#not a full wing unfortunately since the first joint was so damaged i had to remove the bone with a scalpel

[asthevermincrawls]

pigeon wing I found on my way home from a job interview. I pinned it outstretched and then put it in a salt bath to mummify. super excited to see how it turns out!

[herecomesaspecialghoul]

Do ghouls get hurt? How do you handle injury? Brought to you by the fact that I dislocated my shoulder in my sleep again, yay joint problems!

Oh, well, first let me wish you a speedy and painless recovery! Perhaps do not practice your, uhhh, fighting moves while asleep?? Ehehehe.

As for the question of injury- yeah, we can get hurt! We are demons, not, uhhhhh, not impervious beings. Most injuries are minor and come from simple error. For example, I have a notch in my left ear and a broken place on my left horn, an' both injuries were sustained not too long after I emerged. Just your run of the mill klutziness as my body adjusted to earth and gravity an' all that. I used to claim Sister Imperator threw something at me and it collided with my horn in such a way that it cracked, but that's not true. But anyone I told would believe me. I am told I am quite annoying sometimes so the idea of Sister Imperator getting fed up, uhhh, it made sense. 😅

For this sort of- I wanna call it a " cosmetic " injury- for this sort of thing the only real remedy is to go back to Hell. A quick swim in the same noxious sea that made us repairs damage. Most of us, ehhh, we figure, it's not worth the trip. Minor physical damage such as a cut ear or a chipped horn or a cracked hoof don't actually do us any damage since we can't really feel anything, an' so long as the injury doe not interfere with our duties, uhhh, yeah. Not worth the effort to fix. Eheh.

The church does well to keep ghouls safe from actual harm in the way of- things like holy water or pure silver are outright banned. That shit does actually hurt us in the sense that it, uhhhhh, it fucks with our physical forms. I had an unfortunate injury back in the Meliora days. I touched silver, somehow, I don't remember how, but it- I was in a glamour at the time and I could barely hold it together. It was a struggle to get to my hotel room. As soon as I locked the door behind me, my wings and horns and tail came out all at once, y'know, just *bwp* suddenly, violently ghoulish again, and I could hear every single sound in the hotel from the keyboard clackin' at the front desk do the people smokin' on the roof. It was a miserable experience. Copia says it sounds like " if a migraine was a full-body attack. " I dunno what a migraine is so, um, take that as you will. Heh. I got better, of course. Set myself on fire in the bathtub to reconstitute my frayed nerves- I don't have nerves, I'm trying to make my whole, uhh, situation, trying to keep it relatable- and told Papa Three about the situation. He actually prayed for me!! Dunno if it actually, um, helped, but it made me feel nicer. I guess the thought really counted? 😸

[shadowlink06]

Idea Stub~FFXV Fanfic - Canon Compliment Origins of the Previous Rulers Story

While I’ve been outlining some events for The Two Brothers and another Halloween themed fanfic I want to tackle, I thought it would be a nice writing exercise to do some short stories about the previous Lucian Kings/Queens based on their basic summary from the FFXV Wiki page. All of these will have OCs but this is something that would be nice see how I can stretch a paragraph into a full blown story to give more insight as to who these people were. In my defense, I was interested in Crepera Lucis Caelum since she was the first queen and has a cameo appearance in The Two Brothers. The ones that I won’t bother with are Ardyn, Somnus, Regis, or Noctis since I feel that they have enough screen time as it were. Mors I don’t even have any idea what type of person he is even from checking around so he’ll have to unfortunately be left out of this exercise.

Credit from Wiki Pages

The Wise.

Believed to be the first king who raised the Wall of the Lucian Kingdom, he is known to have wielded a simple sword. His statue and spirit in the Ring of the Lucii are thinly armored with multiple wings.

In Final Fantasy XV: Comrades, the Wise's Sigil: Dragoon Drain, allows the bearer to perform a leap jump attack, its animation being similar to Aranea's Dragoon Dive. The Sigil also allows the bearer to replace their curative spells with HP and MP lancet-draining attacks, making the Wise a Dragoon archetype despite his royal arm not being a spear.

The Royal and Windows Editions have monuments dedicated to a some of the rulers of yore, which are signed by "Optimus Lucis Caelum," the 108th Lucian king. Noctis being the 114th king by the typical lengths of a generation would suggest that this king may have been the Wise.

The Conqueror.

A king said to have lived in times of chaos, who rose as a champion that united the Lucian continent and fought for his peoples, allowing them to usher in a great age of prosperity. He is known to have wielded a halberd. The Conqueror's statue and Lucii form has thin armor, with a waist cape, and long, thin capes hanging from his elbows, with his helmet having a long, hair-like tassel on the top.

In Final Fantasy XV Comrades, the Conqueror's Sigil: Elemancy, allows the bearer to temporarily imbue the surrounding area with elemental properties with an elementally-aligned weapon.

The Clever.

A king said to be well versed in the arts, be it the physical, the intellectual, martial, or that of skill. He is known to have wielded a crossbow. His statue and Lucii form has thin armor with several lengths of a segmented cape draped over his back, and antler-like extensions on his helmet.

In Final Fantasy XV Comrades, the Clever's Sigil: Spectral Arms, allows the bearer to conjure an arsenal of eight special armaments and wield them while replacing their offensive spells.

The Wanderer.

A king who found no boundary to the land and wandered the world, going where no man had gone before. He is known to have wielded twin swords that could combine into an enormous besieging weapon. The Wanderer's statue and Lucii form depict him with bulky, segmented suit of armor, a monocle-like object on his left eye, and, curiously, four arms with circular joints, suggesting the statue can rotate his arms at these points.

In Final Fantasy XV: Comrades, the Wanderer's Sigil: Cheer, enables the bearer to empower their comrades with five status enhancements.

The Oracle.

Though the Oracles are known as the royalty of Tenebrae, one of the royal arms is the Trident of the Oracle, and one of the twelve statues of the Old Wall in Insomnia is the Oracle King who wields a giant version of the trident in the battle against the Diamond Weapons. As told in the monoliths in Steyliff Grove Menace, this king likely watched the Oracle of his time perish before his eyes, and thus took up her trident. Due to her not having a successor yet, the Oracle King held a temporary status as both a king of Lucis and Oracle of Eos. In Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV Nyx and Glauca end up fighting on the Oracle's shoulder, but the statue tosses the trident and warps away and Nyx and Glauca fall. The horn at the front of his helmet resembles a bird. The statue has a broad chest, long cape and heavier body compared to the others.

In Final Fantasy XV: Comrades, the Oracle's Sigil: Healing Light, enhances the bearer's curative spells.

The Rogue. Main article: Crepera Lucis Caelum

Believed to be the first queen, the Rogue disliked the watch of the public eye and took to the shadows to enact her rule. She is known to have wielded a shuriken. Her statue and Lucii form has a thin suit of armor, a narrow waist cape, heels on her armored shoes, a horned crown covering her eyes, and a extensions on her shoulders adorned with four long ribbons.

In Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV, she jumps at the arriving Diamond Weapon and threatens it enough it uses its main attack. Her statue holds up a collapsing cliff after Niflheim's first attack.

In Final Fantasy XV: Comrades, the Rogue's Sigil: Aerial Ace, enables the bearer to perform a mid-air step after attacking.

She has an extended role in the Windows and Royal Editions of Final Fantasy XV, where she is fought as a boss in the final dungeon. Living guardian statues fashioned after her Lucii form also appear as bosses in Final Fantasy XV: Episode Ardyn.

Extra Stub:

Crepera's human visage is unknown even to most of her contemporaries due to her hiding her face. As a Lucii, she uniquely does not conceal her entire face by a helmet, her elaborate horned headgear covering the eyes and the nose. The headgear somewhat resembles a dragon, which might be in homage of Bahamut, as most Lucii seem to have elements resembling the Astral as part of their attires. Her white porcelain-like face mask has cracks on the surface and black lips. Though the mask has realistic nose and lips, where her eyes should be the mask is covered in black leather-like designs.

She wears an intricate full body suit of armor with a half-skirt and high heels. Her shoulder blades have ornaments that each have four long strips of fabric attached that invoke the image of wings, or Bahamut's red capes. PersonalityNot much is known about Crepera's personality, making her among the most mysterious of the rulers of yore. In addition to valuing privacy and hating the public's eye, she focused on leading Lucis through crisis and succeeded magnificently, making her famous for years to come.

The Tall.

He is a king known by his girth and strength, alluded to like that of a mountain. The Tall is known to have wielded a chainsaw-like greatsword. His statue and Lucii form have broad, bulky armor, with a broad chest, and a comparatively narrow, but long cape.

In Final Fantasy XV: Comrades, the Tall's Sigil: Aura, enhances the bearer's attack power, but prevents them from casting curative spells.

The Just.

A queen who devoted all efforts to uphold peace and was beloved in turn by her peoples for her serenity. She is known to have wielded a tall shield. Her statue and Lucii form has incredibly large and heavy armoring, with large shoulders that have a three round holes, and thick, forward-facing horns on her helmet.

In Final Fantasy XV: Comrades, the Just's Sigil: Omniguard, enhances one to conjure a 360-degree protective barrier around the bearer and their allies. Tonitrus, the Fierce

The Fierce. Main article: Tonitrus Lucis Caelum

A king famous for his personality; to his people, a kind, loving, and just king; to his enemies, a veritable demon of merciless brutality. He is known to have wielded a great mace. As a statue and Lucii spirit, Tonitrus had bulky, segmented armor, and a tattered cape on his left shoulder. His most prominent feature is the disc on his head.

In Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV, the Fierce wreaks perhaps the most damage, destroying buildings and imperial airships as he goes. Even after losing his arms the statue still continues but is the only statue who is defeated.

In Final Fantasy XV Comrades, the Fierce's Sigil: Rampage, allows the bearer to use powerful martial arts; when stringed together, the combos can unleash a powerful special beam of energy attack.

The Fierce is fought as a boss in the final dungeon in the Windows and Royal Editions of Final Fantasy XV. Living guardian statues fashioned after his Lucii form also appear as bosses in Final Fantasy XV: Episode Ardyn.

Extra Stub:

Appearance

His human visage unknown, as a Lucii the Fierce wears an elaborate suit of armor that resembles samurai gear. His most prominent feature is the disc on his head, which has chains attached to its underside with what look like small dogtags hanging from them. His helmet covers his entire head with four narrow slits for eyes.

PersonalityTonitrus is known for his merciless brutality, having wielded a great mace with such ferocity and relentlessness that he was feared as a veritable demon. He appears the most aggressive of the statues in

Insomnia

However, Tonitrus was a kind, loving and just king who cared deeply for his subjects.

The Pious

A king known for his eponymous piety, leading Lucis with a rule guided by divine principles and worked closely with the Oracle of his era. He is known to have wielded a scepter that smote with a blade of light. His statue and Lucii form has light armor, with a thick cape draped over his shoulders, and a bishop-chess-piece-like helmet with a tall crown similar to that of a pope.

In Final Fantasy XV: Comrades, the Pious's Sigil: Multicast, enables the bearer to cast two offensive spells in a row. The Warrior

The Warrior

A king whose life was forever changed when his beloved queen was killed by assailants. He is believed to have wandered the world and waged an era of global war fueled by a vendetta of bereavement and is speculated to be the king whose worship inspired the Safety Bit accessory. The Warrior is known to have wielded a katana, a weapon not of the lands of Lucis, and is the only king laid to rest outside of his home nation. His statue and Lucii form depicts him with somewhat thick armor, a tattered cape, and a large volumed feathered tassel on the top of his spiky helmet.

In Final Fantasy XV: Comrades, the Warrior's Sigil: Untouchable, enables the bearer to provoke enemies and dodge their attacks. The bearer does a vacuum wave when dodging.

[ckret2]

Godzilla Recycles

It’s been more than a month since the reawakening of the titans. In that time, they’ve been a constant fixture in the world’s news headlines. But... generally not for the expected reasons. More for things like starring in YouTube language lessons, stealing cars, and recycling their plastic.

This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots. It’s not ABOUT Rodorah but mentions of the ship are made. If you don’t wanna read the others... tbh this sorta sums up a lot of the stuff that’s been going on in them, just from the perspective of the humans who have no idea what’s going on. All you really need to know going in is that Ghidorah (grudgingly) yielded the fight before he otherwise would have killed Mothra. Half of the fic is a sum up of the bizarre crap the titans have been up to; the other half, is, indeed, the promised Godzilla recycling. Fic hasn’t been proofed yet because this sonuva took me almost two months to write and I want to get it out already. EDIT: now proofed!! Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

HEART OF MONARCH FOUND ALIVE

Throughout the titans' mass awakening, every news station, site, and paper in the world was filled with towering headlines screaming about the monsters crawling and careening across Earth's vast landscapes. Each and every individual titan had hundreds of live streams in both video and text, constantly updating the terrified world on the latest actions of the monsters storming through their cities.

The greatest number of cameras stalked Ghidorah and Godzilla's every dread-inspiring move, not just because anything that happened to the United States east coast always seemed to get disproportionate coverage, but also because someone had leaked intel revealing that Ghidorah had awakened the rest of the titans and appeared to be commanding them. Anyone dealing directly with a titan attack tracked their own beast's news, of course; but for the parts of the world situated between the attacks, watching clouds roiling far too fast overhead and listening to their homes rattle from earthquakes hundreds of miles away—their eyes darted between news about whatever nearest creature might menace them and news coming out of Boston about the titans’ supposed ringleader, waiting to see what was going to happen next.

In the aftermath of the fighting, for days there wasn’t a major paper or station that had a story that didn’t somehow feature titans, whether directly or tangentially. Every eye in the world was gazing fearfully into the distance, waiting fearfully for some several-hundred-foot-tall beast to lumber over the horizon.

And so it was somehow both amazing and completely understandable that the news totally ignored that Serizawa Ishiro had been found alive in Boston.

He was located the second morning after the fight. He was unconscious on the northern shore of Spectacle Island in Boston Harbor, within easy sight of the spot where the final titan battle had been fought. He was evacuated to the nearest operational hospital to receive treatment for exposure, dehydration, and what a week earlier might have been misdiagnosed as one bitch of a sunburn but which by then the doctors could unfortunately easily identify as radiation burns. It was another day before he was identified, and from there only a few hours before the room was full of balloons and flowers sent by dozens of Monarch employees. He hadn't woken up yet, but he was stable and expected to recover, and when he did wake up he was going to know he was appreciated.

Monarch had no idea how he'd survived. Godzilla must have saved him, everyone agreed; the leading theory was that Godzilla had stuck Serizawa in his mouth moments before the bomb exploded, driven some unknown godzillish instinct, to release him somewhere safe when he arrived in Boston just before attacking Ghidorah—and that was only the leading theory because nobody could come up with any others. (Rick Stanton's proposal that the explosion had opened up a vacuum-powered tunnel between Godzilla's lair and Boston was rejected out of hand.) Serizawa couldn't explain as long as he was unconscious, and Godzilla himself certainly wasn't going to tell them anything. But whatever had happened, they were grateful it had.

Serizawa's survival didn't make headlines; who was Serizawa to the world but another one of the many talking heads that sometimes spoke for Monarch, and not even the most frequently seen one at that? Only a few articles were devoted to his miraculous discovery, and most of them were in more specialized publications geared toward biologists, environmentalists, or titanologists. In most places, he was a two-sentence comment near the end of a longer article about Monarch's response to the tragedies or Boston's clean up efforts.

But the world was still reeling from the damage, struggling to sift through the rubble for any little signs to reassure them that this could have been a lot worse and that from now on, things could start to get better.

For Monarch, finding Serizawa alive was their sign.

GHIDORAH ROOSTS OFF EAST COAST OF MEXICO, AVOIDS FURTHER DESTRUCTION

For many others, their sign was Isla de Mara.

After the battle in Boston, when Rodan and Ghidorah began their slow flight south, Monarch was sure that they were going to head to Isla de Mara. Monarch operatives were surrounding the island when they arrived. The titans’ trajectory had been calculated, their arrival anticipated, and—although Monarch had no idea what they could actually do when the titans arrived—Monarch was sure to be there, all the same. If for no other reason than to document.

The town was still all but empty—under quarantine by the Mexican government. Rescuers were working their way through town, looking for bodies or survivors that hadn't joined the initial evacuation, in toppled buildings or buried by pyroclastic flow; but nearly everyone who could be removed from the island had been.

All the same, there was a perceptible tension over the quiet radio lines as the two titans descended into view through the clouds of volcanic ash. Just their arrival stirred tumult, kicking up clouds of previously-settled ash and rubble. Monarch and the few rescuers in the town braced themselves for hurricane-force winds to blow through what was left of the town, knocking over already-damaged buildings.

They didn't.

Although the ash on the volcano churned in the air around the two titans, not so much as a breeze stirred in the town below.

Then the titans were settled, Rodan sinking into his crater as comfortably as a vacationer into a jacuzzi, Ghidorah clinging to the side of the volcano like a bat.

And when the news got out, the world let out a tense sigh of relief. That was the sign everyone had been waiting for: the sign that, at least for now, this was really over.

PRELIMINARY FLUID DYNAMIC ANALYSIS OF AIR CURRENTS IN JOINT LANDING BETWEEN TITANUS RODAN AND MONSTER ZERO

It took days of analyzing Monarch's footage of Rodan and Ghidorah landing before a pack of fascinated aerodynamicists with expertise in computational fluid dynamics could run a proper simulation demonstrating how their wings affected the air. What the simulation revealed was that Rodan's landing should have blown devastating wind into the town below. However, Ghidorah's landing, facing directly across from Rodan and wings tilted at just the right angle, had pushed the air currents back the other way—effectively turning the force of Rodan's flaps out to sea.

And furthermore, they said it wasn't accidental. They had abundant footage now from the first time Ghidorah had landed on Isla de Mara, from his various takeoffs and landings in Boston, and from the few times he'd left and returned to Isla de Mara without being accompanied by Rodan. That wasn't how Ghidorah usually landed.

It was, however, what he had done when Rodan landed; and it was what he did in subsequent days every time Rodan returned to his volcano, until Rodan began habitually landing on the north side of the volcano instead.

The paper was released as a messy rough draft directly online, bypassing journalistic publication entirely to make it as easy as possible for everyone who might be concerned to get to the findings; in the aftermath of the titan attacks, the authors had the patience neither for peer review nor for the slow publication process and paywalls blocking off most of their usual journals. To everyone who read the preliminary paper—mainly titanologists and other aerodynamicists—the thought of a flying creature so consciously and precisely manipulating air currents like that was absolutely mind-boggling.

Even more mind-boggling was the thought that Ghidorah had bothered to do it.

Why?

TITANS EXPLORE LANDSCAPE: MOST HUMAN INTERACTIONS PEACEFUL

Over and over, they were discovering just how alarmingly clever the titans were. More than once, Kraken had camouflaged itself as a capsized ship, tentacles pressed together in the shape of a hull, just to splash any boats that came close to investigate and disappear beneath the sea, like it was playing a game with humans. Behemoth, on his way back down from Boston to Rio de Janeiro, had stopped in Guatemala to observe a construction site, waited there until the panicked workers decided he wasn't going to attack and returned to work, and then, after watching them a bit, had started doing the crane's job by picking up steel beams and putting them in place.

As articles about the damage, the deaths, and the global response to the tragedies began to receive smaller and less dire headlines, the articles about the titans' frightening and fascinating intelligence began popping up—usually not making front page news, but popping up regularly on page 2. Cell phone videos racked up millions of views.

Scylla had etched deep grooves in strange shapes in Death Valley before heading north; a few days later, the MUTO passed through, stopped and studied the grooves, before turning north as well. Which meant they were, what, a map? Instructions? It at least indicated that titans were capable of communicating with abstract symbols—that was ninety percent of the way to writing. It further suggested that the titans had language, mutually intelligible language.

Many of Monarch's employees already suspected as much; the titans vocalized at each other so much, it was completely plausible that they'd developed the capacity for speech.

They didn't expect the theory to be confirmed so blatantly.

"LANGUAGE OF THE BIG BIRDS"? MONARCH RELEASES TITAN LANGUAGE LESSONS STARRING RODAN, GHIDORAH

Outpost 56-B, which had been cobbled together within hours of Ghidorah's landing on Isla de Mara, consisted of five permanent employees, three trailers, two porta-potties, eleven (and decreasing) drones, forty cameras, one satellite, and one big red button to radio the Armada de México in case of dragon-shaped emergency. Along with the full-time employees, they had fifteen part-timers they'd hired from among the people slowly returning to town: fourteen to help monitor the titans through the cameras 24/7, and one to bike in from town with lunch each day. The outpost was stationed just north of the still-standing portions of the town of Isla de Mara, near the very edge of the volcanic rock that had been spilled when Rodan emerged. (They used to have four trailers, but the one that had been standing on volcanic rock had been kicked into town by Ghidorah. They took that to mean they weren't allowed to step on the rock.)

Outpost 56-B was surpassed for Monarch's most pathetic outpost only by Outpost 75-B, which consisted of two motorboats, a pair of walkie-talkies, a generous Airbnb stipend, and a rechargeable flashlight with a cord that, they'd discovered too late, wasn't compatible with Sudanese power outlets.

And yet, for what a ramshackle little operation Outpost 56-B was, it had been the one to provide proof of titan language. And god, what proof! They had recorded evidence of a giant pteranodon giving language lessons to a three-headed alien dragon. Slowly, and carefully; gesturing to each object or performing each action before giving the word; saying each word clearly, several times; using them in simple sentences based on previous vocabulary, each word kept separate and distinct. 

Consequently, Monarch was learning Rodan's language alongside Ghidorah. So far, they had eighteen nouns, seven verbs, five adjectives, a catch-all question word that seemed to mean "who," "what," "when," and "where" all together, the words for "yes" and "no," and one interjection that seemed to mean "look at me" or "pay attention." They knew that Rodan had words for compass directions—two of them, anyway—and that his language conflated the concept of "west" with "up" and of "east" with "down" into only two words. They had Rodan's name for Ghidorah—and Rodan's name for himself, a three-part carrying "Rrrr-DAAA-nnn" cry that they immediately identified as the probable source of the remarkably consistent name that cultures around the world assigned members of Titanus Rodan. Had this one Rodan been spotted in so many locations? Or had he given Ghidorah his species name rather than his personal name? Did members of Rodan's species have personal names?

Very soon, they might be able to ask him.

Outpost 56-B started a YouTube channel, titled it "lenguaje de los pájaros titánicos (para principiantes)" and started uploading videos with both Spanish and English subtitles for anyone who couldn't work out the translations just by watching Rodan. (When Monarch HQ emailed to complain that 56-B had to ask before declassifying that kind of material, they kept posting videos, blurred out the extremely easily identifiable titans' faces, and emailed back to request a third porta-potty.) There were human beings, alive today, all over the planet, learning alongside a literal alien how to understand a titan's language.

Over the next couple of weeks, while every titan's face battled for screen time on every major news station, Godzilla's and Ghidorah's gradually appeared less and less on North American stations as the recently-averted apocalypse became old news and full-blown sapient speaking life found off the coast of the Mexico-U.S. border became the new hot story. Between his face flashing on every major news station over headlines about titan language as talking heads speculated about the possibility of complex titan civilizations, and a wave of Tamaulipeco defenders eager to claim Rodan as a state symbol who were ready to point out that most of the damage on and around Isla de Mara had actually been caused by the U.S. military, Rodan was now the most popular titan on Earth.

And then he made a trip to Infant Island.

INDONESIAN INFANT ISLANDERS VINDICATED: "GODDESS" MOTHRA COMES HOME

Many articles mentioned the fact that after the battle, Mothra had retreated to a small island in the Indonesian archipelago. Some of them even mentioned the name Infant Island.

Very few outside of local and specialist publications discussed that the Infant Islanders were reveling in the fact that their previously derided "local folkloric" claim to having been the home of a goddess had been very recently validated when Godzilla ferried Mothra straight to their island, where she settled down into a well-worn groove in the middle of town square as though she'd never left it. One reason this news was under-reported probably had to do with the fact that they refused to let reporters on the island, fearful that it would become trampled as a new tourist destination; and the threatening psychic weight of Mothra's mind pressing down on any presumptuous reporters approaching in boats hoping to be the exception deterred those who tried to defy the ban. Instead, they arranged for interviews off island or online, and provided any requested pictures of Mothra—when she agreed, of course.

The only outsiders who had been allowed on the island had been the Chen twins, accepted as valid representatives for Mothra. Although their island still had descendants from the line of twin sisters that Mothra had gifted them, they had no living twins from that line. Mothra had already promised them that their next generation of children would have twin daughters. In the meantime, visiting twins from another of Mothra's nests were... well... acceptable, the Islanders supposed. They hastily established rules about how much the Chen twins could report to outsiders about the island and its people and culture, which they faithfully followed. (Even as much as it killed legend collector Ilene to not immediately ask a million questions about what stories they'd passed down about Mothra.)

They were, however, allowed to transcribe any of Mothra's telepathic conversations with visiting titans into Mandarin as long as she herself permitted it—and she did continue to permit it—and so it was when Rodan arrived to have a long, apparently one-sided conversation with Mothra.

TITANIC ROSETTA STONE? MONARCH TRANSLATES RODAN, MOTHRA CONVERSATION

It wasn't quite as cut-and-dry as Rodan's accidental language lessons; especially since there were parts of the conversation where Mothra had sought out information straight from Rodan's mind that the Chen twins couldn't make any sense of—except that Rodan’s thoughts had something to do with a very interesting hug-like display on Isla de Mara from the day before, and that they were rotten with fear.

(The “hug” from Ghidorah to Rodan—if that was what it was—was already infamous in Monarch. The 56-B team had eagerly circulated it throughout Monarch yesterday in the form of a several-second video that was set to the cheesiest pop song they could find and covered in heart emojis. Shortly before they’d uploaded the same video—without authorization—to their official Twitter and TikTok accounts. Stories about Rodan were beginning to pop up not just under news sites' World sections, but also under Entertainment. It was a jarring sight, considering how many of those stories also featured an alien dragon that had recently tried to destroy the world.)

But despite not having a word-for-word translation, Rodan's conversation with Mothra and its Mandarin translation did offer the possibility of a rosetta stone with which they could decipher far more about his language. Comparing his language lessons with Ghidorah to his conversation with Mothra was like comparing day one of a college Spanish 1 class to Don Quixote. It was a huge leap forward toward the day—which now seemed not like a possibility but an inevitability—when they would be able to pipe sentences in Rodan's language  through a speaker and have a real conversation with him.

Rodan's trip to Infant Island should have been the most noteworthy titan news of the day.

But noteworthy news was nearly impossible to predict.

GHIDORAH RETURNS TO BOSTON, LIVE UPDATES: ONE INJURED. EXPLORES RUBBLE, INTERACTS WITH HUMANS.

Two hours before Rodan's conversation with Mothra,  the eyes of half the planet had been glued to a constant live news stream coming out of the United States, as one local station after another trained its cameras toward the skies, following Ghidorah as he headed north. The world dreaded that the moment Rodan left him unsupervised, he'd decided to pick up exactly where he'd left off. It seemed that he’d even returned to Boston specifically to continue his apocalypse.

Instead, he stole a speaker and a car, made fun of the U.S. Army, complied with some demolitionists' request to help them take down a building, and went home.

After that, the far more academic matter of a new jump forward in titan linguistics was relegated to a small article on Monarch's official titan tracking website.

MONARCH ISSUES RED ALERT: GHIDORAH AND RODAN MOVING SOUTH OVER ATLANTIC

Another example of the unpredictability of newsworthy items:

Rodan—along with Ghidorah—was back in the news later that evening for what the 56-B crew was insistently calling a "lovers' spat," a brief skirmish that ended with Ghidorah literally storming off to Antarctica and Rodan charging into the hurricane after him.

For several hours, the world was braced, yet again, for the potential end of the world.

But before the next morning, it was clear that the skirmish was going to end with no further loss of human life—even the four Monarch employees stationed in what was left of Outpost 32 had evacuated long before Ghidorah had arrived to sweep the ruins into the very hole he'd emerged from. Coasts in the southern hemisphere on both sides of the Atlantic were hit with vicious waves as Ghidorah's hurricane passed by, but nothing that threatened seaside homes, and the worst they got in the way of weather was strong drizzles and stiff breezes. Satellite monitoring, a few absurdly far-off jets, and the evacuated Antarctic Monarch employees squinting through the blizzard caught fuzzy lightning-lit glimpses of another terrible titanic battle; but by the time anyone was close enough to record the fighting properly, it had ended with the two titans sitting on the coast of Antarctica together, having another language lesson.

(Outpost 56-B demanded that HQ send them the footage so that they could update their YouTube channel. HQ refused to do so until they'd reviewed the footage themselves. A traitor within the ranks sent 56-B the footage anyway, and the world was graced with the knowledge of Rodan's word for "snow.")

But despite the fact that the turbulence from Isla de Mara ultimately ended up having all of the newsworthy appeal of celebrity relationship drama, it still received far more coverage than the real breaking news happening halfway around the world:

GODZILLA RECYCLES

In the town of Kuta, on the island of Bali, in Indonesia, was the Ngurah Rai International Airport.

Godzilla had been harassing it for the last two weeks.

The airport crossed nearly the entire length of a peninsula, its runway jutting out into the sea to the west and to the east only separated from water by a strip of trees hardly a fifth of a mile wide. Kuta Beach stretched out along the coast both north and south of the runway. Located an equal distance away from the outposts that had contained titans "Typhon" and "Bunyip," Kuta was untouched by the recent attacks; but the beaches were still oddly barren, as the tourism that would usually be ramping up this time of year was reduced due to the vast swathes of the human population that had to instead turn their resources to recovering from the recent attacks. Still, there were some tourists out on Kuta Beach—enough that, when Godzilla's dorsal plates rose out of the ocean to the west, the wave of people running east to avoid him could be veritably classified as a stampede.

As Godzilla approached the Ngurah Rai International Airport, every airplane that hadn't taken off was grounded and those coming in were frantically redirected to nearby islands. He lumbered straight up to the side of the runway, feet still in the water of the beach as he leaned over the runway, dropped a massive pile of nets, and promptly turned around and returned to the ocean.

The airport shut down all operations and called Monarch.

As Serizawa, the world's only true Godzilla expert, was still in a coma, Monarch had to guess at what he'd say about Godzilla's strange behavior. They decided that Serizawa would probably say he was trying to restore Earth's natural order, which probably included dealing with its pollution; so Godzilla was returning human detritus to whom it belonged—the humans—so that they could properly clean up their own mess.

So the airport waited a day, removed the nets with a hazmat crew, and the next day was cautiously back in business.

And a day later, Godzilla was back with another delivery of nets. When he reached the spot where he'd dropped his first pile, he paused, looked around, and then climbed onto the runway and stormed along the length of it, apparently looking for his original stash. He pushed aside airplanes and bent over to peer into hangars and terminals, where terrified travelers who thought they'd be safer inside stared back at him. Eventually he gave up and, with a roar of frustration, sank back underwater.

This time, Monarch decided they were pretty terrible at roleplaying as Serizawa and advised the airport to leave the nets be.

They pushed the nets to the very corner of the airport grounds, near where Godzilla had left them and still out in the open but off of the runway itself. They stank. Apology signs were posted on the nearby beach and the tourists moved further south.

The third time Godzilla visited, he graciously accepted their relocation, added his new nets, and left in peace.

After several more such trips, he showed up in the middle of the night with a new piece of cargo: Mothra, riding on his back, her wings—one whole, one tattered since the battle in Boston—raised high.

A monarch ship, with the Chen twins on board, followed close behind, ready and eager to find out from Mothra just what in the hell Godzilla was doing with the nets.

Whatever the titans talked about on their way to Bali, Monarch had been too far away to hear. But now that they were on land and speaking to each other, in roars and in telepathy, the Chen twins began translating and transcribing their conversation:

"It's ugly," Godzilla said, "But I think it will work."

Mothra had climbed off of his back and onto the airport grounds, and was prodding at the pile of nets with one leg. I'm not so sure.

"We can try it! It'll be fine."

Why are we so close to humans? Mothra turned toward the airport, which was one again closed. At least at this time of night there were far fewer travelers. They're nervous.

"This is the only place with flat enough ground." He jerked his head toward the runway. "Lay down with your wing on the flat strip. I'll trace it."

Someone had produced some spotlights—Monarch didn't know who, they weren't working with them—and pointed it at the titans. Mothra had gestured for them to point the light down at the runway instead. Although whoever was behind the lights apparently didn't have enough sense to not shine a giant flashlight in a couple of city-destroying monsters' faces, they did at least have enough sense to listen when the less destructive one made a request, and pointed the light down. It shined off of Mothra's good wing as she maneuvered herself onto her back and lay it flat on the runway.

Godzilla knelt next to her and very carefully traced around the wing with a claw, scraping a gouge into the concrete. "I've melted the humans' floating weeds before," he said, and Mothra silently clarified to the Chen twins that he was referring to the nets. He did have a word for nets, but the word didn't convey his disdain for them the way "floating weeds" did. "If you get enough of it together, when it cools, it makes a solid layer. We just have to make a barrier around the outline and melt the weeds in it. The hard part is making a barrier that won't melt or catch fire. I still don't know what to use, but we can probably find something nearby. Maybe we can make glass on the beach."

Why don't you make a flat layer from the floating weeds without a barrier and then cut a wing shape out of it?

Godzilla stopped halfway through tracing Mothra's wing, looked at the gouge he'd already carved into the runway, and said, "I guess that would be easier."

As they dragged the nets onto the runway, Mothra said, Rodan visited today.

Godzilla's head jerked up. "Has the freak tried to kill him yet?"

No.

"Is he being mind controlled?"

I'm not sure. I don't think so—he doesn't think so—but I don't know.

Godzilla let out a low, displeased grumble. "What's going on over there?"

And Mothra didn't know—not for sure—so, for a moment, they were both silent. They finished piling the nets together in the middle of the runway. Godzilla's dorsal plates began glowing—not their usual piercingly bright blue, but a very dull glow that flickered near the bases of his plates like he was trying unsteadily to keep his power low. The light traveled far slower than usual up his back. He opened his mouth halfway as the light neared his head.

Finally, uncertainly, Mothra said, I think they might like Rodan.

Godzilla's plates flashed nearly white. He hacked out a ball of blue light, then let out a cough that rattled windows.

Sorry.

"Timing!" Godzilla looked at the bit at the edge of the nets that had been incinerated, whined, and started gearing up for another, more controlled burst. To the Chen twins' surprise, the conversation continued; apparently either Godzilla was also telepathic, or could simply think thoughts that Mothra could translate as easily as his usual speech. What do you mean, "like"? As a mate? As a meal? As something to beat up?

(Someone on the Monarch ship made a mental note to call up Mark and tell him that Godzilla also wasn't sure whether Ghidorah was looking to Rodan for food, a fight, or a fuck.)

As a mate, Mothra said. Or a friend? Something positive. Something social. Either they like him, or they're trying to trick Rodan into liking them—and if it's the latter, I don't know what they're after.

If it's not the latter? This time, Godzilla got it right. His atomic breath looked more like the flame of an oversized bunsen burner: translucent blue, mostly steady, faintly flickering. He began slowly melting down the massive pile of fishing nets.

If they really do like him... then I still don't know what they're after. I have no idea what someone from another world thinks mating is for.

You'll have a better idea than any of us. You're the only one that's been to other planets.

(Ling Chen clapped both hands over her mouth and let out a long, quiet, high-pitched noise. The Monarch employees, watching an automatic google-translated English copy of the conversation going up on the ship's main screen as Ilene and Ling typed it up in Mandarin, each silently flipped their shit in their own personal ways. One shouted "No!" Someone else just slid out of her chair to the floor, quietly repeating, "Oh my god." Another kicked over a waste bin, laced his hands in his hair, and stared at the ceiling, overcome with emotion. )

I've never been to their planet, Mothra said. I don't know what to expect. But, I think that it means that we're safe. For now.

For now. The nets were now a massive greyish-orange-teal ooze stretching out along the runway. Godzilla shut his mouth and straightened up. The grass sizzled where the nets ran over the side of the runway. "For now—as long as the freak stays interested in Rodan. And as long as Rodan doesn't turn him down. And as long as another Rodan doesn't hatch and try to mate him. And as long as Rodan remains alive."

(Ling made notes differentiating between the two different words Godzilla was using that she and her sister were both putting down as "Rodan" in their transcriptions: "Rodan (personal name; untranslatable?)" versus "Rodan (species name; 'volcano bird/pteranodon')." Ilene came back and changed "volcano bird/pteranodon," with a tiny smirk, to the English "volcanic roc.")

More or less, Mothra said.

"Then we should kill him while he's got his guard down."

Rodan will defend them.

"Then we get backup before we go."

You don't want to have to kill Rodan.

"No! I don't! But if it's between him dying or our whole world, I'll rip his head off!" Trees trembled with the force of Godzilla's roar. "If it's only a matter of time before the freak wants to destroy the world again, then we shouldn't wait around until he decides to. We can't let him make the first attack. It only takes him a few seconds to seize every mind on the planet. What if he gets me next time?"

I'd save you, Godzilla.

(Although Ilene wrote "Godzilla" in her transcription, she almost absent-mindedly included a parenthetical translation for the name that Mothra was really calling him. The watching Monarch employees were once again thrown into paroxysms of shocked disbelief.)

Godzilla was silent for a moment. "I know you would," he said. "That's not the point. The point is, we lost to him last time. We might not be able to beat him unless we take him by surprise. But you don't want to, do you? Why?"

Mothra didn't reply immediately. Instead, she lay back down, laying her wing along the length of the solid sheet of nylon on the runway. Godzilla started tracing around it with a claw tip again. What if they can change? she finally asked. Maybe we don't have to fight them again. Maybe this is a chance to get them to integrate into this world. Maybe they'll have a chance to heal.

(Underneath the word "heal" was this sense of massive, dark wounds, damage that felt as deep and ancient as Earth's very tectonic plates—something broken in Ghidorah's psyche that still ground together painfully inside him, spawning earthquakes and jagged mountains and chasmic trenches and volcanic explosions in his soul. The feeling was so strong and so dark that Ilene briefly had to stop typing, pressing a hand over her aching heart. Ling did her best to transcribe it, but ended up with only a string of characters that translated vaguely like "pain break scar wound darkness psychic hurt trauma?")

"Healing is the exact opposite of the thing I want to help him do."

I know. But if we can—wouldn't that be safer for the world? If we fight again, even if we win, people will die.

"Only small people."

Mothra ignored him. And that's if we win. They probably would have won last time if they hadn't gone to Rodan. If we don't have to fight them at all, wouldn't that be better for keeping the world safe?

Godzilla made a low growl that the Chens couldn't figure out how to translate any way other than "Noise of grudging resignation." He straightened up. "Okay, your new wing's cut out."

Mothra rolled over, Godzilla pried the wing off of the runway with a creaking cracking sound, and turned it around to hold it up to the remains of her injured wing.

How are you going to attach it?

Godzilla broke off another piece of plastic from the runway, held it on the other side of her damaged wing, and said, "I'm going to melt it a little bit to seal around your wing."

For a creature without anything in the way of human facial muscles, Mothra pulled off a very convincing look of utter disbelief.

"It might burn a little," he told her.

Okay, she said, resigned. Fine. I guess it can't make it worse. Do it.

She let out a long, shrill hissing noise as he melted the end of the new wing and the opposite piece of plastic together around the remains of her damaged wing, and both Chens' faces screwed up in pain. When it was done, Godzilla held her wing until it had completely cooled, and then stepped back. "Okay," he said. "Try it out."

She moved her new wing up and down slowly. It's light, she said. She attempted to flap it.

On the second flap, it snapped in half. Mothra and Godzilla both watched as the tip arced high in the air, flew off into the distance, and landed half a mile away standing up in the sand of Kuta Beach.

They looked at each other.

"We'll figure out how to fix it tomorrow," Godzilla said.

Mothra climbed onto his back. He trudged over to the broken wing, handed it to her to hold, and sank back into the ocean to swim Mothra back to Infant Island.

Although Godzilla's plastic-recycling jump into the brave new future of environmental conservationism was all but ignored by the media, in several days, one tiny detail out of the Chen twins' transcription of their conversation caught the fickle eye of mass media. A new headline dominated countless news sites' front pages:

GODZILLA'S REAL NAME: "SWEET FISH"?

Most of the articles were accompanied by an image of Godzilla photoshopped next to a pile of red Swedish Fish candy.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome & encouraged! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM fics and Rodorah fics in this verse, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

[cassiopeiassky]

I Don’t Want the World to See Me (Cause I Don’t Think that They’d Understand) #11

Write a companion piece, I said.  It’ll be fun, I said.  It’s just drabbles, it won’t take too long.  

I’m still lying to myself as I post this 3k+ ‘drabble.’

This is a companion piece for When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) from Bucky’s POV - if you haven’t yet read WEMtbB, this won’t make much sense.

#11 takes place during part 41

***If this is your first time reading through, and you HAVEN’T yet read through part 45 of WEMtbB, this will contain major spoilers***

Word count: 3251 *slams head into desk*

Warnings:

For the entire work:  Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst.  This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: thinly veiled threats, injury, violence, threats/mentions of death, panic, anxiety    If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.  If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie.  I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests.   Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

He shouldn’t have let his guard down; he shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

Not that it would have mattered.  The outcome would have been the same.

Bucky wakes when the door slams open and the lights come on, but there’s nothing he can do.  When she’s torn out of bed and he can’t hide it – he knows in that split second that his face has betrayed his emotions - he can only hope that the men mistake it for being startled.

Get your shit together, or you’re gonna have to explain to Artie and Jimmy why you couldn’t save their mom.

Or rather the team will, because Bucky has no intention of leaving here alive without her.

He allows the Soldier to take over as he’s pulled out of the bed by his hair.  It doesn’t exactly tickle, but compared to what he’s been through it’s easy to ignore.  He relaxes his body to minimize potential damage as he lands roughly on his knees, and then sways with Anatoliy’s hit.

“Just kill him, Kapitan, his skillset is not worth the lives of our men.”  Grigory speaks from behind her; Bucky can see her visceral reaction to the man’s hands on her, but is distracted a moment later when he’s kicked in the stomach.

Once again the Soldier ignores the pain; the cold metal of Anatoliy’s gun against his temple has his full attention.

Oh shit.  Oh shit. This is real; Bucky can read Anatoliy quite clearly, and right now Anatoliy isn’t bluffing. This isn’t supposed to happen – he made damn sure those deaths weren’t traceable to him.

Panic washes over him as he realizes he overplayed his hand.  He’d assumed that after all the trouble they’d taken to get him that they wouldn’t kill him recklessly – that they’d need a compelling reason that was backed up with some sort of proof.  Proof he knows they don’t have, and they’re willing to kill him anyway.

He’s never made a tactical mistake like this before.  Never.

If they kill him, she’s gonna end up paying the price for his error.

Bucky weighs his options. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to choose from.  There are eleven men in the room; under different circumstances he would like these odds, but she’s being held by Grigory and the bastard might snap her neck before Bucky could get to her.  Even if he could manage to take Grigory out first and get her behind him so he can protect her, he’d still have to get through the other ten men before someone sounded an alarm.  Getting her out of this room alive doesn’t mean shit with that collar around her neck; they can still kill her with the press of a button. Then again, she’d probably prefer that over the alternative.

His other option is to do nothing.  

He has to try; he can’t allow them to kill him when he knows what they’ll do to her once he’s dead. He can’t leave her like this, thinking he did nothing to save her.

His mind made up, Bucky readies himself to move – then stops as Nicolai walks into the room.

“That would be a bit merciful, yes?  He still has some suffering to endure, I think.”

The statement is meant to intimidate, but it’s all Bucky can do not to exhale in relief.  He’s not worried about whatever pain Nicolai plans to inflict, he’s more focused on the time he’s been given.  He just needs a few minutes to think.  If he can figure out how to take out Nicolai, Anatoliy, and Grigory all at once, that might give him enough of an advantage...

“Hold out your right arm, Soldat.”  

Well shit.  This is going to be incredibly inconvenient.

Bucky lifts his arm and does his best to relax his joints.  It won’t be the first time his shoulder has been dislocated, but that doesn’t mean it will be fun.

Nicolai takes his arm and forcefully twists; Bucky feels the bone leave the socket.

Yep, that stings a little.

He doesn’t feel the burn of torn tendons, so it’s not as bad as it could be, all things considered.

Everyone looks up at the sound of running footsteps in the hall – Bucky wouldn’t have expected salvation to come from one of Nicolai’s men, but it does.

“I reviewed the camera feed as you asked,” the man gasps, “It was not him.”

Well glory fucking hallelujah.  

As he watches the conversation, he sees how he moves once again from liability to Asset in the eyes of his captors.  He’s relatively safe now, and by default, so is she.  It’s enough for now.

His name essentially cleared and their minds now occupied by an unknown threat, Bucky allows himself the tiniest breath of relief when he sees that the chaos he’d sown finally begins to take root and spread.  This had been his intention – the fear and unease of an invisible enemy within their own defenses has visibly set them on edge. Good.

Still, he’s going to have to be more careful; he can’t make a mistake like this again.

***

Bucky sits in Yakov’s hidden room and rubs his tired eyes as he waits for Steve and Nat to show up. His reset shoulder aches, but it’s nothing more than a minor annoyance.

He’s got more important things on his mind, like getting her the fuck out of that hellhole.

Bucky has already spoken with Stark, who left immediately after to arrange the coverup for the next round of executions – he was visibly disappointed that Bucky wasn’t able to provide any new information on those goddamn collars.  

Well, Bucky’s disappointed, too.  At least she’s relatively safe; he’d listened carefully to make sure that prick Grigory really did just escort her to her room and didn’t try anything, and now that he’s at Yakov’s shop he’s able to monitor her through one of the tablets Stark has piggybacking on their security system.  He tries not to do it too often, though, because she doesn’t know it’s him and he feels like he’s invading her privacy. It’s…difficult, to say the least, when all he wants to do is see her and take comfort in knowing she’s okay.

His thoughts are interrupted when Steve and Nat enter the room; they prop the door open since they don’t have anyone standing watch as everyone else is working with the targets of Bucky’s current mission.

“Alright Buck,” Steve unrolls large sheets of paper and places them on the table.  “We were able to find the building permits and blueprints for the Krakken manor.  This should help with logistical planning, so why don’t you give us a tour.”

Bucky nods as he stands to get a better view of the plan.  “They keep her here,” he points to a room on the second floor in the eastern wing.  “This area has mostly guest rooms, but their non-militant staff, the few that primarily do housekeeping and the like, are housed here as well.  Most of the common areas are on this floor, like the kitchen and dining hall, but there are some recreational rooms on the first floor and a gym in the basement. Krakken’s men are quartered in the west wing; the higher the rank the higher the floor.  The first floor is more like a barracks than anything else, and the third floor is where their most trusted people have suites.  Nicolai and Anatoliy have full apartments on the third floor of the east wing; Metzger’s lab is in the center.”  He chews on his bottom lip as he considers the prints, “The armory is on the first floor in the eastern wing along with their security equipment, which is probably why this side of the building is more heavily fortified.”

Steve lets out a noisy breath.  “Well, they certainly didn’t do us any favors, did they.”

“The eastern side is surrounded by the wooded area, right?” Nat questions with her brows furrowed.  

“Well, the entire area is wooded, but it’s thickest there, yes,” Bucky mutters as he turns to study a map.

“That might be your best place to escape, then.  Even if it’s got higher security, the woods give you a greater advantage over the driveway or the sparser areas.”

“I think you’re right, Nat. I hid my motorcycle over here and walked up when I first arrived,” Bucky points to a spot in the woods roughly 4 miles from the manor, “but if I can move it closer and part it here, then we’ll have a vehicle.  It’s not ideal if the weather stays so damn cold, but a bike is a lot easier to hide then a car.”

“Easier to maneuver through the woods, too, if they give chase.  They’ll have to follow on foot or slow down considerably to get a car through there,” Steve murmurs.  When his comrades nod their agreement, he continues, “I’ll find a way to get your bike closer.  Maybe Stark has something that-”

Bucky tenses when he hears footsteps coming quickly down the stairs, but Steve is quick to assure him that it’s just Yakov.  “He wants to help, he just had a customer he had to take care of.”

Choosing to trust his friend over his own unease, Bucky again turns his focus to the plans in front of him.

A door slams, and another set of footsteps is heard barreling down the steps as an unfamiliar voice begins to speak from the doorway.  

“You…You are not really the Soldier…”

Bucky clenches his jaw as he reaches for the firearm at his back; he can see Nat and Steve doing the same in his peripheral.

“You have been pretending.” The blonde stranger stares at Bucky from behind two black eyes.

“No!” Yakov’s panicked voice echoes down the stairs along with his hasty footsteps, “Do not hurt him, please!”  He gets to the door and pushes the other man aside.  “Are you trying to get yourself killed, bratishka??”

               |bratishka – little brother

“I need to talk to them!”

“You need to go back upstairs!” Yakov says forcefully, but he’s unable to completely mask the fear in his voice.

“He’s not going anywhere, Yakov,” Nat says calmly, but doesn’t lower her gun.  “Bring him in here.”

Yakov goes white as he stands frozen.

“You heard her, Yakov. Bring him in,” Steve’s tone leaves no room for argument.

Yakov still doesn’t move as the other man pushes past him to enter the room.  “Please, he is practically family…”

Bucky stares for a moment before lowering his firearm.  He’s seen this man before.  “Mikhail?”

“You know him?” Nat keeps her focus and her gun aimed on the stranger.

“He works at the manor, but he’s collared.”  Bucky remembers how his girl reacted when Mikhail was beaten; she wouldn’t have acted like that if this man hadn’t treated her with kindness.  Besides, Bucky is confident in his ability to read people; this man means no harm.  “He’s not a threat.”

Yakov audibly exhales when Bucky holsters his weapon; Steve follows Bucky’s lead immediately, but Nat keeps hers trained on Mikhail.

“You sure about that?” she asks sharply.

Bucky nods.  “I trust my girl; from what I saw, she seemed to consider him an ally, maybe a friend.”

“But how do you know? You-“

“I know her, Nat.  Yes, I’ve have limited observations, but she’s not afraid of him, in fact, she’s shown concern for him, and on the night I arrived, he was the one that got her out of that goddamn hall.”  Bucky places his hand on her gun and lowers it.  “I trust my girl, Nat.”

She huffs noisily but holsters her firearm with one last glare at Mikhail, who has been watching the exchange with wide eyes but is seemingly not frightened.

Steve turns his gaze to Yakov.  “We’re already working with your family, why didn’t you mention – Mikhail, is it? – why didn’t you mention him?”

“I am not family by blood,” Mikhail takes a step forward as he speaks, “but we grew up together, Yakov and I.  He was the older brother to me that my blood brothers were not.  Our families were close; close enough that my parents gave their blessing for Yakov to ask for my sister’s hand.”

Nat turns sharply to Yakov. “His sister was the one that was murdered by Anatoliy?  The one you were going to marry?”

Mikhail’s jaw clenches as Yakov whispers, “Her name was Izolda.”

Mikhail’s eyes lock on Bucky’s.  “We need to get her out of there.  I do not know what your plan is, but I want to help.  Let me help solnishko as I was not able to help my sister.”

Bucky feels something akin to relief at Mikhail’s words, or maybe it’s the feeling of solidarity that comes with finding a comrade behind enemy lines.  Either way, he nods.  “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

Nat tilts her head as she thinks, “Don’t they call her lisichka?”

Mikhail scoffs, “Of course they do, it is part of their sick little game; they think they are clever. She understandably does not want to be called that, and I respect her wishes as far as I can.  I am not allowed to address her by her actual name, so I gave her a different one.”

Bucky is really starting to like this guy.

“You used to call Izolda by that name,” Yakov murmurs, lost in the memories of a life stolen from him.

Mikhail nods slowly. “It suits her; she has the same kind of soul as Izolda.  Besides, there was no reason to make her feel even more degraded than she already does by them; they treat her as though she is a pet, and the name they use emphasizes that.  It is a small thing that I can do for her, but at least it is something.  I refuse to aid in their attempt to strip her humanity from her.”

Yes, Bucky likes this one.

���So what can I do?  I am technically supposed to be running errands for Dr. Metzger, but I can cover for a bit of extra time.  How can I help?”

“Is anyone following or tracing your location?” Nat asks before tapping out a text on her phone.

“No, they do not bother. Besides their ability to set off the explosive around my neck, I still have a family.  Their way is to control people by using others; in my case, they would use my mother against me since she is the only surviving member of my family whose wellbeing means anything to me.”

Steve is quiet for a moment as he considers Mikhail’s words.  “Are you sure you want to do this?  We’ll be as careful as possible, but there are no guarantees.  You’ll be potentially putting your mom at risk if you help us.”

Mikhail nods decisively. “Yes, I am sure.  She would want me to do this, to do what is right.  My mother  has nothing but disdain for my father and is ashamed of her other sons. She would tell me to make her proud.”

“He is right,” Yakov interjects, “She would want him to do this.  I overheard her tell my mother once that her four eldest sons were children of duty, but that Izolda and Mikhail were the children of her heart.” He pauses, gazing at Mikhail as he thinks.  “We have not been working with the Davydov family – mostly because there has been no need, but also because they would be difficult to sway to our side as they are loyal and firmly within the Krakkens’ control – but perhaps it would be beneficial to speak with Galina.  She plays the part of the dutiful wife when her husband is around, but she is quite powerful in her own right.  There are quite a few Pakhan that keep a respectable distance, and more than one have been known to seek her counsel.  She works as a nurse at one of the clinics in the southern part of the city; she may have additional resources that we are not aware of.”

“Can you get a letter to my mother?”  Mikhail allows the tiniest of smiles, “I haven’t been allowed to contact her.”

“If you’re sure about this, we’ll make sure she gets it,” Steve promises.

“Yes.  I am sure.”

“Alright then.”  Steve points to the black strip of metal around Mikhail’s neck.  “What do you know about that collar?”

“I know only that I cannot get it off, and that it could be set to explode by them at any moment.” He pauses for a moment as he shrugs, “It was terrifying at first, but the novelty of the threat has worn off by now.”

“Do you know where they keep information on them?  Or extra collars?”

Mikhail bites his lip as he thinks.  “If they have anything, it is likely somewhere on the third floor, perhaps in the doctor’s lab or even Mr. Krakken’s suite.”

‘What are the odds you could get a hold of something?”

Mikhail shakes his head. “None.  I do not have clearance to access the third floor without an escort. Mr. Krakken requires all staff to be very thorough and vigilant; I would not be able to look for anything without being caught.”

Bucky bites his bottom as he considers Mikhail’s words.  “Do you think you could come back tomorrow so Stark could take a look at it?  He said a collar would work – I don’t think he planned for it to actually be on someone, but we can tell him now so he can prepare for it.”

“I can arrange for some of Dr. Metzger’s supplies to be damaged upon arrival.  I doubt they will send me back out tomorrow, but perhaps the day after.”

Nat looks up from her phone. “That will have to work – Tony won’t be able to get here before you leave today.”

Bucky swallows back his disappointment – this is more than he could’ve hoped for, but still.  He gestures to the chair across from him. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mikhail. I think we have some things to discuss.”

Mikhail takes the offered seat before staring at Bucky intently.  “You cannot tell her.”

“What?”  Bucky is somewhat taken aback by the intensity of Mikhail’s voice.

“You cannot tell her that you are not really the Soldier.  I am sure it will not be easy for you to deceive her, but she will not be able to hide it when the two of you are in the same room together.  Her heart is in her eyes when you are around as it is”

“I know,” Bucky mutters as he pushes his hands through his hair absentmindedly.  “I want to tell her, God, I want to fucking tell her just to give her some damn hope, but I can’t take the chance.  She wouldn’t be afraid of them anymore if she knew that I was there with her.  She - she has too much damn faith in me.”

Mikhail shakes his head slowly.  “It seems clear to me that you have earned it and that her faith is not misplaced.  She loves you, you know.  She worries more for you than she does for herself.  I know it is difficult, but let me handle the hope, yes?” Mikhail smiles brightly.  “Now, I have roughly 40 minutes before I need to leave, so let me tell you all of what I know of those bastards.”  

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[original-character-archives]

Keira Fuchs

Biography: Keira’s past is a simple one; she’s a soldier in a time of peace within a Galaxy. She cracked a few too many jokes to her superiors and managed to piss one off, so she was relegated to what is probably the most dangerous thing during peacetime for a soldier: Testing of prototype equipment, specifically a Nanite Armor Suit and Jetpack, as well as a Railgun that is connected directly to her suit. 

Appearance: The picture shown is actually just partial inspiration for Keira. Her other inspiration is Valkyrie’s in mythological lore. 

Keira Fuchs is a tall woman, 6'3", with bright hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her face was a strange sort of beautiful, with a square jaw and strong chin, a heart-shaped face, full lips, and a small, almost button-like nose. In fact, out of everything, her nose stood out the most, as it just didn’t seem to fit the rest of her strong features, even though it was cute. Her large eyes were protected by long, dark eyelashes, expressive thick eyebrows set above. Two strands of her hair framed her face, her small ears barely showing behind them. Her body was amazonian in structure, with hard muscles and little body fat. Seemingly despite the fact that she had an eight pack, and that her thighs were able to crush coconuts, the woman’s breasts were still the size of grapefruit, defying the rest of her body’s lack of body fat. Her arms ended in hands that seemed to loom, with long fingers and a wide spread. Her feet were equally large, though arched highly. She probably needed a lot of arch support. Her calves and thighs were sculpted and long, giving her a majority of her height. Her skin wasn’t without flaws, such as freckles, and a large dark spot across her back, nor was it without piercings or even tattoos; her face alone had three piercings, two in one eyebrow and a third in her right nostril, usually filled with rings for the eyebrow and a stud for the nose. Her ears had three each, all rings. She even had one in her naval, a stud. She only had three tattoos; a butterfly on the side of her stomach, a pair of black wings on her right wrist, and a ring of fire around her neck. None of them would show in her armor or in a uniform, if she wore one. Keira wears a military uniform, which can change based on orders from on high. Casually, she tends to wear whatever she feels like at the moment; whatever personality she used to have in this department was stamped out by the military training. If she’s out to a low-class type place (A bar, for instance), she’ll wear blue jeans and a black v-necked tee to show off her tattoos (A normal tee wouldn’t show her collar tattoo very well). The higher class a place, the more likely she is to wear a dress, unless it’s a wedding, in which case she picks a tuxedo.

Personality: Keira is laid back in the sort of way that could have been attributed to drugs on most people. Fortunately for her, that was just her normal personality. She has little issue with baring her body, being naked in front of people, or otherwise embarrassing things, simply due to the fact that she no longer cares. Before she joined the military, the opposite was true, but once she went through nearly a hundred showers with people of the opposite sex and couldn’t bring up the effort to care anymore, that was pretty much over. It’s hard to care when you’re exhausted from a thirty hour hike up a mountain to a training ground you have to personally build, and no one cares about anything but scrubbing dirt off. Keira is intelligently kind; she thinks before she acts, but she tends to act in ways that help others. She prefers getting to the root of a problem and tackling the source issue rather than whatever surface problem has shown up. She’s more likely to want to just go to the gym and work out than sit around, but for her, exercise is relaxing, a sort of meditation with rules and limits. She finds video games charmingly boring.

Favourite & Least Favourite things: Keira doesn’t really hate anything, though not because she hasn’t given it thought; she’s actively thought about and mulled over plenty of things she could hate, but the process of doing so eradicated any hate she had for it. Other than that, she likes exercise, the color green, and chocolate ice cream. 

Strengths and Weaknesses: Ultimately, Keira’s #1 weakness is that she acts too slowly in times of non-stress (her combat training prevents that issue in times of stress and adrenaline), making her appear unintelligent, though she clearly is not. When people want immediate answers from her, she gets frustrated and is more likely to just tell them to fuck off than anything. Her default laid back nature is also a detriment, as most people see it as disinterest, or even depression; that she almost never gets excited is off-putting to people, and her calm, collected nature has had some of her more erratic associates to accuse her of being a sociopath. It is these same things that give her a lot of strength, however; she almost never panics, and she thinks through her problems and arrives at solutions less obvious to others. Where others live hectic and frenetic lives, she lives one with very little personally created stress. Her jokes keep her relatable to her coworkers, and she finds simple joy in just existing. 

Additional notes:  Armor: Keira’s armor was no joke; metalic, heavy, impossible to operate without training and being on. It weighed at least a ton, but it wasn’t bulky; instead, it was seemingly made out of layered powered mesh, form fitting and powerful, two large wing shaped anti-gravity pod rocket wings jutting from the back. They merged seamlessly with the suit, and small cables went from the back of her neck to the suit. Her helmet was a full version, with a raisable visor that could keep air in. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much room in the helmet for hair, so, bruises were common for those unused to it, or incapable of putting their hair up in the right way; a tight braid that spread hair out along the entirety of the skull, acting more like layed cornrows than anything. The boots of the Valkyrie suit were high heels, a design malfunction that no one corrected, the ‘mesh’ nearly skintight on the calves and thighs, though it thickened and became less revealing further up, tightening again around the waist. The suit only slightly hid the breasts, forming a more solid plate material in the area, though it was form fitting at the top. Another design ‘malfunction’ that no one bothered to fix. The suit worked with nanites who were permanently interlocked, allowing for both ‘push’ and 'pull’ methods for each tiny machine, in every direction, allowing for anyone to be able to fit into the suit rather easily, as well as enhancing strength and dexterity. It was several inches thick at the thinnest, creating inner joints within itself to allow for free motion, never restricting the user. It’s only trouble was that it required to be hooked up to the nervous system directly, or else it would not be able to respond in time to motions, simply slowing down the user.

Weapon: Keira’s main weapon is a bolt action open rail railgun, generally firing one ounce slugs at about one per second, depending on user. However, it’s rails could spread and fire larger slugs than usual, though it required more power to do so; it could fire slugs as large as a cubic foot in volume, though it would be the only shot for an entire day. Still, such a shot would generally destroy whatever was in it’s path for a mile. Even the one ounce slugs were fairly devastating, though, at close range, it tended to simply puncture through with almost no damage, relatively speaking, than at max range. Due to the nature of the velocity of it'sslugs, it was impossible to dodge without prior knowledge of the shot, even at ranges of up to a mile. It also didn’t tend to move from wind, gravitational pulls, or pretty much anything else, for up to five miles.

Keira’s armor is intentionally fanservicey in-universe. A top scientist more or less designed it that way, and then went about proving that it didn’t do anything but degrade the woman inside, while providing a morale boost to anyone else. While his ethics are certainly flawed, there aren’t any design flaws inherent to the design; the high heels were never meant to touch ground in the first place, since the jetpack is supposed to last for hours on end without refuelling. The nanites can reform around anything, and move to protect the wearer by thickening the armor in any area that needs it (for area’s of impact, not bullets. If the wearer falls, it can spread the damage out over a large area, rather than focusing it into one spot, and in-air impacts can be nearly negated. Where traditional fanservicey platemail fails in that the chestplate would direct any shot inwards if hit, this armor can simply move to prevent that), and it more or less has the same level of thickness no matter where you go on the armor itself. 

Keira is also intentionally fanservicey. Mostly because her inspirations were that way, but also because I wanted at least one character who just didn’t give a fuck. She does what she wants, and she’s a badass for it. of course, as I went further along into the design, more and more of that got stripped away for a more military mindset, but that’s okay. Characters evolve. The armor is a great fit for her, since she doesn’t care. 

If you want to read some stories about Keira, you can visit my blog!

Fanart would be epically awesome, because nothing on the internet really fits Keira that I can find. 

Thank you for reading!