

He’s shaking with it, the fear and malevolence that seems to drip from him like blood. His head is screaming, white noise blocking the outside world since the moment he found you missing. He knows at that moment that the deep dark part of his night city creature is rearing its head, he wants to destroy every single fucking thug that has ever even aided in your capture, preens with a burning desire to eradicate and burn their entire existence off the face of Gotham itself.

He hears the sound of your soft whimper, and he tears his eyes away from the groaning man at his feet. And for the first time since his fist collided with that fucking, he’s eyes glide over your frame hunched in the chair.

Jaw tight as he naughs his teeth, a growl escaped his chest at the sight of you, his baby, dried blood seeping down your neck as your left eye is swollen shut from the force of the punch.

Bruce steps towards you, tearing his gloves off to press his cold fingers towards your cheek, soothing and brushing the tears that streamed down your face.

“It hurts Bruce, it hurts so bad” You sob, and the sound retches at Bruce’s heart, his eyes set on the outline of a fist pressed into your perfect skin.

“I know baby, I know, I’ll make it better okay? I’ll make it better” Bruce replies softly, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The evidence of another man, daring to put he’s hands on you sends that same unchecked rage to burn through his chest, and Bruce turns swiftly at the man responsible.

He’s crawling away pathetically, his leg twisted at the awkward angle as he sobs in pain loudly. Bruce boots steps towards him, the towering expansive figure of what you could only describe as a brick fucking wall moving with ease as he watches on at him pathetically.

Reaching down, he reaches with a gigantic hand to drag him back towards Bruce’s feet. Pressing a foot to the broken bone, the man howls in pain as Bruce brutalising his wounds. It isn’t enough, the cries and screams of your attacker do nothing to satiate the flames of anger unfurling in him.

He wants him silenced.

Gripping his neck, Bruce roughly licks him up, dragging his limb body towards you. Picking up his face by his dark strands, Bruce forces him to stare at his work shaking him to emphasis what he had done to you.

“You did this no? You like beating women?? You dare put your goddamn filthy hands on her and you try to run away?” Bruce roars, pulling tight against the man’s hair as he gains enough energy to howl loudly.

“I think it’s only fair to apologise, it’s the least you could do” Bruce growls into his air before throwing him to the floor. The man looks back at Bruce in confusion, blooding spitting out of his nose.

“APOLOGISE” Bruce roars, it bursts through his belly like a caved creature and the man quickly complies, shaking in fear as he fold himself onto his knees, looking up at you behind clasped hands.

There is a gurgle as you look down, like he’s trying to speak the words but there is too much blood flogged in his lungs. It fills you with a concerning pleasure to see your attacker like this, shaking knees as he looks up at you, coughing and heaving, mouthing the words before restarting.

“I’m not sure she hears you, how about you say it abit louder” Bruce yells from behind, causing the man to flinch.

Finally regaining speech, the man fights through the tearing and failing of his voice cords, and screams out in sobbing chants.

“I’m sorry? ‘m sorry ‘m so sorry’ please!”

It’s all it takes before Bruce is picking him up by his collar, colliding a ginormous fist across his face, the wheezed scream leaving his barely intact throat as he beats him to the ground, hands coming down again, and again and again. Blood spraying across his unmasked face, a deranged look taking over that saw only one purpose.

The man begins to crawl away on his knees, a wheezing wet exhale leaving his chest every few seconds, a line of sludge blood follows him, circled him like a tail, he sputters as his lungs begins to fill with liquid, before upruptly shooting up and collapsing limp onto the dirt floor covered in shit, piss and blood.

Bruce turns to you, his footsteps hurrying to crouch down as he cradled your head in his strong arms. He shushes you gently as he rocks you back and forth, caressing you with the bloody hands that avenged you.

“Oh Bruce, I should’ve listen to you, if I hadn’t-I I had just, if I would’ve just listened-“ You strain, voice wobblying as the fear and anger burning through finally caught up. The adrenaline and numbing you felt moments ago now replaced by the reality of the situation you had found yourself in.

Bruce raises your face to meet his own, shaking his head as he wipes away tears

“Hey, hey, none of that, you being connected to me? It would’ve happened sooner or later. I just thought I could protect you from that-this” Bruce gestures to the mangled corpse surrounding you two “Just for a little longer. You held your own today, and god you looked beautiful doing it”. Bruce replies, a haze cast over his eyes as they bore into your own.

“I’m proud of you, and l’m just thankful your alive, alright?” Bruce shakes your shoulder gently to emphasis his point, causing you to let out a laugh that sends knifes down your lungs.

You grip him closer to you, your hands trailing againts the thick metal and fabric of his suit that seemed to stretch endlessly. Reaching further, your hand comes into contact with a wet lukewarm spot that seems to stream between your fingers. Looking down, your eyes bludge as you take notice of the deep jaggered gash stretching across Bruce’s midsection.

“Oh my god, Bruce you’re bleeding” You whisper, pressing a hand towards the bleeding wound spreading its wetness further and further.

And as if he hadn’t even noticed before, Bruce takes his eyes off of you for the first time, looking down at the wound on his stomach. Ripping through skin and muslce so fiercely, lol or a lighting bolt only thicker and redder with blood.

“It’s fine, just a little scratch” Bruce replies, however he doubles over you anyway, hunched figure holding onto your shoulders as the pain rocks through him.

“You’re going to bleed out, we have to get you to a hospital” You cry, tears burning your eyes at the thought of losing him. You had just got him back, it isn’t fair.

“No, no, no hospital, take me to Alfred” Bruce erases our, copper spilling out of his mouth as he coughs violently.

“How? Bruce I can’t, you won’t make it if I walk you or-or get a cab-”

“Honey, honey I need you to listen to me, you have to take the Batmobile, it’s the only way” Bruce replies, as you haul him up gently onto his feet, resting his arm around you.

“What? You can’t possibly think I’ll be able to drive that” You mourn, the Batmobile was another thing entirely, a second extension of Batman himself. You don’t even know if it was suited for anyone else to drive without you know, hurting them.

“I’ve got about 10 minutes before the entire contents of my bloodstream is emptied between those fingers” Bruce replies wincing, as he angles himself so that he is resting his body weight on his good foot.

“You’ve got to do this, I know you can do this” He groans out, a wave of nauseous pain takes over him and he topples over, retching.

You have no choice, despite the spine tingling fear of driving Bruce’s most prized position, your man needed you, and if you didn’t step up, you would lose him right between your fingers.

“Okay, okay” You huff out, breathing air from your mouth as you shuffle towards the exit of the warehouse, Gotham twinkles in the depths of the night, the crumbling infested towers and roads of filth alive even now.

The Batmobile comes into view, in all its indestructible and formidable glory, and you gulp as you approach the mass of a vehicle.

You slide Bruce into the passenger seat, before walking around the car into the drivers compartment, the cool ventilated air of the Batmobile does little to ease the anxiety jittering your bones.

Bruce rips a rug in half, holding it between his teeth before wrapping it around his stomach, forcing the wound to soak up the cotton. He reached for a latch in the batmobiles left console, ripping open a syringe filled with some sort of golden liquid, handing it to you, he nods againts your wide eyes, towards his naked arm.

“What??” You reply ghastly

“Just some pain killer hun, ain’t nothing different than an IV”

Shaking, you brace his arm, before driving the needle into his arm, pressing down the contraption as you watch the liquid golden seep into his bloodstream.

Bruce winces before letting out a huffed breathe of releif, blowing out some strands across his face before leaning back.

You gawk at the millions of contraptions and buttons of the center console, parts you notice belonging to any normal car while others seemed intergalactic. You know Bruce had a knack for inventing even the most daring gadgets, technology that veered on science fiction. But this was something else entirely.

As if sensing your trepidation, Bruce walks you through the powering switch, before pressing a button from his sleeve that promoted a holographic figure of Alfred.

“Master Bruce? Y/N? Is that you?” Alfred replied in shock, the brisket white hairs of his eyebrows pulled tight.

“Alfred, god, Bruce has been hit, badly, he’s just- he was saving me and now- now” You hastily reply, a half sob crawling up your throat as your forced to recount the prior evidence.

“Jesus Christ, Bruce always over estimated himself in all the years I’ve known him, but taking down a whole sector with no back up??”

“It’s just a scratch Alfred, you-” wheeze- “you need to relax” Bruce replies coughing loudly

Alfred peers down at him in disapproval

“It’s save to say, I’ll be prepping the operating room and phoning in Dr Proctor” Sighs Alfred, the turbulence of caring for such a man, for two men, aging him.

The holographic projector of Alfred shuts down, as Bruce shifts his face to look at you, beads of sweat has formed across his forehead, a thin sheen coating his face.

“Now it’s all you baby, get us home” Bruce replies softly, you reach towards his face to brush away the dark wet strands falling across his face.

Pressing a hard kiss againts his forehead, Bruce quickly reachers for your cheek, pulling you down to press his soft lips against your own, swallowing the pain and anguish whispered between the both of you.

You can’t help but let the tears stream down your face, and as Bruce glides his tongue along your bottom lip in a strangled moan, he licks them away quickly.

Shuddering with squeezed eyes, you peer at Bruce’s figure, layed across the passenger seat, heavy breaths wheezing through his chest.

You turn back to the wheel of the Batmobile, your hands grip the wheel until the leather squeaks under your fingers. Everything from this terrrifying ordeal falls away, the men, Bruce’s final victim, that room..it’s muffled by the thick air of the Batmobile interior. You are Bruce’s, and you will fight teeth and bone to ensure he doesn’t die saving you, after all his done, after everything that had happened.

Most of your life, you’ve never been able to know exactly what you want, or what to do, until Bruce had swooped into your life, cape and all. And now you have one purposes at this moment, and it comes to you clear as day. Deep as bone, beyond flesh and blood.

You get him home.

divider by @firefly-graphics !

🏷️ Just send an ask to me a part of my Taglist!

[catdotjpeg]

An investigation by Al Jazeera’s Sanad Verification Agency has found that the Israeli army attacks that killed seven people in a World Central Kitchen (WCK) aid convoy were intentional. On Monday at 10:43pm (19:43 GMT), journalists reported an Israeli shelling targeting a vehicle on Rashid Street in the central Gaza Strip resulting in casualties. This matches the account of a displaced individual interviewed by Al Jazeera, who confirmed multiple bombings between 11:00 and 11:30pm (20:00 – 20:30 GMT).

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu admitted that the attack had been executed by Israeli forces, saying they had “unintentionally [hit] innocent people in the Gaza Strip … it happens in war.”

The Sanad investigation has found that the attacks were, in fact, intentional. Basing the research on open-source information, witness testimonies, and images from the site, a chronological and geographical timeline of the events was constructed. WCK said in a statement on Tuesday that its workers had been leaving the Deir el-Balah warehouse after delivering 100 tonnes of food aid and that “despite coordinating movements with the [Israeli army], the convoy was hit”. The shelling targeted three vehicles belonging to WCK, one at a time – two armoured and one unarmoured – killing seven relief workers of various nationalities, including a Palestinian driver, Saif Abu Taha, from Rafah.

Hasan al-Shorbagi, a displaced Palestinian who lives with his family near the bombing site, about 4.7km (2.9 miles) from the warehouse, told Al Jazeera the first car was hit by a projectile, completely burning it. This is consistent with the image of the burned armoured car.

According to al-Shorbagi’s testimony, the injured were transferred from the first targeted car to another armoured vehicle to expedite their transport. A statement from WCK confirmed that the convoy left its warehouse in Deir el-Balah – shown on Google Maps at coordinates 31°24’54.7″N 34°22’05.1″E – and headed towards Rashid Street.

This distance along the route from the warehouse to Rashid Street was about three kilometres (1.9 miles) and the first car was targeted about 1.7km (one mile) down the road. The Sanad investigation found that the second vehicle was targeted approximately 800 metres (2,525 feet) away from where the first was hit. The third car was targeted about 1.6km (nearly a mile) away from the second car, based on its location after being bombed. Images taken from the bombing sites show that the vehicles were clearly marked on their roofs and windshields as belonging to WCK, indicating that they were in compliance and there had been prior coordination between WCK and the Israeli army about the movements.

Analysis of images of the second and third targeted vehicles showed signs of a projectile entering from the top and exiting through the bottom, suggesting that the cars were targeted from the air. The Israeli army acknowledged its responsibility for the tragic incident involving the killing of relief workers in Gaza Monday night in an Israeli air raid. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu stated that the Israeli army “unintentionally” struck innocent people in Gaza. The incident drew global condemnation. WCK said its team was travelling in a “deconflicted” area at the time. It called on Israel to stop “this indiscriminate killing” in Gaza and announced it was suspending operations in the region.

-- "Al Jazeera Sanad probe: Israeli forces deliberately hit WCK convoy" from Al Jazeera, 2 Apr 2024 4:21 PM EDT

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Witching Hour: Final Chapter

Pairing: Detective!Bob Floyd x Reader x Sheriff!Bradley Bradshaw

WitchAU

Warnings: Death, Fluff, Angst, Misery, Black Magic, Magic, Witchcraft, Swearing, Danger

- Chapter 9 Here -

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18+ Only

——————————

You stood in the middle of the coven, your mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out how you were going to get Bob out of this situation you’d caused.




You could try to unbind him using a charm and then make a run for it, but the charm would take at least 5 seconds, and the door was at least 20 feet away. You doubted that none of the 13 witches surrounding you would notice and stop you, but even if somehow you did manage to mumble the charm under your breath and no one noticed the ropes falling from Bobs limbs, you were sure they’d at least block you from your exit.




No, plan 1 was a no go.




You thought about how you could fight each and every one of them individually, about how you’d fight tooth and nail for Bob, but you knew you were no match for your aunts power.




Plan 2 wasn’t really a plan at all.




You considered that your only option may be talking your way out of the situation, pleading with Gillian’s soft side, the side that helped raise you and spent so many Christmas’s by your side. You knew she hated you in this moment, hated you for jeopardising others for your own selfish need. Hated you for going against what she and the others had fought so hard to stave off, but at the end of the day it was still sacrifice, it was still murder.




“Gilly, please. I know you hate me right now, but I’m begging you to take me and let Bob go. I’ve learnt my lesson, I’m sorry, you don’t need us both.” You began to plead with her.




“No, Bree.” Bob whimpered, a look of pain and horror etched across his face. “Don’t you do this to me!”




You bit back a sob and tore your eyes away from Bob, squaring up to Gillian.




“Take me, let him go, I’m begging you. Make it as slow, and painful as you need to, I will suffer for what I have done, please just let Bob go.”




Gillian’s eyes glinted, and you realised there was no love left for you.




Gillian was a shallow, heartless woman for the most part, but the little love she did once have for you was long gone.




You finally understood what you needed to do to save Bob.




“If you let Bob go, and take me, torture me, it’ll hurt both of us. He’ll have to live with that for the rest of his life and that will be so much worse than if we both die.” You plead as you glanced at Bob, and the look of horror on Bobs face was too much to bear, so you turned away.




Gillian pretended to think about it for a moment, pursing her lips as she looked between you and Bob.




“Hmmm… no, I don’t think so darling. Unfortunately the beetle’s already spoken, shhh… listen? It’s ticking, it’s time.” She chuckled.




And she was right, you had to strain to hear it, but it was there, ticking and clicking menacingly under the floorboards of the warehouse.




“No! I’m willingly sacrificing myself, so it can’t hurt him! That’s not how it works!” You screamed, suddenly frustrated as you lunged towards Bob and began to manually untie him.




No one stopped you as they watched you struggle with the tight knots around Bobs hands.




“Bree…” Bob sighed, defeated. You ignored him as you worked frantically to get him out of his binds.




“Bree.” He said more sternly this time. “Bree, stop!”




You looked up into his striking eyes, your hands slowing to a stop.




“Bree, it was your mom all along.”




“What… what do you mean?”




“Your mom, she was the one who called you here, she came to find you to plant it in your head that I ran off, that I was in danger. It wasn’t true, Bree. She came by the cabin while you slept, said not to wake you, that she wanted to check in. Next thing I knew I was waking up in the dark… in here.”




“That means nothing, she would never-“




Suddenly a soft laugh, almost disturbingly calm, came from the back of the group. The witches parted and your mom walked to the centre with a soft grin plastered across her beautiful features. Behind her your older sisters followed.




“I’m sorry darling, I really did try not to get involved in your love life, but… when the stars align, we simply must.” Her grin began to make you shiver, there was something unnatural behind it. Gillian shrunk behind her, and you suddenly realised it was all a front. She was merely a showman.




“What do you mean?” You breathed out as you stood, facing them.




You mother moved forward slowly, stroked your cheek and then spun quickly to admire your two older sisters, Kylie and Antonia.




“Your sisters, they have made me so proud.” She explained, “They’ve both found their true loves, men who make them happy. Men who would do simply anything for them, just like you and your little Bobby here. But the problem is, honey, as you well know, Mr Deathwatch is always ready to pounce.”




You held your breath as you listened and your mother paced. A terrible, cold feeling washed over you.




Your mother continued, “So imagine my surprise when your aunt and I were doing our yearly ritual to find the next star crossed bastard who was lucky enough to be sacrificed for the good of our kind, when the bones fell on your name, and the parchment burst into flames. I was horrified of course, at first. My own daughter, I couldn’t imagine it, and I so hoped Bob would jump to take your place, but when you somehow outsmarted Gilly under the pier that day, it got me thinking, why had the parchment burst into flames in the first place? It was normal.”




You were genuinely lost now, standing confused and in a half protective stance in front of Bob, ready to defend him at any moment.




“So we went home and I channeled our ancestors, tried to get them to help me, and… I was just about to call it a night when our great ancestor Maria decided to speak up. And you know what she said?” Your mom chucked, her eyes suddenly dark. “She said you were the one they prophesied about, and with you, the entire curse could be broken. You hold the power, my darling, you are so much more powerful than you even know.”







You scoffed, you couldn’t believe any of this was unfolding, “Okay, I already told you, I’ll take Bobs place. There you have it, a willing sacrifice, you can let him go now.” You were angry, furious that your own mother would do this to you, for the sake of your sisters’ happiness.




Your mom shook her head slowly, bringing her fingers up to her lips to press down a smile.




“No, darling, you don’t understand, do you? Poor, young thing. We need both of you for this to work, as well as another very important piece of the puzzle, I’m sure you know who’s followed you here, don’t you?” She gestured her hand at the door almost theatrically, and a second later, the green door burst open.




You clasped your hand over your mouth as the silhouette of those oh so familiar curls stood in the doorway, his large frame towering and clueless.




“Bree! You had me worried sick, I-“ Bradley stopped in his tracks as his eyes adjusted and the women surrounding you in the dimly lit room came into view.




“Bradley, no, you need to go! Now!” Your body went ice cold as you screamed for him to go and you realised what was happening.




It was too late, the door slammed shut behind him as he looked around, surprised.




“Bree, you called me here, what’s going on?” Bradley said as he rested his hand on the gun in his holster.




“No! I didn’t, Bradley, please you need to go!”




Bradley crossed the space between you and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, his large hand resting on the small of your back.




“Bree, what’s happening here?” He breathed down at you, concerned by the unusual gathering.




You shook your head and tears sprung to your eyes, you were so close to him you could feel his breath on your face and you could see the confusion in his eyes. “Bradley I’m so sorry…”




A force suddenly yanked you back ten feet so that you were out of reach of one another, and your mother walked up to him and smiled, “Hello Bradley, nice to see you again.”




Bradley’s face twisted into an expression of confusion and horror, and his jaw clenched and ticked as he realised he couldn’t move, your mothers deceptively soft touch freezing him to his spot as his eyes met yours.




“I’m glad you could make it, you really are an incredibly big part of our puzzle. Without you…” she chuckled, “well, we wouldn’t be able to do it.” Her face had now changed, and the woman you had spent your life trusting and loving was no longer your mother, but rather a shallow, hollow version, devoid of the love she once so openly poured out. You wondered now if it was all an act and this was the real her.




“Mom…” you whimpered, “You can’t do this. One person is enough!”




Your mom shook her head with a smirk, “Not this time. You’re the only witch in the history of our bloodline to have two true soulmates. Sure, some had multiple lovers, but never true, untainted love completely equally for two people. If you all die, none of us will ever be cursed again.”




Your lip began to tremble, you had tried so hard to suppress your feelings for Bradley, you kept telling yourself it was a crush and Bob was the one, but in all honesty your heart was crushed by the immense weight of your feelings for both men.




Now all you felt was the awful weight of guilt, having brought them both into this nightmare.




“Bree… I don’t understand.” Bradley forced out through a clenched jaw. “Do… you love me?”




You wanted to cry, to shake him and ask “that’s the part you’re focusing on??” But all you could do was nod as you looked into his beautiful brown eyes, which sparkled at your affirmation.


“I love you too.” He breathed, still struggling in place to get to you.




Bob flinched behind you, and you suddenly were overwhelmed by the guilt of it all.




Your eyes darted between the two men as your mind raced and you tried to figure out how to get out of this mess.




The problem was, you were surrounded completely, and it now wasn’t just one person you needed to protect, but two.




You realised now that your mothers love for your sisters was stronger than her love for you, and that you needed to do whatever it to took to save the men you loved, even if that meant hurting your family.




“If you lay a finger on either of them, I swear to god you will regret it.” You gritted out, anger bubbling up to the surface. Heat pooling at the tips of your fingers.




Gillian rounded into view with a smirk on her face, cocky as ever as he stood beside your mother, “Poor thing, you never stood a chance really. I mean don’t get me wrong, we do love you dear, but this is for the greater good of our kind.”




Your mother nodded, “Wouldn’t you want nothing more than to protect your family, Bree?”




You scoffed, “What, the family that would rather I die than their husbands? Why would I sacrifice my life and the men I love for that? If you let them go, I promise you I won’t resist.” You pleaded again, hoping their love for you would help them see clearly.




You mother looked at the ground and sighed, and you hoped for a moment that your pleading had worked.




“Mom?” You said softly, appealing to her motherly instinct.




Your mother looked up at you slowly, a soft smile and gentle eyes, the way she always looked at you when you were a child.




You held your breath as the seconds passed, the heat in your fingers slowly ebbing away as you felt that you may have gotten through to her.




Then, seemingly with the flick of a switch, her face turned stone cold. “No.”




Your mother flicked her wrist, and suddenly Bradley went limp and the light seemingly disappeared from his eyes.




You screamed, you screamed so loud you couldn’t even hear it anymore, and the heat in your fingers turned into white hot power that engulfed the room and everyone in it. It all happened so quickly, and you weren’t even sure if Bradley’s knees hit the ground before the dark room was fully illuminated.




You screamed as you dropped to your knees and shook, blinded by the bright light you emitted and filled to the brim with anger and hatred.




You could feel Bradley disappear, you felt it like part of your soul had been torn out of you like a page from a book, sharp and jagged.




You felt incomplete, and you screamed.




After what felt like hours, the light began to dim and your screams turned to sobbing.




You eventually opened your eyes, your fists clenched against the cold hard ground, and you were alone in the room with Bob, and Bradley’s cold body.




Bob blinking as his eyes readjusted, “Bree, baby untie me, please.” He instructed, voice strong and determined.




You stood on wobbly legs and sniffled as you stumbled toward him, your eyes landing on Bradleys body and making you want to scream again.




You dropped to your knees at Bob’s side as you removed his constraints.




The second Bob’s hands were freed, he held you.




You’d expected him to run, or to be furious at you for loving another man as well as him, or for pulling him into this mess, but there was none of that. No animosity, no resentment, just pure love and worry.




He held you on his lap for a long time as you wept, stroking your hair and kissing your wet face as he rocked you back and forth.




“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “For everything, I’m so sorry.”




Bob didn’t say anything for a while, but eventually he sighed and shook his head, “Bree I don’t pretend to understand your world, but I do understand that you can’t help who you’re destined for, and who you love. I know you didn’t mean for any of this, it’s fate, just like how you and I came together…Can you just answer me one thing?”




You looked up at Bob with watery eyes and nodded.




“Do you still love me… the same as you did before all this?”




You let out a fresh sob and nodded, “Of course, you idiot. My love for you didn’t change because of Bradley, you were always the one.”







———————————




You had no idea where the coven went when you exploded, but you knew despite the fear of them returning, you had to take some time to say goodbye to Bradley.




You sat with his body for long time, and Bob said nothing while you kissed Bradley’s cold forehead, or when you confessed to him that you really did love him all along, even though you knew he could no longer hear you.




You set the warehouse alight along with Bradley’s body, and you watched in pain as it burnt to the ground.




By the time police and firefighters had arrived, you and Bob were long gone.




You drove Bradley’s truck south and dumped it 4 miles out of a small town you’d stopped at overnight, before getting on a bus to god knows where.




You had no idea what the future held, no idea where you were going, and no idea where your mother was or if they were even still alive.




All you knew was you had Bob to protect and you would very clearly do everything in your power to do so.




—————————-




Writers note: sorry this took so long to finish! I feel like I really struggled with this one and my creative flow was not… flowing! But I hope you guys have enjoyed this series regardless!

[queen-scribbles]

The Long Burning Torch ch 9

Heeeere we go, next chapter for my @shepherds-of-haven 20's AU! ----

Gutter water seeped into Xaeryn's shoes as she misstepped, but she hardly noticed. It was coming up on time for King Kaza and his entourage to reach the Ashtown gate, if she'd guessed right. Please let me have guessed right. It wasn't just a matter of if he was visiting wherever his people had stashed the Torch(and Red), but which gate they would use to pass between districts. There were two, one closer to the king's hotel, the other closer to the theorized goal.

Xaeryn was placing her hopes on someone like Kaza Ackshin wanting to spend as little time in such a rough and tumble place as possible. She studied the passersby and passing vehicles with the same scrutiny, unsure of travel method given when her scry had ended. She was fairly certain they weren't translocating, with how many were in the group and it not being Heron's main skillset, according to Briony.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the rattle of an approaching car engine, heartbeat quickening when she saw it was a gleaming red beast, cleaner and a trifle more elegant than the majority of other vehicles she'd seen. Bold of anyone to take something that ritzy into Ashtown; it was going to get filthy and probably nicked. She peered intently at the interior. The timing worked out, maybe this was--

The was a flash of the bodyguard's silver-white hair in one window, a couple indistinct silhouettes, then a glimpse of King Kaza's profile when he leaned forward to talk to the driver as the car trundled past. Xaeryn caught a sharp breath, let her gaze flick away for just a moment to look for Darius, then glued it back on the automobile. She wanted to let it get a bit more distance before she followed. Ashtown's streets were a rutted mess; you could drive them, but not fast. Regardless, she would need to move soon.

If he's not here in the next five seconds, I'm going alone, she thought grimly, stepping from her hiding place. I warned him-

A shadowy figure rushed toward her, and she started to reach for the dagger in her handbag before green hair registered.

"Half expected not to find a blazin' trace," Darius said, tucking himself out of the car's line of sight with her.

"You were about two seconds from that being the case," Xaeryn returned dryly. "That's their car, we're following."

Darius nodded and the two of them were moving, close to buildings, letting evening shadows swallow them. "Who's with him?"

"The Ket for sure. It looked like Briony as well when I scryed, but I couldn't see for sure and can't confirm she's in the car. I may have seen another guard or two as well, but I was more focused on the king."

Darius grunted. "Maybe we should split. Opposite sides of the street," he pointed out, dodging a pothole. "Better visibility and lower odds we catch their eye."

"Good thinking," Xaeryn nodded, gaze still locked on the hazy silhouette of the car. "Next time there's a long enough shadow or they make a turn-"

Even as she spoke, the car swung into a right turn.

"Go," she hissed, pressing herself close to the building as she rounded the turn after them. For half a second, she was afraid Darius would argue being the one to cross the street, but he didn't, jaw set as he darted to the opposing shadows. They wouldn't be able to talk, but that wasn't really necessary at this point.

Almost a mile from the Smoketown gate, very close to to the outer wall, the car finally braked in front of a mid-sized building, hybrid small warehouse and offices from the look of it. The large doors covering half the front opened and they drove inside. Xaeryn hid herself in a doorway with a good view, saw King Kaza and Heron exit the car. Pink hair made it easy to spot Briony as she followed. So she was here. She and King Kaza both scanned the street, Briony's gaze hitching slightly, before the king said something to someone Xaeryn couldn't see and the doors started to close. Just before it shut she thought belatedly to scan the interior and caught the faint outline of another car. Were they meeting someone? Or was that just an alternate? How many people were in there?

Darius crossed to join her, still skulking in shadow. "So how're we gettin' in, miss snooper?"

She shook her head. He wasn't going to like this. "I need you to go get the authorities."

He bristled. "What?!"

"Now that we have a solid location, back-up wouldn't go amiss." She glanced at him. "There was another car in there. Maybe more than the three of us can handle. We need the police, or better yet, the Shepherds," she amended as a thought occurred. "Magic rigmarole is more in their purview than the police, and their compound is in Ashtown so it's closer."

"Why's it gotta be me?" Darius grumbled obstinately. "Why can't you do it? You'd get there faster, you live here."

He had a point, damn him, but, "Because it's my case, I've been working it for two sennights, and it's my best friend they abducted and I am not breezing when I'm this close!" Xaeryn hissed. "Also, I'm good at sneaking."

He arched a skeptical brow at that claim, glancing her height over, and looked ready to argue further--we don't have time, just do what I'm asking--before nodding with a scowl. "Hael, fine. Where are they?"

"About half a mile." She gave him rapid, grateful directions. "Tell them Miss Shrike's case could use their expertise. I crossed paths with a squad while investigating, my name might mean something."

His scowl deepened, argument still clear in his eyes. "Tell Bry to be careful, huh?" he growled, tugging down his cap as he headed off.

If I get the chance. She had to get inside first, figure out the layout, where things were, how many brunos there were aside from the ones she'd seen. The storage portion of the building looked to be the bottom quarter where they'd parked, leaving the rest of the space for offices and other rooms. A lot to search. And if they were smart...

There. The lookout was lounging against the side of the building, hidden in shadow.

She'd have to approach from the other side, where he was at least partially blind. I wonder if Briony even knows we're here, she mused as she carefully made her way across the street. They wouldn't be able to coordinate to any degree if she didn't know Xaeryn and Darius had followed.

The angle of Xaeryn's approach to avoid the lookout put her on the carport/storage side of the building, which had markedly fewer doors or windows. In fact, aside from the big main doors, she only found one; most of the way down the side wall near the back corner, a tiny window and greasy door, unlit despite the lengthening shadows.

She peered through the window as best she could--inside wasn't much better lit than out here--and reached for the door. She was fairly good with locks, but with no light out here--

The knob turned, unlocked. Xaeryn froze.

Luck? A trap? The One-God looking out for her?

Ultimately it didn't matter because Red was in there. So no matter how fortuitous this was, she was accepting it. She slowly, carefully opened the door and stepped inside.

She was in a back corner of the warehouse space, surrounded by cast-off equipment and crates, along with a few of the latter that lacked dust and were likely more recent additions. Xaeryn waited for her eyes to adjust and started carefully picking her way across the room. She skirted the cars, noting what details she could with the dark.

Including the red accents on the car that had been here when King Kaza arrived.

There were two doors on the far wall that led to the offices, one dark, one with light showing underneath. She went to the former, found it locked. No. The knob turned, the door was warped. Not getting in that way. Not without a great deal of noise. She moved to the other door reluctantly, ears pricked of any sound on the other side that would herald a watchman.

This one was unlocked and opened easily. The light was dimmer than she'd expected, lamps turned low. There was a hallway to her left, bisected by a wall and cracked-open door halfway down. Ahead and slightly to the right was a flight of stairs, with light filtering down from the second floor.

Which way...? Something tense and desperate coiled in Xaeryn's chest as she deliberated the value and risks of each. She could hear the murmur of voices but couldn't tell the direction. I can't just stand here, I need to move.

A glint of something white and shiny caught her eye as she rubbed the back of her neck. Tucked in a crack in the wall a couple steps up the stairs, angled so its paws pointed up, she found the ahfuri figurine Briony had bought at Chandry's.

If that wasn't a clue... Xaeryn gently pried the statuette from the wall and tucked it in her handbag. What could it mean but Briony had seen them following and was trying to help without blowing her cover?

The tread of footsteps filtered down from above and Xaeryn backpedaled down the stairs. She moved swiftly toward the door bisecting the hall as the steps continued heading the stairs, joined by the sound of conversation. She slipped through the cracked-open door and stood behind it, hoping the people were just heading for the warehouse.

There was the creak of a door opening, then the low murmur of voices too quiet to overhear cut off as it closed. They were gone. She waited a couple minutes all but holding her breath, then stepped back through. It was a relief to see the hall empty. They're probably watching the cars.

Xaeryn chewed the inside of her cheek as she made her way up the stairs, tensed every step for them to creak or break or give her away. A more patient and canny dame might've waited for King Kaza to leave so there were fewer guards to avoid. But she couldn't. Not this time, not while they had Red. It was her fault he'd been abducted, like blazing hael she was going to leave him one second longer than she had to. Especially not knowing what lengths these goons would go to get what they wanted, or what they'd do after. She had her suspicions, though, and those had her pulse pounding in her ears.

She reached the top of the steps, carefully checking for guards as she went and seeing none. They must be in the rooms, to stay with their charges. She needed to find out if anyone was here besides King Kaza or if that car was simply an alternate for his people.

But if he was already following me before the gala, why did he act like we'd never met? Let me spin the yarn about Circe Blackwood? Was he just toying with me?

Riddles for later. For now she wanted to find Red, find the Torch--yes, God help her, in that order--and get out of here. Finding enough evidence or otherwise managing to implicate King Kaza--and Jarkyth, if he was involved--would be a lovely bonus. But her job was the Torch and her goal was Red and hopefully Darius wouldn't have too much trouble convincing the Shepherds.

Xaeryn paused to take stock. This was a tricky spot; hallway ahead of her and one coming in as a blind corner to her right. The room almost straight in from of her looked larger than the others lining the hall. And there was something about the lights... Aside from the ones at the head of the stairs, they seemed dim, with a barely noticeable flicker that set her teeth on edge and had an ache starting in her temples, faint but annoying.

Alright, let's see... There were three rooms along the left of the hall ahead, the larger room and blind corner on the right, and who knew how many more rooms down that righthand hall. Well, that's what you need to find out. If there are rooms with no windows, those would make the most sense for stashing a stolen artefact and a captive.

She'd passed the first of the left hand rooms when she heard voices to the right. She stepped rapidly into the second room, pressing herself against the wall by the door. Thank God it was unlocked.

"...more stubborn than anticipated." That was King Kaza, tone a mix of amusement and frustration. "He maintains he cannot read it."

"Well, that's hokum," a woman replied, voice cultured, steely, and unfamiliar. "Th' gumshoe looked me in th' eye and said he'd helped develop it."

Red. They were talking about Red. And from the woman's comment... Xaeryn bit her lip and peeked around the doorframe. The woman must be the Shifter. It would be good to know what she looked like when she wasn't masquerading as Ms. Aerin.

Hopefully with this room being unlit Xaeryn wouldn't be easy to spot. It allowed a look down the blind corner hall, and she could just make out the king standing at a juncture with another perpendicular hall, but the woman was out of view.

King Kaza chuckled. "Did she? Very good, Syra." He stroked his chin. "I must again relay my thanks for your aid to our patron. You have been invaluable."

The woman, Syra, snorted a laugh. "Just keep your end of our deal and that will be thank enough for us both." She shifted, moving enough into view Xaeryn could see long silky blue-black hair decorated with narrow braids. "So what're we doing about him?"

"Leave him. Let him think we believe his claim. He is not going anywhere." King Kaza gestured toward one of the doors and Xaeryn's heart skipped a beat. "In an hour, at most, we shall revisit to clarify our resolve and the... nature of his predicament." His fingers drummed the hilt of dagger at his belt and Xaeryn nearly reached for hers.

You hurt him and I swear-- She grit her teeth, which made the headache worse.

"You're the boss," Syra said, shrugging, as the two of them headed into the larger room. "Sort of. If you think it's the best way..."

Xaeryn barely managed to wait a three-count after they were gone before she started back out the door. And then stopped. She should probably check out this room while she was here. Just in case circumstance didn't allow for her coming back, to be sure. But Red.

A quick look. If nothing pops out I'm going, she compromised. He's so close. She tried to summon a witchlight, but her focus was too rattled and the soft flame wouldn't come. She used the faint light from the window instead. Nothing caught her eye. In fact, the room was almost empty.

Relieved both that she could mentally check it as searched and that doing so hadn't taken long, Xaeryn moved with the bare minimum of caution to the door King Kaza had indicated. It was locked, of course. And she'd been in too much of a tizzy when she left to grab her picks.

She gnawed her lower lip, glaring at the lock as if she could foil it through force of will. To be so close and stymied by something so simple... it was making her head hurt, a sense of urgency crawling under her skin.

Xaeryn swiveled to look for something she could maybe use, evidence of an unlocked room where she could look, and came up empty for the hallway. But the dull glint of something in her peripheral reminded her of another option.

Her brooch. The bronze sun Chandry had given her. If the lock was simple enough, it just might work. And really, a run of the mill office building was unlikely to have shelled out for anything fancy, and it had been languishing in disrepair for who-knew-how-long before King Kaza appropriated it.

She plucked the sun from her blouse, flipping out the surprisingly sturdy-looking straight pin. God, please let this work. One last look to confirm no one was coming, no voices heralded a need to hide, and she knelt to start working.

It was, thank God, a rudimentary lock, but it had been quite a while since she picked one with makeshift tools and she bit her lip in concentration as she finagled it. Come on, come o-

She gasped as a hand wrapped around her arm, yanking her abruptly to her feet.

The bruno holding her arm scowled. "How'd you get in here?"

Xaeryn closed her hand around the brooch, the pin and the sun's rays digging into her palm as she gathered her composure. "Through the door."

"Oh, think you're cute," the guard growled. He was a solidly built muti; how blinkered had she been to not hear him coming? "You can tell it to the boss."

"Love to," Xaeryn retorted, even as her heart pounded. No way she could take him in a fight, not by herself. But if Briony was with King Kaza, or if she could drag her feet long enough for Darius to get back with the Shepherds(hopefully), maybe there was a chance.

The guard just sneered at her retort and hauled her toward the room she'd seen King Kaza and Syra enter. He did seem slightly surprised she wasn't fighting harder.

She wanted to. She wanted to break free, incapacitate him, and free Red. But she knew her limits, and handling a brute like this in a dust-up was beyond them. So she played along and prayed for a solution.

Sizing up the room on their arrival wasn't a promising situation. King Kaza and Syra stood in line with the door, the latter leaning slightly against a dilapidated desk as they conversed. There were two other guards in the room--Heron and the one she'd seen in the car--but she didn't see Briony.

Xaeryn tensed and tried to make herself relax as King Kaza broke off his conversation with Syra to arch a brow at her arrival. "Miss Blackwood. I cannot wait to hear what you thought to find here." He smirked. "I imagine it's quite a tale."

"I can start it for her," Syra said, eyes narrowed. "Her name's not Blackwood; this is the snooper. The one after the Torch. Miss Shrike."

"That's me," Xaeryn said, looking around the room and trying to calm--or at least hide--her pounding heart. "You had quite the ingenious method of acquiring it, I must say. Real brain twister." She glanced at Heron, standing with arms crossed near a dusty bookcase that jutted into the room. This must've been a clerical space, record-keeping and multiple secretaries sharing the room. In a fight with back up she could make good use of a space like this, with the multiple desks, cabinets, and shelves. "Almost stumped me."

"And yet here you are," a new voice said, low and almost hypnotizing. "I wonder if we should credit that to your ingenuity or your determination, Miss Shrike." The speaker strode into view from around the bookcase, a shorter man with piercing black eyes and styled dark hair, wearing a suit that probably cost more than she made in a year. No introduction was necessary; he was instantly recognizable to any devotee of the One-God. Talquist Jarkyth. The Western Hierophant.

"I'm more inclined to think it's a combination," Xaeryn countered. No way was she getting her heart to slow now. Her head was still pounding, too.

"You knew she was on our trail and didn't loop me in?!" King Kaza demanded. "We-"

"There was no need," Jarkyth cut him off sharply. "I had people on it. Too many would have defeated efforts at subtlety." He chuckled. "You have proven a most tenacious and clever example of your profession, Miss Shrike. How odd that you have stumbled here, at the end."

"Stumbled, how?" she asked. It was, most likely, futile to play dumb. But if he could toy with her, she could do the same. If he'd had people on her, and was here now, odds were good the car with red accents was his.

"Coming here alone, not waiting for the building to be unoccupied before you entered." He steepled his fingers and tsked. "I was very close to being impressed. I wonder what might've changed to spark such a misstep."

This time Xaeryn ignored his hinting completely, despite the sinking in her gut, turning instead to King Kaza. "Don't tell me you believe the bunk about the Torch making you invulnerable."

"And who decided it is 'bunk'? Civilized, modern scholars?" King Kaza scoffed. "We know it has an effect on magic, and legends are born from truth."

"And embellishment," she countered, mind racing at that tidbit. What kind of effect? "And even the original tribe didn't remain invulnerable." She shifted and the guard tightened his grip on her arm. Right. He was still there.

"But they did have good fortune and protection, by all accounts. And it is a tie to the land regardless." he crossed his arms. "My plans to establish myself in Jalis will go significantly more smoothly with tangible proof of my belonging, and the Torch should be mine by rights."

"You can't prove that, which is why you resorted to stealing it." Xaeryn glanced around the room. Where the hael was Briony? "Do you think people won't find that out?"

"The Jalis runs on conquest, Miss Shrike. Merely by holding the Torch I will prove my rights to it. And then prove my strength. It is, in fact, lucky for me that you are here." He sat on the edge of the desk, smirking. "While Syra has been invaluable, and what she learned from you was useful confirmation" --the Shifter matched his smirk and Xaeryn grit her teeth--"it will be even more useful for you to regale us with anything else you've learned of the pendant's capabilities. And before you try to claim you may not remember everything, I have something to help with that." He tapped one of the desk drawers and gave her a meaningful look.

Xaeryn's fingers curled in. He had to mean her notepad. "Reading or reciting, why would I give you information that would help you subjugate others?" she asked, surprised how level she kept her voice. The brooch was digging into her hand. "I'd never be able to live with myself."

"I believe you." King Kaza flashed a shark-like grin. "I also believe you know you aren't our only, hm, guest."

Her heart dropped to her toes, hands clenching tighter as she struggled to limit her reaction. The brooch was digging into her hand, almost deep enough to draw blood.

He leaned back against the desk. "How well would you live with yourself, detective, if harm befell him thanks to your actions--or lack thereof?"

Xaeryn was only vaguely aware of a door opening and closing behind her, fury boiling too hot to temper. "You lay a finger on him--"

The guard's grip tightened and King Kaza's grin widened. "That is exactly where I thought we could start, actually. It gives you several chances to reconsider before your friend has suffered too much." His gaze drifted over her shoulder. "Excellent timing, Stormbreaker."

She hoped he read only fury in her jaw's twitch at the words.

"Did you need me, highness?" There was a faintly brittle twang in Briony's voice.

"As you see, we caught a trespasser." King Kaza gestured to Xaeryn. When his gaze shifted away, she realigned the brooch in her grasp.

If their focus all stayed on Briony and the king, maybe she could grip it right to use as a weapon and escape the guard's grasp. It was the closest thing she had; her handbag had dropped in the hall when the guard grabbed her.

"I do see," Briony said. "How's that matter to me?"

"I think it will be most enlightening to get her and our captive in the same room." He pushed off the desk.

"Kaza, dispense with the dramatics and do what needs doing," Jarkyth said coldly. "Pageantry has its place, but this is not it, not on a schedule like ours."

"Yes, your grace. Stormbreaker, you and I will take her, the rest can check for any other interlopers."

She had the sun aligned, thumb pressing the hinge to keep the pin jutting out. There would be no coordination, hopefully she and Briony could make this work. She didn't even know the other woman's fighting style; if she leaned more toward straight brawling or had some level of finesse.

Briony stepped closer, her hand settling on Xaeryn's arm just above the elbow. It was a mirror of the other guard's grip, which he loosened seeing the king's bodyguard take possession of the prisoner.

Briony caught Xaeryn's gaze for a heartbeat, then in one fluid motion dragged her several steps to the side and punched the guard in the face.

He went down with a squawk and crunch of bone that heralded a broken nose. Heron and the other other guard proved to have the fastest reflexes, and even they hesitated a beat before closing in. Xaeryn wheeled on the guard as Briony staggered Hereon with a kick to the gut.

With a prayer and a hard jab, she aimed the brooch pin at the guard's face--and got lucky; the pin caught the soft hollow at the corner of his eye. She twisted in to shoulder check him and sent him crashing over one of the desks.

The nape of her neck tingled with a sense of danger and Xaeryn ducked to the left, almost running onto a bookshelf but feeling the breeze of a missed punch. She pivoted to see Syra already swinging again, the silver glint of punching daggers clenched in each hand.

Xaeryn knocked the blow aside with the back of her wrist, already-bruised hand complaining at the strike. She grit her teeth to ignore it and snapped her knee up toward Syra's stomach.

Syra dodged backward and swiped again. The punching dagger sliced the shoulder of Xaeryn's blouse but didn't catch skin. She was vaguely aware of Kaza launching himself at Briony, knife in each hand and growling oaths about treachery.

Xaeryn pressed her advantage--if you could call it that--to close in and force Syra back against the desk. The Shifter rolled along the edge, taking a swing as she did. This one slashed a shallow cut into Xaeryn's forearm when she blocked and Syra smirked even as she retreated a step at the desk's corner for space. Xaeryn shook out the sting, but before she retaliated she caught the clatter of shifting wood and quietly growled curses.

She ducked backwards with perfect timing for the guard she'd incapacitated before to go barreling between her and Syra. His momentum from the miss carried him into the window and he vanished from sight with a tremendous shattering of glass and dismayed yell.

Syra punched at Xaeryn and in her half-distracted state it was pure instinct she managed to block it. Syra immediately followed with the other hand, and Xaeryn caught her wrist to redirect the blow back at her. The punching dagger drove into the base of Syra's neck.

She gave a choked grunt and took one last feeble swing at Xaeryn as she swayed, before crumbling across the desk.

Xaeryn took a breath, turned to see how Briony was faring--

A hand clamped on the back of her neck and flung her across the room.

She yelped as she ricocheted off the corner of the desk before hitting the floor and narrowly avoided banging her head hard enough to see stars. The brooch went skittering away at the impact, depriving her of any weapon.

"You bitch!" Heron snarled, following with a faint glow building around his fists.

Xaeryn shook off the daze and scrambled backwards. A vicious kick aimed at her ribs caught her thigh instead.

She kicked back, catching his ankle and making him stagger. It only gave her a second of breathing room, but that second got her halfway to her feet and more mobile to avoid his next attack.

The was pretty much her only strategy against Battle Mages; dodge until they got tired and she got lucky. Given Heron wasn't her first opponent in this fight--and he was bloody furious--she wasn't sure that was going to work this time.

He grabbed a fistful of her blouse and shoved her back into a bookshelf.

Almost definitely not going to work this time.

There was scuffling, a distressed "Xaeryn!" from Briony, and the unmistakable thud of something hitting the back of Heron's head.

But it wasn't the pink-haired warrior standing behind him when he staggered under the blow.

It was Red, white knuckle grip on the 2x4 he wielded and worry blazing in his eyes as he whacked Heron once more for good measure. Hard enough it broke the board in the process and sent the man crumpling to the floor.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment before the board hit the ground and they lunged forward, Red's hands gripping her shoulders and Xaeryn's cupping his jaw and both blurting, "Are you alright?!"

How are you here-?!

Before either could answer, however, Briony bolted past for the door. "Xaeryn, Jarkyth!!"

Xaeryn groaned and reluctantly pulled herself away from Red to help with pursuit. He was alive, and she hadn't seen any serious injuries. A more thorough inventory could wait.

Briony was already thundering down the stairs, unnaturally fast. Halfway down behind her, Xaeryn could see the door hanging open and her heart sank. "Watch out!" she hollered, catching movement as one of the downstairs guards charged down the hall at Briony. He caught her around the waist and slammed her into a wall, but dropped with a yelp when she elbowed him in the face.

It still slowed her enough Xaeryn caught up, and the two of them burst out the door at almost the same moment.

To find an empty street.

"Dammit!" Briony growled, kicking the dirt. She clasped her hands against the back of her head, fingers tangling in her ponytail. "If I'd gotten Kaza down just a second faster..."

Xaeryn shook her head. "No sense in playing what if." She surveyed the streets, but His Grace must've been really hotfooting it; there was no sign.

Briony sucked her teeth. "He might have the Torch, Xaeryn. He had enough of a headstart to grab it b'fore he rabbited."

Her heart dropped at the thought. For all her work, the risk she'd brought to Red, to be for nothing in the end... "Is there a way we can check? Did you see where they were keeping it?"

Briony nodded, letting her hands fall. "I did, t'night."

Headlights swung into view from a sidestreet, the truck they belonged to very clearly headed their way, and both women froze.

"Briony!" a familiar voice called from the back, and Darius jumped down before the vehicle had come to a complete stop.

"Coulda used ya about twenty seconds ago, D," Briony chided, but she was still grinning as she gave him a hug and a shoulder punch in quick succession. "Jarkyth scarpered."

"Had t' convince the backup I was on the level," he said gruffly, returning the hug and swaying from the shoulder punch. "Captains Trick and Emroth." He jerked a thumb at the two women climbing down from the cab of the now-halted truck.

"We've met," Xaeryn said dryly. She was grateful not to have Trick's pistol leveled at her chest this time. And she left off her recollection she and Captain Emroth--Iorwen--were school acquaintances. She had bigger concerns at the moment. "Most of us," she amended as a hulking blond Ket hopped from the back of the truck.

"Oh, this is Daren," Trick said with a wave in his direction. "He's a new recruit an' we figured this would be good field experience. You can sweep around the building, Daren, look for any tryin' to sneak off."

"The ones inside are mostly unconscious or at least incapacitated" --she didn't know what shape Briony left the king in--"but you'll still want to keep alert."

"Always," Captain Emroth said as she headed for the building. "Hear you had a friend kidnapped?"

Xaeryn nodded. "Red."

A muscle twitched in Iorwen's jaw as that sank in. "I'll take care of him," she promised, disappearing inside before Xaeryn could explain he's gotten free somehow, he'd come swooping to her rescue somehow, just make sure he's alright.

Leaving aside that Iorwen--Captain Emroth; this was an official setting--was someone she'd trust enough to let her job take focus under the circumstances, she still needed to go back inside. "I think the artefact I'm looking for might still be in there," Xaeryn said to Trick. "The... true butter and egg man of this heist got away, but there are some vital members among the incapacitated."

"Oh, we'll help with collectin' them," Briony interjected. "I know how many there should be." She grabbed Darius by the sleeve and started dragging him inside.

"Briony," Xaeryn started, hustling after them and vaguely wondering how the woman still had so much energy, "where's the Torch?"

"Oh, right. Upstairs, across the hall from where they were keepin' your friend and down one door toward the further end," Briony rattled off.

They nearly ran into Red in the upstairs hallway, his brows twitching at the sight of extra people. "I, ah, tied up the ones I could," he said, gesturing back toward the room before running his hand through his hair. It helped even less than usual, and Xaeryn was torn between a fond smile at the tousled mess and a wince at how exhausted he looked beneath the general dishevelment and--thankfully minor--injuries.

"Good thinkin," Briony said, still holding Darius' sleeve as she angled toward the room.

"And you're with me," Captain Emroth said with a faint smile. She lightly rested one hand on Red's arm and tugged him to the side.

"Ryn-" Red started to protest.

"Is still working," Captain Emroth finished for him, catching Xaeryn's eye as she and Trick started for the hall Briony had mentioned, "I'm sure that'll change in a few minutes, but for now we're worrying about you..."

Xaeryn didn't hear any more, as she and Trick had turned down the hallway. The door Briony had indicated was cracked slightly ajar. Oh, God, please no. Not after everything.

"You said you think it's in here?" Trick asked.

Xaeryn nodded, braced for the worst as she reached to swing the door open. "There's a chance the one who escaped took it, but I'm hoping not."

"Why won't you give this vanishin' man's name?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Xaeryn said wryly as she stepped into the room. There were only a few crates in the room, most covered with dust and undisturbed. The only one that looked promising for her was still closed. Maybe it's still here.

"Try me," Trick deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe.

"Talquist Jarkyth."

A snort. "You don't think I'd believe a politician's involved in shady dealings? How long have you lived in this city again?"

"He's also a religious leader who's made a show of piety. Many will likely find it a hard truth to swallow." She opened the crate and the faint headache she'd been ignoring since her arrival pulsed harshly.

But that was small potatoes compared to the sight of what lay in the crate, bronze ornamentation glinting dully in the half-light, easily recognized from all the time she'd spent staring at photographs.

Solimer's Torch.

Relief and elation spiraled in her chest as she reached for the artefact. It was still here, Jarkyth hadn't made off with it, she could fulfill her contract with Mr. Syndran-

The metal burned when her fingers brushed it and she snatched her hand back with a hiss.

Trick pushed off the doorframe, frowning at her. "What's wrong?"

Xaeryn shook her head--she had a theory but didn't want to say it without proof. "Can I borrow those?" She indicated the thick leather gloves tucked in the captain's belt.

"Oh, sure." Trick tugged them free and passed them over.

"Thank you." Xaeryn slipped one on before reaching into the crate again. The muffling layer did the trick, protecting her from the burning sensation, and she carried it out to the better-lit hallway, which confirmed her suspicion. This was not obsidian, though it was similar enough in coloration she could understand how people were fooled. Particularly Norm scholars, to whom it would be just another lump of rock.

It was thoret.

That answers several questions and raises almost as many new ones. Xaeryn fought down the urge to hold it at arm's length, nausea crawling in her stomach.

"That's your artefact?" Trick wrinkled her nose. "I don't like it."

"For good reason." Xaeryn pulled her gaze away from the talisman. "Captain, do you have any sort of warded containment unit in your truck?"

Trick nodded. "Let me--" there was a tread of footsteps downstairs-- "get him to get it. Daren?"

"Aye," floated up a grunted reply.

"Go grab one of the small blanker boxes, huh?"

"Yes, captain." His footsteps retreated.

As they waited, Briony emerged from the main room hauling a bound and protesting Kaza Ackshin, who was raising a ruckus that even if she was working with the Shepherds, he wasn't a citizen of Haven, local authorities had no right--

"The Shepherds might be based in Haven, but we aren't limited to Haven," Trick hollered after in interruption, and Kaza glared daggers at her before Briony manhandled him down the stairs.

Daren came up after they'd passed but before Darius followed with one of the guards. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Trick said, taking the case, roughly half the size of a breadbox, with a nod. "Good work sweeping for baddies. See if there's anyone in there you can take, and go guard the ones in the truck."

He nodded and headed for the room.

"Here we go, miss detective," Trick said, steadying the box so Xaeryn could nestle the Torch inside it.

"Thank you." Xaeryn placed the Torch in the box and closed it. The gnawing-headache sensation almost immediately diminished. She'd have to ask how these worked later; that was impressive enchantment or technology or both. "I should get this back where it belongs," she said through her sigh of relief as she took the box from Trick.

But her feet were reluctant to move, her gaze drifting over to where Red was. Not that she doubted Captain Emroth's skill, but a very large part of her desperately wanted to make sure for herself that he was alright before she left. Even knowing how elated Mr. Syndran would be to see the Torch was reclaimed.

"Wen'll take good care of him," Trick interjected, having seen where he attention lingered. "She's a first rate doctor, if he needs patchin' up--speakin' of, you want me to take care of your arm?" she nodded toward the shallow gash. "An' if he's the one who was kidnapped we'll need to ask him a few questions, but we won't keep him long."

Xaeyn nodded in response to... several things from that torrent, shifting the case with the Torch to clutch it close. "Captain Emroth and I attended the same school; I'm well-acquainted with her skill as a doctor and sure she's more than capable." Doesn't change wanting to confirm for myself, it's Red. "But if you're willing, I probably should get this patched up before I leave." She held up the injured arm. For appearances if nothing else, considering where I need to go. I look enough a fright without an open wound.

"Oh, I don't even need to go that involved." Trick jerked a thumb at herself. "Elae."

Ah. Xaeryn cracked a tired smile. "I imagine that comes in handy in your line of work."

"'Specially when Trouble Alder's your partner," Trick muttered, but the fond smile playing at her lips undercut any exasperation on the comment. She extended her hand, stopping only an inch or so from Xaeryn's arm. "May I?"

Xaeryn nodded, Trick clasped her arm murmuring quietly, and when she withdrew the wound was gone. Not so much as a scar.

"Thank you, you're quite good at this," Xaeryn commented, examining the skin. The Torch's case sat heavy in her arm. She glanced over at Red again. "I'm going to say farewell and I'll be out of your hair." She knew Mr. Syndran and sometimes Ms. Aerin worked late, but she didn't want to push it. "I'll return the case as soon as I can."

"You're welcome, and no rush, we have plenty," Trick said, moving to help as Briony and Darius returned to bundle the rest of the goons out of the building.

Xaeryn found her throat suddenly, thoroughly dry as she approached Red and Captain Emroth. "Pardon, I know you need to talk to him, but could I have just a minute first?"

Something danced in Iorwen's eyes as she nodded and stepped back. "Sure, you can have a minute."

Tempted as she was to fold him into a hug, there were too many other people coming and going and she was holding something in one arm, so she took Red's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad you're alright." I was so afraid you wouldn't be.

"Me, too," he said with a soft laugh, squeezing her hand back. "More glad you are."

She arched a brow. "I'm not the one who got abducted, Liefred," she said dryly.

"No, you were just part if a brawl with very bad odds," he drawled in counterpoint. He scratched the back of his neck and she stared at the scrape on his forearm. "I know fisticuffs aren't your forte, Ryn, even if you can handle yourself."

Xaeryn gave a soft laugh, even as she looked him over. Scrapes and rope-chafe on his arms, bruise on his forehead, nasty but scabbing split lip. "On that note, thank you for the save."

Red nodded, looking at her with something indecipherable in his eyes. "Of course." The look changed to a playful glint. "Not every day I get to play the hero." He rubbed the back of his head as he watched Briony haul the still-unconscious Heron downstairs. "He had it coming."

"Goose egg for a goose egg?" Xaeryn asked glibly.

He laughed. "Something like that."

They both caught a sharp breath--but tried to hide it--at the realization his thumb was rubbing absent arcs against the heel of her hand.

Xaeryn cleared her throat, painfully aware of Iorwen--Captain Emroth--nearby, surely hearing even if she was pretending to be busy. "I need to take this back while there's a chance of there being someone in the Merchants' Guild offices," she said, giving the case a gentle jostle, "and I understand Captain Emroth needs to speak with you, but if you want to drop by tomorrow we could talk."

Sun above, do we need to talk.

"I'd like that," Red said softly, then gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Assuming I don't sleep the day away."

"If you do, just come the day after," she shrugged, smiling playfully. "I'll always make time for you."

He gave a soft laugh. "Good to know. But hopefully I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hopefully," Xaeryn confirmed. Her heart pounded as he seemed just as reluctant to let go as she was.

"Make sure you get sleep too, Xaer," Red murmured.

"I promise," she nodded, then gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go, her fingers curling as she strode out of the building and through Ashtown's streets, heading for more civilized districts and ultimately, Merchants' Guild headquarters.

It had been a very long day, and she would be glad to put it behind her. ----

Next chapter for answers and tying up loose ends👀 and I think we're done! :D

[creepedverse]

whats everyone's living situation?

Tobin and Tali currently live together in a cheap, sketchy apartment in Farnbury. Tali covers rent while Tobin pays the other expenses

scout lives with her mother, across from the high school

Shannon lives in the same apartment complex as Tobin and Tali. She affords everything by her part time job at a Boba store and by working as a seamstress on demand. Fixing clothes, curtains etc.

Bonnie lives with her grandparents at the Honey-Crisp Apple Orchard! It’s probably about 10-20 miles north of Farnbury and 5-10 miles from the forest… her ACTUAL home is back in California though

Dia lives in a small 1 bed and bath house w a fairly nice kitchen and living room on 139 Groveham Ave. Dia also kind of took over an abandoned warehouse and turned it into an art studio that’s also on Groveham but further down the the street. She stocks it w all her art supplies and even has a thrifted couch and mini fridge in there for long nights. But Dia is originally from Michigan, specifically the Detroit area.

Tommie lives in any place he can worm his way into. In a different life, he could have lived very happily in his apartment in Corvallis, Oregon, but in Farnbury, he takes what he can get. Sometimes this means sneaking into the backroom of the diner he works at to get some rest, other times he's broken into Dia's art studio for shelter, and other times he sneaks into the local junkyard, where an old, abandoned camper van puts a roof over his head. Sometimes, when he sleeps there, he has funny dreams about things that have happened in the camper, but he doesn't think much of it.

Arthur camps out! He doesn’t have a permanent residence in Farnbury since he didn’t plan on actually living there long term, so he has set up a little camp in the wilderness. He actually ran into Tommie this way! And ever since then he’s found himself kinda trailing behind wherever he goes. He finagles his way into the camper, and when he can’t get into the camper, he stays in his tent. He also finds himself staying with friends here and there, only if they insist. He feels really bad invading their space so he tries not to! His proper home is back in New York, where he lived with his mother!

Joy owns a simple RV from her parents back in Iowa, although she didn’t exactly take it “legally”. The RV itself now resides in the local junkyard in return, preventing people from stealing vehicles at night. The inside itself has been decorated by her as well with blankets covering the couches and photos hung up, but she still keeps shotgun by her door to chase away people who trespass. One of the windows has been missing since childhood but was converted into a pet door for her raccoon, Gigi. Other than her photos she also has plenty of plants around her RV and inside given her green thumb.

Nico lives in a two bedroom house with her adopted little sister Nero. She bought it off the previous owner, fixed it up all on her own. It's a nice place, Nico's raison detre is beauty and it bleeds into everything she touches, she's decorated all the rooms to her and her sisters' liking. Before she found her sister, though, she was a wanderess. Stayed in motels, rented lodgings, or with her lovers.

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

My Little Hybrid Family_Part 20

Tags: @ sweeneyblue1  

Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

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

The curtain slowly closed and when they reopened everyone was standing on stage taking a bow. You clapped like your life depended on it. Then suddenly everyone was jumping off-stage, and you were surrounded by everyone talking a mile a minute. 

Floyd practically snapped his teeth at everyone to get to your side to throw his arms around you with a laugh. Kalim managed to wiggle his way to your other side, almost knocking into Leona’s head. Leona bared his teeth at him, but he didn’t pay it any mind. 

Jade’s smile only widen a fraction, as Kalim quickly went around him to claim the spot next to you. Jamil and Azul only shook their head and settled at the head of the table. Malleus’ eyes lingered down on Floyd’s and Kalim’s latching onto you but managed to pull his eyes away only to meet Lilia’s knowing ones. He calmly looked the opposite way where Jack stood. 

You laughed as you held up your hand, “That was beautiful!! Everyone did an amazing job!” 

Everyone tittered. 

“Jack helped out a lot backstage!” Kalim supplied. 

Jack looked off, but his tail wagging gave him away, “Ah, it wasn’t anything worth mentioning.” 

“I’m sure they couldn’t do it without you.” you spoke sincerely, “But you guys must tell me, aren’t we in warehouse? How does it look and feel like a summer in a forest, right now?” 

Ruggie leaned across the table with a grin, “We had outside help!! Mr. Sam knows these hybrids that are really, and I mean, really technology savvy! They usually help Mr. Sam in underground matters, but he and his brother helped set it all up for us! They were doing all of this in real time!” 

“Oh my, I will have to thank them then!” 

“We’ll past it along. They don’t like socializing. Or rather, the older brother doesn’t. The younger might meet with you as long as his brother okays it.” 

“Shrimpy, what did you think of our act?! It took a lot of coaxing to get Ol’ Azul onboard!” Floyd asked. 

You grinned at Azul, “It was beautiful!” 

Azul’s glasses fogged as he looked off. With a cough, he spoke, “Speaking of onboard, Leona refused to be a part of it!” 

“I brought her here.” Leona grunted, “You’re welcome!”

Jamil sniffed, “Mr. Crewel brought her here. You did nothing.”  

You giggled, “Not true! He was a very comfy pillow!”

Leona smirked, “Don’t say I never did nothing!” 

“Jamil. Kalim!! Those were beautiful performances!” You stated making Kalim laugh and Jamil to look off in embarrassment.  You looked up at Lilia, “I did not know you would be a part of it!” 

Jamil sighed, “We did not ask! He invited himself.” 

“Oh, come now. It’s my payment for taking care of Malleus for me and treating him so kindly as one of your own. How could I not?!” Lilia grinned. 

Ruggie sniffed, “You just wanted to show off your guitar skills!” 

“Mad skills, it were!” 

Lilia grinned, “Thank you, Miss. Y/N! These things keep me young and sharp!” 

Then your eyes locked with Malleus who had been silent the entire time. You smiled, “I did not know that you could play the violin!” 

You saw his face soften, “Yes, it’s a talent that many of my former owners relished in. I thought perhaps, you would like it as well.” 

He did not say, that he used to loathe playing the instrument once upon a time, for it only seemed to inflamed his former owners’s obession of him. But he could never chose to not play for them, as it was one of his talents the everyone knew about. 

This was the first time, he chose of his own free will to play an instrument for you. He found he enjoyed seeing your eyes light up. 

Perhaps, he would play for you again sometime. 

“I LOVED it!!” you emphasis with a huge grin, making him chuckle. 

“Most draconic fae are skilled in string instruments.” explained Lilia, “It’s a natural tendency. I’m glad I suggested it for your act!” 

Leona smirked, “Otherwise, you would have been cut from the show!” 

You slapped his arm in warning with a glare. 

“Yes, well, you aren’t wrong, for once. All of our acts were centered around Kalim’s and Jamil’s. It was necessary for the sake of a good show for it to come together.” Malleus voice was cool, “However, as you had no act, I don’t see how your opinion can carry any weight.” 

Leona bared his teeth, “I was busy, being a pillow for our Mistress. An important job, where I was this close to her the entire time. Can you say the same?” 

Malleus’ right eye twitched ever so slightly. 

You glared, “That was uncalled for Leona….” 

SNORE… 

Oh, he chose this time to magically fall asleep? 

“Shrimpy, look! We are all wearing your pendant!” 

Suddenly everyone was proudly showing off their owner necklaces complete with their unique colored gem. Ruggie and Jack only smirked at this. Lilia glanced up at Malleus who was staring at how Kalim coaxed you to rub his between your thumbs. 

All of your hybrids were actually….proud to be your hybrid. 

Proud to be owned by you. 

What kind of feeling was that? 

He briefly wondered who would eventually own him once Mr. Crewel was finished moving paperwork. Would they be as nice and kind as you were to him? Or would he force to go back into a kind of servitude? He didn’t think that Lilia, Mr. Sam or ever Mr. Crewel would allow him to be mistreated too badly, but would it be like now? 

His green eyes passed over the other hybrids. 

Would he even see them again? 

He hadn’t realized, until now, that he had grown quite fond of them. Yes, even Leona, even if all they ever did was argue. He found that he welcomed the challenge that Leona Kingscholar presented. Malleus felt honored that they thought that much of him to allow him to partake in this show to help you feel better. It was a small thing on his part, a way to show his gratitude. He had hope that you would always be happy, even if he was no longer there to see it. 

“Malleus! Malleus, are you okay?!” 

Malleus blinked before realizing everyone was looking at him. “Yes, Child of Man, what is it?” 

You cocked your head, “You checked out on us. Are you well?” 

“Very well, thank you for inquiring.” 

You gave a small smile, “Alright…” 

Malleus glance at Lilia, who jutted his chin out at you, who had gotten distracted by Jade this time. Why did it feel like Lilia could read his mind sometimes?  He glanced surreptitiously at one of your hybrid’s pendant, and was shocked to feel something akin to sadness when he laid eyes on it. 

“Did you ever think about my question, little one?” Lilia's voice was so low that only Malleus heard it. 

He looked back down at Lilia’s twinkling eyes. 

Then, as if it was a twinkling diamond, his green eyes were drawn to a pendant once more. He was unaware of the room falling silent again at his intense look. 

“Malleus…” you started. 

The intensity of his feeling suddenly exploded as he fairly growled, his green eyes glowing, “I want one…” 

Everyone, minus Lilia shivered as it felt the room expanded and constricted once.

“Want what?” you finally asked. 

It was you asking that question that suddenly made Malleus’ snap to as he looked at you. At your confusion, he ripped his eyes away from you. What on earth did he just say? 

“Seems young Malleus would like an owner’s pendant…..” Lilia nudged along. 

Floyd asked, “Won’t he get one once he’s transferred to an owner?” 

“Yes, but he wants one in particular.” 

Malleus turned to the bat fae in warning, “Lilia…” 

“Come young pup! Out with it! You want to stay with Y/N, don’t you?” Crewel appeared suddenly, making everyone blink. 

It took a minute before everyone to grasp onto the situation. 

“Oh my…” Azul pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“Oh, duh no! I will not have this lizard in our house!” snapped Leona. 

Kalim laughed, “Really?!! That’s awesome!! I knew you would fall in love with our Mistress if given the chance because she is…” 

“....The best in the world!”, sighe Jamil, “We know, Kalim. I suppose at this point, one more at the dinner table is accommodable.

“I don’t think you have any choice in the matter, Leona. You certainly didn’t when we showed up.” Jade responded. 

Floyd whined and held you tighter, “Why do I gotta fight more hybrids for Shrimpy cuddles!” 

You just blinked up at Malleus, “Hold on! You…you want to….live with us? Permanently?” 

Everyone turned to Malleus. 

“Feel free to turn her down!” grumbled Leona. You just hit him without looking at him, never breaking contact with Malleus. 

Malleus glanced at Lilia who was grinning and gesturing towards you. “I would be…amenable to it. If only it does not bother you, Ms. Y/N.” 

“About time! Here!” Crewel pushed aside some of the hybrids as he pulled out a thick packet of paper and a pen, placing them before you. 

You had a hard time keeping up with the whiplash as you unconsciously picked up the pen and began flipping through the sheave. Then your right eye twitched as you slowly raised a head towards Divus Crewel. 

“You and Mr. Sam set me up! These are hybrid adoption papers! I thought you were making him legal?! Was all this to get me to become his legal owner?!” 

Divus Crewel only smirked and pulled out another thick sheet of paper and dropped it on the table. Everyone’s eyes were wide as he spoke, “I’ve been doing all of it. No harm in being prepared. I have officially made him legal. By next week, he will be an official ward of the state. In the interim, I have also speed up the process so that you can become his official owner by next week as well. All we need is your signature tonight and by next week, he is all yours.” 

“That’s so awesome!!” Kalim cheered. 

“Hush!” snapped Jamil. 

“Hold on! Malleus, do you….you want me to adopt you, correct? You want to be legally owned by me?” you asked, glancing up at Malleus, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know?” 

“I know. And I thank you for it, but I want a pendant from you, Child of Man. However, I’m aware that as hybrids, we do not have freedom of choice.” 

“You do here. If you really want, I’ll sign these papers, but only if you really want.” You beckoned Malleus over and glanced at Kalim to move, which he happily did. Malleus hesitated before he walked around and settled next to you. 

Leona scowled and sat up, scooting away from Malleus. “Why this bloody lizard interrupting my nap?” he murmured but otherwise said nothing. 

Malleus peered at the papers curiously, “This will make it official? Will I get a pendant after you sign?”

You giggled. He was really into this pendant. 

“Yes, next week.” Mr. Crewel answered. 

“I see. Then do you have to sign at a particular time?” 

“Is this boy dumb or….” 

“Shut up, Leona!” 

“Eyi….” 

You giggled, “I’ll sign right now then!” 

At Malleus nod of a head, you began looking at the documents and signing at the appropriate places. You did not realize that Malleus had leaned over, his arm working its way around your waist as his green eyes fixated on your signing.  

In a rare show of events, Floyd did not fight for your attention from Malleus. 

“She had to sign one of these for each of us! This means you will be officially part of the family!!” Kalim explained, “Ahh, we will have to have a party! This is so exciting, isn’t it?” 

“This is a unique turn of events.” Jade stated. 

It took awhile, but you managed to read and sign before giving it to Mr. Crewel who quickly ran through to make sure you signed all you need. Then he grinned and put it back onto his briefcase. “I shall have these began filing tomorrow morning!” 

Lilia cheered, “Ms. Y/N, I have to thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the young Malleus in! I know he will be happy with you! If there is a party, please invite me! I wish to partake of young Malleus’ joy!” 

“We can have it after he gets his pendant!” Kalim cried. 

Azul mused, “I can’t believe a pendant is worth all of this fuss.” 

“Only because this lizard seems overeager to get one!” griped Leona. 

Ruggie grinned, “If there is a party, may Jack and I be put on the invite list?!” 

“How did I get into this? I’m not as shameless as you.”  grunted Jack. 

“All you want is the free food!”  Leona growled, “Like we need more people in the house.” 

“It’s not your house, so shut up!” Jamil growled. 

“Yes, and not your food either.” Ruggie added, “And not my problem, that Jamil cooks up good grub. Shouldn’t have brought that curry for me and Jack tonight.” 

Jamil stated, “You were willing to help, the least I could do is prepare a nice meal.”  

“Shihihihi, see, someone here has manners!” 

Leona growled, “Someone never asked you for your opinion, Ruggie.” 

“This is what you have to look forward to.” You stated by way of apology as you looked up at Malleus. 

He smiled gently, “And I’m looking forward to it.” 

Epilogue 

[traipseartist]

July 4th - 7th - Yokum's Right of Seneca Rocks, West Virginia

I claim to be a Rock Climber™ but the majority of my experience is actually clinging to plastic rocks inside of blissfully air-conditioned warehouses in the part of town that's definitely getting gentrified.

I discovered I liked to climb at a time in my life when I was desperate to find something athletic that didn't make me want to walk into the sea. My body image after high school was in shambles and I developed a certain hatred for treadmills and ellipticals--symbols of punishment for over-indulgence or a demand I adhere to some kind of standard that I never really could buy all the way into. Needless to say, exercise was always a means to an end. If I could have put my brain in a jar and made my legs run the necessary number of miles to make me a size 0, I would have. Gleefully. Surely athleticism was mastering the ability to fully disconnect your body from your brain? Who wanted to be present for the heaving and the sweating and the oh-god-oh-god-this-is-how-I-die feeling that hangs in the balance?

Then I had a long-distance boyfriend who fell headlong into the sport and in my soft loneliness, I connected to him via chalk-coated climbing facilities. We would chatter on the phone about climbing problems, the world of outdoor climbing, competitions, characters at our respective gyms. When his life drifted away from mine, I stayed close to the wall. I felt not just the urge to be stronger and solve more difficult problems, but the desire to start speaking my body's language instead of pulling out the duct tape every time I needed to push through something that felt physically hard.

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

So, yes yes, a beautiful back story. An illustrative origin that does nothing to explain why I'm clenching a stubborn half-sapling between my thighs and trying to keep all of my pistachio shells in my hat as I dangle my ankles thousands of feet above the valley floor in Seneca Rocks, West Virginia.

My partner Vincent and I are out with the Explorer's Club of Pittsburgh (some 20+ riotous humans with a distaste for a particular kind of self-preservation) on this fine holiday weekend when we agree to do something relatively stupid and exactly what we came for. We want to stand on the top of the biggest piece of exposed Tuscarora Quartz in the north east and shake in our boots while doing it even though we're mostly little indoor-monkey gym-rats.

Seneca Rocks, West Virginia is not like other climbing destinations. Some crags, especially those on the west coast that attract climbers from around the world, have their own sprawling ecosystems born of their touristic revenue. Joshua Tree has the strangest assortment of desert-proof fast-food establishments. Yosemite and the Sonora Pass have many of the trappings of a mountain get away: Adorable high streets in small boom towns scattered throughout the region, themed restaurants, condos and vacation homes stacked high and wide for visitors and returning locals alike. Something (wineries and theme parks and tucked away spas) for the person who has no desire to really disconnect from society, thank you very much.

Seneca Rocks, West Virginia has:

Yokum's Vacationland - a truly grandiose title for a double-wide cabin that feels like a themed gas station with a root-beer stand tacked on the back and some motel rooms up top. All the same, totally beloved.

Harper's Old Country Store - honestly, much cuter than Yokum's but probably less trafficked unless Yokum's runs out of ice or chocolate milk

Princess Snowbird's Indian Village & Campgrounds - not touching this one. It's been here for a second. It has RV hook-ups and could not be more American in nature.

The Gendarme - your local spot for outdoor guides, good advice, and the climbing gear you forgot.

There are campgrounds (Seneca Shadows) up the hill from Yokum's, and a little science center filled with dusty art-deco furniture across the way. All of this within the cast shade of the mountain you came for, and that is that.

The end.

Yet, despite the almost video game-esque limited nature of this local map, Seneca Rocks is obviously its own ticking entity. There are people who live here. The pepperoni rolls for sale in color coded zip-block bags (RED - Pepperoni and Mozzarella, BLUE - Mozzarella only, GREEN - EXTRA Pepperoni and Mozzarella) deposited in big wicker baskets by the cash register at Yokum's are made by a woman named Betsy. The local guides that cart litters of injured recreationalists down from the mountain are no NPCs.

So when you're teetering on routes with names like "Muscle Beach" and "Ecstasy Jr." that drape the mountain high above our tiny valley below, it's hard to feel that same uncaring maw of the great wilderness that I've felt so many times before when I've been playing with my own safety for fun and un-profit far from the sympathy of other humans.

Still, when a rope strains on a carefully placed nut in the crevices of Whorl's Thicket or you see some cotton slings tangled in the branches of a marooned tree under Traffic Jam, you are reminded that your survival--that any human's survival on this little quartz dinosaur spike--is purely by permission and tolerance only. There is no conquering here; there is only playing on the shoulders of a giant. It's reckless, even though it is surely allowed and time-tested.

I learned very quickly that the people I was climbing amongst, however, did not always have a passion for the reckless nature that is the hobby. Some of them had the exact opposite problem with their bodies and their minds that I found I had. They did not wish to separate their mind from their body so that they could push through the soul-crushing boredom of exerting physical labor without feeling much reward or time passing. Instead, they wished to sever the connection so that they could overcome the crippling fear of hanging on the edge, of being too frightened to progress--something I enjoy playing with, fiercely.

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

At the summit of Seneca, there is a small metal lockbox the size you'd see keep cash in a concession stand on the perimeter of a high school Softball field. This box is full of notes, little plastic figurines, found treasure, a cow bell, a whistle. Well wishes, banal little messages for those behind or in front that may find themselves up here soon and again.

At base camp, there is a loose huddle of chairs around a dimming campfire and the air of survival from something we chose. Another day on the rock, another meal to remember the day we didn't fall off of it. Someone mentions a plaque affixed to a large boulder along the path up to the crag, seen just before the turn off to a torturous route upward to some other famous trad classics named "Stairmaster." It's a commemoration to a woman who was part of the Explorer's Club of Pittsburgh. She stepped backwards off of a steep step-around route on the mountain and fell to her death a week before her wedding in the early 2000s.

Someone says they wish they hadn't named her specifically on the plaque--it made the club look careless. Untrained.

There is a long pause before someone else says that her fiance wanted to bury her in her wedding dress. I put my mind back into my body, and my body back into my tent, and I am thankful to sleep on a solid, flat surface yet again.

[the-graves-family]

Aaron's Relationship to Sex

tw: sexual assault, dubious consent (coercion and substances), minor violence

Length: 2.2k

Yoshiko (18-32)

Aaron’s nervous about having his hands tied, but Yoshiko isn’t really someone he can argue with. He tests the rope by trying to move, but nothing gives. It’s rough against his arms, chest and back, because she’d said he hadn't earned the nice ropes yet. His legs aren’t tied up, but that’s just because Yoshi likes having easy access.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s just nervous.

He’s not weak.

Nails running along his ribs bring him out of his thoughts, and he looks up at her, blinking. Her smile’s sharp, but her gaze isn’t that menacing. “Ready to be good, my sweet puppy?”

Aaron doesn’t reply, he’s not really allowed to speak, so he nods his head. Really doesn’t want to displease her, because she’s already called him bad twice today. And he doesn’t like it when she threatens him.

In the beginning, it was threats of selling him, and he’d believed her. She’d have done it. Now, it’s threats of leaving, and he doesn’t think he could handle that. Not when she’s so much fun, and the parties are the only thing that keep him going.

So he’s going to behave, collar tight around his neck.

Yoshiko grabs his ass and spanks him once, making him jolt. “You know how I want you.” And he does. It takes a bit of shifting and whining on his part, but he manages to get on his knees, head down on the mattress. “Good boy.” The praise makes him hum, and she hits him again.

Not because he’s misbehaved. Aaron thinks she just likes to hear him whimper.

She grabs his hair and forces him to look up. His neck hurts, but he only has eyes for the strap-on she’s chosen. It’s big. He’s not stretched. It’s gonna hurt. But it’s gonna make her happy. “Ready?”

And despite the shaking, despite the nerves, despite everything, Aaron nods, because he’s fucking hard, and at least sex will distract him from the cravings. 

Yoshi’s finger pushes into him and he closes his eyes, moans, arches his back slightly. It’s not enough, he still feels empty. Cold. Something’s not right with him, hasn’t been for months, but he can’t—

Time stutters and skips and suddenly he realizes he’s fucking full, and stretched and it burns and hurts and it feels so fucking good.

Can’t feel his hands, can’t tell if it’s from the rope or something else. All he can feel is the drag of the toy in and out of him. “Please,” Aaron gasps and he doesn’t even care that she grabs his hair and pulls his head back until he can’t breathe properly. “Mistress—”

Yoshiko bites his shoulder until he can feel blood dripping from her mouth.

“Bad boy,” she whispers, snapping her hips forward and making him blink the tears out of his eyes. “You know what happens to bad boys, don’t you, puppy?”

And Aaron can only nod as he stares ahead, feeling miles away.

Leonard (20-41)

A hand finds the back of his neck and Aaron jumps a little, glancing over at Leo. The man smiles at him indulgently as his fingers play with the short hair there. “Bored?”

Aaron shrugs a little, looking back at the goons running around, down on the warehouse floor, getting shit ready for something big. He’s not particularly interested in the details. The less he knows about Leo’s activities, the less he can tell the cops if he’s ever caught. Not that he’s planning to.

“Ordering them around is fun,” he murmurs, a smirk pulling at his lips, and when he glances at the older man again, there’s an amused look in his eyes.

“Never pegged you for someone who likes giving orders, Fido,” Leo tells him, and Aaron rolls his eyes.

“Don’t call me that.”

He must have misjudged the man’s mood, an easy enough thing to do, because the annoyed comment, one he makes all the time, has Leo grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head back. Hard.

“Watch your fucking mouth, kid.” Leonard’s voice is low, a growl in his ear, and Aaron closes his eyes, trying not to show his fear on his face. He feels cold, uncertain. Like he doesn’t know if he’s going to survive the next five minutes or not. “I treat you good. You don’t get to give me lip.”

Aaron exhales carefully and nods as much as he can, feeling the pain in his scalp from the grip on his hair. He opens his eyes and Leo is right in his face. He can only imagine the picture they’re painting to the men still lurking around. So Aaron takes a gamble and slowly brings his hands up to rest on Leo’s shoulders, lets his lips part slightly. Keeps himself pliant and non-threatening.

An invitation: we can take this elsewhere.

There’s a tense moment where Aaron thinks Leonard’s going to try and slit his throat again, and he feels tears of terror spring to his eyes. But then, the man lets his hair go, and he shudders in relief. It doesn’t last long, because he feels his back hit a wall and hands on his shoulder push him down until his knees hit concrete.

A mix of panic and disgust floods through him and he looks up with pleading eyes. He knows he’s got a reputation. But they’re basically out in the fucking open. If even one of the guys looks up…

Leonard’s not usually a exhibitionist. His head must be all fucked again.

The sound of a zipper, and Aaron’s staring at Leo’s cock, half-hard. The fear probably did it for him. “Take care of me, Fido,” the man mutters, and Aaron blinks, shivers, leans forward. It sounds like an order and… and something about that really gets to him. 

There must be something wrong with him.

His hands grab onto Leo’s hips and he takes the head into his mouth, hearing him hiss as he does. It’s heavy and hot and the precum tastes salty on his tongue as he bobs his head back and forth. Far too soon, there’s a hand in his hair again, and he’s taking him deeper and deeper, until he can’t see anything through the tears.

Never had much of a gag reflex, which he’s thankful for as his head is pushed up against the wall and Leo moans as he starts fucking his throat properly. Aaron closes his eyes and lets him, keeping quiet. He never knows what will set the other man off. The grip on his hair is becoming painful, and he can’t fucking breathe, but he’s still so fucking happy that he’s being of use to his… friend.

“Fuck,” Leo sighs, and that’s all the warning Aaron gets before he’s pulled forward and Leo is coming down his throat with a grunt.

He stays on the ground, panting, as Leo pulls away and makes himself presentable again. There’s a moment of silence where the older man simply regards him like he’s just noticed Aaron’s there, before he’s reaching out and patting his head. “Good boy.”

Nate (21-39)

He doesn’t know where he is, half the time.

Sometimes, it seems like a party, there’s a lot of people and hands on him, and there’s bottles against his lips and needles breaking his skin. Other times, it’s just Nate and him. Those aren’t as nice, because Nate likes to hurt him until he bleeds, only gives him his fix when he’s already begging for relief on his cock.

Aaron’s head is spinning, and he doesn’t know if it’s the coke or the hand wrapped around his throat.

He can’t breathe.

Nate is fucking massive, a mountain of a man with a dick to match. He’s a prick, too, likes making people scream as they bleed and struggle, but he’s also the only one who gives Aaron the time of day, the only one who’s looking out for him. He gets him his fixes and Aaron pays as he can. The only way he can, currently.

He’s pretty sure the man gets off on feeling people pass out while he’s fucking them.

His vision tunnels and he tries to whine, weakly pawing at Nate’s arm, but the asshole just grins down at him, thrusts into him harder. Still can’t breathe. His head feels like a mess. Hard to remember why he’s doing this.

The light’s almost gone when he’s let go and a heavy hand slaps him across the face, probably adding to the bruises already there. Aaron gasps and coughs, misses the way the bigger man moans as he clenches down on his cock.

Fuck, it hurts.

He’s rarely hard when Nate fucks him. Never got off on pain.

“Fuck, I love how fucking dumb you are,” the man growls, grabs his neck again, tighter this time. Aaron knows this one. He’s not gonna let go until Aaron’s not moving.

He doesn’t understand why he’s still alive.

“Slut,” Nate spits, and Aaron just gasps, lost between the haze in his head and the numbness in his entire body. Unconsciousness starts at the tips of his fingers, crawls up his arms, and all he can do is stare at the ceiling.

Why is he still here?

He can’t hold out for long, not in his state, and his head lolls to the side. No time to wonder if this is the time he won’t wake up, if this is the one he’s not walking away from. Or limping, more like.

Doesn’t get to feel Nate coming inside him and kicking him off the bed so he can take a well-deserved nap.

Probably for the best.

Noah (22-35)

“I love, hm, I love you.”

It’s mumbled between kisses, and Aaron smiles, as fake as a model’s tits. Lucky for him, Noah’s never been too good at discerning the real from the fake. Not when he’s completely enamored with him. Fucking pathetic.

“I love you too,” he answers, doesn’t give the older man a chance to see the cold, dead thing in his eyes before he’s pulling him in for another kiss.

“God, I can’t believe I met you.”

And it’s sweet, really, that Noah holds him in such high regard. It strokes his ego and makes him a little less mean. Aaron’s next smile is a little more real, and he sits his boyfriend down on the edge of the bed.

“Going to put on a show for me, love?” Noah asks with a playful smile, and Aaron staunchly refuses to acknowledge the little skip in his heartbeat as he does.

“Not today, babe,” he answers readily, even though he makes undressing a far more sensual affair than it ought to be. He’d always liked to show off, and his partner is his captive audience. “Today, you’re just going to let me ride you. Aren’t you?”

Noah looks like he might just pass out, and it makes Aaron chuckle as the man just nods. Doesn’t try to stop him as he straddles him and snakes a hand down his chest and into his trousers. 

“Need to, ah, need to get you ready, love,” Noah tries to speak as a hand wraps around his cock, but all Aaron does is chuckle and nip at his ear.

“No need,” the younger man whispers, and fuck if that doesn’t make all of Noah’s blood flow directly to his dick. 

Because Aaron, depsite appearances, and despite his boyfriend’s beliefs, is not a fucking amateur. He’s been stretched since before they left for their date, and he’s eager to sink down on Noah’s cock. Which he does, the moment he pulls it out of his pants. The man hisses and his hands find Aaron’s hips, gripping them gently.

“Bloody hell,” he breathes, moaning lowly as the younger man shifts and lets himself sit fully on his lap. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

And it’s so fucking sincere, so fucking loving, that Aaron can’t hide the genuine surprise on his face. Hopefully, it’ll be written off as insecurity. “I—”

And Noah kisses him before he can say anything, pulling him close with arms around his waist. It feels good, of course, but he can’t focus on the sex. He’s caught off-balance.

“You don’t have to say anything,” his boyfriend says gently, quietly. “I know it’s hard for you, love.”

It’s too much, and Aaron looks away, incapable of handling that much… love. Noah has nothing in his eyes but affection and admiration and Aaron doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s all part of the plan, of course.

The plan kind of hinged on him not falling for Noah, though, which might be where he’s fucked up.

But Noah doesn’t push, doesn’t make him do anything (and Aaron should hate him for being so pathetic and weak), just lets him go at his own rhythm.  They’ll have to talk about it eventually, but not now. 

A warm hand wraps around his cock and Aaron jolts, brought back to the present, where he smiles at his partner and kisses him quickly before rolling his hips. Noah’s head rolls back with a low, draw-out moan, which makes him grin mischievously. 

“Let me take care of you.”

[the-firebird69]

My husband David audette left with them and I don't know where they took him, I tried the hospital he wasn't there and the more he wasn't there and I called the police. And they had me make a report and said they start looking and they heard this do you know who he is. And they said no and so that's surprising and the cops there started asking them questions and they asked me questions and those two cops disappeared and it's a big fight I could hear them yelling so I left and she said and I said in space what is it and I heard it's a little over my head it's a program I had him make. Well I said fighters back and I saw them all die I saw Joel Wats die. Whole bunch of died like all that long and took him to the fire station no it's just a warehouse. That's the only what are you doing with my husband Joel. At one point he got back was revived and he said I'm stealing his stuff if you don't mind so he starts to yell about you and I heard him stop and it says you have people here too not really wouldn't call them people... He comes running out to the truck and checks and he's still in it and it's running in the AC is on and the partner is going to received it's about to drive off and someone pulls them out of the driver's seat it went on for another 20 minutes and finally Joel Watts said I know him let me talk to him and I hear you don't know I need to say no and you say I can threaten you to get stuff so you called the wrong guy so he's trying to drive off and he couldn't so I record my eye I'm sorry a shadowy figure and I was out and as they found me unconscious and I was shot and I told the story and it was this idiot who kidnapped him and it's one of the ambulance drivers up there at the hospice in New Hampshire too. There's someone with him I think it was Tommy f. And I'm pretty sure this is probably the one that hit me and took off of the program and the Dave probably will run his plan and try to have us take over and it didn't work and that's what people think. I also think that Joel probably got part of the program or a lesser version oh really I don't know if Tommy if took over or not while I was watching the evidence was driving away I didn't see any other vehicles but we came in vehicles but there are half mile away and my friend says he could have had a fly car it could have called in but we know something too there's people all over the place out there so we know where it is I could have gone far and everybody tries to ask him and yes nearby the hospital in Florida so we have to go over this.

Carol audette

[acermp100]

YEHEHEHEHEH look at the faces hgfsa

Uncle Teru no.

....

Imma write a short for this to warm up for today :3

-------

Shou took purposely meandering steps around the bar. Typical- the kids weren’t even over 20, exchanging nervous glances when they had been so cocky just a few moments before. Smoke trailed from his nose and lips as he sized up the small group. Probably some pyro that caught the boss’s eye, the girl looked to be decently scrappy in a fight, and the oldest had that typical thousand mile stare most espers that they adopt seemed to posses. The last he couldn’t place. Maybe they could use their powers to expertly style hair; there was always need for more ‘employees’ at the boss’s salon front. Shou stopped in front of them, staring them down over his cigarette. Why the fuck was he always stuck with boring preliminary introductions.

“Right. So just show up to the warehouse around 9.” The full ashtray spilled over from another spent butt. “You’ll get set up, shown the rules, yada yada.” Shou reached into his jacket and grimaced at the lack of a new pack. “Until then: don’t do anything stupid. You aren’t evaluated and it can and will go bad for you.”

The girl grinned back while the others just kinda shuffled around. Shou let out a sigh, already giving a wave of his hand as he turned toward the exit.

“Now get the fuck outta here. We don’t need minors hanging around our bar looking suspicious.”

Great. More greenhorns to teach. Shou scratched at his and stubbled chin as his other hand twitched at his side.  He had more cigarettes back at HQ. His mind shifted from having to clean up pointless trouble as the newbies got used to their new playground to hoping his little brother was working on his homework. Only left him for about an hour, surely not harm in that? He bit at his own lip and quickened his pace.

No one at the front of the building: half of the place was blocked off until the boss had his office repaired from his last round of successful negotiations. Shou made his way down the hallway to his ‘office’ where he mainly brought his brother in the overlap between work hours and school classes ending. And he wasn’t in there. He mumbled to himself.

“Figures.” A long sigh.

Gun parts sat scattered on the larger desk with papers and diagrams. On the opposite side sat a smaller work area where he had set up a writing place for his brother’s school work. Various pencils were on the floor as well as pens and some crumbled up doodles. Shou walked over and glanced down on the desk.

‘Geometry Assignment: The Properties of Triangles.’

Where the Pythagorean Theorem was explained there was a drawing a wolf with a sword in its mouth and some figure shooting at tanks.

“Toichiro…”

He ignored his nicotine cravings and stormed across the hall. Already a familiar voice caught his ear. Not even knocking, Shou threw open the door. The immediate scene made him tense with his hands in front of him just as shocked as his face

“Hanazawa! What the hell are you doing??”

There stood Teru bent down over the kid, happily explain the weight balance and its importance in a slashing, bladed weapon. Toichiro was clutching onto a knife longer than his arm and glared up at the brotherly interruption.

“What?” Teru leaned back, also annoyed as he raised a single eyebrow. “No need to be so hysterical.”

Shou stepped closer, his fingers tending before him, voice still cracking into a yell. “HE’S LIKE 12! YOU CAN’T JUST GIVE HIM A FUCKING MACHETE.”

His boss titled his head back with an exaggerated eye roll. “Oh please. He wanted to see it, what’s wrong with that?”

Toichiro stuck out his tongue. Fucking hell, it was hard enough o keep the lil shit away from his gun collection. Shou went to reach for the weapon but his little bro hid it behind his back.

“It’s wrong because he should be doing homework instead of-“ Shou turned, eyes narrowing as he gave a full scowl into his boss’s face. “What did you teach him?”

Teru grinned back. The ear piercings and styled hair pulled back into a ponytail somehow made the mocking smile hit deeper. Probably because this was still his boss at the end of the day.

“Simple anatomy. One has to know the importance of a weapon and where to use it as well.”

“Yeah!” Toichiro piped in. “If you puncture an organ they won’t die as fast!”

All Shou could do was rake his fingers over his face and sigh.

“Come on, he can do his homework any time.” Teru  brought up another knife, this one smaller. “The little dude was bored. What else could I have done?”

“Not. Teach. Him. How to. Stab. People.” Shou metered his words, holding back what he really wanted to say. In the end he stared down at his little brother.

“Ugh, you are always so uptight about this shit.” Teru folded his arms in front of him. “I had already learned this stuff way before his age.”

The reality of the moment teamed up with Shou’s biting need for a cigarette. “Ok. That’s it.” He reached down and took his brother’s wrist, tugging him away from his sadistic boss. “You are going back to doing your homework right now.”

“Awww but he was just getting to the best part!” Toichiro resisted as the knife he was holding clattered to the ground.

“You’re so mean, Shou.” Teru feigned an exaggerated frown.

“Don’t you start.” Shou dragged his brother to the door.

Toichiro bit at his arm. Being used to this, Shou only shifted holds to around the kid’s hood and hauled him kicking into the hall way.

“It’s always homework! I never get to do anything fun!”

They entered the other office, Shou glaring down. “Look, bro.” The tone of his voice made the kid stop squirming. “That’s life: you do all the shitty, boring crap so you can participate in this world.” He recalled his own time in school growing up and frowned. Toichiro was watching him intently. “Then you get to do all the cool, fun stuff.”

“Does that mean I get to hang out more with Uncle Teru when I finish my homework?”

How the fuck can this kid go from a terror to an angel, all wide eyed and innocent? Shou let out a snort.

“Yeah. But you better do it right.” He sneered back. “I’ll be checking.”

Shou sat at his desk watching his little brother write out numbers and draw angles and triangles. He leaned back, a well needed cigarette between his lips. Let the kid have something to look forward. Better than what he had. An exhale, staring up at the trailing smoke. Still, he’d definitely have to have a talk with good old ‘Uncle Teru.”

Uncle Teru is the best okay @acemp100

[grizzlyofthesea]

FNAF Headcanons for the Rise Turtles (and April, of course) + My Own FNAF Opinions

Raph

Scariest game: FNAF 2, because of the Puppet

Scariest animatronic: The Puppet, because it's a ten-foot-tall puppet

Balloon Boy kind of freaks him out, too

Struggling with Night 3 because of Withered Bonnie and Withered Chica

Tends to forget about the other animatronics because he gets so focused on the music box

Thinks Toy Freddy is really cute and wants to hug him

An Easter egg magnet; has seen RWQFSFASXC, JJ, the endoskeleton in the Prize Corner, the eyeless Toy Bonnie screen, the eyeless Withered Freddy screen, and the Paper Pal in the office

Thinks Toy Chica looks like Pikachu

Doesn't even know there's lore; all he sees is a spooky game with a terrifying puppet man

Leo

Scariest game: FFPS, because of the tiny office and the tense salvage sequences

Scariest animatronic: Music Man, because look at his face

Buys stuff at discounts, then wonders why he's only had to salvage Molten Freddy

Has never accepted a sponsorship offer for the sake of his pride and integrity; still has no idea that this affects gameplay

Failing the ball pit minigame cracks him up every time

Once got Music Man from the mega ball pit minigame; fell out of his chair because he was startled that badly

Thinks all the Scrap animatronics look dumb, but especially Scraptrap

240 Bits per Mile is his jam

Only has a vague idea of what's happening with the lore; zones out whenever Donnie or April try to explain it more

Donnie

Scariest game: FNAF, because of the atmosphere and the especially uncanny animatronics

Scariest animatronic: Chica, because of her tendency to open her mouth super-wide and stare right at you

Always plays with the sound off so the jumpscares don't destroy his eardrums

Roasts Bonnie whenever he shows up. Just Bonnie, though.

Sings and dances along to Freddy's song whenever the power goes out, usually with bitter/sarcastic lyrics

Has yet to beat 4/20 mode, but they've been practicing. Obsessively.

Has a whole conspiracy corkboard dedicated to figuring out the lore

Considering starting a collection of FNAF Mystery Minis; he's particularly interested in Withered Bonnie

Loves watching FNAF let's plays

Mikey

Scariest game: Sister Location, because of the "abandoned warehouse" vibe

Scariest animatronic: Funtime Foxy, because of that freaking twitching

Hates the sections where you have to walk/crawl through the dark

One death away from raging at Night 4

Was kind of creeped out by Baby even from the beginning

Absolutely lost it at "Casual Bongos"

Loves "The Immortal and the Restless"

Has seen the "Minireena in the popcorn" Easter egg; it scared the crap out of him

Super confused about the overarching lore, but knows that stuff is haunted

Loves the Funtime Freddy plushie for all the wrong reasons (look it up if you haven't seen it already); wants one of his own

April

Scariest game: Help Wanted, because VR

Scariest animatronic: Springtrap, because he's a zombified child murderer

Favorite levels are Parts & Service (Freddy) and Vent Repair (Ennard)

Hates the Plushbabies with a burning passion

On a mission to get all the collectibles; has roughly half of them so far

Won Funtime Freddy's level the same way Markiplier did

Has intentionally triggered Foxy by stepping out of the FNAF 1 office, just to see if she could close the door on him in time

Roasts the animatronics whenever she counters/avoids them

Legitimately creeped out by Glitchtrap

Obsessed with the lore; keeps up with Game Theory's videos on it and regularly posts about it on discussion threads

As for me?

Scariest game: FNAF 4, because you have to stick your head out into pitch-black hallways and listen for stuff

Scariest animatronic: Nightmarionne, because WHY DOES IT NEED TEETH???

I downloaded the original mobile port of FNAF 4 onto my iPad when I was 13, and I don't think I've played past Night 2.

On the other hand, I have beaten Night 6 of the original mobile FNAF and every single Custom Night challenge on mobile FNAF 2.

I like Security Breach because of Glamrock Freddy, the memes, and the fact that I can play it without having to mute my TV out of sheer terror at all the noises.

I also like FNAF World. It's just goofy and fun.

I personally think the books and Sister Location are what kicked the lore off the deep end, but it's so ridiculous at this point, I'm just here for the ride.

Withered Freddy has my favorite design in the series.

I wish Freddy in general was more central to a franchise called Five Nights at Freddy's.

[butwhyduh]

A Date to Remember

Damian Wayne x Superman’s daughter reader

Damian is 20, reader 19, Jon is her little brother at 18 and Kon acts like an older brother to her.

Warning: angsty and kidnapping

You’d always told Damian that the sunset on the Kent farm was the best in the world. Damian smiled a little as he drove down the long road to Smallville. Damian had thought about classic dinner date in one of Metropolis’ fanciest restaurants but you insisted on meeting him in a barn.

He felt underdressed. Blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Why did he let Jon help him get dressed? He felt ridiculous but at least he wore sensible shoes. But deep down Damian knew you world like it. And he was certainly willing to feel a little foolish for you.

Clark was off world and Lois was on a mission. Jon had his own date in the city so it was the both of you alone tonight. How long had it been since the two of you were alone without someone around? Between his half a dozen brothers and your family with literal super hearing... yeah it’s been tough. So being 50 miles from everyone was kind of a dream.

Damian pulled in the driveway with some flowers and walked up to the house. He knocked on the door only for it to swing open. Damian noticed the splintered door frame and his heart sped up. He called your name. Act like the rich billionaire son while working like Robin, even though he wasn’t quite sure he still wanted the name.

He scanned every surface and he noticed a small scratch near the back door after looking through every room. Most people wouldn’t even notice it. You weren’t there. He looked closely and saw drag marks in the gravel path to the barn. His heart was thundering at this point. You weren’t in the barn either.

You were half Kryptonian but the genetic inheritance was complicated. Jon had won the lottery with having most of his father’s powers and not being as sensitive to Kryptonite. You had lost it. Hypersensitive to Kryptonite and only some speed and increased hearing and strength. Barely about the average human. You weren’t a fighter.

Damian pulled out his phone to call Jon.

“Bit busy here, Damian,” Jon said, sounding far from amused. Damian could hear kissing noises in the background and frowned. He didn’t want to hear that.

“Your sister is missing,” he said and he heard a lot of movement on the phone.

“What??”

“The door jam was kicked in and there are scrap marks of her being dragged away. I think she’s been kidnapped,” Damian said. His voice felt tight. He, son of Batman, let his girlfriend get kidnapped. “Whoever it was clearly waited until she had no other Kryptonians around to grab her. It wasn’t a coincidence that she was taken tonight. Can you get out here? I’m calling father to try and trace her. Her phone is missing too.”

“I’m leaving in 5. Damian, if Luther has her, she can’t handle Krytonite,” Jon said, worry bleeding into his voice. “It’s like it poisons her.”

“I know. But we don’t know who has her. Let’s hope they don’t know she’s part Krytonian,” Damian said, already mentally moving on to his next step. Contact Bruce. Get the bat computer to trace her. Look for more evidence. Don’t freak out completely that she might be poisoned by Kyrotonite.

“Okay. I’m about to fly. I’ll see you soon,” Jon said before hanging up.

——————————

You woke up with a cough. You head throbbed and your stomach rolled as you laid in a bed? Maybe a couch? It was a horrible feeling but you knew exactly what it was: Kryptonite. You couldn’t forget what how that stuff made you feel. You tried to look around to see it but the room was completely dark. Night vision would be nice but you got human eyes. Your slightly enhanced hearing heard nothing but the wind outside. Okay, you were ground level or higher.

You tried to twist in the cuffs that bound your hands only to cry out. There was the Kryptonite. It was on the outside of the cuffs and you almost threw up at it touched your skin. You were cuffed with Kryptonite to a hospital bed, you figured. What other bed had areas perfect for cuffs? Your legs were equally restrained and you felt so exposed in the dark room.

Your dad was off world. He wouldn’t hear you if you called for him. But Jon might. But if you yelled, someone might come in and who knows what they would do. You’d wait a little bit longer. You wanted to fall asleep. The Kryptonite made you feel so dull. Like the first time you were exposed to it.

You were all of 4 years old. Your dad had brought you with him to the Justice League meeting. Relatively safe and Batman promised Robin would watch you. Dick was so excited to be a babysitter. You had hugged him tight enough to hurt before running to the climbing wall.

“Hey!” Called the 16 year old. “I brought games instead!”

You warily walked back over to him and card games and board games fell out of a duffle bag as he opened it. Half the stuff you were far too young for. You bent down as he scooped up his gameboy. You pulled out some games and open a side pocket to grab a small metal box. Dick sat down his gameboy carefully before turning back to you.

“Don’t open th-“ he started before you pulled open the box to show a bright green stone. Followed by you throwing up all over his bag of games. You dropped the box and sat on the floor. Dick quickly closed the box with the piece of Kryptonite and put it in his pocket. He had boroughed one of Bruce’s bags that apparently wasn’t fully unpacked.

“Dad, I don’t feel good,” you said as Clark ran over. Dick looked at you so guiltily.

“I didn’t know,” he swore. “I’m so sorry.” Bruce stood by quietly.

“We need to talk later,” Clark had told Bruce and yeah, they were mad at each other for a while.

——————————————

Jon arrived shortly in a dress shirt and slacks and he looked at Damian just as weird as Damian looked at him. They had basically switched clothing.

“Not to judge but that’s date clothing? You told me to not wear flannel,” Jon said accusingly.

“That’s because your sister wanted me to wear this,” Damian said back. “Let’s focus on finding her. Father’s calling me now. We’ll change in a minute.”

“Hello, you’re on speaker phone,” Damian said.

“Her tracker is showing a warehouse owned by Luthor Corp in downtown Metropolis,” Bruce said. “Do you need help? I can see if Dick is nearby.”

“No thanks. Jon will help me. Thank you, father,” Damian said before hanging up.

“Luthor. I knew it,” Jon said with a frown. “Wait, you put a tracker on my sister? Does she know?”

“Now is not the time. Let’s get to Metropolis,” Damian said, changing the subject while both got dressed. Jon nodded and offered his arms. “I’m not being carried like that. I’ll hold on your back,” Damian said. Jon rolled his eyes and nodded again.

As they flew over corn fields and pastures, Jon began to question Damian. “So when did you put this tracker in? Does she even know? Where is it? Do I want to even know?”

“It’s sub-dermal in her forearm and I haven’t told her yet. And it’s irrelevant right now as it might save her life,” Damian said and Jon looked disgusted. “We need to focus on saving her and then you can be her angry brother.”

“Wow...”

————————————

You moved and the cuffs burned your skin. You gasped and screamed “Jon! Kon!” You called out to them hoping one of them would hear you.

“Dad!” you cried frantic. There was no way he would hear you. “Damian! Jonathan! Conner!”

You panted and your head pounded. You were so tired. You’d lose consciousness if no one saved you. Then who knows what they would do to you.

“Superman!” You screamed desperately before finally passing out.

——————————

“Did you hear that?” Jon said as they flew towards the Metropolis skyline.

“No all I hear is wind. What did you hear?” Damian said.

“Y/n. She’s calling for us,” Jon said speeding up.

“Is she okay?” Fear bled into Damian’s voice.

“I can’t tell. I’m trying to hurry,” Jon said flying quickly towards the industrial area of the city. He landed on the roof of a warehouse. Jon’s eyes glowed as he looked through the building.

“7 men. 4 posted outside the door to the room that’s she’s being held on the 2nd floor. Her heart rate is steady and she isn’t screaming any more. Almost sounds asleep,” Jon said after his analysis.

“Probably tranquilizer. Father’s data said this building is used for research purposes. Does that fit?” Damian asked.

“Uh more like research subject holding. Maybe a small lab on the first floor but other than cameras everywhere, there isn’t much science stuff that I can scan. But also the basement is sealed off,” Jon said.

“How?”

“Lead bound. You can check it out while I rescue her. 4 guys is nothing,” Jon said making a fist.

“Hold on. Luthor would probably have her surrounded by Kryptonite. Just in case one of you look for her. And that’s the last thing we need,” Damian said. “I’ll rescue her and you look for the basement. Knowing Luthor, it’s probably an entire facility of experiments below. He just hadn’t gotten her room ready yet.”

Jon looked frustrated. “Fine. You rescue her but be careful. She is the weakest of us. She’s not invulnerable to bullets or anything.”

“Most of the people I rescue aren’t either,” Damian reminded him. “And I’m certainly not taking a chance with my beloved.”

Jon looked over to respond but Damian was already gone. Just like the rest of the bats: silent goodbyes. Jon quietly moved down to the first floor. He was working but at the same time, his ear was trained on his sister’s heartbeat. Jon might be the younger sibling but she didn’t have powers and he felt so protective.

—————————————

Damian rolled his eyes at the 5 ways he could see that the security sucks in the 3 minutes he hung out the window before climbing in. Large rafters and guards who didn’t bother to look up. Not to mention the fact that they let there be a solid wall between the set of guards which meant that Damian was easily able to jump down to knock them out in pairs without the other set knowing. If the security was any worse they would leave the door unlocked.

The door wasn’t unlocked but it was a deadbolt that Damian easily disabled. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was on purpose. He gulped before opening the door. What if you were really hurt? Or dead? Ignore and get in there.

Damian opened the door and he felt white hot rage. You were tied to a bed and were unconscious. You were in a nice dressy shirt and sweatpants. They’d clearly taken you while you were getting dressed. Damian wanted to kill them. He had to take a breath to help you. Jon was taking them out and Damian was on rescue. He had to stay level headed.

Even the cuffs on your wrists were inadequate. If they had attempted to restrain Damian, he would have gotten out in 3 minutes. When he was 6 years old. The Kryptonite had left nasty red burns on your skin and he clenched his jaw at the sight. Jon better be punching extra hard.

Damian picked you up bridal style and you groaned a little before turning your head against his chest. The farther he got you from that fucking Kryotonite the better you were. He took you to the roof and you started waking up.

“Damian,” you said softly and a little confused.

“Hey you’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asked looking all over your face for injury.

“Kryptonite. I hate that stuff,” you said. Damian grabbed your hand and you hissed. He looked to see bright red knuckles. You’d clearly fought at some point. He certainly knew the signs of punching someone.

“You fought back?”

“Yeah and hitting someone in a helmet and body armor sucks. I got just a few in before they pulled out the damn rock. I throw up every damn time,” you said shaking your head.

Before Damian could comment on how brave and stupid it was to punch body armor, there was a huge crash down on the first floor as someone flew in the building through the window. You grabbed him tightly.

“What the hell is that?”

“Kon. Conner’s here. I’m up here,” you yelled.

Conner flew up to the roof. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Kidnapped. Damian and Jon saved me. He’s still down there actually. Can you check on him?” You said. Damian suddenly stood up.

“What if you were a distraction and the real problem is downstairs?” Damian suddenly said with clarity. The Kryptonite alone was enough to hold you down. The half ass security was to hold their attention when they rescued you. Jon was already flying back down before Damian could say more. Damian weighed his options: leave you alone, bring you with him, or stay out of it and while the last sounded nice, he’d have to go in case of more Kryptonite.

Before Damian could decide, Kon was back on the roof. “You’ve got to come see this.”

Downstairs was a lead lined basement. That alone had you nervous. Jon stood by the door. Little spattering of blood could be seen on his hands. He had a hard look.

“Warning: this is going to be messed up,” he said and you were even more worried. You walked in to see cages. Kids. Unconscious adults lay around in the hallway. “They were experimenting on them.”

You felt nauseous.

“My father is on the way. This is much bigger than I thought,” Damian said messing with his comms. His free hand was on your shoulder protectively.

There were 8 kids in cages. Bruce was running tests on their blood and investigating the area as you helped to get them out of the cages. What a terrible Valentine’s Day.

“Beloved, let’s get you home. We can stay at the farm tonight. You need sleep,” Damian said worried. You looked at him distracted.

“They’re just kids.”

“Come on. Let’s go. Kon is going to stay there too. Just for the night,” Damian said helping you up. Kon flew you both back to the farm.

“I’m going back to help. You okay, kid,” Kon asked as Damian inspected the house.

“I’ll be alright. Just help those kids,” you said.

“Yeah, of course,” he said ruffling your head. You rolled your eyes. “But seriously, the way you screamed I thought you were being murdered.”

You stiffened. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Kon knew when to quit. Something he had learned from Tim. He gave you a big hug and flew off towards Metropolis.

“Hey. I made your bed so you can sleep,” Damian said quietly. “And a change of clothes.”

You nodded and went upstairs. Damian helped pull off your shirt and put on a sweater. He looked at the marks around your wrist and red knuckles but didn’t note any more bruises or cuts. You pulled on sweatpants and climbed in small twin bed that Lois kept for guests. The pink and yellow flowery quilt felt warm and comforting on your skin. Damian lay beside you after changing and looked at you seriously.

“What is it,” you asked.

“I was so scared tonight. I have been doing this for years and I’ve never been so worried,” he said softly and you looked down and flushed. If you weren’t so freaking sensitive to Kryptonite this wouldn’t have happened. Damian gently lifted your chin and you looked at him.

“I was scared to lose you,” he said running his thumb across your cheek. “I’m going to drive you absolutely mad because I don’t want to take my eyes off of you.”

“Yeah?” You said with a little smile.

“Uh hm. But first sleep,” he said and your body certainly agreed. You curled into him and rest your head on his chest. His arms held you tightly before rubbing your back. You fell asleep to Damian staring at you. He stared at you all night, not even sleeping when Kon came in a few hours later.

———————————

“I have to know what all that was, Bruce,” you said at the Batcave the next day. “I was in there.”

He looked at you for a minute. “They were experimenting with meta DNA. All of those kids have gifts and they wanted to take you too. There were even plans to inject those kids with your blood to see if it would affect them.”

You shivered a little at the thought. Lex Luthor and his obsession with Kryptonian DNA.

“All the records were burned. Most of the warehouse too. Your brothers were.... thorough. And Clark will be home in a few days,” Bruce added.

“Really?”

“Yes. And he’s furious at Luthor. Probably will call soon. He wanted to let you sleep earlier. We’re just running programs here. Why don’t you and Damian go upstairs,” he suggested.

“Bruce Wayne,” came a stern voice behind you. You turned to see your mother, Lois Lane, looking like she was going to beat up Batman. “You put a tracker in my daughter without her permission?”

“You what?” You said.

“Actually that was Damian. Though I want to point out that it helped save her life,” Bruce added. Lois slapped him soundly across the cheek. Bruce just blinked and rubbed his cheek.

“Damian, you put a tracker in me?” You asked shocked. You’d assumed Jon had heard you or Damian’s detective work brought them to the warehouse. Not an invasive tracker in your body. “What the hell?”

“Well I can explain..”

[politijohn]

The Stock Market is not the Economy w/ Dan Price

Airlines spent 96% of free cash flow on stock buybacks for a decade, then cut 90,000 jobs when trouble hit. Then they got a $50 billion bailout

GE promised its CEO a huge bonus if stock hit $19. It didn’t, so GE re-did contract so the bonus kicks in at $10/share The CEO cut 20% of aviation staff to increase profits and raise the stock to $10 His bonus: $47M. If it goes up again, he gets $270M

JCPenney - April: furloughed 85,000 employees, May 10: Gave CEO $4.5M bonus on top of $17M/yr in pay, May 15: went bankrupt, Oct: laid off 15,000 people, Dec: closed 150 stores, Now: CEO left with $4.5M bonus after stock fell 88% in her 2 yrs

Boeing spent almost all of its cash on stock buybacks over the prior decade. In the past year, it cut 27,000 employees. It also fired its CEO over 2 deadly plane crashes and ensuing coverup, and gave him a $81 million exit package

On Jan. 6, when the mob stormed the Capitol, the stock market went up 250 points to a new record, handing the richest 1% an extra $300 billion. Also that day, a new report showed employment dropped for the first time since April and a then-record 3,900 people died of covid

Albertsons, US’ 2nd-largest grocery chain: *Profit is up 256% in pandemic *Stock at record high *Owned by private equity *CEO made $29M last year *Fired all California non-union drivers to replace them with gig workers with no benefits/min wage

The stock market for the 500 biggest companies ended the year up 15%, among the biggest gains ever. Also in that span, those companies lad off a record number of people, and wait times for food banks hit a record high

As part of the first stimulus, the Fed pumped about $3 trillion into the stock market, which helped it soar to record highs. At the same time, a record 30% of small businesses failed and unemployment tripled

Since 2009, stock market is up 233%. Since 2009, the federal min. wage is up 0%

Coca-Cola - This decade, it spent $48B on dividends and over $20B on stock buybacks 2018: CEO got 58% pay increase 2019: CEO got 12% pay increase, to $18.7M 2020: Company makes $8.3B profit…and it just laid off 12% of workers

Among the biggest 50 companies, they spent 79% of profits on stock buybacks and dividends in recent years to enrich executives and mostly-wealthy shareholders. Last year, those companies combined to lay off over 100,000 workers

Disney stock is up 21% in the past year to a new record high. In recent months they laid off 32,000 people. One of our employees lives near Disney World. Recently there was a line of cars outside his house for a drive-thru food bank 7.5 miles away

In the pandemic, total stock value has grown by $16.6 trillion. $8.3 trillion of that went to the richest 1%, and they pay a lower tax rate than those who are unemployed and need help

Salesforce - In the last 5 years, it has bought 27 companies for tens of billions of dollars. It just bought Slack for $27.7B. Its stock is at record high, up 23% in the past year after revenue surged 29%. And it just laid off 1,000 people

In November alone, the average member of the top 10% gained an average of $200,000 from the stock market while 7M people plunged into poverty

On one day in November: *The stock market hit 30,000 for the first time *Elon Musk became first person to gain $100B in a year *A Census report revealed 6M people face imminent eviction

Uber + Lyft spent $200M on November election ads to convince Californians they shouldn’t pay drivers minimum wage or benefits. In the 2 weeks after passage, Uber stock went up 39% and Lyft stock soared 52%. In return, all drivers were denied basic benefits

Average stock gains over 10 years CEOs with above-average pay: stock up 160% CEOs with below-average pay: stock up 280% And yet CEOs are rewarded whether the stock goes up or down

AT&T - 2018-2019: bought Time Warner for $100B, cut 29,000 jobs May: gave departing CEO $64M pension ($274K/mo for life), laid off 4,700 more workers August: laid off 600 more workers, Now: laid off thousands more - news sent stock up 2%

Marriott - 2018-2019: made $3.1B in profits, spent $5B on stock buybacks April: furloughed most employees, paid $160M in dividends to shareholders, gave CEO a 8% raise and 200% bonus Sept: laid off 17% of HQ staff Now: made $100M profit

$3B: what Jeff Bezos cashed out in stock in one day, as Amazon profits tripled in the pandemic. $2.1B: cost to give all Amazon warehouse workers 2 weeks paid sick leave and a year of hero pay (they got none of either now)

84% of stock market value is owned by richest 10% “but what about 401(k)s” Half of Americans don’t have one The average 401(k) balance has *declined* $5,000 in 6 years after inflation, because employers put in less & people can’t afford contributions

MGM - Laid off 18,000 people while giving its CEO $700K in stock. The value of the stock doubled to $1.4M after the stock went up, partly because of increased profitability due to the layoffs

Wells Fargo made $10B in staff cuts, meaning tens of thousands of employees lost their jobs. Wells Fargo also made a $2B profit, did $24B in stock buybacks last year, and paid its CEO $36M

Black and Latino Americans make up about 32% of the population but own only 1.7% of all stock value

1948-1979: Worker productivity: up 108%, Stock market: up 603%, Worker pay: up 93%.  Since then, worker productivity: up 70%, Stock market: up 2,200%, Worker pay: up 12%. Corporations and workers used to get richer together. Now companies just keep the money

Deere - Construction sales are down 25%. Yet, it is posting a $2.25B profit as it cuts thousands of jobs. The result: Its stock grew 23% in a year to a record high. In the week after it announced job cuts, its stock grew 9%

Walmart - Stock is at record high, up 23% in a year. The Waltons have gotten over $20B richer in the pandemic. Online sales are up 74% and market share has grown…and it cut hundreds of corporate jobs

Macy’s - Its stock was down 60% in a year and they cut 3,900 jobs. So what did it do? Gave its CEO a $3.7M bonus, and gave about $1M each to 5 other execs

CEOs justify huge pay by saying they’re worth it. But there’s no correlation between profit and CEO pay at 61% of corporations. Since 1990, stock market: up 300%, CEO pay: up 550%

Stock for the parent company of Ann Taylor, Loft and Lane Bryant is down 75% in a year. It closed all 2,800 stores. So what did it do? Gave executives $5.5M in bonuses, including over $2M to the CEO

Where proceeds from stock buybacks + dividends went over the last 15 years: White people: $13 trillion, Black people: $0.18 trillion Hispanic people: $0.21 trillion When we talk about the systemic racial wealth gap, this is a pretty good place to start

Amid the early days of the pandemic, stocks grew 38%, the most ever in a 50-day span. At the same time, thousands of small businesses closed each day while thousands of people died from covid

Google - Stock at all-time high. $6.8B profit last year. Founders Page + Brin added $10B+ to fortunes in a year. Offered jobs to over 2,000 people and axed them w/ no severance before they ever worked a day - after they already left their prior jobs

Companies did $62B/year in stock buybacks in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Now they do $730B/year in stock buybacks. Worker pay increases are far smaller now than they were in the ‘80s and ‘90s

Chevron - Its CEO made $33.1M/year. 5 other execs made a total of $59M. It spent $13B on stock buybacks and dividends in a year then laid off 10-15% of its staff

Big companies don’t just spend profits on manipulating stock. They are a record $10 trillion in debt - mostly for stock buybacks + dividends to enrich themselves. When the bill comes due, layoffs typically ensue

In April, a record 30M people lost their jobs and small businesses lost 55% of their revenue. At the same time, the stock market rose the most since 1987 and billionaires gained $308B

[newstfionline]

Tuesday, November 1, 2022

‘Perfect storm’ swirls as Canadians face hot inflation, rising rates (Reuters) At a warehouse on an industrial stretch in Ottawa, giant metal crates of donated groceries are piled high as volunteers sort canned goods, pasta and other foods to be distributed to pantries around the Canadian city. Demand has surged 33% at the Ottawa Food Bank from pre-COVID-19 pandemic levels, with visits up as spiraling grocery, gas and rent prices, along with fast-rising borrowing costs, leave more Canadians struggling to make ends meet. “We are absolutely seeing more people,” said Rachael Wilson, chief executive of the Ottawa Food Bank, adding the organization is now spending C$6 million ($4.4 million) a year on food, up from C$2 million pre-pandemic. “That’s because the cost of food has risen ... but also because of the number of people that are turning to a food bank right now,” said Wilson. “It is unfortunately a perfect storm.” Canada’s headline inflation rate has eased to 6.9% from a peak of 8.1%, but food costs are still accelerating.

Poll workers train for conflict (AP) Milwaukee’s top election official surveyed about 20 poll workers gathered in a classroom in a city building stuffed with election supplies, then spoke frankly about the tense environment they may face next week when the city expects more people watching their work than ever before. “So who is worried about observer disruptions?” Claire Woodall-Vogg, head of the Milwaukee Election Commission, asked the group. “Who has read things or heard things on the news, and you’re a little nervous? I am. I’ll raise my hand,” she said, smiling. A few of the workers raised their hands, too. They’re not alone in their concern: Election officials across the country are bracing for confrontational poll watchers fueled by lies about the legitimacy of the 2020 election spread by former President Donald Trump and others, even after Trump’s loss was upheld by repeated reviews, audits and recounts, and courts rejected legal challenges.

Brazil’s brash President Bolsonaro mum after election loss (AP) In Brazil’s capital on Monday, the silence was deafening. Nearly a full day after President Jair Bolsonaro lost his bid for reelection, the usually brash right-wing leader had neither conceded defeat nor challenged the results of the country’s closest political contest in more than three decades. Bolsonaro hadn’t spoken a word to reporters camped outside the official residence or the supporters who regularly gather nearby. Nor did he post on his otherwise prolific social media platforms. The only sign of protest came from Bolsonaro-supporting truckers who blockaded some roads across the country.

With Western Weapons, Ukraine Is Turning the Tables in an Artillery War (NYT) On the screen of a thermal imaging camera, the Russian armored personnel carrier disappeared in a silent puff of smoke. “What a beautiful explosion,” said First Lt. Serhiy, a Ukrainian drone pilot who watched as his weapon buzzed into a Russian-controlled village and picked off the armored vehicle, a blast that was audible seconds later at his position about four miles away. The war in Ukraine has been fought primarily through the air, with artillery, rockets, missiles and drones. And for months, Russia had the upper hand, able to lob munitions at Ukrainian cities, towns and military targets from positions well beyond the reach of Ukrainian weapons. But in recent months, the tide has turned along the front lines in southern Ukraine. With powerful Western weapons and deadly homemade drones, Ukraine now has artillery superiority in the area, commanders and military analysts say. Ukraine now has an edge in both range and in precision-guided rockets and artillery shells, a class of weapons largely lacking in Russia’s arsenal. Ukrainian soldiers are taking out armored vehicles worth millions of dollars with cheap homemade drones, as well as with more advanced drones and other weapons provided by the United States and allies. The Russian military remains a formidable force. Still, there is no mistaking the shifting fortunes on the southern front.

Russia’s security service works to subvert Moldova’s pro-Western government (Washington Post) When thousands of protesters gathered last month outside Moldova’s presidential palace calling for the country’s pro-Western leader to step down, the man behind the demonstration—an opposition party leader in exile in Israel—soon received plaudits from Moscow. One senior Russian politician praised the protest organizer, Ilan Shor, as “a worthy long-term partner” and even offered the Moldovan region led by Shor’s party a cheap Russian gas deal, according to Shor’s press service. Referred to as “the young one” by Russia’s Federal Security Service (FSB), the 35-year-old Shor is a leading figure in the Kremlin’s efforts to subvert this former Soviet republic, intelligence documents and interviews with Moldovan, Ukrainian and Western officials show. The documents—part of a trove of sensitive materials obtained by Ukrainian intelligence and reviewed by The Washington Post—illustrate how Moscow continues to try to manipulate countries in Eastern Europe even as its military campaign in Ukraine falters. The FSB has funneled tens of millions of dollars from some of Russia’s biggest state companies to cultivate a network of Moldovan politicians and reorient the country toward Moscow, the documents and interviews indicate.

At Least 140 Killed in India as Suspension Bridge Collapses (NYT) At least 140 people were killed after a century-old pedestrian bridge collapsed in the western Indian state of Gujarat on Sunday evening, sending hundreds plunging into the Machchhu River, officials said. About 350 people were on and around the bridge, a major tourist attraction, at the time of the collapse, said Brijesh Merja, a minister in the Gujarat government. A large number of those who died were children, women and older people, according to officials. The bridge collapsed four days after it was reopened to the public and about seven months after the start of renovation work. Built in 1880, during the Victorian era, it is about 755 feet long.

Shanghai Disney shuts over COVID, visitors unable to leave (Reuters) Shanghai’s Disney Resort abruptly suspended operations on Monday to comply with COVID-19 prevention measures, with all visitors at the time of the announcement directed to stay in the park until they return a negative test for the virus. The Shanghai government said on its official WeChat account the park was barring people from entering or exiting and that all visitors inside the site would need to await the results of their tests before they could leave. Anyone who had visited the park since Oct. 27 would need to test for COVID-19 three times in three days, it said. Shanghai reported 10 locally transmitted cases for Oct. 30, all of which it said were people without symptoms.

In Xi’s China, even internal reports fall prey to censorship (AP) When the coronavirus was first detected in Wuhan in late 2019, reporter Liao Jun of China’s official Xinhua News Agency told conflicting stories to two very different audiences. Liao’s news dispatches assured readers the disease didn’t spread from person to person. But in a separate confidential report to senior officials, Liao struck a different tone, alerting Beijing that a mysterious, dangerous disease had surfaced. Her reports to officials were part of a powerful internal reporting system long used by the ruling Communist Party to learn about issues considered too sensitive for the public to know. Chinese journalists and researchers file secret bulletins to top officials, ensuring they get the information needed to govern, even when it’s censored. But this internal system is struggling to give frank assessments as Chinese leader Xi Jinping consolidates his power, making it risky for anyone to question the party line even in confidential reports, a dozen Chinese academics, businesspeople and state journalists said in interviews with The Associated Press.

South Korea begins probe into deadly Halloween crush (Reuters) South Korean investigators combed footage on Monday from more than 50 state and private closed-circuit TV cameras as well as from social media looking for answers to how a surge in Halloween party-goers trapped in narrow alleys killed so many. As the country began a week of mourning, the death toll climbed to 154. Another 149 people were injured, 33 of them in serious condition. Tens of thousands of revellers—many in their teens and twenties and dressed in costume—had crowded into narrow streets and alleyways of the popular Itaewon district on Saturday for the first virtually unrestricted Halloween festivities in three years. Chaos erupted when people poured into one particularly narrow and sloping alley, even after it was already packed, witnesses said. On Monday, people laid white chrysanthemums, drinks and candles at a small makeshift altar off an exit of the Itaewon subway station. Jung Si-hoon, a retiree, placed an old wooden cross at the altar, saying nothing could be done to bring back all the young people who had died. “Those poor people, all at similar ages to my grandchildren... What more should we say? We should pray for them and wish they rest in peace,” he said.

Iran charges female journalists who helped break Amini’s story with being CIA spies (Washington Post) The two female Iranian journalists who helped break the story of Mahsa Amini, the 22-year-old Kurdish Iranian woman whose death in the custody of the so-called morality police last month sparked a nationwide uprising, were formally accused late Friday of being CIA spies and the “primary sources of news for foreign media”—the former a crime punishable by the death penalty in Iran. Journalists Niloofar Hamedi and Elahe Mohammadi have been held in Iran’s notorious Evin prison since late September as Iran’s clerical leaders have struggled to contain an outpouring of public anger and protests calling for their overthrow. In the joint statement sent to Iranian media late Friday local time, the Iranian Ministry of Intelligence and the intelligence agency of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard, the highly-feared guardians of Iran’s security state, accused the CIA of orchestrating Hamedi and Mohammadi’s reporting, and said “allied spy services and fanatic proxies,” planned the nationwide, leaderless unrest. Both Hamedi and Mohammadi’s top editors denied the charges Saturday and said the journalists were only doing their jobs. “What they have referred to as evidence for their charges is the exact definition of journalists’ professional duty,” the Journalist Association of Iran said in a statement Saturday.

Tight race in Israel (AP) Israeli voters appear to be hopelessly deadlocked as the country heads to elections once again on Tuesday, with opinion polls saying the race is too close to forecast. Former Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who governed for 12 years before he was ousted last year, is asking voters to give him another chance, even as he stands trial on corruption charges. The current prime minister, Yair Lapid, has billed himself as a voice of decency and unity. He hopes his brief term as head of a caretaker government has shown voters that someone besides Netanyahu can lead the country. In Israel’s fragmented political system, neither Netanyahu’s hard-line Likud party nor Lapid’s centrist Yesh Atid is expected to capture enough seats in parliament to form a new government. Instead, each hopes to secure the required 61-seat majority in the Knesset, or parliament, with the support of smaller political allies. If neither succeeds, Israel could soon be facing another election, after already holding five votes in under four years.