#i live under a rock and only discovered these existed the other day

[smores100]

Captive Prince trilogy | Polish version | cover art by littleulvar

[madametamma]

The Day Jon was born (A MAWS fanfic)

“I’m so sorry, but your son likely only has a few more hours to live.”

The news made Clark’s whole world lose sound, light, and color. He was frozen to the spot. His body reacting as if he didn’t move time wouldn’t go forward.

He and Lois were so thrilled over having a baby. Clark wasn’t sure he could due to his alien DNA, until one day in the middle of stopping a bank robbery he heard a noise he had never imagined before.

Two hearts beating inside Lois as she hid behind a turned over desk to cover herself from the armed robber’s gunfire. She furiously scribbled notes into a pad of paper for the story she’d write about this. The shock at the time got Superman shot over 58 times until the robbers themselves grew confused at his motionlessness.

He suddenly snapped out of his stupor, finished rounding the robbers up as quick as a flash and carried his perplexed wife out the door up to the privacy of the sky to give her body a proper X ray vision scan, confirming that she was indeed pregnant.

They were overjoyed at the time. So happy to bring a child into the world. They imagined teaching him or her catch, bringing them to Ma and Pa’s home for holidays. They wanted every part that parenthood had to offer together.

A few weeks later the fears started taking hold. Lois was on an emotional roller coaster. With some days feeling full of energy and eager to fight against her husbands insistence that she be less reckless with claims that no one could stop her from doing what she had to do as a reporter and other days where she cried in bed feeling certain she was going to be a horrible mother.

Through every breakdown Clark was there to assure her that everything would be fine although she wasn’t the only prone to anxiety and emotional episodes. He would also have more than his fair share of nightmares of something happening to the baby. A foe discovering of his family’s existence and taking them hostage? A strange Kryptonian sickness that he would have no idea how to cure? What if their child had powers like him? What if they had to live with the isolation and loneliness he grew up with as a boy. He would never wish that on anyone let alone his own kid.

Thankfully Lois and Clark never had a breakdown at the same time. They were each other’s rock. When one was in crisis mode, the other swooped in to let them know they believed everything would be alright.

That is until last night. 25 days before her due date, as Clark was brushing his teeth getting ready for bed, he heard the sound of a crash in the kitchen where Lois was. Near instantaneously he was at her side as she lay fallen on the floor breathing ragged, holding her baby bump.

“Something’s wrong.” She managed to hiss out through clenched teeth.

Clark flew her to the local hospital as fast as he was able, The doctors declared that if they had any chance at saving the baby, they’d need to perform surgery immediately.

As Lois was going under, quickly loosing consciousness, she gave Clark the most painful, terrified expression Clark had ever seen from her, it almost stopped his heart. It didn’t look right on the face of the bravest person he’d ever known, and it made him feel almost as small and helpless as she looked.

“C-Clark, y-you’ve gotta make sure our baby’s gonna be okay. You’ve gotta bring em to me, promise?”

“I promise.” The words came out before Clark even knew what he was promising. He would have given her anything in that moment.

She muttered a few words incoherently as her eye glazed over and succumbed to the anesthesia.

The rest was a blur for Clark. Never in his life had he felt so powerless and afraid. The only thing he clung to was the sound of the two heartbeats of his wife and baby until finally a doctor delivered him those awful words.

“I’m so sorry, but your son likely only has a few more hours to live.”

Clark somehow found himself sitting in the hospital room with his sleeping wife and tiny new born son. He was hunched over, head in his hands, not sure how long he’d been there or how he got there.

He finally managed to look over at his new born son, so small, pale and struggling to breath. Clark looked at him more closely with his super vision. There was something unstable about human, kryptonian DNA mixed together. The baby’s heart was weak and struggled with all its might to keep on beating. Turns out Clark was right all those years. He couldn’t have a healthy baby with a human.

He turned his gaze to Lois. How was he going to face her? The promise he made in the heat of a heartbroken moment shattered.

The light from the rising sun in the distance illuminated her face from the window. Usually Clark’s favorite sight in the world. The sunrise lighting up his wife’s beautiful, peaceful face as she slept so close by him but at this moment…

That’s when realization struck him. He looked back at his son. He had his kryptonian DNA. And Kryptonians heal when exposed to strong sunlight.

Without wasting another moment, Clark unhooked his child from the machines keeping him alive. If he was wrong about this, their boy would die but if he did nothing, he’d die anyway in a few more hours. He cradled his child in his two hands. He was small enough that he could fit nearly all of him in them.

“Lois, I’m going to try something drastic.” He muttered to his unconscious wife before flying off.

He held his baby firm against his chest and just went strait up above the clouds where he could be close to the sun. It was almost blindingly bright but Clark kept his eyes on the boy as he held him out enough that his skin could absorb as much light as possible.

And he waited…

And waited…

No immediate change. Were seconds or minutes going by? Clark couldn’t tell. His whole universe held still.

“Jonathan?” Clark mouthed out, saying the name he and Lois had agreed upon if they had a boy.

“Jonathan.” He said again a little louder this time.

“Do you know who I am? Do you recognize my voice?” So many nights Clark curled up next to Lois’s baby bump speaking to it about anything and everything, hoping that his child would know him by the sound of his voice once he was born.

“Cry Jonathan… Please cry.” He begged. Clark had been crying nearly this whole time and a new fresh set of fat tears rolled down his face.

“If you cry now, I’ll never feel bad about you crying for the rest of our lives. I will stay up all night, every night with you if you want to cry in your cradle, When you’re older I’ll sit with you if you cry over a nightmare, or if you cry about getting dumped or bullied at school. Just cry for me, Jon.”

No change.

“There’s so many great things in this world, Jon. You’re going to have an aunt Kara who will teach you stuff and an uncle Jimmy who will make you laugh and a grandpa and grandma who will make you feel loved and special, and you’re mom and dad will always be there for whatever you need, but you’ve got to live, okay?”

Still nothing.

Clark sniffled back more tears, his voice was choked up with emotion.

Suddenly, it was as though the whole world put back into its rightful place all at once it hit him. Jon let out a loud baby wail and wiggled slightly in his father’s hands. His skin was bright and rosy and Clark could hear a heartbeat strong and steady.

For a moment all Clark could do was stare at the child illuminated by the rising sun. Almost unable to process the miracle before him. When more tears fell and finally he could smile. He brought his son close and cooed,

“Daddy’s here… Thank you Jonathan.”

Lois was beginning to come around. She looked around and found her room empty. She couldn’t help but be worried that Clark wasn’t with her and neither was their baby, when suddenly a shadow cast over her. She looked to the window to find her husband smiling down at her eyes puffy from crying with their child in his arms.

Wanting to close the distance between them, without taking her eyes off her family, Lois moved to get out of bed to reach out for them only to almost immediately fall on unsteady legs.

Clark moved to catch her with one arm and move her back to bed. Once she was okay, he handed her their crying baby. “Lois, meet Jonathan. He’s beautiful.”

And now it was Lois’s turn to cry as she held her tiny son close to her chest, thankful that her family was okay. She didn’t need to ask. She could read it on Clark’s face. She held their baby and Clark held the both of them.

The doctors were astounded. They had never examined a healthier baby.

[writer-or-whatever]

Sleight of Hand

The other piece of HorrorComedy flash fiction that I wrote semi-recently and finally posted (find the other here). Read under the cut or on AO3.

Summary: Caroline moved to the foothills to have an escape. She gets to work nine to five and then the world is her oyster from five to nine—that’s what the real estate agent promised. She hasn’t been on a walk once in the six months that she’s lived here. Today that changes.

Rating: T | Word Count: 1.5k | Horror & Humor

It’s a nice night for a walk. The air is cool and fresh with the rain of the morning, but the evening sky is clear, with no sign of the clouds that did nothing but drizzle over the earth all day. The fresh air and crisp smell of early fall coaxed Caroline out of the house and into the woods behind it, not that it was hard.

She’s been caged in all day, running furiously on the corporate hamster wheel from the comfort of her couch. There is no boundary between work and home—everything is just a maudlin slurry of exhaustion. A rat race with no finish. But the trees out back know nothing about that kind of existence. They have been there longer than she’s been alive, even the saplings. They stand firmly in place—tall and steady with deep roots—and they do not let Jane from Accounts Payable bully them in a conference call. They call to her every time she glances out of the window and sighs. Come take a walk. It’s good for you. Touch some grass. Please, we’ve plenty of it. Come and play.

It’s hard for her to say no.

Caroline moved to the foothills to have an escape. She gets to work nine to five and then the world is her oyster from five to nine—that’s what the real estate agent promised. She hasn’t been on a walk once in the six months that she’s lived here.

Today that changes.

She pulls on her jacket and her hiking boots—brown suede and red laces just like in Wild—and grabs a water bottle. She’s going to enjoy herself. This will be good for you; that’s what all the books say. “I hiked the PCT! It saved my life!” “I used to be a corporate drone, but then I discovered the wonders of nature!” “Henry David Thoreau was right! Returning to nature is the only way to fix us!”

Caroline is full of gusto and grand poetic notions for the first mile. She is going to do this every day! It is gorgeous and refreshing! She has been wasting her life away behind a screen—man was not meant to live under the yolk of a machine!

The second mile passes in a more subdued manner. She appreciates the birdsong and the lichen, and she has realistic expectations. Probably not every day, but some of them surely. Once a week is probably doable.

She doesn’t take in any glorious wonders of nature in the third mile. She’s too busy thinking about what Jane from Accounts Payable meant when she called her “endearing” before she shot her proposal down. She checks her watch, the little rectangle glows faintly blue back at her: 6:15. Caroline hasn’t logged off this early in months. Her coworkers are surely all still pecking away at their keyboards. Her boss is probably still online. They’ve probably had another meeting and were confused by her absence. They’re probably having another right now. About her. She has to go back and check. She’s wasting precious time out here. She has to work harder if she ever wants a chance to retire. She’ll be forced to work until she dies if she doesn’t get back online right this minute. She–

She can’t find the way back. She has been following a trail, hasn’t she? Caroline looks around. There is no trail. The ground beneath her feet is indistinguishable from that around it. There is no path. Surely there was a path?

She can’t remember. The siren song of the woods was so strong—she followed it right out to shore and now it’s dashing her against the rocks. She’s going to die here. She has no wilderness skills—she got bored halfway through the drive to her first Girl Scouts’ camping trip and made her mom turn right back around—what made her think she could just go gallivanting off into the woods?

She turns back the way she thinks she came. She pulls out her phone and opens the compass app that came pre-installed; she is facing southwest. Caroline doesn’t know which way she came from, and this does not help. She tries walking this way anyway. It’s a complete 180 degrees from where she was going, so it must be from whence she came.

She makes it one mile. She doesn’t remember if she’s seen this tree before. Maybe that rock looks familiar?

Another mile. The trees don’t look any thinner. Did they close in around her slowly on the way out? Or was she deep in the thicket from the start?

Another half mile and she needs to sit down. Her water bottle is empty. She is so tired. What was she thinking? There is a log just a little further. That will be as good a place as any to rest for a minute.

She sits down on the log, and it’s not as hard as it looks. It has moss growing over it, and the wood is soft and damp. She pulls at the bark absentmindedly and it comes away easily. Nothing like the hard trees that tower around her. Will she be this soft and pliable when she returns to the Earth?

Before she can do something stupid—like lay down and let the forest grow over her—she spots movement from behind one of the trees in the direction she’s been walking. Help at last! Thank god!

It’s probably one of her neighbors. There are other cabins and cozy little houses on the edge of the wilderness out here. She hasn’t met any of the other residents, but she’s seen the lights on in their windows. Maybe she can introduce herself now—find a hiking buddy. Isn’t that what all the true crime podcasts recommend? Never wander into the woods alone.

A figure emerges from behind the trees. Its arms are long and spindly, like the branches around them. Their face is obscured by a hanging curtain of dark hair, which goes undisturbed by both wind and breath. The wind is cool where it rustles Caroline’s hair and coaxes wisps of it out of her ponytail. She stares at them, paralyzed. She can’t even blink.

But she must have, because in the space between one moment and the next they’ve disappeared. And she didn’t see it. She must have closed her eyes—in fear or in disbelief or in prayer, she doesn’t know, but she must have had them closed because the figure is gone now and things don’t just disappear. Maybe it wasn’t ever there. She’s stressed, she’s lost, she’s tired. Weirder things have happened. Brain chemistry is odd like that.

The figure emerges from behind another, thinner tree much closer to her. It is too big to have been hiding there. But there it is, peeking its head out from behind it. Looking at her.

She still can’t see the face—dark hair is still hanging in the way of it—but that doesn’t matter. She can feel the weight of its eyes on her. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end. How is it hiding there? And how did it get so close. It moved more than 100 yards in that fraction of a second. This isn’t real. It’s not happening. She’s imagining it. She should shut her eyes and take a deep breath. She can’t.

If she takes her eyes off that thing she is going to die. If she makes even the smallest movement, it is going to get her. If she keeps looking at it then she’ll be okay. It cannot get her if she does not let it.

It ducks back behind the tree again. She can’t see it—it moved faster than the first time. Caroline is going to die, she’s certain of it. This thing is going to get her. She won’t even see it coming. The feeling of being watched comes again from her right. She doesn’t want to look. She doesn’t want to know. She turns her head anyway.

It is sitting next to her, the soft wood of the log creaking underneath the added weight. It’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with her, as close as it can get without touching. It’s roughly the same size as she is, though she swears it was taller before and thinner beside. Now they’re both midsize. The lanky hair that still covers its face is Caroline’s bright box red and the roots are her honey blonde.

It reaches one of its hands toward her face, and the fingers are spindly but slowly shrinking and reforming. The sound of bones snapping and crunching makes her stomach churn. They’re bringing that rippling hand toward her face. She can’t move—she can’t even blink—she is going to watch as it reaches right into her. The hand skirts around to the far side of her head at the last second and hovers near her ear. Then it pulls its hand away quickly and she screams.

There is something in its hand. A coin. This thing, now wearing her face, grins back at her, smiling with far more teeth than she’s ever had. It hands her the coin.

“Ta da!” It says. It has her voice.

[cherryfennec]

what do you think would have happened if Timpani hadn't found Blumiere at the base of the cliff and he would have died? do you think the prophecy would have still happened? if yes, then do you happen to have any theories about who would have carried it out and would they have succeeded?

So this is a very difficult question! The topic of the prophecies in the Dark Prognosticus is just in general one of the more trivial things to consider.

So let's go through over the main scenario: Blumiere falls from a cliff and is probably hidden well under the rubble. Timpani, who happens to be in the area, can't really see anyone under the scarp because of the dirt and rocks so she assumes the pieces fell naturally due to a small earthquake or wind and there's no one there. While she walks away, Blumiere unfortunately is too weak to make it out of the rubble and ultimately dies.

Now...

What would this mean for Timpani and the Tribe of Darkness specifically? Well first of all, neither of them would end up dead/gone.

It is implied through the short snippets of the main villians backstory (which appear in-between chapters) that ultimately after losing his beloved and becoming Count Bleck, Blumiere wipes out his clan, which is rather gruesome but not unexpected for this game tbh. With him dissapearing instead (cause theres a chance they might've not even found him) everyone in the Tribe lives and he himself would be portrayed as an innocent person until the end, the loss of whom only brought sorrow to his family and friends. Other than that the civilization would still thrive for years to come.

As for Timpani: without having met Blumiere, she would've probably spent her days living a normal daily life, not even knowing someone like him ever existed. She could expand her hobbies, travel, make friends etc. She could even find a partner but... it wouldn't be the same and I'll elaborate on that in a bit. In general she would have had more time to discover herself and enjoy the little things.

What does this mean for the prophecy?

The Dark Prognosticus is kinda weird because it describes the future that relies on the book being read. Basically it knows that it will be opened, but because it will be opened the prophecy will happen in the first place, which it also knows. It gets confusing when you think about it too much. In any case the 'end of the world' requires someone to kickstart all the events.

Blumieres and Timpanis love was a very rare kind of love, an extremely strong and dedicated one. And if not for that fact, Bleck wouldn't probably go as far as to destroying everything just for her sake. Now without our specially picked out Champion of Destruction, would it even be possible for the prophecy to happen? As we said before if the Count died at the cliff, the book would absolutely know about it. With this in mind there are 3 options as I see it:

The prophecy couldn't be fulfilled/it wouldn't exist in this timeline. Basically: There was no other person that could play the role of the catalyst nor had the means to obtain the Prognosticus/didn't know it existed and so the danger never arrived and everyone lived happily ever after. (yipie no trauma for the Mario gang and especially Luigi yahoo)

The prophecy could be fulfilled by a new character who also fits the requirements and basically fills in for Count Bleck. Simply put: the book found someone else good for the role and it all plays out as written. This is where the plot is up to interpretation because there are just too many factors to take into consideration.'Who would reach out for help to Mario?', I don't know, maybe this new character could also be doing this for the sake of someone else I and that's who would be our Timpani replacement or something I guess.'Would Mimi and O'Chunks be there to help?', probably not because the reason they joined in on the plan in the first place is specifically tied to the person that the Count was. But you know who would definitely be there?

Technically we don't really need a new character and it's going to be a little obvious who I'm about to mention. The prophecy is much more altered in this scenario, and it basically revolves about Dimentio carrying it all out. So from the gossip you get from the barista about everyone on Team Bleck it is implied that Dimentio was the one who actively sought out the Count, not the other way around. From this we can deduce that he was aware of the Dark Prognosticus's existence and was out to get it by all means. Out of the known to us characters he'd really be the one person who would end up tied to the fate of the book in most cases. So in this scenario he simply steals the book from the tribe and tries to work it out by himself. 'Would he be able to carry it out alone?' I'd say there's a chance he could do it. Being built on deceipt and using others he might've been able to work from the shadows and make his way to the end goal. 'How would Mario learn about it?' Again, I don't know. It's up to the ones interpretation really. Imagine if Dimentio just goes around taking people who have the slightest trace of green on them and thus becomes like this underground villain and no-one knows anything him about other than his existence. He's like this rumour that people like to scare kids with. One day Mario hears about it, laughs it off then Luigi randomly dissapears and the chase is on, during which the red plumber learns about this mysterious figure and it's intentions bit by bit and theres like a side Peach and Bowser plot which ends with Dimentio taking up a fake persona and tricking them into saying their vows to create the Chaos Heart IDK.

I could try writing up a specific scenario for this but it'd require more time to plan out if I were to actually do it, I'd basically be writing a completely new story which tends to be difficult. (I'm currently trying my hand in writing a spm fic based on the 'Bad End Trio' Luigi design of mine and barely reached over 2k words. I'm not even near done and it's already been taking way longer than I thought it would. That's exactly why I very much respect writers.)

[thoughtportal]

The Congo’s role in creating the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was kept secret for decades, but the legacy of its involvement is still being felt today.

“The word Shinkolobwe fills me with grief and sorrow,” says Susan Williams, a historian at the UK Institute of Commonwealth Studies. “It’s not a happy word, it’s one I associate with terrible grief and suffering.”

Few people know what, or even where, Shinkolobwe is. But this small mine in the southern province of Katanga, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), played a part in one of the most violent and devastating events in history.

More than 7,500 miles away, on 6 August, bells will toll across Hiroshima, Japan, to mark 75 years since the atomic bomb fell on the city. Dignitaries and survivors will gather to remember those who died in the blast and resulting radioactive fallout. Thousands of lanterns carrying messages of peace will be set afloat on the Motoyasu River. Three days later, similar commemorations will be held in Nagasaki.

No such ceremony will take place in the DRC. Yet both nations are inextricably linked by the atomic bomb, the effects of which are still being felt to this day.

The Shinkolobwe mine – named after a kind of boiled apple that would leave a burn if squeezed – was the source for nearly all of the uranium used in the Manhattan Project, culminating with the construction of the atomic bombs dropped on Japan in 1945.

But the story of the mine didn’t end with the bombs. Its contribution to the Little Boy and Fat Man has shaped the DRC’s ruinous political history and civil wars over the decades that followed. Even today the mine’s legacy can still be seen in the health of the communities who live near it.

“It’s an ongoing tragedy,” says Williams, who has examined the role of Shinkolobwe in her book Spies in the Congo. She believes there needs to be greater recognition of how the exploitation and desire to control the mine’s contents by Western powers played a role in the country’s troubles.

Mombilo too is campaigning to raise awareness of the role played by the Congo in deciding the outcome of World War Two, as well as the burden it still carries because of this. In 2016, the CCSSA’s Missing Link forum brought together activists, historians, analysts, and children of those affected by the atomic bomb, both from Japan and from the DR Congo. “We are planning to bring back the history of Shinkolobwe, so we can make the world know,” says Mombilo.

Out of Africa

The story of Shinkolobwe began when a rich seam of uranium was discovered there in 1915, while the Congo was under colonial rule by Belgium. There was little demand for uranium back then: its mineral form is known as pitchblende, from a German phrase describing it as a worthless rock. Instead, the land was mined by the Belgian company Union Minière for its traces of radium, a valuable element that had been recently isolated by Marie and Pierre Curie.  

In no other mine could you see a purer concentration of uranium. Nothing like it has ever been found – Tom Zoellner

It was only when nuclear fission was discovered in 1938 that the potential of uranium became apparent. After hearing about the discovery, Albert Einstein immediately wrote to US president Franklin D Roosevelt, advising him that the element could be used to generate a colossal amount of energy – even to construct powerful bombs. In 1942, US military strategists decided to buy as much uranium as they could to pursue what became known as the Manhattan Project. And while mines existed in Colorado and Canada, nowhere in the world had as much uranium as the Congo.

“The geology of Shinkolobwe is described as a freak of nature,” says Tom Zoellner, who visited Shinkolobwe in the course of writing Uranium – War, Energy, and the Rock that Shaped the World. “In no other mine could you see a purer concentration of uranium. Nothing like it has ever been found.”

In a deal with Union Minière – negotiated by the British, who owned a 30% interest in the company – the US secured 1,200 tonnes of Congolese uranium, which was stockpiled on Staten Island, US, and an additional 3,000 tonnes that was stored above ground at the mine in Shinkolobwe. But it was not enough. US Army engineers were dispatched to drain the mine, which had fallen into disuse, and bring it back into production.

Under Belgian rule, Congolese workers toiled day and night in the open pit, sending hundreds of tonnes of uranium ore to the US every month. “Shinkolobwe decided who would be the next leader of the world,” says Mombilo. “Everything started there.”

All of this was carried out under a blanket of secrecy, so as not to alert Axis powers about the existence of the Manhattan Project. Shinkolobwe was erased from maps, and spies sent to the region to sow deliberate disinformation about what was taking place there. Uranium was referred to as “gems”, or simply “raw material”. The word Shinkolobwe was never to be uttered.

This secrecy was maintained long after the end of the war. “Efforts were made to give the message that the uranium came from Canada, as a way of deflecting attention away from the Congo,” says Williams. The effort was so thorough, she says, that the belief the atomic bombs were built with Canadian uranium persists to this day. Although some of the uranium came from Bear Lake in Canada – about 907 tonnes (1,000 tons) are thought to have been supplied by the Eldorado mining company – and a mine in Colorado, the majority came from the Congo. Some of the uranium from the Congo was also refined in Canada before being shipped to the US.

Western powers wanted to ensure that any government presiding over Shinkolobwe remained friendly to their interests

After the war, however, Shinkolobwe emerged as a proxy ground in the Cold War. Improved enrichment techniques made Western powers less dependent on the uranium at Shinkolobwe. But in order to curtail other nations’ nuclear ambitions, the mine had to be controlled. “Even though the US did not need the uranium at Shinkolobwe, it didn’t want the Soviet Union to get access to the mine,” explains Williams.

When the Congo gained independence from Belgium in 1960, the mine was closed and the entrance filled with concrete. But Western powers wanted to ensure that any government presiding over Shinkolobwe remained friendly to their interests.

So important was stopping the Communist threat, says Zoellner, that these powers were willing to help depose the democratically elected government of Patrice Lumumba and install the dictator Mobutu Sese Seko in 1965 for a decades-long reign of ruinous plutocracy.

Attempts by the Congolese people to negotiate better conditions for themselves were attacked as Communist-fuelled sedition. “The idealism, hope, and vision of the Congolese for a Congo free of occupation by an external power was devastated by the military and political interests of the Western powers,” says Williams.

A wound unhealed

Mobutu was eventually toppled in 1997, but the spectre of Shinkolobwe continues to haunt the DRC. Drawn by rich deposits of copper and cobalt, Congolese miners began digging informally at the site, working around the sealed mineshafts. By the end of the century, an estimated 15,000 miners and their families were present at Shinkolobwe, operating clandestine pits with no protection against the radioactive ore.

Accidents were commonplace: in 2004, eight miners were killed and more than a dozen injured when a passage collapsed. Fears that uranium was being smuggled from the site to terrorist groups or hostile states vexed Western nations, leading the Congolese army to raze the miners’ village that same year.

Stories abound of children born in the area with physical deformations, but few if any medical records are kept

Despite the mineral wealth present at Shinkolobwe, since Union Minière withdrew in the early 1960s there has never been an industrial mine that could safely and efficiently extract the ores and return the proceeds to the Congolese people. After the Fukushima nuclear accident in 2011, any interest in extracting the uranium for civilian use withered away. “Uranium, even in its natural condition, resists control,” says Zoellner. “Right now Shinkolobwe exists in a limbo, a symbol for the inherent geopolitical instability of uranium.”

The ongoing secrecy around Shinkolobwe (many official US, British and Belgian records on the subject are still classified) has stymied efforts to recognise the Congolese contribution to the Allied victory, as well as hampering investigation into the environmental and health impacts of the mine.

“The effects are medical, political, economic, so many things,” says Mombilo. “We’re not able to know the negative effects of radiation because of this secrecy.” Stories abound of children born in the area with physical deformations, but few if any medical records are kept. “I had a witness who died with his brain coming out of his head, because of the radiation,” says Mombilo. “In all these years, there is not even a special hospital, there is no scientific study or treatment.”

Many of those affected by Shinkolobwe are now campaigning for recognition and reparation, but knowing who should receive them – and who should pay – is compounded by the lack of information made available about the mine and what took place there.

“Shinkolobwe is a curse on the Congo,” says Mombilo.

But he adds that for over a century, the country’s rich resources have made possible one global revolution after another: rubber for tyres made automobiles possible, uranium fuelled nuclear reactors, coltan built the computers of the information age, and cobalt powers the batteries of mobile phones and electric vehicles.

“Our world is moved by the minerals of the Congo,” says Mombilo. “The positive thing I can say is that in all these advanced technologies, you’re talking about the Congo.”

The Congo’s impact on the world has been immeasurable. Recognising the name Shinkolobwe alongside Hiroshima and Nagasaki should be the first step to repaying that debt. {read}

[ds9-polycule-tales]

3 - 2375

Elim looked up as Julian came through the doorway, the faint blue flash of the antiseptic field momentarily creating a sketch of his thin shape, stooped with exhaustion, as an afterimage on the back of the Cardassian’s retina.

“How is he?”

“He’ll live. And keep the leg, even, though that was touch and go a few times before I managed to modify the chemical composition of the antibiotic a little. If his grandmother had waited a few more hours before managing to sneak him out to us…”

Some of the sag of the doctor’s shoulders was relief as well as crushing fatigue, Elim realised. He held out his arms to Julian; drew him down into his lap and folded his arms around him. The younger man’s hands were rock-steady as ever, but his shoulders shook a little as he slowly relaxed against him.

“I still can’t believe his parents didn’t bring him to us sooner. I know sepsis can come on suddenly, but the original cut itself was deep enough. If we can’t get people to trust Federation doctors, even…”

“The medical profession on Cardassia may not…quite have always lived up to your particular ideals, my dear,” Elim replied, savage irony heavy in his voice despite its softness. “And given the Founders’ fondness for biochemical control of populations under their figurative thumb, I rather doubt that has changed for the better in the last two years.”

Julian’s body sagged a little more as he considered the implications. Elim tightened his arms around him, but resisted the sudden, still-surprising urge to say something to comfort him. The kindest thing I can do here is tell him the bald truth of the situation, he thought. Letting him discover it for himself – and potentially make costly mistakes in doing so – will hurt him more in the long run.

He could almost smile at the realisation that he, Elim Garak, was genuinely weighing his options for kindness, of all things; might have laughed, quietly, to himself, at the sheer absurdity of it. Except that Julian had never had to learn the many tricks of irony and distance that he, Elim, had carefully cultivated since he was younger than the boy whose blood still speckled the doctor’s uniform; Julian’s empathy and compassion was genuinely as raw and authentic as an open wound, and, somehow, that seemed to be bleeding back to Elim too.

“We can’t even supply shoes to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Julian said tightly into his shoulder; almost as much a raw vibration of pain and frustration in his flesh as sound. “We have adult footwear in Supplies, but they’d all be much too big for him, and the whole reason he cut his foot on the rubble in the first place was that he’s already grown out of his existing shoes. I’ve already checked; all the replicators we have are flat out keeping supplies coming to keep everyone fed and housed and the time to work out a replicator pattern for shoes that will be outgrown again in another two months would mean other children going hungry. It’s awful, and I can’t stop it being awful without making it more awful.”

Elim drew him closer; held him silently, and eventually lay down with him. A cot in an infirmary cupboard had its drawbacks, but Julian was only going to sleep at all within earshot of his patients, and it was worth it, every bit of it, to share those snatched moments with him.

*****

A couple of days later, as the boy’s grandmother came to bring him home, accompanied by a somewhat stiff younger couple who had probably looked very much younger six months ago, Elim slipped through to intercept Julian as he went to bring him out.

“One moment, please, my dear. Child – Arabrus, isn’t it?”

The boy turned large dark eyes in a too-thin face up to Elim. Children all had eyes like old women, these days. “Yes, sir.”

“Try this on, Arabrus. Just your good foot will be fine for now.”

He held out a shoe to the boy. It wasn’t his finest creation by a long shot, but he was strangely gratified that his guess had been close enough that it required surprisingly little adjustment. He had the child wiggle his toes and push his heel back against his hand just to make sure, but he was satisfied.

“When your toes start feeling pushed against the front, Arabrus, just unscrew this little bit here a little and loosen them until you have room to move them again, just like this. I think your grandmother will know what to do, but if you have any trouble, you can ask back here. My name is Mr Garak.”

After Julian had seen the family off with medication and instructions, he came back to Elim with the first smile in days splitting his face.

“However did you manage that?!”

“Oh, never ask me to explain all my tricks, my dear. You must allow me to keep a little mystery, after all.”

Elim smiled his most untrustworthy smile, spreading his hands wide. But as Julian embraced him, he looked over his shoulder. It was hidden in the ever-present clouds of dust, but he knew the direction of Mila’s small marker stone like he knew his own heartbeat.

She had been an incredibly thrifty woman, always managing to keep things running smoothly even when sudden dips in Tain’s political fortunes had meant he was unable to send resources for months or even years at a time. It had been more common in those early days than the pride of the Head of the Obsidian Order had later allowed any of them to remember.

But Mila would have been proud, he thought, that her old working-class mother’s trick for making shoes that always kept her unspoken son shod no matter how little money they had or how fast his feet grew was still keeping children safer now, even after the end of the world. She would have been prouder of that, he thought, than of any monument he could build for her.

[jinjinranran]

Byeol x Yoosung 💚

Bi Yoosung is canon /j no but what else could I hc him as, with his big ass crush on Saeran 😭 and I believe it wasn't the only one - tho I think most of the times he'd be oblivious and confuse his boy crushes with simple admiration, because he likes girls after all! But boy. Sweetie. My dude. You're fruity and it shows.

With Byeol being nonbinary, Yoosung's a bit confused at first. He doesn't live under a rock, he heard about nonbinary genders, just hasn't really done any research about the topic. He has no problem with accepting them in any way regardless if he fully gets it or not. He just needs some explanations and learning to do so he could understand their identity better.

Other characters: 💛 💜 🧡 💗 ❤️ 💚 💙 🤍 🤎

Byeol's story under the cut:

💚 Eunbyeol Kim (Byeol) ♡ she/they/he ♡ 20 yo ♡ nonbinary, pansexual

Byeol likes both feminine and masculine clothes and interests, but has always been praised only for presenting feminine ("You're such a pretty lady!", "you look like a little princess in this dress" "you look much prettier with some makeup on") and it felt wrong so she started to resent these and dress as androgynously as possible, rejecting everything that was considered feminine.

Dislikes how feminine their face and body is, always admired androgynous people, and wishes breasts were an accessory you can put on and off depending on the outfit. Related those feelings to just wishing to look good in both male and female cosplays, only much later realized there is a deeper reason for that.

Bought her first binder for cosplay purposes and oh boy the happiness it brought!!

Generally wearing masculine outfits always brought that little, unexplainable spark of excitement.

Once when gaming someone referred to her as "he" and it felt cool so she never corrected them. Now goes by mostly he/they online and she/they irl (but honestly is fine with any).

As a teenager started to be more active online, and finding lgbt communities, she discovered the existence of nonbinary genders and started to put the pieces if her life together. Rotated between different identities (demigirl, demiboy, genderfluid, agender, etc.) but at the end decided to just stick to nonbinary as it felt the most comfortable.

Cut their hair at the end of high school, out of impulse and spite for her family pushing the idea that a woman must have long hair. It felt so freeing, even tho she ended up looking like a disaster lol

Their family is conservative and not very accepting to anything outside of the "norm" so they're not out to anyone except one of her older sisters who does everything to support them, even if she didn't fully understand at first.

While doesn't mind she/her pronouns, other gendered words (like miss, sister, girlfriend etc.) makes her uncomfortable so prefers to use gender-neutral alternatives when possible.

Definitely prefer to be referred using their shortened name - Byeol - since it's gender neutral, than the feminine full name - Eunbyeol.

Now - after learning that the way they're presenting nor interests do not invalidate their identity - embraces their feminine features (still thanks gods for the invention of a binder but doesn't always feel the need to wear), actually likes wearing makeup and dresses sometimes, loves to play with fashion and mix both feminine and masculine pieces of clothing, and is obsessed with accessories.

Regarding the romantic/sexual attraction, he has 0 experience, but never put much importance to it, "if I fall in love then I fall in love, the only thing that matters if we get along well".

Since they're going to the same college as Yoosung, they saw him in the halls, a few days into 1st semester, and immediately got a big ass crush on him. Felt way too shy to approach him though, and everytime they ran into each other, only managed to mumble something incomprehensible (and that was very new and out of character for her, and also very embarassing). Later, slowly they started bonding over the same interests, though Yoosung was very oblivious of Byeol's feelings towards him. Until many months later when she confessed to him - or in his route, when he realized that the party coordinator he fell in love with is actually his college and gaming friend. 💚

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.198 thoughts

[Alright, Keep Your Secrets]

(Contents: speculation - Sun/Luna/Soul)

After last week's chapter, I imagine most of us were expecting this week's chapter to be about Top discovering his soul and pushing Unstoppable further than ever before. I at least thought we'd see a bit of a capstone of his story with Haruka and his mother's illness, his reconciliation with the fact that he needed the help of others to win the day and that he can't survive alone like he thought, and the determination to reach greater speeds because he knows that Haruka's armor will be there to catch him just like she did when they met

All of those would have made a great finale to this arc and Top's re-introductory storyline, but for whatever reason, that's not what Tozuka decided to do. There will likely be time for Top to wrestle with his demons next chapter, and Top worrying about going all out only to be reassured by a friend who can stop him at his fastest could end up feeling like a rehash of the Creed fight, so instead Tozuka chose to give us just a little teaser for what's to come now that souls have been officially introduced into the game

Soul's discussion with Luna is both extremely cryptic and illuminating. While we now know that there's a greater gap between Sun and Luna's goals than just a difference of opinion, we are somehow less clear on her goals in the first place than we ever were before

Once again, I think we may be operating under some kind of misconception. Beast told us that the world began with only Man and Earth, that human souls were placed on Earth by God. This tells us that after the Earth was (presumably) created by Sun and Luna, they created human souls to inhabit it, and that these souls came into existence with the birth of UMA Soul

However, Soul is now telling us that his creation granted people potential. This sounds like something that would have been a subsection of UMA Change's powerset, but no, it's Soul's purview. This suggests that souls themselves may have already existed prior to the Earth's creation, but Luna introduced UMA Soul to create rules and stipulations surrounding the soul that would encourage growth

"There isn't a single Rule in this world designed to aid your survival." That's what Beast said, but Soul is making it very clear that Beast isn't as in the know as he thinks he is. It seems like Soul himself is the Rule designed to aid humanity, the Rule that allows humanity to become more than a collection of disparate spirits floating around a molten dead rock. Whether Luna always planned for humanity to overthrow Sun or she just wanted to see something more interesting, I think there's a good chance that Sun wasn't pleased with this decision

This is likely where their goals split; Sun may have decided that the world was as it should be after introducing the souls to Earth, but Luna saw no meaningful future in that state, so she created a new lifeform, the UMA, to drive an ever-evolving, more lively planet. It was then that Sun retaliated - if Luna can make Rules, so can Sun. And so he did; Death, Change, Luck, Justice, War, all were created to torment and hold back the coming advancements of the world that threatened Sun's vision of perfection. Like children playing in the schoolyard, Sun just kept making up new Rules that continuously put Luna at a disadvantage. Whether they made a formal agreement after this on how to proceed with their wager or if they already had it and Luna broke it first, we won't know for some time, but I'm getting the impression that Sun isn't as petty towards humanity as we initially thought, rather he's petty towards Luna and using them as a proxy

Also, Soul's more amenable attitude towards Fuuko suddenly makes a lot more sense when you know that he was made by Luna - ostensibly, Sun is the one who told all of the UMA he created to make humanity suffer, but if Luna created Soul, he most likely never received that order. Soul doesn't seem to be rooting for the Negators or anything, but he also doesn't seem too invested in being their enemy. What part of Sun's agenda he plays, again I don't know, but his allegiances seem pretty different from everyone else's. He's not fighting so Sun can win, but he's also clearly not giving up any ground to Luna. Perhaps it's the fact that he doesn't know Luna's plot, so he doesn't trust her or Sun and is instead fighting for the sake of his UMA brethren?

I'm really hoping we don't have to wait too long to get more info here, because Soul and Luna are suddenly waaay deeper characters than they seemed to be in the beginning

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

...

Wait, is that why he's Sun and not Sol?? So we wouldn't get Sol and Soul confused???

[kiskivmiske]

It is kinda sad that there are dragons in WoF , but no dragon-related species, if you know what I mean. Dragons are the only creatures in their clade. They have a completely different body plan from all known creatures, and there were new creatures introduced in the series, like dragon flame cacti or dragonbite viper, but no mention of six-limbed lizards or anything that could be dragon's ancestor. I mean, they could originate from another planet, or their own species were wiped out by invasive Earth species, but still. I probably should make one speculative evolution tree for dragons when I finish requests, but here is what I think.

Coelacanth's or its relative's descendant walks out on land just like tiktaalik did. It keeps all of its 8 limbs, but 4 of them are more fit for swimming, while the rest is used to walk on land.

Time passes, legs become stronger, the fish grows claws to get a better grip on the surface. Fins also progressively become stronger, propelling the body underwater, while claws and teeth are used to snatch prey.

Soon, fins become more complex, develop anatomy similar to front limbs, with a shoulder and an elbow joint. The ancestor starts to spend more time, going further and further into the continent, climbing trees and rocks. This dragon's ancestor, let's call it a Swampglider, looks like a deformed hybrid between a MudWing, a HiveWing and a newt: brown or greenish in color, with four short limbs and four fins. It hunts in swamps and rivers, coming to lay eggs on land, in warm mud or in piles of decomposing leaves. Eventually, its hunting territories grow bigger, as the creature starts to use claws to climb trees. It discovers that fins allow to glide from one tree to another. It gains a new method of defense: venom glands under their teeth rebuild themselves to spray venom towards the attacker. Its legs become longer allowing it to run without dragging belly on sharp rocks. It now has a built closer to modern day dragons, although it's the size of a large house cat, but steadily growing in size from generation to generation.

Now, as it rules water, land, and air, Swampglider goes even further, leaving the swamp behind. The West of Pyrrhia is still a lush jungle, connected on the other side with Pantala, Ice Kingdom does not exist yet, but it will soon change.

As Swampglider's habitat becomes more diverse, it starts to split into different species. All species but one, start to lose one pair of wings, while the other pair becomes more flexible and strong. East of Pyrrhia, all the way to mountains, is inhabited by woodland dragons, not much different from original Swampgliders. They are also brown or green, sometimes with hints of blue, yellow or red. The ones who live near the ocean are mostly blue-ish or brown, rainforest dragons are mostly green, while dragons of the southern shores have more distinct yellow and orange hues to blend with autumn foliage. In all of those species, scales host photosynthetic bacteria. Ocean dwelling dragons and swamp dragons still have their gills, while the others lost them. The wings became stronger, the dragons now achieved powered flight.

Dragons of the mountains have slimmer build and bigger wings. Their venom spit has changed to ignite upon release.

An ice age is coming, and ocean on the north starts to freeze, spreading on the Tail islands and the head of the continent. And, on the North of the mountains, a new species rises: these dragons have copper in their blood instead of iron, and their venom spit has a very effective coolant in it. Warm blooded mountain dragons move towards the center and the Southern Ocean, as it is not as cold as the other one. Other species also move, pushing southern woodland tribe to spread all the way across the shore of the supercontinent. Swamp dragons, being forced to move to the northeastern volcanic islands, acquired a new defence mechanism: immunity to fire. That allowed them to live on those islands, which are too dangerous for the others because of their volcanic activity. They don't need sensitive gills anymore, as they do more harm than good. They don't use photosynthesis anymore and are becoming stronger and more effective hunters, always sticking in packs, they increase their kill rate. To hide from the cold, they spend free time and sleep in heated spring pools. Crossbreeding with mountain dragons gave them fire breathing ability, too, but it's not as strong as in other species, because they are not warmblooded.

In the western jungle, bug dragons emerge from those who retained all four wings for hovering flight, rather than gliding. They have more diverse methods of venom attacks. Some of them have poisonous glands under their claws and on the tip of the tail. To make the process of hatching easier, bug dragons have a much shorter egg phase, dragonets hatch undeveloped, with rudimentary wings. They actively eat for several months getting fatter, and then hide into a small burrow, coat themselves with air-drying slimy coat and hibernate. After the winter, they emerge fully developed. That way small dragonets have a bigger chance of survival during winter months, when there is not enough food and significantly more rivalry, to wake up when the food is in abundance

Meanwhile, woodland dragons have developed an unique ability to sence brain signals of other creatures. After a period of time, the had split into three subspecies: mountain dragons hybrids, who can breathe fire and read minds, forest dragons who use psychic abilities to trick others into thinking they are invisible by affecting photographic memory centers, and woodland dragons who can only read chemical signals from plants and translate them into coherent data about the plant to avoid eating diseased and inedible fruits. The first species had lost its photosynthetic bacteria and become fully nocturnal.

Sea dragons are forced to move from shallow waters deeper down from cold icy surface to heated derpwater vents rich with life, their photosynthetic bacteria changes to bioluminescent algae.

And then the continent started to crack. Eastern islands drifted to the North, western half of the continent separated and started to drift further away. Volcaolnoes erupted one after another, and methane filled the air. The ice age is gone and a global warming takes place. Ice cap is melting. Water currents change. Now, lush jungle on the west dries up, becoming a desert. At this point we can call dragons by their names, even though they aren't all pureblood.

MudWings and IceWings move back to the continent, pushing SkyWings and RainWings further to the South, while they, in their own turn, chase away NightWings and LeafWings, who, unable to defend themselves from venom spit, had to flee into the desert. NightWings, due to being nocturnal, aren't affected much by the change of temperature and are fine with desert climate. They kidneys can handle high salinity, so, instead of searching for oasis, they remain in a small wooded peninsula, closer to the ocean. LeafWings, having much more competition, are unable to fight back and forced to stay on separating Pantala. BeetleWings separate, one half stays in Pantala's grasslands, the other stays in Pyrrhian desert.

After separation, grasslands become more humid due to being near the ocean, and new rainforests emerge, food becomes abundant, and BeetleWings and LeafWings don't have to fight for supplies anymore.

Overtime, Pyrrhian BeetleWings lose their larval stage and one pair of wings, and, by breeding with SkyWings, become separate tribe, SandWings. Their hearts developed four separate chambers instead of three, which prevents blood from mixing and loosing heat. This mechanism helps them keep their bodies warm in the night, when the temperature drops.

The other part of BettleWings has retained their "larval" stage through neoteny, and it has become increasingly longer. The dragonet grows at a normal pace now, instead of turning into a fat potato worm thing, it's metabolism isn't much different from a normal dragonet, but they don't pupate and get wings until sexual maturity.

IceWing s have lost their natural habitat and have to move to Pyrrhia, suffering from heat in the northern desert, their number dropped to several thousands. Because of inbreeding, many dragons with deformities were born, one of them could bend laws of physics itself to his own will. This ability will later be known as "animus". Unusual IceWing, later named The Great Ice Dragon, being born with an unique magic ability, has sacrificed himself to preserve the cold on the head of the continent. Although IceWings have come through a bottleneck (drastic decrease in their number), they have survived.

[etherfabric]

Stream of Consciousness - Tarot Reading for the Collective

This is about the time you were meant to have uplifting winds under your wings, but instead were met with rocks thrown at you.

Hermetic Tarot, Cards: 7 of Pentacles, The Emperor, 4 of Pentacles

As others flew over your head towards the actualization of their aspirations, you laid there wondering why you still didn't lift. The adrenaline was numbing you, the pain set in much later. You didn't even consciously conceive of the rocks at first, and when you did, you still didn't know where they were coming from - or from who. All the while they said: "What's taking you so long? Why aren't you flying? You are an embarrassment. You are disgusting. I bet you want to hurt me by not flying." And you quote them every day, to yourself. It became your mantra, and like a water drop hitting a stone for centuries, the shape of its continuous impact left an indent that will stay there long after the water stops.

How to proceed from this? How to build something for yourself, now that you have seen the reasons for your missed departure?

Well, you don't see everything yet… the way those others were going, those that made you feel like you were left behind, wasn't where you were supposed to go. The place they went is a place for people who don't stop to check who might need help. They are solely focused on getting somewhere, always forward, preferably faster than anyone else, no matter the cost.

Yes, you wanted to follow them. Because you thought that would spare you from the cruelty that followed once it was discovered you couldn't fly like the others. But you have to face that you were helpless, and nothing you could have done would've prevented the cruelty. Because the perpetrators wanted to hurt you, no matter what. It was their deeply misguided goal. They thought it would make their lives better. They would've twisted Jesus himself into a person deserving of the pain they wanted to inflict.

Why did it happen? I don't know if you are open for my perspective, I barely am open to it myself most days - but the only story that makes me feel better is this one: It was the only way to keep us on track.

With all the misguided currents flowing around us everyday, not knowing or caring about the impact a single motivation has on the collective, and your deep desire to make people happy, you had to be forced to stay behind. Because you always think the best of people, and weren't willing to see how deep and dark their motivations truly were. You wanted to shine a better light on them by joining them, assuming everyone had noble goals for what they were doing. You wanted to believe that everyone was like you, and if they made a mistake, it was an honest one, and they just needed to be told better to do better.

But this isn't the case yet. You are so ahead in so many ways, we can't let you go to waste in the current status quo, the current way of life that is being called normal and desirable.

You have to be at the sidelines, as untainted as possible, to find your own voice, unlearn the misguided teachings, and see your perceived lack as the treasure it actually is. Seeing the darkness in others does not make you mean. It makes you informed. It adds to your connection to reality. A scary, haunting reality. But the light you need to transmute this is inside of you. You carry so much power in areas we don't even have names for yet, because you are so far ahead of your time. Don't wait for others to get it until you start leaning into it.

You are keeping track of your "mistakes" (judged by the standards of current society) so closely, that you almost forgot everything has two sides. You do too. Yin and Yang. The eternal balance. You can't exist without just as much light as you see darkness. But you are so used to your light, you stopped perceiving it. Like our brains tune out the image of our nose when we have both eyes open. If we switch from our "common" perspective (both eyes) to "uncommon" (one eye closed), it suddenly reappears.

What is the "eye" you have to close to look at you from a completely different angle? To suddenly see what has been there all along, you just tuned it out because of its permanent presence? You are spoiled by being in contact with you every second of your life, that you forgot what a blessing you are. Like smelling vanilla everyday, it fades eventually. Reappear to yourself, and see how magnificent of a creation you are! How stable you are in your You-ness, no matter the circumstances! The Universe brought you here for a reason. The same reason it brought the flowers, the sun, the mushroom, the bird, the rain. You are made from the same stuff. Your structure is as divine as the next best thing. You can only perceive beauty through your inherent beauty. You are the receptor and the molecule alike.

From outside, it might look like stagnancy, your life - but only to the common eye.

[viaravt]

Meowdy, y'all! I know I haven't been around for anything other than posting going live messages recently, but that's because I'm currently going through it... TW: sick and dying pet, loss, grief/grieving, terminal illness (cancer)

... I'm sure you can tell where this is going, and I doubt anyone will even read this, but my soul needs it to exist in the universe even so. I'll try to be brief, but I've always been a verbose bitch.

This is Copernicus. I named him after the ancient astronomer, Nicolaus Copernicus, who discovered that the earth is *NOT* the center of the universe. And of course MY Copernicus knows this because HE is the center of the universe.

Copernicus quickly took on the nickname of "Pooka" because he was such a mischievous little brat

My ex and I got Pooka my first year of college, in 2005. The Humane Society said that he was roughly 1-3 years old at the time. Fast forward to about 4 yrs later and we adopted a kitten together, only to break up about a year after that

When that relationship ended, my ex took Pooka and I kept the kitten (who was named Arcturus, after one of the first stars to appear at night)

Fast forward another few years and that ex is going into the military. A mutual friend asked if I would like Pooka back, and I OBVIOUSLY said "YES!!!!" That was about 2014

Since then, Pooka has moved with my current boyfriend and I into about 5 different apartments. He has been my rock, my one constant in the sea of changing friends and partners (we're poly) and professions. Through all my mental and physical illnesses, Pooka has been my rock. My current partner, of course, has been as well.

July 28th, they started renovations on the apartment upstairs. This included using some chemicals to reglaze their tub. They didn't set up proper ventilation, so Copernicus, my partner, and our other cat Nugget went to stay with my partner's Dad.

When Pooka came home 3 days later, his eye was a little crusty and winky. We just thought it was him having gotten into something at Pops's place. When it persisted into the next day, we called the vet.

Many vet visits, uncomfortable tests, and anxiety later, we had a small answer - there is a mass in his face causing that eye to be unopenable. We get it punch biopsied - inconclusive, but there are some bad cells in there - squamous cell carcinoma.

We've started him on chemo, but the vet informed us under no uncertain circumstances that this is The End. Our goal now is to just keep him comfortable. The eye will never open again, and this aggressive cancer is what will take him out of my life.

There's so much more, of course, but a Tumblr post will never do a life justice.

If the Humane Society was right when we adopted him, that makes Pooka about 19-21 years old. I'm 37. That means he's been in my life for over half of it. I'm not sure what I'll do without him.

I don't want to know.

But I'm going to have to find out.

If you've read this far then you're either a hero or doom scrolling. Either way, here's an embarrassing clip of me poorly signing Hadestown and ugly-crying on Pooka. He always loves it when I sing.

[darraghoconnors]

[ paul mescal | 27 | cis male | he/him ] Hey, look! It’s [DARRAGH O'CONNOR] at [MYSTERY QUEST ESCAPE ROOMS]. Did you know they [WORK] there as a [CHARACTER ACTOR]? I guess they’re from [DUBLIN, IRELAND] and have been in town for [FIVE], living in [SUTHERLAND PARK]. I also heard they’re a little [HOTHEADED], but also very [SOCIABLE] which definitely makes sense. 

tw teen pregnancy, death, abandonment

RAPID FIRE.

Full Name: Darragh O'Connor.

Nicknames: D, Dar.

Pronouns and Gender: He/Him, Cis Male.

Birthday: March 19th, 1996.

Birth place: Dublin, Ireland

How long have they been in Vermont: 5 years, as of Nov 2023.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Neighborhood: Sutherland Park.

Occupation: Character Actor @ Mystery Quest Escape Rooms / Amateur Boxer.

Family: Aishling O'Connor (Mother, deceased), Murphy Doyle (estranged birth father), Cormac Doyle (half-brother), Cian Doyle (half-brother), Caoimhe Doyle (half-sister).

OVERVIEW.

-- Darragh was the only son of a single mother who struggled for most of her life. Aishling O'Connor became a mother for the first and only time at seventeen years old, and was ill-equipped to handle it after being cut off by her family for deciding to go through with the pregnancy.

-- Despite growing up in uncertainty, for the most part Darragh had a happy childhood. They didn't have much, but they had each other.

-- As far as schooling went, he never displayed much of a natural apt for it. He found classroom settings too restrictive and there was no specific academic subject that held his interest. The only days he would definitively be guaranteed to show up at school was when he had P.E. or football.

-- After a number of calls from his principal and run ins with other mothers on their council estate over fights and scrapes Darragh found himself involved in, his mother enrolled him in a local boxing club when he was ten, and it fostered an interest in the sport that has stayed with him through adulthood.

-- He found something of a father figure there in his coach and trainer, Tom. The discipline of the sport kept him on the straight and narrow, even though there were some run ins in his teenage years with the Garda for being present in robbed cars and where drug deals were occurring.

-- Darragh's whole world shifted on it's axis at his mother's death when he was seventeen years old, and then again a few days later at her funeral when he discovered that his biological father was both alive and well and a man that had three other children who were all older than him and a wife to boot.

-- This news rocked the foundation of everything he thought he knew about himself and his ma, and made him question every word she had ever spoken to him. As soon as he turned eighteen, after a few months of staying with the family of his best friend, he set off travelling rather than having to share a city with a man who knew of his existence and chose to ignore it entirely instead.

-- He initially moved to Australia with two school friends who aspired to do the same and lived/worked there for just under a year and a half before deciding it wasn't for him. Leon and Karl stayed on, while he set his sights on the next continent he would search for some semblance of a new start.

-- The United States were next and after spending a few months on the west coast, Darragh eventually found himself in East Haven, Vermont and decided to settle down there a while after deciding he liked the vibe and the people there .

-- To this day, he still keeps a pretty rigid training regime when it comes to boxing and devotes most of his free time to training / improving his skills in the ring as well as taking on amateur fights.

-- To make ends meet, he works as a character actor at Mystery Quest Escape Rooms. He loves to scare the shit out of people where possible and has been known to be a little generous with hints if he watches a group particularly struggle.

SORTA FUN FACTS.

Has heard every variation of his name pronounced incorrectly. His favorite is Darg. "And what's a Darg when he's at home?"

His official boxing stats as of Nov '23 are 9 matches and 9 wins (4 of which are by KO).

Was supposed to be due on St, Patrick's Day but was born 2 days after his due date, which he's grateful for because he likes his birthday being just about him.

Of his half-siblings, he's only met his half-sister and that was just once. It did not go well and there's been no contact since.

Has been known to lie when asked can he speak Irish if he thinks it can benefit him to pretend to.

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

roomate of @sasika-lg

cheated on his ex with @scottienolan, semi-complicated

fan of @pruexcassidy's radio show

frequent flyer to the ER @norasinclair works at

friend of @thesarahruiz

friend of / thinks @samxbradford is the best dj in the bizz

SPECIFIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.

former roommate/maybe someone who let him crash with them when he first moved to EH.

recent ex-gf that he cheated on.

a current roommate would be fun.

an older male that he lowkey idolizes / wants to be like.

weed buds. 🍁

would dig someone he was formerly super tight with that now hate each other (reason can be plotted!)

a best friend. probs the only person he would make a sincere effort to make time for.

co-workers! get litty at the escape room lmao

former co-workers?? pretty open ended, i imagine he did some bar work to get by when he first got here but then made the switch because the hours didn't suit his training

gym-buddies. he practically lives there.

exes. he's def a difficult person to be in a relo with so could have ended on varying terms from good to bad. feel free to come hurt my feelings.

hookups, fwb, usual jazz.

GENERIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.

connections wise he’s pretty much an open book right now, but some baseline ideas that can be springboarded off are:

friendly.

a best friend / ride or dies / close friends / childhood friends from ireland / pseudo-siblings / friends / drunk friends / new friends / former roommate / people he knew from london / people he met on his travels / people who were in aus at the same time as him / people who he only gets along with and vice versa when drinking is involved.

romantic

flirtationship / friends with benefits / one time hook ups / tinder matches / unrequited crush (can be either way) / exes on good terms.

antagonistic.

enemies / former (best) friends / exes on bad terms / frenemies / rivals / negative influence / people who don’t fuck with him.

[littleragondin]

On Repeat Tag Game

I was tagged by @bengiyo and @troubled-mind to put my repeat playlist on Spotify on shuffle and list the first 10 songs. Thank you both! ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝

As always it's a little bit all over the place, but here are my 10!

aeseaes - Carrion Comfort

I have liked all aeseaes songs I have heard so far. This one I heard for the first time as I was re-reading Abarat by Clive Barker, where the villain (who fascinated me as a teen) is called Christopher Carrion, and the song has been haunting me since. Also I can't resist some cannibalism imagery.

Luther Vandross - Your Secret Love

Haha okay, so maybe I listened to this one on loop while I was working on my Love in Translation's gifset. I just really, really like this song - I am a sucker for love songs, and he is so, so good at it. Plus, what a voice...

안예은 Ahn Ye Eun - 홍련 (紅蓮) HONGRYEON

Alright, I discovered Ahn Ye Eun (kinda) literally two days ago thanks to @petrichoraline and I already have three songs of hers in the on repeat (the other 2 are Trumpet Creeper and Changgwi). She has an incredible voice, her instrumentals are so rich, and I adore how she plays around with horror themes and traditional myths. I am a little obsessed. (I'd recommend going down the comms a little, someone translated the lyrics and gave a few notes)

Debout sur le zinc - La déclaration

That's my favorite song of theirs and one of my favorite love song period. It's very sweet, but my favorite is the ending verse where he says. "It's a bit of a declaration [of love] even if I know that you're not/ the remedy nor the solution, just a splint on my arm/that small thing linking us to others when we don't do well/an ultimate language of survival that put the world back on its axis" - recognizing that love won't heal him entirely but is still necessary for him to survive.

Jonathan Hultén - Where Devils Weep

I cannot for the life of me remember how I found this one, but the sorrowful music with those, in the end, hopeful lyrics have been a pick me up the past week.

Déportivo - Les Bières Aujourd'hui S'ouvrent Manuellement

Deportivo is a french rock band from my teen years, so this cover is a bit of a throwback. This is a quietly sad song about a man realizing that his long term relationship has run its course - "It will always be a mystery to me/how the body get used to it/when love dies slowly". It talk about the very mundane things (his partner turning their back at him when they go to bed, the clicking of their spoon the only sound between them as they dine) that made him realize they are not in love anymore.

The Real Zebos – Puttin' On the Ritz

Tons of covers of this song exist (I do love Taco's version from like 1982 I think). This one came up in the spotify recs and it clicked for me. Love the singer's voice, and it feels fresh without losing it's original vibe.

Simon & Garfunkel - America

I have slowly been working my way through Simon & Garfunkel's discography over the last few months -because all their songs I grew up with I love. But since I discovered this one, it's a go to when I feel down and I need something for comfort (there is something that makes me feel heard in "Katie I'm lost I said though I knew she was sleeping. I'm empty and aching and I don't know why").

เงา (SHADOW) - LAZYLOXY

Guess what show I'm excited for!!!!! Joke aside, I put Lazyloxy's opening for Rakdiao on loop for weeks when I watched that show, so the moment this came out spotify stuffed it under my nose and I really like it!

Elisabeth (2005) - Marktplatz in Wien (Milch)

Like last year, October somehow means I start putting the 2005 live recording in Vienna of Elisabeth on repeat. I love musicals, and I have a special relationship to this one (it's the musical that got me into Takarazuka and my first German musical). This song always scratches the itch perfectly so I listen to it even more than the rest of the album (all songs with Lucheni are top tiers for me)

If you feel like doing it, I will tag @petrichoraline, @sparklyeyedhimbo, @scienceoftheidiot, @howdydowdy, and @iguessitsjustme !

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Footsteps of a Stranger

Written in 2019 to be part of an anthology that I don't think ever quite got off the ground. Spawned a good character, tho. Short story that I broke up into chunks for Tumblr. Inspired by the Noir Princesses art by Ástor Alexander.

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

WC Total: 6289 -Part 1, 628 -Part 2, 1276 -Part 3, 1163 -Part 4, 686 -Part 5, 1851 -Part 6, 685

Warnings: Guns

Summary: A PI is on the case to discover who has been setting forest fires. And causes some reflections in the rain.

Rain. It always seemed to soothe me in one way or another−little drops of starlight falling, glistening in the dull glow of the moonlight like tiny angels, plummeting towards the earth.

I stood under a sheltering cluster of branches, in a tiny bit of nature away from the city. It was far enough away, the light in the distance like a foggy memory of hope. Hope for anything new. But nothing was really new these days, was it? Memories haunted the foggy rain as I stared at the ground, where a small ring of rocks marked the grave of the tortured earth sprite. The gunshot still pounded my ears, the echo of a decision I made daily to exist in one world over the other.

The exceptions were on slow days like today. Today I was forced into a corner. Forced to reconsider my efforts. To live as a human knowing it might come at the expense of the sprites. To live as a sprite knowing my world was constantly shrinking...and one day may be gone.

I stood in the small corner of nature, standing long enough to grow roots. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Only listened and thought of my mother.

Something in the trees moved. I tensed, shifting my stance enough to look over my shoulder. Thomas emerged with a small smile and an umbrella. He stood next to me and extended the plastic shelter, letting the downpour fill our silence.

“Ratcliffe,” I finally said, hands in pockets and staring at the grave. “Did he confess?”

Thomas shook his head. “Of course not. But the evidence did enough talking for the police.”

I glanced at his shoulder, captured against his body by a white sling. “Sorry.”

He shook his head again, droplets flicking out of the brown mess of his hair. “Don’t worry about it, Miss Becka. It was a one-in-a-million shot you tried to pull, and this,” he shuffled his arm, “helps tell the story that Ratcliffe shot me.”

“True. But I wish for her sake we could snag him for dumping poison in the forests.”

Thomas smiled. “Don’t count me out yet, Miss.” I shot him a suspicious look, to which he smiled wider. “I may or may not have found out who he’s been hiring to dump the waste for him. And I bet once we link his assaulting farmers to the land-buying and dumping, he’ll be sorry he ever set his sights on this forest.”

“It won’t change the damage he’s already done,” I sighed. “Or bring any peace back to the sprite he shot.”

“Maybe not, Miss Becka,” Thomas answered, looking back to the grave. “Maybe not. But maybe these events will get ripple beyond what we can see. Death isn’t always the end, not when it can bring about change for the better.”

I nodded, glancing up at him. “I suppose that’s true. As long as we make sure it's a change for the better.”

“I have every confidence in you, Miss Becka.”

We stood there a moment longer, listening to the rain, watching as it struck the ground. The strong smell of fresh earth wafted into the air. As we watched, a small piece of earth twitched in the center of the grave. My hand went to my pistol, but there was no need. In the very center of the sprite’s resting spot, something began to emerge. A single twig poked its head from the ground, unfolding in the damp of the night into a strong sapling.

I let out a small laugh. “The last of her magic,” I muttered.

“What?”

“An old myth my father told me once: ‘Bury an earth sprite in the ground, respectfully mark it with rocks around, the last of their magic is new life found.’ He used to tell me every time we visited my mother’s grave. I never knew what to make of it, but…” I shook my head. Looked up at my assistant. “Nevermind. Let’s go, Mr. Bayle; we’ve got work to do.” Turning towards the distant halo of street lamps, I walked out into the night fog.

[kaitsawamura]

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮   Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮  Rating: M (for mature)  ⎮  WC: 5525  ⎮   Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader  ⎮   Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint)  ⎮  AO3

NOTES⎮  Thanks to @spacelabrathor​ for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome​ for fueling my Kiri fever dreams.  Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp.  Hope y'all enjoy!  (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar.  But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it.  They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself.  Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.  

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer.  You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet.  He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally…  and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time.  It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it.  Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people.  You’d have the whole place to yourselves.  Like that should mean something.  Which it did.  It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach.  Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago.  Neither of you had made a move.  Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with.  It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on.  But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency.  The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse. 

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk.  But he was just like that you had quickly discovered.  He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch.  He knew when to push and when to back off.  He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn.  The kids flocked to him.  Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him.  It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts.  The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there?  You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly.  It isn’t big.  You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses.  Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous.  But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time.  Clean, straight lines and lots of windows.  In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door.  Is that a pool ?  Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro.  The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth.  You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out!  I mean, that would have been fine, of course.  I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.”  He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool.  “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!”  You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym.  I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely.  You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here.  The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves.  But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins.  You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago.  And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs.  No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side.  Shit.  His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.  He has to know .  Doesn’t he?  From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .  

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive.  Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard.  You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping.  It’s so green .  There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna.  Violets, tulips.  Huge hosta plants.  And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.  

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!”  He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it?  I guess it is pretty nice, huh?”  You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile.  You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.”  You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world.  After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet.  “What are you thinking for today?”  The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat.  You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?”  You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan.  The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips.   He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick.  You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet.  He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display.   Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri.  I just don’t want to wear you out .  You’re a Pro Hero.  You’re on the job a lot more than I am.  Plus, you’re getting kind of old.  Is that a little gray I see coming in?”  Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair.  There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted.  Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.”  Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw.  His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip.  His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment.  You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity.  He looks as if he’s going to devour you.  You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body.  A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up.  The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin.  The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen.  You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat.  The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym.  You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment.  When you could give extra attention with extra time. 

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you.  You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk.  Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit.  Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist.  It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk.  Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk.  It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills.  The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy.  You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well.  You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven.  His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice.  You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out.  It surges through you like pure energy.  

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook.  This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt.  Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet.  He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?”  He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach.  You were fast, but still not always fast enough.  You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in.  Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top.  You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over.  “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard.  You good?”  

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable.  He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late.  You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today.  Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back.  But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core.  He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours.  You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before…  “Fuuu-.”  It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open.  You’re seeing stars.  Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again.  You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun.  You snort, rolling your eyes.  Why does he still look so fucking good?  The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl.  His hair has curl to it?  You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes.  You like the curl.  “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?”  It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms.  “I’m thinking not.  Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.”  You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows.  Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.   

“Is that any way to treat your student,  Red Riot?”  You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll.  He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space.  You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.  

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth.  “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher.  I’m not that much older than you.  Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?”  He’s so fucking close.  This is getting dangerous.  Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance.  Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass.  Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.  

So you fall back on what you’re here to do.  Fight.  You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away.  His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared.  He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay.  I see.  I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?”  You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri.  Bring it on.”  He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control.  “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles.  Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more.  Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply.  And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon.  But you’re also both stubborn.  And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination.  No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration.  The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not.  You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head.  You can be too predictable sometimes.”  He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire.  You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless.  You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc.  A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle.  He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming.  But he doesn’t.  And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.  

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward.  He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand.  You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck.  Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body.  It doesn’t take long for him to tap out.  You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off.  Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride.  You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad.  In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good .  He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you.  His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere.  He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes.  If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you.  He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable.  You did good today.  Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far.  Keep it up.”  He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts.  He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment.  “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--”  The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his.  His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair.  You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more.  Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment.  A suspended second in time.  But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side.  But it’s warm and gentle.  Gentle.  Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle?  But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations.  His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit.  You’re so wet .”  He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit.  He takes his hand away and you mewl.  “Can I?”  He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts.  You nod, eyes half-lidded.  He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious.  Adoration.  It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt.  You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it.  Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm.  You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat.  He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to.  He’s done this before, he’s had to.  He’s too good.  Too fucking good.  Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth.  “Shit.  Shit.  Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--”  He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym.  It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but  Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue.  But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock.  You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum.  Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them.  Another time, maybe.  

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing .  He could snap you like a twig.  But he won’t.  You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…”  You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders.  You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled.  You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much.  His forehead drops to yours as he pants.  But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to.  It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins.  You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss.  “Oh fuck, ohfuck.”  You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing.  “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper.  Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity.  Let him leave marks.  Let him leave them everywhere.  He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling.  “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.”  His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good.  S’ tight.  Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym.  The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip.  He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes.  Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ”  He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct.  He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point.  “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream.  Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic.  The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath.  “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins.  His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt.  He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole.  Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours.  Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before.  You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri.  Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression.  Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed.  He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex.  But you’re smiling.  Lazy and tired, completely at ease.  “Wanna take a shower?”  When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest.  He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm.  Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra.  Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now.  When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again.  His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss.  But it's slow and sweet. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers.  He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water.  Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now.  The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep.  But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in.  When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel.  “You okay?”  He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired.  I should, uh, probably get going.”  Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line.  Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail.  But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug.  A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest.  His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice.  You bury your face further in as you nod against him.  Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed.  He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him.  Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.  

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you.  The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.  

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket.  It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets.  He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake.  You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb.  A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist.  His eyes are open now and he watches you.  You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious.  “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time.  I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t…  I don’t really hook up .”  Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across.  He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful.  And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along.  You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling.  “I just.  I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you.  I’ve liked you for a long time.  And normally I would have wined and dined you first but...  Well.  Here we are.  Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face.  “Is something funny?”  That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri.  I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.”  A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection.  The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

[freedomseeker91]

The Ultimate Betrayal….

Chapter 1

Title: The Ultimate Betrayal

Summary: The day before her wedding, Chloe Beale's world unravels when she discovers that her husband-to-be has committed the ultimate betrayal. Leaving her with a very uncertain future

Rating: T for Angst/Comfort

Warnings: None

“Is what Aubrey’s saying true? Did you leave Beca behind to get to me?” Chloe asked, barely keeping it together as she challenged the man in front of her. The man she thought would be her husband.

Chicago visibly shrunk under the interrogation, his perfect facade beginning to crumble as his past finally began to catch up with him, and all he could see was Aubrey’s knowing smirk relishing in what was quickly becoming his downfall.

And Chloe, she felt sick to her stomach as she regarded the man in front of her, the man she thought would somehow heal the gaping hole in her heart, only to learn, he was the reason it existed in the first place.

Two years ago, when she had received the news that her fiancée had been captured by the Taliban while on a mission and supposedly killed, Chloe’s whole world had ceased to exist.

Beca Mitchell, the woman she loved, her soulmate, had been ripped away from her, leaving nothing behind but a folded up flag and medals of honour. She didn’t even have the comfort of being able to bring Beca’s body home to be buried.

Instead lay a vacant spot with a cross to mark an otherwise empty grave.

And Chicago, he had been a god send. A man who had stood by Beca’s side through every mission, swooping in to help heal Chloe, keeping a promise he had made to take care of her. At least that had been his claim when he landed at her doorstep, all sorrowful eyes and words of sympathy and regret.

And Chloe began to give in. Having believed she would never love again, she found herself opening up to the possibility of being with someone else, someone who may help ease her burden even if they could never truly heal it.

Chicago would never replace Beca, it wasn’t possible. And Chloe would never love another the same way again, but maybe, just maybe, she could learn to exist with someone else by her side.

So she attempted to move on, dated him, moved in with him, even accepted his proposal with the blessing of Beca’s parents. But all of that unravelled right there at their rehearsal dinner, when Aubrey showed up with information that rocked Chloe to her very core.

“She’s alive Chlo. Beca…. She’s alive.”

Two years, two years of daily torture, malnourishment, pain and god knows what else. Two years of wondering when her misery would end and yet somehow, Beca Mitchell and several other soldiers had survived long enough to be rescued by a SEAL team on another mission.

That had been over a week ago and Aubrey had just received word from her father on Beca’s rescue. But Aubrey’s joy was short lived when news of Chicago’s deceit came rushing to the forefront of her mind.

With a wedding due to take place the following day the blonde had no choice but to bulldoze her way through Chicago’s plans and spare Chloe a life of misery.

The news had done a number on Chloe, the redhead barely able to cope with the mixture of emotions running through her. The immense joy to hear that her greatest love was alive quickly overshadowed by white hot rage.

Hurtling out of the house into the back yard, surrounded by their friends and family, Chloe unleashed her fury for the world to see.

And Chicago had no come back. He had no back up plan or story. Standing with Chloe facing him, Aubrey standing firm with her arms crossed behind the redhead daring him to lie, he couldn’t.

“Chloe it’s not what you think. We were surrounded there was nothing I could do, she…” he tried to say as he approached her, reaching for her hand but Chloe ripped it away violently, pointing her finger in his face.

“DON’T! Don’t you dare try to lie your way out of this. You knew exactly what you were doing. You left her to die,” Chloe sobbed, thoughts of what Beca must’ve gone through flooding her mind.

“Those animals tortured her for TWO YEARS and all this time you knew exactly where she was,” Chloe spat, barely keeping it together.

Bringing her hand up to her chest she pressed her palm firmly against it, tears now flowing freely for everyone to see.

“I have lived with that pain every single day wondering how I would survive, and you stood there like some knight and shining armour and let me believe that you could heal me, that you could love me,” she cried, Chicago trying to approach again.

“But I do, I do love you Chlo,” he pleaded but she wasn’t having it. Shaking her head at his words.

“You don’t hurt the people you love,” she replied, watching as his face sank and then she laughed.

“You know I actually tried to convince myself that I could somehow fall in love with you, that I could somehow build a life with you. That maybe, just maybe, being with you could ease the grief that was suffocating me. But no matter how hard I tried I just, I couldn’t. And now I know why. Because all this time my heart has been waiting for her to come home.”

Chicago’s jaw clenched at this. His entire military career he had always been second best to Beca. The Goose to her Maverick. Never quite able to one up her.

The day Chloe Beale came along it had been Chicago who laid eyes on her first, and even though Beca had given him the win, it wasn’t him that Chloe Beale had set her sights on and ultimately, her heart. Sure they had tried dating early on, but Chloe had always been more captivated by the brunette woman.

Beca had been just as surprised as Chicago when Chloe had decided not to pursue a relationship with him, and even more surprised when the redhead admitted that she enjoyed Beca’s company more.

Chicago had gone along with it but he never fully accepted it. Because to him, he had yet again come up second best to Beca Mitchell. He’d never fully been able to let go of Chloe.

For years he watched as the woman he wanted, gave herself completely to someone else. When his squadron was attacked that day, when Beca needed his help, all he saw was an opportunity, one that had haunted him ever since.

As silence engulfed them, Chloe raised her hands and pulled the ring off her finger, tossing it at him with so much force the thud reverberated around them before it hit the ground.

“I hate you!” Chloe seethed, her face red with anger.

Before anyone could say anything else, military police arrived on the scene and handcuffed Chicago, leading him away from the stunned faces of those around him.

As he was placed in the car, Chloe’s knees buckled, Aubrey barely catching her before she hit the floor as she sobbed uncontrollably.

The crowd didn’t know what to do or where to look, until Chloe’s old acapella college friends gathered around her to create a circle of privacy. Aubrey stroked Chloe’s back as she allowed her best friend to get it all off her chest until the redhead began to calm down.

“Where is she? W-where’s Beca?” She asked, her tone both eager and desperate. Aubrey wiped away Chloe’s tears with her thumbs as she gazed deep into her bloodshot eyes.

“She’s at a military hospital in Georgia. They flew in last night. She’s gonna be there for a while,” Aubrey answered sadly. The blonde had been filled in by her father on Beca’s current state and from what she could gather, it wasn’t going to be an easy time for the soldier.

“I’ve booked us a flight in the morning, my Dad’s gonna meet us there and take you to her,” Aubrey said, having already had the foresight to know what her friend would want.

Chloe sobbed again, overwhelmed by everything she was feeling. She thought she would be getting married the following day, taking the first steps to trying to rebuild her life and now, now she was being told that the life she had been planning for all along may still be waiting for her.

“Is she…. Is she okay?” She mumbled, barely able to ask the words. Aubrey sighed and stroked her friends cheek trying to offer comfort.

“She’s been through a lot, and she’s gonna need a lot of support. But honestly, I don’t know how she is. None of us can ever really know what she went through. All we can do is be there for her now.”

Chloe nodded her head as she wiped away the tear residue from beneath her eyes. Gazing around at the people still milling about, the ones who thought they would be celebrating a wedding in the morning, she suddenly grew self conscious about her emotional state.

“Can you get me out of here? I don’t care where I just, I don’t wanna be here,” Chloe said and Aubrey nodded her head.

“Of course. I’ll take you back to the house, we can pack for tomorrow.”

Helping Chloe to stand, the redhead briefly acknowledged her guests before making a swift exit from the venue, promising to call her parents in the morning.

As she sat in Aubrey’s car, driving away from what she thought was going to be her future, Chloe couldn’t help but grow anxious at the future that had been brought back to her through the past.

Two years she had been without Beca, two years sharing a life with someone that wasn’t her. Sure she had believed her greatest love to be dead, but that didn’t ease the guilt of knowing that she had shared a bed with the man who had been responsible for separating them, for inflicting two years of trauma on the brunette.

Chloe was elated at the thought of being with Beca again, but the crippling realisation of what was to come began to creep into every crevice inside her mind, reminding her of the fact that for two years, Chloe had essentially moved on with someone else and only ever thought of Beca in the past tense.

In stabbed at her heart like a knife. Logically she knew none of this was her fault, how could she have possibly known. But that didn’t lessen the sting. The sting of knowing that no matter where she and Beca stood now, she would have to tell her everything that had happened while she was gone.

After everything she had been through, the least she deserved was the truth. Chloe just hoped that somehow, they could get through it and find their way back to one another.

Whatever the outcome may be Chloe knew one thing for certain, no matter where they stood, she would make it her mission to try and heal Beca of her suffering, and in doing so, maybe she would begin to heal herself.