#so its all one single piece pants situation right now that the belt goes over

[liliavalley]

for as shit as the show was, they were kinda cooking when it came to uselessly complex cool outfits

[serararku]

The Black Adder Boys

It was sunset when K’thalen arrived at the outskirts of Gavin’s Gully. The bandit patrols on the lookout for both easy pickings and Immortal Flames’ agents sniffing around their turf never even noticed his presence, thanks to the cover provided by the ugliest and angriest dust storm this year. He wouldn’t mind putting these criminals into the ground, of course, but he preferred to keep his low profile for the time being.

He walked straight down the main street like he owned the place, keeping one hand on his hat to shield his face from the wind and sand, and the other firmly on his studded forge iron belt. The tattered ends of his long leather trench coat flicked up with each gust of wind, flashing the particular firepower he brought along with him. It didn’t take long for the sparse denizens of Gavin’s Gully to catch wind of his approach now that he was within the shanty town. Decent folk knew trouble was brewing and none of them wanted anything to do with it, wisely deciding to shut their blinds and retreat away from their windows; everyone else watched him with curious suspicion, already auctioning off whatever loot they would pry from this deadman’s corpse. He approached the biggest building left standing in the town, and turned to glance over his shoulder. The building across the street was completely abandoned- he would have to keep that in mind.

Creeaaak!

K’thalen swung the tavern’s doors wide open when he stepped inside, letting a dusty gust of wind rush in between his feet before the door closed behind him. His eyes darted across the room like an apex predator to make a quick count of everyone present: three men at the pool table, another four sitting at a nearby table playing cards, one man standing behind the counter, three leaning on the railing on the second floor, and two more keeping to the window on the other end of the room. It looked like a Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te family of three were being held captive: the father held at gunpoint behind the bar, a son crumbled on the floor after a recent beating, and a daughter at the card table- their plaything until they got bored of her sniffling. Everyone stopped what they were doing once they heard the howling wind and the creaking door, with wide eyes and skeptical glares burning holes in his face once he began to make his way to the bar. He kept his movements slow and deliberate in case any of them were trigger happy, with one hand gently pulling his hat off while he ran his fingers through his raven-feathered hair.

“Can we help you?” The man holding the pistol against the gut of the barkeep asked. K’thalen first dusted off the road from his sleeves and sat down on the only stool that wasn’t broken, then set his hat on the counter.

“Treehollow. As tall as you can pour it.”

Laughter ripped through the tavern like someone spilled firecrackers across the floor. Even the father nervously laughed along with his captor, until his side was jabbed with the pistol. “What’re ya laughin’ at?! Ya heard him didn’t ya!? Get ‘em a damn drink!” The man winced and swiped a tall mug from the back shelf, before fumbling with the tap. K’thalen slowly looked over his shoulder at the boy on the floor; he was still alive at least, but no older than twelve. Once these brigands had drunk this tavern dry, he and his father would likely not be long for this world.

“Are ya lost, boy?” The man huffed, hoisting himself onto the counter beside K’thalen. “Do ya not know who we are?”

“Don’t know your face.” He answered, studying the barkeep’s face. His eyes were glazed over and empty, yet still exhausted from the fear of death; the poor man was hopeless in his situation, knowing these thugs would have their way with his children until they no longer amused them. “But I know your colors. You’re the Black Adder Boys.”

“That’s right.” He gave his buddies an amused sneer before returning his attention to the stranger. “‘Course… the real question is, who’re you?”

K’thalen lifted a finger as he raised the mug to his lips. He made him wait for a full seven seconds as he downed his drink in a half-dozen gulps. When he finally set the empty mug down, he smacked his lips a few times before answering, “A visitor lookin’ for a friend.” His ears pointed behind him when he heard the pool sticks slap against the table, and the skidding of chairs sliding backward; he furtively slipped his free hand down into his lap and braced himself.

The man leaned down to eye level and whispered, "Ain't no friends o'yours 'round here, mister. So why don't you uhhh… disappear before we beat ya to death?"

With a slow nod and pursed lips K'thalen reached for his hat and slipped it back onto his head. "Aye, I'm gone. But I'm takin' the barkeep and his kids with me."

"You'll be lucky t’leave with your life." The friendly facade has melted away now that he was no longer amused. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder before saying, "You don't make demands o'us, ya hear me, cat bastard? Leave all o’your money on the count-”

K’thalen whipped his elbow into the man’s face with a wet crunch! He then swung his arm around and smashed that tankard against his head so hard the wooden mug split in two- he shot up to his feet and pulled his revolver from its holster and spun around to face whoever stood behind him. His ears flattened against his head when he saw how many barrels were pointed at him. If it weren’t for a Hyur standing by the door with his arms crossed, he would be dead already.

“That’s enough of that, lad.” He chuckled, his eyes snapping to the barely conscious man with the broken nose. “Put ya gun down, nice and easy. Ain’t nobody need to die in our own turf.”

He was reluctant to drop his custom six-shooter, but he obliged all the same, keeping his other hand hidden. “You the one in charge ‘round here?”

“I am. You can call me Alfric.” Once the revolver smacked against the floor, he raised his hand to signal his buddies to lower their own weapons. “... you sound familiar. Do I know you stranger?”

The last thing he needed was someone recognizing who he was before he was ready. “Just passin’ by, lookin’ for a friend.” K’thalen’s ears perked up to the sound of subtle footsteps on the upper level over his head. “He goes by the name of Turold Two-Shank. Your boss.”

“Was my boss.” Alfric slipped his thumbs into the loops of his pants. “Poor bastard bit off more than he could chew, and now he dines with the dead. We answer to Jack now.” He paused to study the stranger one last time. “I’m only gonna tell you this once. Empty your pockets and leave that shiny piece on the floor there, and you’ll only walk outta here with your life and some bruises. Can’t have strangers makin’ fools of my men, especially my boss. You underst-?”

“Fuck that!” The man with the smashed nose gurgled out. “Someone shoot this sumbitch!” K’thalen saw him reaching for something in his peripheral vision, and that was all the excuse he needed.

Tha! Like lightning his hidden hand shot from his coat and fired! Blam! Blam! Blam! Three shots, one for the loudmouth, and two more at the man in charge. -thump! He leapt backward up and over the counter, rolling his fingers across the steel hammer to unload the rest! Blam blam blam! The barkeep covered his ears and dropped down behind the counter with K’thalen, as a hail of bullets ripped through the bottles on the back shelf and busted the wooden barrels overhead. “He got Alfric!” He heard someone shout under the chorus of gunfire. “Kill that cat bastard!”

K’thalen laid low against the counter as he fished out a fistful of bullets from his pocket, his heart beating against his chest like a drum. The barkeep was screaming as malt liquor showered them from above, but at least he was flat on his stomach and unharmed; slowly but surely the barrage from the Black Adder Boys died down once they were out of ammo. “Did we get em?!” Someone shouted, with the familiar sound of several people reloading- it was now or never! “Oh shi-!”

He rolled out of cover for round two. Six muzzle flashes made six falling corpses. He dropped the smoking gun and jumped for his prized revolver, popping the hat off a man above him with a single shot; he then spun around on his heel and struck the man using the daughter as a shield in the groin, allowing her to drive her elbow into his nose and break free of his grasp.

“Grab the boy and get back behind the counter!” He ordered, spinning his empty revolver before sliding it back into his lucky holster. “Them boys outside heard that commotion!”

“W-what are we gonna do?!” The father pleaded, throwing his arms around his children. “There’s dozens of them! You ain’t got the firepower for them all, mister!”

“Don’t I?” K’thalen pulled off his coat and let it drop to the floor. He reached for his prized possession on his back and pulled it over his shoulder; the magitek rifle unfolded and clicked into place, with ceruleum canisters glowing on its underside. He leapt behind the counter with them and pointed the strange weapon toward the door, and metal bars drove into the wooden countertop as a small half-visor dropped over his right eye. “Cover your ears!”

SHOOM! SHOOM! SHOOM! SHOOM!

As soon as he saw silhouettes and shadows rushing toward the door and windows, K’thalen made them disappear. Superheated ceruleum-propelled slugs punched fist-sized holes through the front entrance of the tavern, and the building across the street, and the building behind that one, and the one behind that one too. Glowing red shells littered the table and floor to his left, as he fired over and over again; it wasn’t until the barrel was shimmering and white-hot did he finally stop, but not because he wanted to; he was out of rounds at last.

The rifle slowly collapsed back into itself, but he wisely kept it anchored to the counter instead of putting it on his back to give himself second and third degree burns. The father slowly lifted his head to see the aftermath, and the daughter soon followed. The front door was gone, as was most of the wall; they could see across the street that the other building was completely toppled over and in ruins. “Menphina’s madness… what was that?!”

“Magitek.” K’thalen slowly rose to his full height, slipping more bullets into his favorite revolver as his rifle began to automatically cool down. “Stay behind the counter. I gotta have a chat with a friend of ours right quick.” Slowly he made his way around the counter, stepping over corpses and broken bottles to reach the man he neutered- he was still clutching his bloodied crotch, whilst he struggled to breathe. When he noticed his approach, a scornful grimace spread across his pained face.

“W-what do ya fuckin’ want?!”

“Looks painful, lad. Real painful.” K’thalen pulled out his revolver and crouched beside the man. “Tell me where Jack is holdin’ up, and I’ll put you outta your misery. Bleedin’ out from what’s left of your balls is a bad way to die.”

“H-he’s gonna skin ya alive…!” The man spat, in between his groans and wincing. “He’s g-gonna… turn you int-to a coat… y-ya filthy… cat bastard!”

“Suit yourself.” K’thalen slipped his gun back where it belonged and bounced up to his full height. He glanced over at the family watching him; seeing a man- even a worthless bandit- squirm around and slowly die in his own blood was not something he wanted to put them through. With a sudden change of heart, K’thalen pulled out his revolver and turned back around to finish the job.

“W-wait…! W-!”

Blam!

[homeboundrunnerfive]

Zombies Run Secret Santa 2019!

@notforconsumption​ HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM YOUR SECRET SANTA! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! I had this idea about a “5 times...” including Five, Sara and Sam at about 5000 words similar to what I did for Secret Santa last year. But this was too much fun to write, and I couldn’t bear to end it before I felt that it was properly finished, and this piece wanted to be more than 5000 words. So therefore, I make this pledge to you: have this smaller preview of my ZR/pokémon crossover as your present for this Christmas Eve, and send me a scenario that you would like to see added in the final version of this piece and your Secret Santa will make it so! And lastly: big thanks to both you and @runnerzero for organising this wonderful Secret Santa exchange! 

Fandom: Zombies, Run! Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  Relationships: Runner Five/Sara Smith Characters: Sam Yao, Sara Smith, Runner Five, Simon Lauchlan, Janine DeLuca, Maxine Myers Additional Tags: Female Runner Five, Spoilers for Season 1, Mild Language, AU - Pokémon, Preview (or: remember that time probably at least a year ago when the fandom discussed the ZR/pokémon crossover?) Summary: Only by the very skin of her fucking teeth does Five make it in through the gates unscathed. Had guards on the wall not opened fire on the faster zoms directly behind her, she might not have made it inside at all. The second the gates close behind her, she actually lays down flat on her stomach to stop herself from vomiting. She has never run that fast before in her entire life, and her vision is flickering a little. The Cubone crawls out of her backpack as she pants heavily into the dirt, and jumps off of her to look around. After a few moments it gives her a sour look, seemingly deeming its new surroundings to be nothing all that special. ”If I had dropped you, this would have been a lot easier for me,” Five mutters to the Cubone. It returns her snarky remark by pulling out the bone and whacking her square in the head.

— S1M01 The transfer from Mullins Military Base to the smaller settlement of Abel Township is not starting out well. Five is a little disappointed in herself for actually being just the tiniest bit surprised by the fact that every single thing that could have gone wrong today has.

To be fair though, being shot down from the sky with a rocket launcher is a rather uncommon occurrence, so maybe she can’t take the blame for not predicting that one.

Which is a right shame, because what she can predict, Five will prepare for. For example, she knew that that arriving without a pokémon would elicit reactions and she had prepared herself for it. Pity and commiseration from some, assuming it was lost or killed in the chaos of Day Zero. Distain or suspicion from others, trying to rationalise how someone able to secure a spot at Mullins for themselves could be so negligent as to not provide for their pokémon. 

Others are just confused at the sight of someone without a pokémon in these trying times. Who wouldn’t want an immune companion to not only protect you, but to also love you and keep your spirits high?

Five had prepared for that eventuality. She had not prepared for parachuting out of a helicopter, nor arriving to Abel in a mad dash chased by one of the faster zoms she’s encountered so far.

Inside the gates she’s greeted proper by three individuals, though a lot of people attempt to quickly wheedle information or supplies off of her the moment she stumbles through the gates

“Hey! Good to see you in the flesh… the totally-unbroken, skin-not-bitten-by-zombies flesh, right? Step back, step back everyone, don’t crowd! Give Runner Five some space!“ She recognises the voice as the man guiding her from the crash to the gates, radio operator Sam Yao. ”You alright there?”

He’s a younger Asian man in his mid-twenties or so, with dark hair and friendly eyes. The vibrant orange colour of his hoodie sticks out in a very striking manner, and a Flaaffy and Minccino is peeking out from behind him. Five feels like he fits the image of what she had imagined someone with his voice would look like. Rather soft, unpretentious and… boyish. The chinchilla-like pokemón looks rather downcast, sitting on top of the Flaaffys woolly head.

Next is an African-American woman in a white lab coat, immediately relieving Five of the CDC files and giving her a bite check before welcoming her to Abel Township. Five catches a glimpse of pale gemstones and notices that the woman, Dr. Myers as she introduces herself, has a rather small Sableye clinging to her hip underneath the lab coat. The pokémon is watching Five cautiously, showing the slightest hint of teeth.

Last is a serious-looking woman with a stern face, dressed in practical clothing. While the doctor is performing Five’s bite check, the woman is speaking quietly with another equally impressive woman, seemingly a bit older, who is accompanied by a weathered Lucario. The older woman is carrying a firearm, discreetly hidden by her loose shirt in a holster strapped to her belt. Five only notices because she has gotten into the habit of looking for threats, no matter the surroundings.

”Welcome to Abel Township. My name is Janine De Luca,” says the serious-looking woman. At her feet, an Umbreon is standing at attention like a guard dog, staring Five down. ”We have much to discuss.”

Five knows better than to hope for good things by now. But so far, so good, she thinks.

— S1M07

Only a few weeks into her transfer, disaster strikes.

Janine De Luca, one of the authorities of Abel Township, had sent her out on a mission to make contact with a member of a supposed rebel group within the neighbouring settlement of New Canton under the guise of picking up a cache of electrical supplies. Unsurprisingly to at least Five,  who has learned to expect the worst of every situation given the state of the post-apocalyptic world, the rendezvous ends up with her having to flee for her life in the completely opposite direction of Abel Township while dodging automatic gunfire.

It takes a solid hour of running through extremely taxing natural terrain before Five feels confident that she is out of the woods, and by that point she is out of the scanner range Sam was talking about. Her headset took a hit when she smacked into a low-hanging branch in her hurry, and it seems to have been damaging enough to disable her transmitter. To further emphasise the vulnerability of her situation, the sun has now fully set beyond the western horizon and midnight is closing in. The moon working its way across the starry sky provides some light, but not enough by far.

”Runner Five… I don’t know if you can hear me. Our scanner’s down,” Sams voice starts again over the headset. He’s been checking in periodically, voice growing more and more despondent each time he goes without a response. Something bleats weakly in the background, and Five imagines Sam stroking the soft coat of his Flaaffy as he flips between monitors. ”It never works that well at night anyway, and a couple of bits of equipment have broken down, so… so there’s no way to see where you are. Truth is, I… I don’t even know if you’re alive. Odds aren’t good, right?”

He would have lost sight of her the moment she fled into the dense forest, Five thinks, so for all he knows she could have been shot dead the second she exited his camera coverage. The odds for her survival, as he said, were certainly not optimal.

Mustering what little strength she has left, she forces herself into a slow jog towards a more defensible position to take a much needed rest to catch her breath. On a hill, about half a kilometre away, under the roots of a large tree growing on the incline Five can see something similar to a makeshift burrow. It isn’t ideal, but the surrounding trees are much too bare for her to climb without some sort of equipment, so a dirty hole in the ground to keep her back free will have to do for now. After listening intently for a moment, she feels certain there are no zombies nearby. No groaning moans, no shuffling steps and no crinkling leaves.

”You’re not even my second Runner Five, you know that? You’re my fourth. I guess there’s no better reason you’d make it back than any of the others,” Sam sighs, and Five thinks that even if her transmitter wasn’t smashed, she wouldn’t respond to that. It’s true. She’s no more likely to survive the night that anyone else in her position.

Doesn’t mean she isn’t going to try.

Five pulls the axe from her back, keeping her pack on, before sitting down on the ground and leaning back against one of the thick roots. Her legs are almost numb, and her breaths are still coming out ragged. For the moment she feels very warm, but Five knows the sweat on her skin will soon cool and bring her body temperature down. She can’t allow herself to stay still for more than a few minutes, but that will be all she needs. In her head, she’s already mapping out the route back to Abel.

Something hard hesitantly pokes her lower thigh. Her muscles tense instantly and she chokes up  the grip on her axe, bouncing into a defensive crouch.

In the dark, she can only make out two narrowed eyes staring suspiciously at her and a small silhouette sitting further inside the burrow. Whatever poked her has been retracted back into the shadows. Then, a white stick strikes out with lightning speed and hits against the metal head of her axe, sending the smallest of vibrations down into her hands.

The noise isn’t too bad, but it breaks the absolute silence of the woods in a way that puts Five on edge.

She backs up a few steps, standing up as she does, and slowly raises her axe into a batting position. The small figure, interestingly enough, mirrors her movements perfectly.

Chancing a quick look around, Five can’t see anything shambling towards her position, which is good. Whatever tiny little creature drove her out of the burrow seems almost as guarded as she is, holding their little stick poised for another strike. She takes a few moments to carefully study the shape. The very top of the creature would barely reach up to her knees. Humanoid in form, bipedal, gripping what looks like a small bat, and a rather lumpy head with small horns. Too small to be a zombie, and too clever to be an animal.

Five tries to cycle through her passable knowledge of different Pokémon species native to England, and she doesn’t have to think very long before the answer comes to her. She’s invaded the little underground home of a Cubone. From what she can remember, they aren’t very social and prefer to keep to themselves. What she thought was a stick poking her was most likely a bone, then.

”So… I’m just going to keep talking for a while. I mean, for all I know, I could be talking into the ear of a zombie. But, hey —” Sam starts again, and Five slowly reaches up to mute the signal for just a moment to keep her concentration on the situation at hand.

Sinking down to her knees, Five exaggeratedly places the axe down to rest on the leafy ground before raising both hands in a placating manner towards the Cubone. The universal sign for ’I don’t want any trouble.’ Not because she is in the slightest intimidated by this tiny thing, armed as she is, but because any loud noises will draw zombies in and force her to start running before she’s had a chance to catch her breath.

The pokémon doesn’t lower the bone its holding, but takes a few steps forward to the mouth of the burrow. In the moonlight, Five can spot a rather large gash on the left arm stretching all the way down to the hand. Not too deep a cut, but most likely infected by the look of it, and probably rather painful.

It tugs at her heartstrings. The only way for her to survive the night is to make it back home to Abel before they bar the gates, so there is really no reason to be stingy with her rations. Starvation or exposure is not what will kill her. Slowly, as to not startle the Cubone, she combs through her pack until she finds what she’s looking for. A protein bar, the first and only one she's gotten since she was made a runner and therefore prioritised concerning nutrition compared to other assignments in the township.

She unmutes her headset at the reminder of Abel.

Disinfectant or bandages would be better, but snacks is all that she has to offer. The process of opening the wrapper quietly is tedious, but after half a minute she has the bar uncovered in her hand. Most likely expired, since the chocolate coating is cracked and flaking away with every slight jostle, but a treasure all the same. Keeping her palm flat, she holds it out as far as she can from herself and waits for almost a full minute.

The Cubone only stares defiantly, staying firmly put.

”I called you my friend just before, didn’t I?” Sam says through some slight static, sounding a touch less relaxed than he normally does, seemingly about to go off on a more rambling kind of tangent. ”Is that cool with you? I mean… well, I’m definitely not your friend if you’ve gone gray. But I feel like we have a kind of… simpatico… something? Not that we’ve ever really talked. I guess we’re talking now. So… yeah, well, let’s just talk like normal people, like… buddies, or something,”  

At least someone wants to be my friends, she thinks sullenly as the pokémon continues giving her the evil eye. Sighing, Five tosses the protein bar towards the Cubone, only slightly wincing at the fact that she threw actual good food on the forest floor before sitting back down. If the pokémon dislikes intruders this much, its behaviour should alert her to any incoming zombies. She figures she’ll be better off taking that little rest here than spending precious time finding another spot, even if she no longer has her back free.

It takes a few moments of apprehensive investigation, but eventually the Cubone starts nibbling on the protein bar while still keeping a watchful eye on her. She mostly ignores it and turns her back to keep lookout of her surroundings, fairly certain the pokémon won’t be bothering her further for the short time she intends to stay.

Unsurprisingly, the minutes pass by much too quickly, and her muscles still scream with complaints as she gets to her feet. The Cubone has finished its snack, and seems to have been emboldened by her tribute. Waddling forward, it sticks its hands down her backpack and starts searching for more treats.

”Get off,” Five mumbles and makes shooing motions. The Cubone pauses to nail her with the most unimpressed look she has ever seen a pokémon make, and continues rooting around. Five’s pretty certain the only thing she has left in there by now is her half-empty bottle of water, but it’s the principle of the thing. She was issued that equipment by Janine, and Five is still very determined to make a good impression on that woman.  

She hadn’t tried hard enough back at Mullins. Five will not make the same mistake twice.

”That’s mine, and I’m going,” she says, more firm this time, and grabs the closest strap to pull the backpack away from the Cubone. Before she can even attempt to stop it, the pokémon has not only tugged the pack from her, it has decisively climbed into it and given her an indignant harrumph. It reminds her of a stubborn toddler, which is unfortunate. She doesn’t have very much experience dealing with those kinds of tantrums. Five resists rubbing her temples in frustration.

”It’s mine, and it’s coming with me. Get out.”

They lock eyes, and a silent battle of willpower ensues.

The absolute absurdity of the situation is that Five doesn’t actually have the upper hand here. She needs to get back to Abel before they bar the gates, and it’ll take her a good hour of running in the dark as it is.

Moments pass.

Nothing happens.

”Fine then.” With a forceful yank, she expeditiously tugs the pack onto her back, passenger and all, and secures the hip belt around her waist to balance her centre of gravity with the added weight. It’s not too heavy, but definitely enough to make a difference while running. The head is poking out of the top, giving her a fierce glare. ”You’ll come to see it my way.”

The next hour is a little strange, to say the least. Occasionally, the Cubone will grunt in annoyance and rap at her shoulders with its held bone, but it makes no attempt to get out of the backpack. She fortunately only has to reroute twice after spotting smaller packs of zoms in the distance, and during those tenser moments the pokémon is surprisingly quiet. Sam continues checking in, making either morbid or hilarious monologues in her headset. For some bizarre reason, it does keep her spirits up. If he’s still talking to her, it means the gates haven’t been barred yet. Even if his chosen topics for conversation are disheartening for the most part.

When she gets close enough to Abel to see the light on top the tower guiding her back home, she’s picked up quite a trail of zombies, despite her attempts to circumvent any encounters.

”— but I’ve gotta be honest… we’re losing hope here.” Five is now only registering bits and pieces of what Sam is talking about, mostly concerned about keeping a safe distance ahead of her groaning pursuers. ”A couple of zoms have arrived at the gates, and that usually means the bigger horde is on its way. Maybe only a few minutes ‘til we bar the gate.”

That, however, she does hear loud and clear.

It means she’s still got a chance. All she has to do to make it is run fast enough.

Only by the very skin of her fucking teeth does Five make it in through the gates unscathed. Had guards on the wall not opened fire on the faster zoms directly behind her, she might not have made it inside at all. The second the gates close behind her, she actually lays down flat on her stomach to stop herself from vomiting. She has never run that fast before in her entire life, and her vision is flickering a little.

The Cubone crawls out of her backpack as she pants heavily into the dirt, and jumps off of her to look around. After a few moments it gives her a sour look, seemingly deeming its new surroundings to be nothing all that special.

”If I had dropped you, this would have been a lot easier for me,” Five mutters to the Cubone. It returns her snarky remark by pulling out the bone and whacking her square in the head.

— S1M10

Five is having a tough time figuring the new Cubone out, and the pokémon seems to actively be trying to infuriate her.

While bringing it into the township had been no issue with Janine, the question of ownership and training was apparently of more import. No rogue inhabitants in her township, she had said. Five had not been particularly adamant about claiming the Cubone for herself, given the apparent distaste of her the pokémon seemed to harbour. It almost seemed like whenever an opportunity to obstruct her presented itself, the Cubone would take it and then give her a smug look afterwards. So it seemed the safer bet to place it in the communal building rather than with her.

But after a few days, it was perfectly clear the Cubone was not fine with living in the communal building, nor socialising with the other collectively owned pokémon. The sharp, angry cries throughout the nights attracted zombies to such a degree that they actually had to send runners on emergency missions for ammunition to keep up.

A few people did try to befriend the Cubone, but to no avail. All attempts were rebuffed, with varying degrees of violence and threatening behaviour. Simon suffered a rather unfortunate injury to his groin trying to charm the pokémon, both scaring and upsetting his own tenderhearted Sylveon. After that incident, there weren’t many volunteers.

So now the responsibility has once again circled around to Five.

Things are not going well. The only two things she has managed to understand is that the Cubone is a male, and that it seems to dislike everything and everyone. It seems content to follow her around at a distance, but makes a scene when she tries to get close. Strangely enough, it seems to have no problem climbing onto her back whenever the pokémon feels like it. Touching that is not initiated by the Cubone, though, is out of the question, prompting wild swings with the bone. Any conversation or commands are met with glowering or growling. In short, the Cubone is completely dominating her, her life and all their interactions at his own very unpredictable whims.

Many people offered her tips, all delivered in a rather delicate manner as to not imply any incompetence on her part which Five feels is more or less unnecessary at this point. Chris McShell had given her a long and detailed lecture on abstract pokémon psychology. Evan gave her different training exercises to establish respect and dominance, demonstrating them to her with his impressively obedient Growlithe Bonnie. Jody and Sam offered a plethora of bonding exercises, most of which just seemed to be different forms of cuddling. Five did not point out that neither of their pokémon come equipped with their very own weapons, and simply enjoyed watching Jody hugging her soft and sweet Audino.

In the end though, all suggestions proved to be equally useless.

Presently, Five is sitting on the ground with her back against the wall of the mess hall. Cubone is sitting a few meters away, and a silent battle of wills is raging.

They’ve been at it for days. The pokémon is as stubborn — possibly even more so — than Five.

”I don’t want to do this,” Five says, fingers playing with the laces of her trainers. ”I’m tired. If you don’t like me, leave. If you don’t like this place, leave.”

She’s ignored very pointedly by Cubone, who is drawing something in the dirt with its bone. From Five’s poor perspective on the ground it looks like nothing but squiggly lines.

”Things are a certain way in Abel. You’ll have to find a place. You can’t have things your way here.”

Narrowed eyes glare at her from beneath the large skull adorning its head, and if looks could kill, she’d be more dead than the corpses shambling outside the walls. At least she knows Cubone understands her, even if all that she receives in return for her words are defiance. The pokémon resolutely turns its back on her with a familiar harrumph, continuing to draw in the dirt.  

”I would have thought you’d be better at this than you are. I’m surprised, Five. And that doesn’t happen too often, you know,” Sara grins, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. By her side her companion Lucario does the same, and the two of them just radiate an aura of smugness.

Five scrambles to her feet and locks her arms behind her back in a courteous manner, feeling incredibly stiff and awkward about the forced formality. It’s still a little early to act too casual with superiors in Five’s opinion, even though her military ID has been recovered and Sara herself has expressed in so many words how laughable this kind of ”boot-licking” behaviour looked on someone as physically imposing as Five. Yet, she snaps into place on instinct. Cubone flinches violently as she moves suddenly to break their staring match, and turns to glare suspiciously at the newcomers with narrowed eyes.

”I apologise,” replies Five, keeping her eyes on her trainers. ”I am having more difficulty that I would have thought.”

”The difference really is night and day, wouldn’t you agree, Donal? Like a roaring lion and a cowering house cat. It really is frustrating,” Sara says offhandedly to her companion, before pointedly leaning her head to catch Five’s gaze as she does so. ”We do things differently here, Five, and I don’t want to have to go through this little song and dance every time I see you inside the gates. This is not Mullins. Act like a normal human being. No one is going to have you shot in your sleep for mouthing off or slouching. So please, honey, at ease, now.”

Chancing a quick glance, Five catches Sara’s eyes. They are brown, filled with mirth and just deep enough to hide something seriously menacing behind those twinkles of amusement. There’s a layer of subtext that Five has become quite adept at understanding at this point, even though there are few women Five has met that are quite as contradictory as Sara Smith.

Two sides of the same coin show their faces whenever she speaks. The gentle but stern reminder that Five won’t be shot in her sleep for mouthing off also serves as a warning to remind her that other things might be enough to earn her a bullet in the back of the head. The complimentary comparison to the king of the jungle during missions is also a barbed statement about her positively spineless behaviour within the walls of Abel Township.

”I understand.”

Sara lets out a small chuckle. ”Slow learner, and stubborn to boot. That’s fine, Five. Not entirely unlike this Cubone here, judging by the way things are going,” she says, turning to her Lucario to share a look. ”Donal and I never had these problems, did we?”

It’s difficult to pinpoint why, but the comment strikes a raw nerve within Five. Perhaps its her lifelong habit of people-pleasing that takes offence at her obvious failure, or her very frail yet still very much alive ego taking a targeted hit from someone she very much admires, or perhaps it is simply the drop that makes the cup run over for whatever reason. Either way, Sara’s words have found purchase beneath Five’s armor and like a frightened animal she strikes out on instinct, barely registering the words as they pass her lips.

”Military issue espionage pokémon are trained from birth in obedience, I’ve read. Must make training a breeze. But that has nothing to do with you, I’m sure,” Five bites out while keeping her eyes to the ground. Later, she will regret giving lip to one of the more influential and possibly lethal figures of the township, but for now Five is wallowing in self-pity and unable to care about the intricate policies of the apocalypse. Even though she has technically been officially encouraged several times to be slightly less deferential in public as to not attract attention to Project Greenshoot.

Sara gives her a sly smile, eyes twinkling. ”None of your concern, now is it? What I will say is that you are going about this the wrong way. Of course, I could give you a few pointers. Unless you prefer to continue this hopeless exercise in frustration. Up to you.”

Five reigns herself in, says nothing this time. Every single time she has opens her dumb mouth things turn sour, sooner or later.

”Lucario are an extremely capable and skilled pokémon species, and exceptionally rare at that. They are omnivores, though meat is very much preferable. Usually they live in smaller packs in the deep mountains away from the hustle and bustle of civilisation, and their unique ability to read and manipulate auras is unparalleled. Highly intelligent, my darling Donal more so than most I would say, able to understand and even communicate complex, abstract concepts. Most Lucario seem to have a natural sense of justice, and will react badly when training is not mutually beneficial to trainer and pokémon.” The Lucario has left her side to circle around the hesitant Cubone with a calculating look on its face as Sara speaks. ”This is just the smallest piece of knowledge that I have about the species of my pokémon. Useless information for you, of course. And yet, I keep droning on and on about all the things that I know, and you don’t. Seems like quite a dull thing to do in this kind of sticky situation, no?”

Five quickly schools her face into a more neutral expression, having unconsciously tightened her lips into the slightest scowl during Sara’s monologue.

”You don’t know anything about the Cubone species, so let’s skip that entire lecture for now. I’m sure a capable runner like yourself will be able to get your hands on that kind of information without having to bruise your ego asking me for it. So let’s look at what you do know instead, hm?” Sara continues, ignoring the low growl coming from Cubone as Lucario stops to study it. ”You intruded on an injured Cubone’s territory after nightfall, where he was all alone in a ditch far from both people and pokémon. You fed him scraps, and he climbed into your backpack and refused to be left behind. Strange thing, I’ll give you that. Here at Abel, he seems… let’s just call it displeased for lack of more polite terms, to be in the communal building. In other words, he doesn’t mingle well with strangers. Other people that have tried to gain his favour and trust have gotten nothing but sullen stares and the occasional light beating. Wherever you go, he follows at a distance, and grows defensive when you try to get close.”

It is becoming increasingly obvious where Sara is going with this guessing game to Five, and the impending conclusion is not something she is inclined to take to heart at this point in time. Maybe at all. In the zombie apocalypse, people can die whenever, so if Five’s lucky she’ll be grey before she’ll have to face her own flaws.

”I could give you my take on things, of course. Standing by my side is a disciplined and loyal pokémon, and you’ve got an armoured little gremlin following you around like a shadow, beating you with a stick whenever he damn well feels like it. You have to admit that’s funny.”

There’s a long pause, and it is almost enough to make sweat start beading at Five’s forehead but her lips won’t move. What admission Sara wants her to come to is not difficult to understand, but the strings of correct words dancing through her brain don’t seem to make their way down to her mouth.

Pride and shame battle fiercely within her. Five is locked between feeling completely unable to admit to any kind of vulnerability, while also simultaneously terrified to portray herself as devoid of empathy. Her tongue feels heavy and swollen resting behind flat teeth that aren’t sharp enough to tear through flesh and bone.

A few seconds pass that are long enough to draw every single breath of air from her lungs.

The result is pathetic. Absolute silence.

”It’s referred to as the lonely pokémon, did you know? Curious thing, in my opinion.” Sara inspects her fingernails in a very pointed manner, before catching Five’s eyes in a way that makes it clear she is not to look away.

It makes her squirm, and a knot is growing in her stomach.

”Alarmed at the thought of having a companion that is similar enough to you that it might actually  understand and know you?” Sara’s voice is teasing at the surface, but sharp and calculating beneath it. ”Or maybe you simply don’t want a pokémon that is like you because you think you, and by extension it, is broken and bad?”

The knot settles firmly in the centre of Five’s stomach, making her feel ill.

Suddenly, a loud horn blares through the silence for one short signal, followed by Janine’s voice booming over the intercoms accompanied by gunshots in the distance. ”Calling Runner Five! Or Runner Eight! Or both. Runner Five and Runner Eight, report to the gates!”

Only seconds after that, Janine’s voice starts filtering through her headset, which Five quickly pulls up over her ears to listen properly. Sara has already done the same, and motions for Five to follow over her shoulder as she and her pokémon turn to jog towards the gates. ”Runner Five and Runner Eight, urgent assignment! Sam’s on a rest period, but we’ve discovered a traitor in the camp. We need you to chase her down before she gets away!”

”Copy that, Janine. On my way,” Sara answers, and turns to shout at Five over her shoulder. ”Come on, Five, let’s get going. And don’t you worry, we’ll save this little game of ours for a later date.”

Five takes off after her, only stumbling on the first step.

From this perspective up above as she passes them by, the scribbles Cubone made in the dirt  earlier looks like a pair of vaguely humanoid, thick figures, one larger and one smaller, both wearing bulky helmets.

After a few seconds, a quick pattering behind Five gives her a moment to prepare before a heavy weight lands on her back and small hands claw into her shoulders like vices. She steadies herself and starts running.

— S1M19

The ceremony for Chris McShell is held on a foggy day, and the dim skies accurately reflect the mood of the runners returning from the forest walking through the gates. Most are met by their pokémon at the gates, thankful for whatever comfort they are given.

Five is silently thankful that Chris was one of the few in the township to not have a pokémon. She is feeling raw as it is, and the thought of watching a confused companion looking for someone that’s not coming back cuts like a knife. Without words, her Cubone crawls into her arms and settles in, filling her with warmth. It’s not enough to thaw the small pinprick of cold somewhere deep inside her chest, but it feels marginally better.  

She listened to him die. Sam didn’t cut the feed.

Somewhere in the world, he might have had a daughter waiting for him. More likely is that he will be joining her amongst the dead.

Five showers without really taking notice of the icy temperature. The stiff sensations in her limbs actually makes it easier to remember that she does inhabit a body, and that she is here. Every time her boots hit the ground she becomes more heavy and solid, grounding her in reality. Her Cubone is shadowing her every step, for once not climbing over her frame to take a seat on her shoulders like he usually does. Strangely enough, Five thinks, the weight on her shoulders feels heavier than usual even so.

The bell rings, and Five follows routinely. A haze has settled over her mind, and it’s enough to dull her senses to the person quickly approaching her from the left. Sara catches her by the arm as she walks mindlessly to the mess hall, holding her firmly enough to not be easily brushed off. Her Lucario walks up behind Sara, and the usual silent staring contest ensues between their two pokémon.

”Hey there, Five,” Sara greets her, and the little sparkle in her eye is familiar enough to let Five know that she’s got a mission. ”I won’t keep you for too long. We’re expected, after all.”

Squinting at the last rays of the evening sun, Sara takes her sweet time before continuing as the light illuminates her rugged features. A breeze moves past the four of them, and Five feels like an ancient statue. Like someone that has been rooted in place for millennia, muscles of heavy stone, growing moss and collecting dirt.

”It feels good not to be the only one left who knows my boys’ faces. We remember them, don’t we Donal?” Sara says fondly, and her Lucario looks away from Cubone to respond with a short nod. There’s a faraway look in her eyes, and it takes Five a moment to actually register the words. It’s not every day that Sara speaks of her family, let alone her sons. ”Someone must, I should think.”

There’s a beat, and Five waits. She has learned that Sara usually takes her time setting the mood before getting to her point when she doles out her wisdom.

Sara exhales evenly, letting her hand fall from Five’s arm after clapping her on the shoulder. ”If you’re the only one thinking about them sitting all alone in your room, it’s mourning. But if you’ve got someone to share the memories with, you’re celebrating them. That’s my take on it, anyway.”

Furrowing her brow just the tiniest bit, Five tries to put the pieces together. It could be that she is being admonished for isolating herself with her grief, but that is an unfair assumption. Sara can’t have missed that she caught Five as she was going to the mess hall, where the atmosphere of loss is the thickest. She pulls her arms closer to her sides, jaw clenching slightly with tension.

Sara tilts her head, and gives her a look that Five can’t discern the intent behind, before nodding towards the ramshackle building. ”Don’t just be there, Five. Be present. It’s bad at first, I’ll give you that much. But it’s better in the long run.”

Turning on her heel with her Lucario following close behind, Sara leaves Five in the dust as she casually strolls through the doorway. Five stares intently at the ground, unwilling to risk meeting Sara’s eyes should she glance back for one last look.

Her advice is not lost on Five, and in most circumstances it would be marvellous and healthy advice. But for Five, it’s only words in the wind. She’s not strong enough to be present in the face of this kind of grief. There’s barely enough left of her inside to keep her going through the days as it is. There is no energy nor will left to spare on mental health after the taxing realities of the zombie apocalypse.

Looking down at her solid feet, planted on the ground, there is Cubone looking back up at her with solemn eyes.

She won’t do be able to do what Sara is asking, she thinks as she bends down to scoop her pokémon up into her arms. It’s not even worth trying.

Five still walks into the mess hall, though. Her chest is warmer, and the Cubone clings to her shirt.

[ithilwen-lionheart]

Love, lead me on - Legolas x Priestess!Reader/OC - Chapter 1 pt. 1/2

[ Notes: ]

- takes place during The Battle Of The Five Armies

- based on Hey Say JUMP's 'Ai yo boku wo, michibiite yuke'

[ Work Text: ]

A priestess should be one with her surroundings in order to be bound with even the tiniest sounds around her without the use of her senses- from the flutter of a butterfly's wings to the eruption of a volcano.

She is to hear every heart -beating or not- around her as well as the pleads for help and the cries of pain and anguish, tears of those who lost, and those of which who were forsaken. At the chance of being an audience to this, she is to act, for fate had not placed her in the situation she is in for a mere play at destiny's chessboard.

A priestess is there for more than a single reason: to lay gentle hands on the wounded, to aid the disabled, to protect the defenseless, to provide comfort and dreams to the haunted and to save as many souls as she could in behalf of the honor of both herself and the order that she represents by the crest that she wears.

-----

Amidst the roaring flames and clouds of smoke and sight of nothing but destruction, death and chaos, a tiny flicker of hope rises at the hearts of every single villager left alive and running in the floating city of Laketown.

Among them is a priestess, albeit a novice, of the Northern Order.

Dark hair as blue as the night, skin that glistens a milky white under both the sun and moon, and eyes that are the most fanciful shade of lilac. She is a wonder dressed in a dark brown garb over a short white dress and loose pants tucked underneath knee-length boots, darting around the docks hidden under a simple royal blue hood.

As much as she is still a trainee, she sees to it that she could be the best that she could ever be at every moment given and so here she is taking every villager she could into safety and out of the raging flames consuming the entirety of the village.

She is, like Lady Galadriel had said, here for a reason and even though some parts of the 'whyfor's' still isn't anywhere near clear for her at the moment, her heart had already found the most significant reason behind her rushing about just under the gargantuan dragon, Smaug: it was because a piece of her was here.

The piece of her that she so willingly gave to a person who never even asked much less needed it and doesn't even know he had it in the first place: Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, son of Elvenking, Thranduil.

All she had to do was pick up a thing or two about the elves from Mirkwood after miraculously gaining the King's approval through the Elf Lord Elrond, who seemed to have this uncanny fondness of her.

It started with tours around the villages and the castle; then lessons on their language and spells, books and healing; and then it got muddled up with archery and horseback riding because she was studying under Legolas after all and he seemed to develop a fascinating fixation on her Siberian Tiger, Luna- while herself -much to her dismay and disapproval- fell for the prince each day that had passed until she began to ardently wish she could learn shifting sometime soon within that mere month.

But that wasn't the problem, no.

"Celine? Celine!" A hand on her shoulder attempted to shake her back to reality.

This, this was the problem.

Although it took the girl a few moments to register the voice since she was still hearing the screams of a woman who just lost her beloved husband over the memories that smelled vividly of book pages, herbs and had the elf prince written all over it in shades of gold and late afternoon sunlight. She felt something clenching her heart at this and she doesn't know whether she's mourning for the woman's loss or her own.

The girl looks up and sees long ginger hair in braids and bright emerald eyes glistening with concern on the face of the beautiful elf warrior, "Tauriel..." she trails off and turns to look at the thick clouds of smoke that covers the light of the stars.

Tauriel furrows her brows a bit and lets go of the younger girl, "Are you alright?" She asks because there's something in the girl's eyes that goes beyond being a simple Old Soul and a novice priestess.

Celine just nods and shifts her attention to the elf approaching their group. The she-elf notes how the younger girl falters for a moment before schooling her features into that of her usually playful sheepishness around Legolas.

-----

*If I'm allowed to peep into your heart, I only want to make sure of one thing,

I wonder if I exist somewhere in the road leading to you...*

The blond prince approached both of them and it never escaped her how those icy blue eyes simply grazed over her before completely settling on Tauriel.

"Is everything alright, Tauriel?" He asked, his voice gentle and worried as he sheathed his sword and placed it back on its slot in his belt.

And it was just like as if it's just the two of them standing there on burnt planks over the debris-littered water. As if the captain of the guard didn't just leave him alone to chase after Azog during the preliminary ambush of the orcs back when Laketown still wasn't crumbling down in dragon flames, as she tended to the dwarf, Kili.

Tauriel nods, giving the girl beside her a glance that wasn't discreet enough for Legolas not to notice.

'But then again, it's not as if Legolas never noticed anything Tauriel does...' Celine ponders while trying her best not to sound bitter inside her own thoughts as she places that maybe she knows exactly why her chest feels all tight.

Then those piercing eyes were now on hers. He swipes an arrow from his back and aims at something behind her, then shoots.

It hits an orc straight in the face.

"You should know better than to space out at times like these, Celine." His tone was reprimanding but nevertheless, the concern was still in there.

And she adds it up to the reasons why she's still helplessly clinging to this hopeless attachment.

She settles on with a sigh, since mulling about it at present would just mess up with her performance.

Tossing the idea aside, she allowed her senses to fire up and quickly took a dagger from her waist to fling it on the beast that stood a few feet just behind the unsuspecting prince. Finding a remotely stable pole behind them, she ran for it and used it to propel herself forward to kick the thing square on the face for good measure- her body barely missing the prince's face and shoulder as she gracefully spun horizontally through the junction.

Hitting her mark, she then landed on both feet and made a dramatic flourish and a bow after seeing that she had both elve's attention: Tauriel had her face fixed with awe and a sense of profound pride and Legolas simply gawked, albeit effectively unapparent to those who haven't memorized his set of facial reactions.

Which sums up to everyone else who isn't Celine, "Same goes to you, Prince Legolas." She snickers and stood straight, the cape of her hood swishing behind her.

Legolas smirked, "I would not get too brazen now, dear priestess." And she pretends her heart didn't melt at the reply or the title, when he walked towards her and swung his sword at yet another orc behind her.

As much as they're both always at each other's throats and tempers, when it comes to times like these- when they're in the battlefield, running through blood and gore, it's almost as if a bonus instinct that they'd watch each other's back. Even if it's often Celine doing the job while Legolas is busy looking after his love, Tauriel.

Its not as if the novice priestess minds it anyways, she could do this forever so long as she could see his precious smiles safe and sound even if it's for someone else. 'Better see it than not at all, right?' She would all too often think during the times she'd begin to doubt the acceptability of the extents she'd be willing to take for the admiration she feels for the prince.

"If you could please bow, my dear prince?" She suddenly requests and it was so much of an overused 'there's some filth behind you that I am going to hit so please duck' that Legolas immediately complied with an equally mischievous smile as hers, knowing what it means by habit.

Celine swung her left arm back and with it brought water forth and turned them into icicles that she used to successfully impale the beast with, being extremely cautious so as to avoid hitting the exact person she was protecting.

By the moment Legolas had straightened back up to his full height, he shot him one of his grateful little smiles that -she grew to know- meant nothing more than appreciation, before his whole attention was back on some debris that nearly fell over Tauriel had he not pushed her away in time and would've hit both elves had Celine not whistled for Luna to tackle them both to the side.

Commanding the water to douse the flames threatening to begin spreading from their area, she throws them another one of her cheeky grins and places a hand just above her heart,

"At your service, my dearest Prince Legolas and Lady Tauriel."

The Great Tiger then gracefully strides back to her owner at her beckoning and affectionately rubs her huge furry head against the young novice's entire side, "you did great, Luna! Huh? What is it?" Celine's train of giggles was cut off by her familiar's observatory report. Her entire mien changing from the carefree one not too long ago to a deathly serious expression, "Bard? That's foolish! He wouldn't be able to take down Smaug using ordinary arrows. What? His son? Where is he? Oh dear goddess... Okay, take me there." The novice then swiftly climbs up as Luna crouched for her master to settle in.

Noticing the confused although hardened expressions on her companion's faces, she tried to smile even though it came out as a grimace, "If you could please fetch Bard's children from their home? The boy's not there, I'm going to find him." Celine offers as a cue that they should get back to their posts and save as many lives as they could.

And that was precisely when Tauriel made that face that spoke volumes of her concern through her features.

The younger girl could feel her heart break a little for Legolas but she still spoke nevertheless- the bit of information is necessary for all of them to function and know what they're doing and the people that concern them after all, "And yes, Tauriel, the dwarves are with them. Luna also notes that Kili had successfully recovered." The young priestess informs the she-elf who flushed in an embarrassed yet comfortable surprise, while Legolas rose a scrutizing brow with his eyes now fixed on hers.

This, of course, caused the priestess to reach behind and scratch her neck diffidently, a guilty upwards turn on her lips as she spoke, "And I may or may not have mixed in some very specific ingredients to hasten the healing process..." she then averts her gaze to the side and away from electrifying blues, fearing that her resolution to remain neutral would waver at the intensity of those eyes.

Before she knew it there was a hand that rested on her leg that wasn't Legolas' and Tauriel was looking up at her with great relief and gratitude, "Thank you." And those mere words and the thankful squeeze should not have given anything away aside from a profound sense of alleviation but there was a reason why novice's are sent to see the world before they could be considered priestesses.

It is to learn about every being in Middle-Earth, regardless of race and seeing nothing but the hearts underneath chests of either skin or fur, paying careful attention to the underlying emotions behind every breath, batter of eyelashes and those that swirl just around a creature's eyes before disappearing entirely and turning into something else.

And in those emerald green gems she saw love. A yearning so desperate yet aimless and confused just barely concealing the heart's desires with a thin sheen that's nearly transparent. Tauriel had fallen for the dwarf and she knew it ever since that night in Mirkwood's dungeons even though the she-elf was not consciously aware of it.

It was so apparent that it even began to concern Thranduil and Celine was there but she'll never say the words she had heard when the King had confronted his army's captain because it was a secret she'd be willing to bury with her heart once it finally dies from all the blows it had endured for and from the obliviousness of the prince.

"Legolas had grown very found of you."

"I assure you, he only looks at me as a captain and a guard. Nothing more."

"Perhaps once. But not anymore."

"Surely you would not let your son pledge himself to a lowly Silvan elf."

"Yes. You are right. But he cares about you. Do not give him hope where there is none."

"Shall we head off, Tauriel?" Lilac eyes were fixed on the blonde prince as he clasped a wary hand on Tauriel's shoulder, and she knows just how much he tries to push the inevitable aside.

Because she's doing the exact same thing.

Not trusting herself enough to meet his equally broken soul hidden underneath those pale blue eyes, Celine was quick to turn to the opposite direction heading to Bard's house without once turning back at the elves behind her.

"Appears not... we're on completely different roads and I exist nowhere in yours." A lone tear made its way down one flushed cheek and a brown gloved hand quickly went up to furiously rub it off. She then dons up a smile because it wouldn't help the villagers she'll come across if they'll see her like this, and pats the side of her lifetime companion, "Let's get going. Shall we, Luna?"

-----

*Within the fleeting dream, I wish this unexploited love to end,

Yet, I open my eyes to this red and flickering flame of love...*

Casualty had and will always be a given whenever dragons and war are involved.

No matter what a single or even a group of persons and races do, it could never be avoided and there would still be those who they failed to reach in time and those they never even knew of.

That would most likely explain the burnt and mangled bodies that were strewn across the shore from where they evacuated everyone else.

It was already in the middle of the night and everyone else was long asleep. Celine doesn't know why but out of all the people who had lost someone that's close to their hearts, she was the one who took everything the hardest. Sleep just couldn't find her and so she volunteered to keep the fires burning to keep the villagers from freezing since winter's already upon them.

Smaug's dead, Bard had successfully slain it and was reunited with his family, he was even given the title 'Dragon Slayer'; and the dwarves of Erebor, lead by Thorin Oakenshield, finally reclaimed their homeland.

Of course Kili left with them but it never stopped the dwarf from entertaining the frivolous idea of taking Tauriel with him and that split second of consideration in the she-elf's eyes didn't manage to get pass Celine's keen observation. The priestess then wondered that perhaps Legolas noticed it too because he quickly intervened and told his captain to take her leave of the dwarf who then in turn left a stone with engravings on it as a promise that he'll come back for her.

And that was when she saw the resolution on the prince's eyes deteriorate and through a chink, she was able to see the hurt and despairing vie as his entire figure slumped ever so slightly.

The bluenette visibly sighs now, white puffs of air slipping pass her open mouth. Everything just gets too ridiculously cold whenever Death walks by, and the fact that he leaves trails of emptiness and a path of irremediable loneliness only makes it worse.

A priestess, even those who are novices, could feel the presence of Death and is not exempted from it's dreadful aftertaste. She is consciously aware of the lives it took and the pleads of the souls who do not wish to depart from their loved ones and it tastes like bile stuck at the back of her throat.

The voices are there, yes. And it drags her down into the state of half-sleep, a void that is a mixture of both her conscious and unconscious thoughts. She succumbs to it, it's not as if her service is needed anytime soon and Legolas and Tauriel left earlier to ride north, so there's not really much left for her to do except to keep close watch of the bonfire.

Laying down, her back rested against patches of grass and dirt and she remained still, took a deep breath, watched the midnight skies clear for once to make way for starlight. It never failed to make her marvel at how surreal and distant the skies feel for mortals, like some unattainable dream forever for them to see but never to touch and everything goes back and all she could see was the elf prince the very instant she had closed her eyes.

It all come crashing down like some vivid recollection of the times she stood beside him. From the way he elegantly draws his arrows, aims with his long arms and shocking depths of intoxicating blue, and then shoots with deadly precision at whatever his target is; to the way he skillfully fights his enemies with practiced ease in using swords and daggers as well as quick wits; how he could be so much of an adept warrior yet a refined prince both at the same time; how he's so warm, so gentle and there's so much knowledge crammed into the little space in his eyes and even though his soul could be ages old, he'll remain eternally youthful and curious and the fact that his heart could be so achingly dedicated to both the wrong causes and the right ones in tragic equality, Celine finds, is the thought that hurts her the most.

Sometimes she couldn't keep herself from wishing that she never had these feelings in the first place. The fact that a critical part of her supposedly undivided attention as an aspiring priestess had been effortlessly snagged by one single person is trouble enough, but coupling it with the actuality that it is unrequited only makes it all the more unbearable for her. It partitions everything she does in two and as much as she doesn't want to shamelessly admit it, if there'll be some innocent human, elf, or dwarf hanging on the edge of a cliff with an incapacitated Legolas on the other and she could only save one of them she'd very much rush to the prince's aid without so much as a second thought.

"Argh," she groans in self-disappointment, "I should get my priorities set straight.. I am such a horrible disgrace to my house." she threw her hands up, still refusing to open her eyes.

"How could you say such a thing about yourself?" And that voice sounded so hauntingly beautiful and familiar that she wished she could just close her eyes forever and hear nothing but the sound of that voice saying her name in the tone it would use to address his beloved.

She tried to keep her eyes closed, feign sleep-talking or at least anything at all to keep her from seeing him as near her as the way his voice sounded because she doubts she'll be able to take this without breaking and like always, she fell a prisoner to his words as he leaned a bit closer and demanded that she appropriately face him whenever they're talking.

Lilac eyes fluttered open and all she could see was his face curtained by his silky long blonde locks on each side and she figures maybe he's the reason why the moon was missing that night.

Like some child in a trance, Celine slowly reaches upward with one hand to gingerly touch a few glistening strands in between her thumb and index fingers just to see if the Legolas crouching down beside her was real.

With the slightest curve on the side of one perfect mouth, the figure vanished into thin air, like silvery whisps of evergreen scented vapor. It didn't even take a second for the girl to realize that it was nothing more but a figure of her yearning that was immense enough for it to take concrete form through the unconscious use of her power.

Standing up with an emotionally spent expression strewn across her face for no one to see, she made her way towards the camp to replenish the fire threatening to die out.

The renewed pang her daydream left fueled the flickering embers in her heart even as it slowly turned into everything synonymous to despair as she stared at the crackling wood before her.

The illusion may have deserted her but the hole it left in her heart had stayed- and the apprentice thinks she'll harbor that for as long as her pitiful existence on earth would be.

-----

*I might not be the one who warms up your cold and numb hands, but

the one who can illuminate my future in this world is only you...*

The real Legolas is with Tauriel under the same stars she's seeing that night. It is relatively cold and Celine wonders if they're some place warm or are they sitting close enough to each other in front of an open fire outside.

It wouldn't matter if it gets cold. There are two of them afterall. Always had been and always will be. Because even though the elleth have some tendencies to go astray, the priestess knows that the prince would blindly follow her through the ends of the world.

And perhaps -Celine hopes- that the captain would at least return the favor by protecting him even if it'll be done out of mere courtesy. It would be hard for the priestess to intervene if they would be this far away from her and some time soon, she'll have to leave their sides and discover the rest of the world-

Alone. To further pursue her desire to be a legitimate priestess of great power to protect and help those who are in need the same way she'd dedicate herself to safeguard those whom she holds dear.

Tear-stained violets continued to stare on at the dancing flames as she curled up into a ball in a fetal sitting position. Allowing herself the luxury of weeping for all the wrong causes she'd be willing to take and the future she could never see without the prince in it.

Even so, she'll thrive for that future if she must, seeing as it is her only purpose for living. And the road she'd take towards that path would always be lit up by the purpose of being able to stand proudly beside the prince someday, even if it means that she'll have to stay as nothing more but a priestess in his service.

-----

*Even though I deliver this "I love you" to you one million times.

In the end, you won't give me a "YES", but

I will deliver this "I love you" to you one more million times again.

Oh love, please show me a way... *

They never went back that day. Or the day after that. Not even when the villagers of Laketown went on their journey towards the ruined city of Dale, not even after they have arrived.

The bluenette girl did her best to be of help to everyone. From tending to the wounded and handing out blankets and food rations to keeping watch at night and maintaining the flames, just to get her mind off of things.

She knows that even Bard himself had grown worried of her dedication to keeping the night watch but he never did directly voice his concern. He just asked her once if she's alright and suggested that he could give the task to someone else that night just so that she could have a well-deserved rest, to which she, of course, courteously declined.

The midnight chills are much better than the warmth of a blanket after all.

These past few days, sleep had been her enemy, everything that came close to it had conjured the same picturesque version of the prince. The one who'd openly smile for her and for her alone, the one she could actually tell her genuine feelings to without the fear of being looked down upon with distaste and being avoided altogether. She couldn't really recount how many times she told this prince how much she adores him and how many times he'd been so close to touch before her consciousness kicks back in and she realizes that everything was just the same tricks her mind was playing on her over and over again.

And so, over and over she fell and swore and spilled the same words to the same figure, hoping that it would at least make him realize how much she truly, desperately means it. Over and over she awakes to see herself in the same position: curled into a ball, tucked beside Luna in front of the blazing fire before her, her cheeks wet; over and over her thoughts would wander to Legolas and she'll say the same words again.

Some nights, she'll ride Luna at full speed and run up at hills to scream, at others she'll curl in with the tiger and just settle with a coveted whisper.

All those times, her words fell on deaf ears. All those nights, her voice shivered and cracked words of admiration and dedication for the prince. Over and over again.

Out of love, out of helpless passion that she knew would never be returned.

And she'll make the same decision because none of it was ever a mistake.

Nothing could be considered a mistake anymore, especially not a word said a million times before and again.

-----

*After giving me a smile with downcast eyes, you suddenly grew up

That was like a sharp knife split my chest apart...*

The desolation of Smaug was merely a part of something bigger. Compared to the bloody war that came next, the flames and corpses of human villagers was nothing compared to the aftermath that The Battle of The Five Armies had left.

Bloody, mangled remains of elves, dwarves, orcs, and humans had littered both the foot of Erebor and the repeatedly destroyed city of Dale along with discarded armors and deteriorated stone walls of once great cities.

No matter how you put it, there's no absolute victory even after the war had been won by the rallied forces of all races combined against the Gundabad orcs and the annihilation of Azog the Defiler and his right-hand, Borg.

Not even Celine -the young apprentice to Lady Galadriel- could feel remotely festive even if she was the key to every bit of success they had with this war.

She had stopped a very much unneeded war between the Sindarin Elves and the army of Thorin's cousin and had fought alongside the dwarves and elves as Durin's kin hid behind the walls of Erebor while the orcs attacked in astounding numbers. Standing firm with her usual garbs and nothing else but her courage and a sword and the skills she had learned from Legolas. Her great tiger, Luna, beside her.

Celine had fought and will fight, for everyone else's life if not for her prince's. That's why and how she manages to live, her own self-preservation completely going down in shambles every moment this unreciprocated charade of hers stretched on and she's not even remotely guilty to throw her life across the line far more times than she had kissed and will kiss the moon goodnight - and she aims to be a priestess of the moon someday.

[ To be continued in Chapter 1 pt. 2/2 ]

[ A/N: ] I wasn't aware of the word count limit here in Tumblr seeing as this is my first time putting one of my fics out here so here's the 1st part of the 1st chapter to an ongoing fanfiction book I'm writing over at Wattpad entitled 'Love lead me on'.

Am gonna try cross-posting some of my fanfics here so as to bring my blog some life so I hope y'all give them some love~!

[honeyyvee]

Shush

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Pairing: Taejin

Summary: Non canon complaint. “Making out with Taehyung in a public restroom is not among Seokjin’s ‘top things to do’ on his bucketlist, but it happens anyway.”

Words: 1.8k 

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. PWP. Cheating.

Notes: I’m going to hell. Taejin has been trying me for MONTHS with all that flirting on stage. This came to me while I was restless trying to sleep. First time writing mxm smut wow, it had to be taejin. 

“Taehyung… ” Jin gasps between kisses.

“Mmn…?” The blonde hums as he continues capturing Seokjin’s lips in long, hungry kisses. His large, impatient hands fumble with untucking Jin's white button up shirt to get a touch of smooth skin.

Difficult to do when there's barely any space between them. Taehyung’s body is caging him against the wall, hips grinding deliciously against his rapidly growing erection. Jin's own hips jerk in response to the stimuli, and Taehyung moans loudly into his mouth. Seokjin has to admit, there's something addictive about Taehyung and how everything's more intense when he's around.

But he's running out of breath, and Taehyung's impatient mouth insists on shoving his tongue down his throat. “Wait… ” Jin mouths against his lips.

The blonde acquiesces and moves on to entertain himself by nibbling at the skin of Jin's jaw. Seokjin stops for a while to catch his breath, and the reality of the compromising situation they're both in, dawns on him with increasing alarm. They are making out inside a public restroom of a burger place, their friends waiting for them on a table just a couple of metres away. Oh, and Jin has girlfriend.

Taehyung makes a move to palm him through the fabric of his jeans. Jin moans at the contact, but shoves the blonde man off of him nonetheless. “Taehyung, stop.”

Taehyung is equally out of air, breathing hard through his nose, but still pouts. “Why? I thought we were having fun…”

Jin's eyebrows shoot up at the blonde's shameless smirk and choice of words. “Fun? In a public restroom? That's really classy of you.”

Taehyung shrugs, smirk still in place.

Jin distances himself from the wall, turning to the faucet and mirror. He sighs and shakes his head at the sight of his disheveled hair, the same strands Taehyung had been running his fingers through until a moment ago. “Forget it Taehyung, I'm not playing along with you this time.”

Tae leans against the wall oh so carefree, hums in fake contemplation tapping at his chin with two spindly fingers. “But you want to.”

Jin opens his mouth to snap something nasty at him in response, but the door opens with a creak and someone enters. It's a child.

Jin swallows the coarse words tickling at the tip of his tongue. “No. No, I don't.”

The child stops midway to the urinals to stare at him with big eyes. His response sounds a little more forceful and loud than he intended to. The kid now probably thinks he's about to square up and beat the living shit out of Taehyung's giggling, stupid face. And he might… god knows he might.

Jin shoots his eyebrows at the kid and he continues about his business, if so with a fearful, vigilant stare. Taehyung does a shit job at holding back his giggles. Jin ignores him anyway and opens the faucet to cool himself down with a splash of cold water.

The blonde walks up to him with a shit-eating grin. Despite the warning look in Seokjin's eyes, he leans into his ear and whispers. “That's not what I felt.”

Seokjin is one second away from karate-chopping him in the face when the little kid stands next to him to wash his hands. He's still watching him with big eyes. Seokjin feels his soul leave his body as Tae bursts into loud laughter. Jin doesn't say anything, just stares down at the kid (in a show of dominance) until he finally goes away.

Taehyung drags him by the wrist into a stall for the handicapped as soon as he's gone. “C'me on, let's hurry before somebody else comes here too.”

Before Seokjin can protest, Taehyung's lips are on his again. His anxious hands have managed to untuck his shirt completely, and are efficiently working on getting rid of the belt circling his small hips. An exasperated groan that sounds a lot like Taehyung's name leaves Seokjin's mouth. As the brunette's fingers reach for the button of his jeans, Jin's hands push him.

His voice comes out in a rasp. “Stop it, I'm with Chunghae, remember?”

Taehyung brow furrows slightly, but he's not one to give up so easily. If anything, he's stubborn. So he pulls Jin flush against his body, takes him by the waist, spreads kisses against the column of his neck. Seokjin is more than halfway to giving in anyway. So he pushes him until he's seated on the toilet, legs spread before him.

Taehyung then murmurs against his skin, voice so low it sounds like a growl. “That's not what you said the other time, remember?”

He cups Seokjin's growing erection through the fabric of his jeans, palming and squeezing, as he licks and bites at all the sensitive spots he knows. He does such a good job at it that Jin is about to throw care out the window and fuck him right there and then.

In a last ditch attempt, Jin brings up Taehyung's lover. “Okay, but what about Jimin?”

The blonde halts for a moment, but feigns ignorance. “What about him?”

Jin huffs. “Don't play the dumbass. I know you're seeing him.”

Taehyung licks his lips, gives him his best innocent look. “He's just a friend.”

Jin sighs, cocks an eyebrow at him. “Bullshit, friends don't shove their tongues down each other's throats. I should know.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at this, tongue in cheek as he smirks. “Mmm, but they do shove their dicks down each other's throats, right?”

“Taehyung… “ Jin warns.

“Just a quickie.” The brunette pecks him. “I'll be fast I promise.”

Jin rolls his eyes but concedes anyway. He’s been painfully hard in his jeans for a while, and can't walk back into the restaurant like that. “Alright Mr. Flash man, get to it then.”

Taehyung beams at him as he crouches to eye level with his crotch. “Yes, master.” He presses a kiss to the bulge of his pants.

Taehyung has Seokjin holding his breath as he unzips his jeans with his teeth. The button of his jeans pops open, and in a single motion the material of his pants is being dragged to his ankles along with his boxers.

Seokjin’s cock springs free, nearly slapping Taehyung in the face. The blonde wastes no time taking it in his hands. Spreading the beads of precum from the very tip to the base with firm, languid strokes of his thumb and index fingers.

Jin grunts in response. “Hurry.”

“Patience, this is art.” Taehyung murmurs, as he gathers enough saliva in his mouth to spit on his hand.

“Oh yeah, this is so glamorous.” Jin snarks.

Taehyung grabs him by the base of his cock and squeezes in retaliation, earning a grunt. He makes a quick work of spreading his spit all over his length to get him nice and slick. With a mischievous look, the blonde sticks out his tongue and dotes Jin’s cock with brief kitten licks all over the head.

Seokjin’s shoulders shiver at the sensation, a hiss leaving his lips. “Don't be a tease.”

Taehyung smirks, opens his mouth and finally takes the hot, girthy member in his mouth. A sigh of relief leaves Seokjin's full lips, followed by the sound of a zipper. Taehyung's free hand fumbles with setting his throbbing erection free. His mouth moans around Jin's cock as he gets a little bit of much needed relief, pumping enthusiastically his rock-hard member.

Both are so lost in their sex crazed desire, they nearly don't catch the sound of the door creaking as it opens. Someone’s inside now. Seokjin throws a half-hearted glare Taehyung's way. A silent warning in his eyes as his brows furrow and his breathing becomes controlled. Keep quiet.

Having sex in a public bathroom is shameful enough, Seokjin doesn't want to add to that the embarrassment of being caught too. He hopes for whoever has entered to just have a quick use of the urinals and go. Luck is not on his side though, whoever unintentionally joined their sick voyeur party has entered one of the stalls. Seokjin's arousal seems to diminish at this, he's not one for voyeurism. If anything it makes him extremely anxious, not aroused.

Taehyung though… the sick fucker is a whole other story. His pace increases, both the pumping of his own member and the sucking of Jin's dick. There's something silently desperate and urgent in the way the veins snaking from his large, delicate hands pop with each twist of his wrist. It pulls Seokjin right back into his own little world, biting on his lip to keep quiet.

It feels like minutes but in reality are probably seconds. Jin is on the verge of spilling and looks like Taehyung too. His tongue brushes in maddening intervals at the sensitive piece of skin just under the head of his cock. One more brush and it'll all be over. He knows it.

In the distance they both hear the sound of a toilet discharging, and Seokjin feels a wave of silent relief. He'll be able to cum in peace.

Taehyung however, has other plans. He doesn't wait for the telltale creak of the door that indicates the stranger is out of hearing range. No. Taehyung’s body shivers and spasms as he releases, hot lines of cum stringing onto the floor with abandon. And moans. So loud, Seokjin’s heart leaps in his chest like it's going to break bone.

The sick thing is, he cums too. It's as if his dick has a mind of its own, when it releases in Taehyung's mouth just when the stranger screams in surprise. Taehyung swallows.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

Yeah, that's the same thing going through Seokjin's mind. The guy leaves immediately and both Taehyung and Jin release the breath they had been holding in. They're both panting slightly, still coming down from their highs when Taehyung bursts into giggles.

“What the fuck was that about?!” Jin hisses.

Taehyung wipes his mouth with his sleeve, shrugs with the biggest grin on his face. ”What?”

Jin fumes. “You moaning like a cheap porno whore just a moment ago. You freaked out the poor guy next to us.”

The gasp that leaves Taehyung’s mouth is shamelessly false. “I did? Sorry, didn't notice. Was busy.” He winks.

Jin squints his eyes and shakes his head. Gets up to clean and rearrange himself. “You're unbelievable.”

“So I've been told.” Taehyung smirks.

“You stay here and clean, I'm not cleaning your shit.” Seokjin points to the mess on the floor.

The blonde shrugs. “Sure, I'll give you a headstart.”

.

.

When Taehyung arrives at the table everyone seems to be having a great time except for Jin. It’s just Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi besides them but Seokjin is silently fuming, pouting, his ears gone completely red. Taehyung briefly wonders if he's mad at him until Hoseok points out at him.

“Hey, Taehyungie. You've got something on your face.”

And the poor, naive soul reaches a hand out to check. “What?”

“Jin.”

Cue everyone in the table (except for Jin) exploiting into laughter.

[thoughts-of-the-unheard]

2018 end of year banquet day and lead up to it

with two posts in a row like about sean and last one mentioning the end of year banquet I reminded myself of the 2018 end of year banquet which is quite possibly the best day of my life so far

its important to note that it was a very rainy summer and I only had one pair of sneakers and one pair of shower shoes

since it was so rainy and its a scout camp not a resort camp kinda thing there were huge puddles everywhere which the kids loved but I had to walk through several large puddles several times a day to get to the nature lodge and remember, I only have sneakers so I ended up getting trench foot (2018s thing, every year has a health thing) and me being me I didn't do anything about it except eventually start limping bc it hurt too much otherwise but my last work project the day before the end of year banquet day was my aunt (lake director at the time) and I carrying the fire stations (essentially 2x4 basket holding a rake, a shovel, and a bucket or two) from campsites to the trails and I got to the last one before I couldn't ignore it anymore so im 5′2″ barely 110lbs and the fire stations were pretty darn heavy so I couldn't limp for fear of breaking my ankle or smth so I walked normally but it hurt so much that when I set it down I cried and it took a bit for me to stop and explain what was happening so my aunt took me to the health officer and he told me what it was and what I had to do and I got to shower in the health lodge (which was amazing bc while the staff showers are clean enough they are nothing compared to the health lodge shower that also had hot and cold handles instead of the preset temp six second buttons that the staff showers and pool house showers have) but I had to keep my feet dry and clean so I had to stay in the dining hall all day the next day to set up for the banquet

banquet day which I did but I was getting a little stir-crazy stuck in dhall all day when camp is my only freedom and im so used to being outside and working there so my brain was a little confused like yo this is camp not school I shouldn't be stuck in one building for half my day so when we needed more lights from hart lodge I literally jumped at the opportunity to leave it was drizzling when I left the dining hall but hart lodge is like five minutes away and there was supposed to be a work crew there that could let me in but I took the road bc its shorter and flatter instead of the trail and the crew mustve taken the trail at the same time bc when I got there, no one was around and like I said I was going a little stir-crazy earlier and felt like I needed to do smth wild so I came to the conclusion to break into hart lodge to get the lights instead of walking five minutes to get someone with the keys to just let me in and no one was around so I was think aloud and the moment I decided to just break in, it started to pour and I mean that seems like a sign to not do it right well I was going to anyway and not too long after I started to try, my boss (the favorite adult) and another co-worker showed up bc they needed smth from hart lodge and they had the keys so they let me in and I returned to dhall soaking wet (in a white t-shirt and my boss told my aunt cause he was a little concerned with my attire as a young girl essentially wearing a see through shirt surrounded by a bunch of teen boys and she came to me about it saying he was concerned and I didn't even realize bc I didn't know what I looked like it hadn't occurred to me but im glad I don't get embarrassed easily) to string the lights and finish everything there and when all work projects were done, we had some free time before the banquet so I told sean, my bsf, that I wanted to break into hart lodge and seans down to do anything so we go to hart lodge to break in but we didn't plan ahead we just had whatever was on us which wasnt much at all (it was staff week so we didn't have to wear class b so I was in a t-shirt and exercise shorts with no pockets so the only thing I had on me was my spider knife clipped to the hem of my shorts) our first thought was to walk up the roof of the basement that conveniently started a few inches from the ground (its on a hill) and try to get into one of the windows from there but that didn't work now admin was going through some things and the interim camp director had done a cleansing of hart lodge which previously was just a big place for whatever needed storing and that cleansing brought out a lot of stuff to sit in front of the lodge until we got the big metal trash box the next day so I grabbed a plastic crate to put on top of a wooded chest I had rolled down earlier to a single floor outset room with a lower roof than the rest of the building that was three floors and it got me like three feet higher but before I could figure out how to actually get on the roof from there, sean made me get down see our relationship is that he’ll make me get down from the crate on top of the chest so I don't hurt myself and then two minutes later place me in a puddle when im getting over trench foot and eventually we gave up trying (though I don't think sean ever really tried to break in bc I fully believe he could with no trouble, I think he just came along bc I was excited about trying) and we sat in the west qm shed which is actually the wood shed and we talked for a while now you might've noticed I said banquet day but I haven't talked about the banquet don't worry, its coming faster than you think as it did for us because as we sat in the shed, we heard the drums for evening colors so evening colors is the daily ceremony where we lower the flags before dinner and colors is in class a and the banquet, a very important and quite formal event, is also in class a and the drums are camp band signifying the start of colors and if u remember, sean and I arent even in class b and we had no idea what time it was bc neither of us had a watch or our phones but colors is starting so we got up and bolted to the staff site to change and class a is supposed to be sneakers or boots with bsa socks, bsa shorts or pants, bsa belt, any scout shirt, and a specific bsa shirt buttoned over that with the shirts tucked in and everything neat (and most camp staff girls do smth nice with their hair) and neither of us had any of that on and the girls cabin is a quarter mile from the rest of camp so I kept a bag in seans shack with my shower stuff and class a and anything else I might need during to day so I don't waste time going back to korman so we speed changed (yes I am a girl, yes sean is a boy, yes we changed in front of each other, no we didn't stripe to do so, no were not dating, no we wont be, were just close friends who were rushed and comfortable enough with each other) (but that's really frowned upon so if bsa asks this was a piece of creative writing) (think for legal reasons, this is a joke) and we sprinted to the wall for colors and halfway there sean said he forgot his belt and turned around to get it, he did not end up on the wall for colors but I went out a stood at the end, next to my director (my boss, favorite adult) who questioned why I was late so its a good thing sean decided not to get on the wall next to me bc the majority of camp staff was already convinced we were fucking even though I was dating someone else who was also at camp (ha ha part of the reason I broke up with him was bc he was  jealous of sean though I only know him bc of sean and he was jealous of some of my other guy friends at camp though male staff outnumbered female staff that year like 6 to 1 so idk what he was expecting but anyway were close friends now so its chill) but we ended up sitting together at the banquet and I don't really remember what we ate but after eating, a co-worker put a Styrofoam bowl full of whipped cream onto my directors head (I feel like I cant call him my boss in this situation bc while he is my boss, his boss and his boss’s boss were also present) now my director was in the middle of a conversation with one of the important camp guests and while covered with whipped cream, he shook the other mans hand and said ‘it was nice talking to you, if youll excuse me...” and bolted after the co-worker who ran out the door now both of these men are like 6 foot 200 lbs and they don't often run so ofc all of staff followed and they tousled for a bit then kinda got over it and when we all walked back in, the spring had torn from the door so sean got up to get screws and a drill and fix it in the meantime, my director retaliated with two cans of whipped cream directly in the co-workers hair see when my director got hit, he easily wiped it off bc he shaves his head weekly but the co-worker has lots of bushy hair that whipped cream likes to stick to and by the time sean finished with the door, his seat was taken as well as all the other seats at our table so we shared a seat as he ate a bowlful of blocks of butter (much to my protests) and we watched the video of the year and the award giving portion of the banquet began now the co-worker who “pied” my director tried again but on the camp commissioner instead who was the sweetest, most adorable person but he failed as my director stepped seemingly out of nowhere and at the last second, slapped the whipped cream bowl into the co-workers face the rest of the banquet continued without interruption which wasnt hard as it ended soon after which brings us to the post-banquet staff swim its supposed to be a surprise to first years but someone usually forgets and they all find out anyway but it goes like this we take everything out of our pockets and some people take off their socks and shoes and all the staff climb up on the wall we stand on for colors (its like four inches at the lowest and four feet at the highest) and I love standing at the highest part because we get called by how many years weve been on staff and you jump off the wall and race across the parade field to the open gates of the pool and jump in, in class a and we all swim around for a bit playing I have your hat which is an imitation game where someone calls out “I have ___’s hat” and tosses it and whoever catches it, imitates that person theyre usually really funny but occasionally someone says smth that doesn't make sense but no ones mean and its really nice then we showered and hung out for a bit before going back to korman to sleep 

the end

ps I was going to write a post after this on the 2019 banquet but now its like 4:30am and that's a good time to go to sleep so I might write about it tmw 

pps I really said “if bsa asks this was a piece of creative writing” talking about changing in front of a friend when I spent 17 lines beforehand on breaking into a bsa building and didn't even think that that might be something that's also frowned upon, perhaps more

[how2to18]

IN SEPTEMBER 2016, author Todd Miller and I had planned an investigative trip to the Middle East trailing a labyrinth of state-corporate border intrigue. As writers focusing on US-Mexico borderlands issues, we had been closely following an emergent, free trade–modeled border-security-industrial complex whose publicly funded research and development leadership was based in Southern Arizona but fused a corporate manufacturing base in Sonora, Mexico, with a prospective Israeli high-tech security company clientele.

Shortly before our trip, we learned of yet another piece to the puzzle: the Obama administration had awarded the arms giant Raytheon half a billion dollars to build a 287-mile electronic barrier-surveillance zone along Jordan’s northern and eastern boundaries with Syria and Iraq, as well as a small triangular border area where Jordan, Israel, and Syria converge.

Given Jordan’s longtime military exchange program in Southern Arizona, along with a Raytheon division also based in the region, we decided to expand our overseas trip to dig into this enigmatic amalgam of state and corporate border projects — spanning both sides of the Jordan River — to see where it leads us.

As it turned out, we spent our time speaking with those who cross borders and tracking down those who build them.

The trip was punctuated, at times, by confrontations with paranoid or obtuse boundary forces. One such incident occurred at the Israeli-controlled Sheikh Hussein border crossing while we were returning, circuitously, from Amman, Jordan, to the city of Ramallah in the Palestinian West Bank, where we were based most of the trip.

We were walking the long distance from the gate to the port building on the sort of dry summer day near the Sea of Galilee where the blistering sunshine overhead saps your energy. Although we could only guess it at the time (September 2016), we were in the middle of then the hottest year on record, in one of the regions hardest hit by a rapidly warming planet. Droughts east of the Jordan River are projected to double by 2100 CE in what is already one of the driest country on earth, where freshwater access reaches below levels of “absolute scarcity” as defined by water scientists. Todd was then researching his newest title, Storming the Wall: Climate Change, Migration, and Homeland Security, which just won him a 2018 Izzy Award for investigative journalism. As we traveled together, I got the chance to view our surroundings through his eyes while researching my own work on a climate sci-fi graphic novel exploring climate change and borders in the year 2100.

Inside the port building, which was typically empty of crossers that day, the cooler temperature gave us some momentary relief before what happened next. Uniformed Israeli border guards had waved Todd through the port, ahead of me, and ushered him outside the building. No sooner was Todd out of sight when one of the soldiers stopped me after searching my backpack, apparently discovering some high-interest items. As I craned my neck to see what objects piqued his concern, he pulled out all the books I carried for the journey: some pamphlet reports from an Israeli-Palestinian research organization, Who Profits, whose staff researchers we interviewed the week prior; Dan Senor and Saul Singer’s Start-Up Nation: The Story of Israel’s Economic Miracle; Jeff Halper’s War Against the People: Israel, the Palestinians and Global Pacification. And a copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. The guard stacked the books neatly in a pile on the static conveyer belt and walked over to his colleagues where they huddled for what seemed an extraordinarily long time, seldom looking my way but otherwise rapt in their conversation.

Todd later said he didn’t know what to do as he waited for me outside. What if they detained me long into the night, as they sometimes do?

But for me, what kept coursing through my mind was the similar tense encounter I had with the Jordanian secret police just days earlier. In between endless interviews and fatiguing day-trips to the Syrian border, Todd and I had taken a sightseeing walk from our hostel to the Roman Theatre, a historical landmark in downtown Amman. I sat writing in my diary on one of the giant stone steps at the base of the amphitheater. Having just finished the line, “I miss my friends,” and listed several names for whom I planned to bring some small trinkets to mark my visit, a shadow fell over my pages and I looked up at a group of three young men in plain-clothes pants and T-shirts, standing over me. They had me cornered, blocking every possible direction I could walk away, and demanded I show them my notebook and what I was writing.

The young men identified themselves as government agents. I didn’t have much cause to believe them until they reported with Jordanian military soldiers nearby who stood guard at the archway entrance. By then I had showed them my notebook pages while clutching deftly onto my knapsack. Not far away I saw Todd near the entryway standing helplessly, wondering what was going on. I shrugged at him quizzically.

Then, just as curt as the men approached me, they said I was free to go. I asked them, in English, why they detained me. They replied they thought I might graffiti the ancient theater stonework, disregarding the fact that my writing utensil of choice was a blue-ink ballpoint pen. Todd greeted me outside. I told him what happened. His reply: “Let’s get out of here. Seriously.” We quickened our step and spent part of the day looking over our shoulders.

Back at the Israeli port of entry now, I remembered Todd’s words from the amphitheater. I wanted to be out of there so that Todd, who was still waiting outside trying to guess when I’d show up, could say those words to me again: “Let’s get out of here.” After a while, the Israeli border guard gave me back my books and, just as tersely as his Jordanian counterparts, sent me on my way.

Todd and I should be used to these experiences, since this sort of thing happens at US-Mexico crossing points as well. But the more it happens to you — enduring nebulous security delays or mind games from laconic border guards — the more it reveals the reliable uncertainty of boundary enforcement. And the quailing, forbidding quality of 21st-century border policing from which seeking refuge is, naturally, one’s sensible next move.

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GABRIEL SCHIVONE: When the Israeli guard pulled me aside at the Sheikh Hussein port of entry and collected my books as if the books were a security threat — for you, how is this crossing point a dynamic location to witness the convergence of borders and climate change in your newest book, Storming the Wall? Plenty of people may not see a connection there.

TODD MILLER: It all comes down to witnessing borders, especially when slammed up against socioeconomic inequality and ecological disasters relating to climate change. In that crossing, we were very close to the Jordan Valley, which is going through increasingly severe droughts. We were also quite close to Syria, which is now almost famously known for its drought that occurred between 2006 and 2010, the worst in 900 years that climate scientists have connected with global warming. According to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre, the “impact and threat of climate-related hazards,” on average, displaced 21.5 million people every year between 2008 and 2015. Most of these climate-displaced people on the move internationally, without authorization, will sooner or later collide with the walls and armed border guards we met everywhere we went on our trip. A scenario of somebody fleeing such a situation to the Sheikh Hussein border crossing, or a border nearby, is not that much of a stretch. If you’re crossing borders, that port of entry is an example of where the global border system is heading. And Israel is the very country that’s leading the charge in terms of “homeland security,” walls, and the border surveillance systems that goes with them.

One of the things you always hear growing up in the United States is that you’re innocent until proven guilty. In a border situation, it almost feels like the opposite. You’re guilty until proven innocent. You have to prove your innocence to the authorities. But for them to target you, in a sense, it doesn’t matter who you are. They could suspect you of being from some sort of armed group or they just don’t like the way you think about things. And that’s clearly what was happening with the books. The fact that they looked through your bag with an X-ray machine and immediately opened it and pulled out the books, is what’s telling. The guards looked at my books, too. But, actually, in my case, I purposefully brought a book — I forgot what it was — but it was a book that wouldn’t raise any suspicion —

It was a tourist book.

Right, a tourist book and I also just had a novel, which I positioned at the top of my bag. The fact that the guards went straight for the books as if they were going straight for a weapon, is quite telling. “My word is my weapon,” as the proverb goes. And the fact that they took out your books, some of which described a worldview that was different from the dominant government narrative, is very important when it comes to this kind of bordered world, where the gap between “innocent” and “guilty” is whether you’re compliant or not compliant; between who’s considered a threat and who’s not considered a threat. And a criterion that’s being used is that you’re singled out and interrogated for books!

It’s also scary, too, because in that kind of situation, you don’t know what’s going to happen. I was waiting for you — probably only for 15 minutes but it seems longer when you’re waiting for your friend who’s not coming out and you’re wondering what happened. A startling thing about borders is that you can disappear into the system for a long time. Like the example just today, as we talk [June 23, 2018], the young French Canadian jogger, Cedella Roman, who accidentally crossed the Canadian border into the United States and was caught and detained by CBP [Customs and Border Protection] for two weeks! Two weeks in CBP custody, just because she jogged across the border and didn’t realize she was in another country.

You mentioned Israel leading the charge in homeland security. Everyone we had talked with over the past two weeks before we stepped foot into the Sheikh Hussein crossing, no matter their ideological position — from human rights workers and activists (both Palestinian and Israeli), to journalists and homeland security industrialists — all confirmed it for us. What does this tell you about how the high-selling “Israeli model” functions in the internationalization of borders that your forthcoming book, Empire of Borders, explores?

For one thing, per capita, Israel has the largest homeland security industry in the world. People in the business world know this, from Israel to Southern Arizona. Like when Bruce Wright, associate vice president of Tech Parks Arizona and their “Israeli Business Initiative,” told us that they look to Israel as an exemplar for their business model. Whereas Wright and his colleagues identified the largest “cluster” of border security companies in North America grouped here in Southern Arizona, he said, Israel has the largest security cluster in the world.

Every single piece of the technology deployed in the Palestinian West Bank or Gaza, or any sort of border situation under Israeli control, is simultaneously being showcased to the world. Just a few days ago, the DHS [Department of Homeland Security] secretary, Kirstjen Nielsen, toured the Israeli-Egyptian border, checking out the “smart walls” Israel has built there. They’re selling their products worldwide. They’re bringing the products that are used on Palestinians, in most cases, or to guard the border against Sudanese refugees and others in the region escaping ecological, economic, and political crises — what sociologist Christian Parenti calls the “catastrophic convergence” in the 21st century. And when the exclusion works — often violently — then it’s sold. It’s a high-selling point to the world, like you said. That’s exactly what’s happening.

Israel’s also not the only one building up its borders. With so many people on the move from Middle East and Africa, European Union countries have dug in their heels, creating enforcement budgets 50 times what they were in 2005.

A high-ranking Jordanian official, during an interview, told us the reason why Israel’s border is so strong is not only for US funding but Jordanian collaboration — which he said in a didactic tone suggesting that Jordan doesn’t get enough credit. How does Israeli-Jordanian border collaboration, and the United States being everywhere in the region, inform your concept of Empire of Borders?

I almost don’t even differentiate. Obviously, to some degree, there’s differentiation with Israel having the biggest per capita border industry, and the United States being everywhere. But the Jordanian border they’re erecting along Syria is practically impassable. From all the reports, they’re shooting at everything that moves that’s crossing the border, as the Jordanian official, who knew the boundary policies intimately, told us himself.

You mean the “great wall of Jordan” border zone being built by the Raytheon Company, which drew us into Jordan to follow that lead in the first place.

Right, it’s Raytheon, a US company, that’s building it. In one way you can differentiate it through different countries. In another way, you almost have to think of the world not divided by countries but divided into a transnational corporate nexus of elites within countries over which the United States and Israel play a huge part, versus the rest of us who aren’t supposed to play any part.

Is that what you mean by a border “empire” referring to the title of your forthcoming book? Are you talking about US empire or are you talking about this global nexus where, at some point, you don’t even differentiate?

I think we’re really talking about both now. When you talk about US empire, you think of a traditional territorial empire. The empire nation takes over and occupies other countries, utilizes their resources.

But in another way, we really have to challenge the concept of “empire” in the 21st century, which is something I learned while writing this next book. You have to ask: is it like a traditional territorial empire anymore? When you think of US international border cooperation worldwide, it’s not only proxies following orders. It’s also elite governments cooperating with other elite governments. They’re sharing intelligence and creating cross-border zones that are mostly going after the poor or whoever’s organizing from below. It’s not just a US phenomenon. In 1988, when the Berlin Wall fell, there were 15 border walls in the world. Now, according to border scholar Elisabeth Vallet, there’re 70. It’s both territory enforcement and cooperation within the state-corporate nexus.

In 21st-century “empire” terms, the nation-state has been reduced to a security role. Under neoliberalism everything else in the nation-state, all the basic services, has been cut. But at the same time, the security apparatus of the nation-state has been bolstered and built up. So, pretty much now the nation-state serves this transnational corporate class wherein corporations can cross borders freely but people can’t. If I have a mining company I can go set up shop in Mexico without any problem. I’m embraced by the system. But if I’m a person in that community who’s displaced because my children and I start drinking cyanide from the mining company’s processing chemicals, which has happened many times in the Global South, and then I cross into the United States — then I’m a criminal. That’s how the system is set up.

You’ve attended border security conferences all over the world, some we’ve attended together, such as a drone conference on our trip. But what was so unusual about the activist “shadow conference” that took place alongside a security conference that you attended in Tel Aviv some months later?

The shadow conference I attended in Tel Aviv was organized to protest the ISDEF conference [International Defense and Security Expo], Israel’s largest military and homeland security conference. The shadow conference happened in the same area and the organizers rallied a protest of ISDEF.

Normally these conferences just proceed without any contestation. There’s very little pushback on what’s going on. When lots of private sector gather in places like that, they’re there to sell their products. They’re not used to anything but enthusiasm for what they’re doing.

But this time, the ISDEF conference vendors, panelists, and attendees were getting questioned about — what I would argue as — the key questions of our age that we need to be asking.

Like what?

Like what sort of impacts an increasingly militarized world is having on people and on planet Earth, the sorts of violence it brings, and who’s profiting from it.

At the ISDEF shadow conference, I was thinking of the sort of energy and resources, money and profit-making that’s going to borders and militaries and making sure that the status quo, including the fossil fuel industry, remains as profitable as ever.

Yet there are so many other ways to spend that money to create a better world. The prevailing state-corporate wisdom is: Let’s put a wall here, let’s put a surveillance tower there. Instead, we should be asking: why aren’t we putting more energy into mitigating the impacts of climate change and adapting to it? Because climate change is the biggest threat that humankind is facing.

There are so many relatively inexpensive biological preservation and restoration projects that, if they saw even a fraction of the same funding as border enforcement budgets, could do wonders for the world. Not far from here, just east of Agua Prieta in the Mexican state of Sonora, the Cuenca Los Ojos organization has a water-harvesting project that uses gabions, steel cages filled with rocks, placed along the banks and beds of a nearby wash. The use of the gabions is an ancient technique to slow down the rushing rainwaters during the summer monsoon season; they act as sponges on the soil to replenish the diverse plant life, the flowing ponds and creeks, and the animal life in the shared ecosystems of the US-Mexico borderlands.

And it’s worked marvelously. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes. In this parched area, amid a 15-year drought, the water table had risen 30 feet! To me, it was a miracle. It showed me that another “border wall” is possible, one that restores life instead of excludes it. We need more of these kinds of hopeful, practical examples of sustainability in an era where human survival is at stake.

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The above was edited from an interview conducted in Tucson, Arizona, on Saturday, June 23, 2018.

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Gabriel Schivone is the author of Making the New “Illegal”: How Decades of US Involvement in Central America Triggered the Modern Wave of Immigration(Prometheus Books, forthcoming). He is currently a visiting scholar at the University of Arizona and has been commissioned to produce his climate sci-fi graphic novel, Into the Sun.

The post The Border-Security-Industrial Complex: A Conversation with Todd Miller appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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