#the mega universe authority

[diegosouzalions]

Green Tahitian Pearl, Moon and Sun Pearls fusion

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Summary: In life, we will be confronted with difficult choices. Sometimes you won't know you've made the wrong choice until it's too late

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 12,900 words

Warnings: Dead dove: do not eat, Angst, graphic violence and torture, mentions of predatory behavior towards a minor, Phillip Graves is a major creep, lots blood and injuries, kidnapping and its aftermath, hostage situations, anxiety and panic attacks, language, very explicitly described torture, ‘mega gets hit a lot, choking, biting, ‘mega gets stabbed with an ice pick, author can’t write COD missions, vomiting, lots of heavy emotions, detailed descriptions of pain, guns, background character dies on screen, descriptions of guilt and grief, lots of POV changes, some descriptive language of gore and blood at the end, rehashing of ‘mega’s injuries from the last chapter, a lot of angst and very heavy content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe

A/N: This chapter deals with some pretty heavy content. Please, please, please read and heed the warnings. I have included content warnings for the more graphic parts before they happen, so if you don't want to read those, you can skip ahead to the next part. I suggest taking breaks if you need to, read it in installments if necessary. And I cannot stress it enough, please heed the warnings.

11/30/24 **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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“Hi darlin’.” His grin widens like he’s happy to see you. “Been a long time.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, your brain still sluggish. You feel sick as you try to process, try to figure out why and how. You try to move your arms again, but your wrists are stuck, hands burning as you pull. You desperately want them free, desperately need them free. 

“Easy,” Phil says, putting his hands on yours, pushing them flat against the arms of the chair. They’re warm and calloused, the same hand that had been on your face a few moments ago. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. More than you already have been.” He lifts your left leg, making you groan quietly as a deep ache throbs down to your foot and up to your hip. 

Running. A gunshot. Pain.

“He had strict orders not to harm you.” Phil says, adjusting the bandage wrapped around your calf. “Don’t worry. We got you all fixed up.” He sets your leg back down gingerly, his touch lingering for a moment before he looks back up at you. 

“Why?” You croak out, trying to make sense of what happened. 

Corporal McKinney broke into the barracks and chased you into the woods. He shot you and drugged you and now you’re here, restrained in a chair staring at a man you haven’t seen for years. A man who was once your dad’s best friend. 

“A lot has happened since we saw each other last.” He says, pushing himself to stand. “I left the Marines after a few years, formed my own group of military contractors. Invited your dad to join, but you know how he is. All honor and duty and serving the country. Of course, you haven’t seen him in quite a while, have you?” 

You stare up at him, starting to get scared. You never liked Phil. There was always something about him that put you off. He always stared too long, always sat too close to you. He always greeted you with a hug that lasted too long, squeezing you too tightly against him. He was sweet on you in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. He could be intense, brash and almost downright rude sometimes. He was a firm believer in traditional packs too, even if he never spoke about his own pack, his own omega. He had to have one, if he was as dedicated as he said. 

He was far too much like your father. 

Phil was always kinder to you, though. Softer. Not quite as callous and bellicose as your father in public. He was polite, always happy to lend a hand, always glad to roughhouse with your brothers to get their energy out. You saw the way your mother looked at him though. Perhaps her apprehension bled into you, those dormant omega instincts picking up on something she was projecting. 

He made you uncomfortable, and she knew it. 

What could an omega do, though, in a world where they don’t have opinions, they can’t argue, they can’t disagree. Your mother never said anything because in the world your family existed in, the world Phil existed in, she couldn’t. 

“He was so angry when he called.” Phil continues, staring down at you. “Ranting and raving about how his oldest daughter betrayed him by presenting as an omega. He couldn’t stand having such a useless child in his perfect pack.” You flinch at his words, even though you heard your father spew those very words after your presentation firsthand. 

“He called you?” You ask, the pieces starting to come together as your brain finally snaps fully into awareness. You knew he called someone, but you hadn’t thought it would ever be Phil. 

“Of course.” Phil chuckles. “We were good friends, pals, buddies. He knew I could help him.” A shiver runs down your spine. You know what he’s going to say next. “So I did. I have some contacts in some high places, people who owe me favors. So I made some calls, pulled some strings, got you into FIOT immediately, with some strings attached of course.” He leans down so you’re almost face to face. “I wanted you. They put a note in your file. You wouldn’t be placed in the registry when you were old enough, you would go to me and my pack.” 

Bile churns in your stomach as you process his words. It all makes sense now. The stares, the hugs, the closeness with your father, your rapid enrollment in an institute that can take weeks to process applications. It was all so you could be his. Something he’s wanted from early on. 

“You would have been mine,” He pushes himself up straight again, starting to pace back and forth in front of you. “If the fucking CIA hadn’t gotten involved!” You flinch as his voice raises, the frustration starting to darken his scent. “They froze your file, made the claim null and void. All for what, their little initiative that never really existed in the first place?” He huffs out a laugh, a smirk tilting his lips. “Small world, though. Who knew we’d be seeing each other again after so long.” 

He steps closer, looking down at you. You hold his gaze, suddenly feeling afraid. Even though you know him, even though you spent a good part of your childhood around him, you’re afraid of him right now. Your mind starts to revert back, the urge to lower your eyes, break eye contact like you’re supposed to flashing through your mind. 

Don’t stare alphas in the eyes. They’ll take that as a challenge. It’s not your job to challenge them. Your job is to be subservient. 

You would have been subservient to him if the CIA hadn’t gotten involved. You would have been under his control, bowing to him and his will. You’d have pups by now, at least one. He’d always talked about having a big pack with lots of pups someday, always glancing at you when he said it. 

You’re going to vomit all over him. 

It’s not just the truth that scares you, though. You’re being held captive here. That thought has registered in your mind now, the reality settling in as you get over the shock of the last few minutes. Corporal McKinney kidnapped you from base, and now you’re restrained in a chair surrounded by unknown alphas. Phil isn’t going to help you, take pity on you. He’s not here to be nice, to have a little chat and catch up on life.

That possibly ended as soon as he was denied what he wanted. 

His hand cups your chin, holding your face up as he looks down at you. His thumb is rough as it strokes your jaw, a tickling feeling starting in the back of your mind again. There’s an almost bittersweet look in his eyes as he holds your gaze. You refuse to lower it, refuse to give him that satisfaction. “You’ve grown up a lot.” He says, his hand sliding down your neck to the collar of your shirt. “You always were cute, though. I knew early on you were going to be an omega. You were far too...calm and compliant compared to your brothers. Always so polite and eager to please. You can tell if you pay attention, you know. Those dormant instincts start to show themselves long before presentation.” 

His hand pulls your collar to the side, revealing your mark. His eyes harden as he stares at it, his lips turning down into a frown. A shiver runs down your spine as the darkness in his scent intensifies. He’s not holding you hostage just to tell you about what could have been, what direction your life might have taken. He’s here for a reason, and you know your pack is involved. Something has happened, something behind the scenes, something John was looking into. 

“What’s going on?” You ask as he releases your collar, taking a step back. 

“Well, you’re being held hostage.” He says, like it isn’t already obvious. “You’re...shall we say...leverage to ensure your pack follows orders.” 

You blink at him. You haven’t heard from or spoken to your pack in weeks. You should be relieved that they’re apparently still alive, but what if you had been right and they don’t want you anymore? Why would they take you if your pack has abandoned you? Or did they take you to ensure they wouldn’t...

“Laswell stuck her nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been.” Phil says, crossing his arms. “It’s only so long before your pack finds out. Let’s just say...they’re not going to be happy about it. So, to ensure they don’t do something impulsive and reckless as they are known to do, you’re going to play hostage.” 

You gulp as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling very afraid. Your scent spikes in the air, clouding it with the bitter scent of anxiety. It was the plan all along. You knew it even if you hadn’t been told outright. Deep down you’ve always known it wasn’t about strengthening packs. It wasn’t about studying how an omega would increase or decrease the efficiency of military packs. With the events of the last few months, the idea had started to form in your mind. You know you weren’t alone in those thoughts. John and Simon were digging into the cameras for a reason. They were put up for a reason. 

It was always about control.

That was the point of the initiative. That was why they put cameras up, that was why General Shepherd was so invested in the state of your pack and if you had been mated. He needed to ensure you were close enough to them so if something happened that wasn’t supposed to, you could be used against them. 

You’re nothing more than leverage. 

Your scent spikes in the air, clouding the room as reality sinks into you. Something happened that caused this. Something called your pack away to isolate you, to leave you vulnerable. They wanted you alone as a contingency. 

Something did happen. 

Now you’re here, being held captive by a man you used to know, a man who could have been your alpha had things not played out the way they did. The thought has your stomach churning. How far will they go? How far will Phil take things? Could he be merciful because of your history? Or will his ruined plan make him more ruthless? 

You’ll be punished for something you can’t control. 

Phil makes a soft sound as he looks at you, shaking with fear in the chair. “Don’t be scared. As long as your pack does as they’re told, I won’t have to hurt you.” He turns the light back to face you, nearly blinding you. “Now, smile for the camera.” 

They’re safe. 

It had been close. A rough position to be in, but they managed it. He never doubted them and their abilities, but four against nearly fifty with no backup were not good odds. He’s been in tighter places before, and while he had his doubts, he is grateful Johnny and Simon were sent in when they were. Even if it was a bit suspicious.

“All accounted for.” John says as he sinks down onto one of the jump seats next to Kyle. 

They’re all battered and bruised from their final fight. He’s ready to get home, ready to get back to you. From the sound of it, things were not going well, according to Johnny and Simon. He has a lot to make up for, a lot of apologies to make. 

“Fucking Russian PMCs.” He says, speaking to Kate over the comms. “It’s not a coincidence Kate.” 

Kate lets out a sigh that crackles through the comm. “No, it’s not. My team and I came across some information while we were digging into the cameras.” 

“What information?” He asks slowly and carefully. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it comes to his pack. Especially when it comes to you. 

“Not just information on the initiative, but information on General Shepherd.” 

“What information?” He asks again, slower this time as Johnny and Simon move in closer. 

“Shepherd was the one that sold those weapons to AQ and the Russians.” 

John looks at the other three members of his team. He knew something was wrong, something was off about the way Shepherd had acted while informing them about this mission. “He wanted those missiles found and destroyed so he could cover his own ass.” He says, his stomach starting to twist. He doesn’t like the way this is going. 

“But we found out the truth before you could find all the missiles.” Kate continues. “He sent you on a wild goose chase to give himself a chance to escape.” 

John’s hand tightens into a fist. “Where is he now?” 

“He’s gone dark. Totally off radar.” 

John pushes himself up to stand, the adrenaline pumping again. “I’m going to find that bastard-” 

“John.” Kate says, cutting him off. “There’s something else.” 

The twisting in his stomach intensifies. There’s a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to entertain the dark thoughts that are brewing. “What?” 

“They took your omega.” 

His stomach clenches, his breath catching in his lungs. The other three shift on their feet, all of them stepping closer. The scent in the plane thickens, anger and confusion mixing into a toxic cocktail. He hopes he heard that wrong, that there was some kind of interference in the connection and his brain made up the words he missed. “Repeat that.” 

“They took your omega.” Kate says again.

He lets out a long breath, his muscles tensing. He’s had a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind for the last few days. Something was wrong, something was off. He should have known it was all a ruse. Why would AQ and the Russians store a missile in any of the places they had been sent to in the last week? It hadn’t made sense, and he had wanted to voice his doubts, but the consequences of a missile being launched because they decided not to look in one place was greater than his own perceived doubts. 

They had been right though. 

Of course it had all been a plan. Of course there had been something fishy about it. He’s hardly ever wrong. He’s been praised on his instincts on the field and off. He should have known. Pulling Simon and Johnny when they did should have been enough evidence, even if they had been needed in the end. 

“You’re positive?” He knows she is. There’s no mistaking something like that, there’s no doubting it. 

“There’s a video.” Kate says, John’s stomach dropping. “I’m sending it to you now.” 

John pulls out his phone, his fingers white as he holds it up. He’s angry, beyond angry. If they’ve laid a hand on you...if you’ve been hurt because of his own failings, his own inability to see the truth...

He clicks on the video when it comes in, a familiar face popping up on screen. “Hi boys. Been a while.” 

“Fucking Graves.” Johnny growls, his hands closing into fists in anger. 

“I have a little something of yours I think you might be interested in.” He turns the camera around, your face popping up on screen. You’re restrained in a chair, wrists red from the zip ties, but there’s a glare on your face, looking as mean and threatening as you can. There’s a bruise on your cheek and what looks like a healing cut on your lip. Someone hit you. 

“Smile for the camera.” Graves says, a bit too cheerfully. 

You don’t smile, your glare sharpening as the camera gets closer to your face. There’s still fight left in you. Whatever has happened hasn’t been too bad. Yet. 

“Let’s make this simple.” Graves says. “You stay away from Shepherd, and I won’t have to hurt this pretty little face. She is pretty, isn’t she?” 

You shift in the chair, your leg lifting before you kick outward. 

“Ow, you little bitch.” The camera jostles for a moment before it’s straightened back up, a hand shooting out to wrap around your throat. There’s no sign of any struggle, the glare still prominent on your face. “Feisty thing. Gotta keep up with those wild boys somehow.” 

The hand tilts your face just slightly, showing the mark on your neck. It is you, not that John doubted that from the beginning. It may have been almost two months, but he wouldn’t forget your face that easily. 

“Like I said,” Graves continues. “Follow your orders and she’ll be released unharmed.” 

The screen goes dark and John resists the urge to throw his phone. He shoves it back into his pocket, turning towards the wall of the plane. He throws his fist against the metal as hard as he can. It hurts, but he can barely feel it over the rage burning hot in him. 

“Fucking Shepherd!” He shouts, rearing back to throw his hand against the wall again.

Graves has his omega. Graves has his omega and now you’re being used as leverage. They’re all being played like puppets. 

A hand catches his fist before he can punch the wall again, easing him back. “Easy.” Kyle says, trying to soothe him as best he can. “We have proof of life, we know that she’s alright for now.” 

“For now.” He growls, looking around at the members of his team. “But for how long?” 

“They knew we’d go after Shepherd as soon as we learned the truth.” Simon says. “This has been in the plans for a long time.”

“They’re trying to get us to make a choice. Focus on getting our omega back while letting Shepherd escape, or go after Shepherd and let our omega be tortured.” Kyle says. 

“Those fuckin’ wankstains.” Johnny says, shifting on his feet. He’s angry, the bitter scent filling the enclosed area of the plane. They’re all angry, angry at those responsible, and angry at themselves for falling for it. “They were usin’ us the whole time.” 

John lets out a long breath. He needs a clear head going forward. He needs to be able to beat them at their own game and cause the least amount of damage to you as possible. As much as going after Shepherd first is tempting, cut the head off the snake and end things before they get too far, he knows that won’t stop Graves. He’ll continue even after Shepherd is dead. 

There might even be a second contingency. They kill Shepherd, you die too. 

“John, we can’t leave her.” Kyle says, still holding his hand. His fingers are wrapped tight around his wrist, trying to ground him as best as he can in this tumultuous moment. 

“The longer we wait, the worse things will get.” Simon says. “We go after Shepherd, we may never see her again.” 

There won’t be anything to come back to. 

He stares at his pack, all standing there, staring at him, waiting for him to make his decision. He’s their Captain, he’s their alpha. It is his decision in the end. He’s the one that they will follow, even if he makes the wrong decision. Even if he tears them apart in the end. 

“Where is she?” John growls, into his comms. 

“We’re working on decrypting the video now.” Kate replies.

“I need a location, Kate.” John says impatiently, heading towards the cockpit. For all he knows those flying the plane are in on it too. 

 “We’re doing the best we can with what we’ve got. You’ll be the first to know as soon as we find something.” Kate tried to placate him. 

“I better be.” He growls. 

Kate lets out a sigh as the comms close off. It’s not a captain she’s speaking to anymore, it’s an angry alpha. His pack, his omega is being threatened and now they all have to face the ramifications of it. She’s just as much a cog in this machine. She fell for this, she brought you into this, and now you might get hurt because of it. How she didn’t see the reality has shame burning through her. They were all blind, all led astray, all fooled by the red herring. 

There was never an initiative. It was never about strengthening packs. It was always about control. They wanted a way to control packs. Shepherd knew if the secret ever came out, there would be no stopping the consequences. Legal or illegal, retribution would come for him if the truth was revealed. 

This was his way of stopping it. 

That's why the 141 were the guinea pigs. 

They are the most dangerous threat to Shepherd, and he handed them a way to control them under the guise of strengthening packs, experimenting on how their dynamics and efficiency would shift with an omega added in. Even worse, they all fell for it. 

Time is of the essence now. Graves won’t stop, even as word reaches Shepherd that they’re easing off of him. Her only hope is that Graves won’t kill you. That will give them nothing to live for, and it will make them more ruthless than they already are. They’ll go after Graves, and then they’ll turn their eyes to Shepherd. 

No matter what you’ll always be a way to control them. 

If she can find Graves, she can send out a team to get eyes on his location. That way, they’ll have a direction she can point them in, and they won’t be going in blindly. This is a delicate situation, and she can’t trust Graves to uphold his end of the deal in this. They’re not going after Shepherd, but will that stop Graves from hurting you just because he can? 

There’s more to this than they’re letting on. She knows it, deep down. There’s something else, something even deeper below the surface. 

She’s got a lot of work to do. 

They’re going to need help. 

Christine can’t sit still anymore. She can't take it. It’s been almost eighteen hours since your disappearance and there’s been nothing. No word, no news. She knows you’re alive. Kate had confirmed that, but that hasn’t eased the burning questions eating away at her mind. What is your current state? Who took you and why? Where is your pack and are they even aware of what’s happening? 

She’s been sitting and twirling her thumbs. She can’t bring herself to do any paperwork, any research. What is there to do besides sit and worry? She doesn’t have a patient to take care of because she lost the one she was supposed to watch. 

She huffs out a breath, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Kate. If Kate won’t call, she’ll call herself. Kate’s probably busy though, so Christine can’t blame her too much for not calling. She’s probably so far from the front of Kate’s mind right now. 

The phone rings twice before Kate answers, sounding tired and disheveled, just as much as Christine feels. 

“Laswell.”

“Kate, I need to be there.” She doesn't hold back, doesn’t try to make small talk. There’s no time for it. She knows how Kate is doing, and it’s not great. 

“Christine, I don’t know if I can take that risk.” She says. 

“I need to be there. I can't take sitting around here anymore. When...” When not if. They will find you. She knows it. “When you find her, she’s going to need someone she knows there, someone that knows how to take care of her.” Christine lets out a breath, the relief of getting her thoughts out taking some of the weight off her shoulders. 

Kate sighs, but she has to know Christine is right. She’s not sure what state you’re in, and depending on how bad it is, and where your pack is, you’re going to need her. Even if you think she was behind this. “I’ll have a plane ready to go in thirty minutes.” 

“Thank you, Kate.” She says, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Don’t miss the flight.” 

Christine hangs up, gathering a couple things from her office before closing and locking her door. She nearly runs to her barracks, packing a bag quickly. She’s not sure what to bring, or how long this will take. She’s not even sure exactly where she’s going. 

She hurries to the airfield, phone in hand. She’s not sure where the plane is or which one she’s taking. She’s just relieved Kate is doing this for her. 

Her phone buzzes as she reaches the tarmac, making her pause. She lets out an annoyed sigh before answering the call. 

“Of course you have to call at the worst possible moment.” She says. 

“I’ve always had the worst timing.” Alex’s voice comes through the speaker, and she can almost hear the smile on his face. 

“I can’t talk long. I’m about to board a plane.” She says. 

“I know. We’ll pick you up on the tarmac.” 

She blinks in surprise. It’s been years since she’s seen her brother, months since she’s spoken with him. Ever since he retired from Delta Force, his regular calls have been happening less and less, and they’ve reached near radio silence over the last couple years. Now he’s involved in this too? 

“Kate called in a favor.” He continues, and that’s all she needs to know. “We’ll see you in a few hours.” 

“Yeah.” She says, tears brimming in her eyes as she smiles. Despite everything, she’s glad she gets to see her brother again. Glad she has some support in this. Your pack will be mad. They’ll blame her. She’s not afraid of them, but she knows Alex will stand behind her no matter what. “See you then.” 

**Content Warning: light torture, ‘mega gets punched, further injury to previous injuries, panic attack**

Your hands are starting to go numb. The constant attempts to free yourself from the zip ties isn’t helping, but you’re beginning to get twitchy. Your omega is scratching at the back of your mind, begging to be free, but you know you won’t survive it. The room is full of armed mercenaries, and you’re sure if you tried to take out Phil first, you’d be pumped full of bullets before you could even do any damage. 

He’s leaning against the wall far too casually, staring at the phone he’d used to record the first video of you. His explanation had been simple. Your pack stops going after General Shepherd, you don’t get hurt. The longer they chase Shepherd, the more Phil gets to torture you until they decide your life is worth more than Shepherd’s. 

Will they choose you over Shepherd? What if they’ve already decided to abandon you? What if your fears were right and they’ve given up, and that’s why they were gone so long? They won’t care what happens to you if they have written you off as a burden, as a loss. They’ll let Phil torture you to death and they won’t even blink an eye. You’ll just be another casualty. 

It makes your stomach hurt, the idea of your pack letting you die. Even the idea of someone who had once been a friend of your family being so cold towards you has nausea bubbling in your belly. He doesn’t care. His only worry is money, not the past. He doesn’t care. He’ll do the bidding of whoever offers the highest price. 

He lets out a sigh, pocketing his phone as he pushes himself off of the wall. “Looks like your boys don’t follow orders well.” He bends down, putting his hands on his knees so he’s face to face with you. “They’ve decided to leave you here with me. Looks like Shepherd was wrong. They don’t really care about you as much as everyone thought they did. Makes me sad, them abandoning you so easily.” 

You try to ignore his words, try to convince yourself he’s doing it on purpose, trying to mentally break you. Yet you can’t deny those words play exactly into your doubts, your fears. Have they really left you here, choosing Shepherd over you? Would they decide to do that? How easy had that decision been made?  

Tears blur your vision as you stare up at Phil, your eyes burning as you try to put on the bravest face you can. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to you, playing into your fears. 

“Unfortunately, that means I have to hurt you.” He stands up straight, staring down at you for a moment before pulling his fist back, hitting you across the face. 

You see stars for a moment, your head snapping to the side. The left side of your face is numb, the taste of metal flooding over your tongue. You’re bleeding, blood pooling in your mouth. A hand grips your chin, pulling you back so you’re sitting up straight in the chair. You stare up at Phil, the fear fading away to anger as you glare up at him. Your face is throbbing, and you know it’s going to swell and bruise later, more than it already has thanks to Corporal McKinney. 

Traitorous bastard. 

They all are. 

“I do feel bad for hurting that pretty face.” He says, stroking your jaw with his thumb. 

The movement is impulsive, the anger becoming too much. You spit the blood in your mouth in his face, the droplets splattering across his skin. He turns his head away for a moment, bringing his other hand up to wipe at the blood. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” He says, looking down at you. 

“Fuck you, you fucking creep!” You yell, kicking at him with your bad leg. 

He releases your face, catching your leg easily. He pushes his thumb against the bullet wound, all the fight leaving you as pain tears through your body. You let out a scream, trying to pull your leg away but he won’t let you. He holds his thumb there as you scream, the tears streaming down your face. 

“Okay, okay please! Please stop!” You beg, the pain radiating up into your hip and side. You can’t take it anymore, your brain starting to go fuzzy as you hyperventilate. 

He releases your leg, his hand wrapping around your throat to lift your face. The tears are streaming down your cheeks, mixing with the blood from the cut on your cheek. There’s no sympathy, not even regret in his eyes as he stares down at you. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you can’t behave, I’ll have to do just that.” He releases you as you continue to hyperventilate, your eyes starting to glaze. You’re distressing. Will Phil help you? Will he do what he has to do to keep you alive? If you die, there won’t be anything stopping your pack. The entire plan will be over. They’ll go after Shepherd, then they’ll hunt down Phil. 

Cold ice water hits you in the face, shocking you back into clarity. Phil is holding the cup of water he’d been letting you drink from periodically. You blink at him as water drips into your eyes, your breaths hitching but far slower than they had been. You’re awake and aware now. 

You didn’t even know it was possible to do that. 

“Don’t distress on me now.” He says, putting the cup down. “We have so much ahead of us.” He moves around to the back of your chair, bending down until his breath hits your ear. “Besides, you make me help you out of distress, I might not be able to stop myself.” 

Your eyes pinch closed as his lips brush the shell of your ear before he stands back up, tears mixing with the icy water still sliding down your face. 

“Please tell me you have good news.” Kyle says as they stand around the table. John is still fuming, anger rolling off of him like it has been since they found out the news. He’s hanging onto the quickly fraying strings of control he still has on his alpha. 

“We’ve narrowed down locations to the US.” Kate says, standing bravely before them. It’s not the first time she’s been before an angry alpha. It’s not the first time she’s been before an angry John. 

“Damn it, Kate, we need a location.” John says, slamming his hands down on the table. 

“We’re working on it as fast as we can.” Kate says, unflinching. “We’ve got limited people and resources now. We can’t trust just anyone anymore.” 

John lets out a long breath as Kyle puts a hand on his chest. He’s tired. They can all see it in his face. He’s tired and angry and rapidly losing control. 

Simon pushes Kyle to the side, blocking John’s view of anything but him. The big alpha puts his hands on John’s shoulders, looking him right in the eye. “You won’t do her any good by raging like this.” He says, his voice flat and calm. “You know these things don’t happen immediately. They’re underground for a reason and we just have to be patient.” 

“She doesn’t have that kind of time.” John says loudly, but there’s a strain to his voice. 

“It’s better to wait and have a direct location than to run around on a wild goose chase. That’s what they want. They want us angry and thinking on instinct.” He squeezes John’s rapidly drooping shoulders. “We all want her back, but we just have to trust Graves will keep his end of the deal.” 

“She’s stronger than she looks.” Johnny says. “She’ll give ‘em hell.” 

John runs a hand over his face as he begins to deflate. They’re right. It’s better to wait and know for sure than to waste time running around and exhausting themselves. 

“Please tell me you have any news.” John says, moving back towards the table. 

“I do.” Kate says. “I’ve called in some backup. They’ll be here shortly.” 

Christine nearly runs down the ramp once the plane has stopped on the runway. She’s jet lagged and worn out after eight hours of worrying, but she’s eager not only to finally get some news on you and your status, but to see her brother for the first time in a long time. 

It’s not hard to find him. 

“Chrissy!” He grins, hugging her tightly. 

She has half a mind to complain about the nickname she’d endured her entire childhood, but she can’t find it in her as she hugs her brother tightly. She’s missed him, more than she realized. Their jobs have kept them busy, her with her medical studies and practice, and Alex with...whatever it is he does. 

“It’s been far too long.” She says, pulling away from him. She’d love to stand there and hug him for an hour, but she can’t. They have more important things to do. Time is of the essence, if her worst fears are true. 

“A lot has happened, a lot has changed.” He says. 

She looks him over, spotting the more noticeable changes in comparison to the last time they were face to face. “You could say that.” 

“We can talk about it later.” He turns to the other person with him, a woman. “Christine, this is Farah.” He introduces her. “Farah, this is my baby sister Christine.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Farah says, shaking her hand. 

“You as well.” Christine looks between them for a moment. She knows that look in Alex’s eyes as he looks at Farah. 

“We should get moving.” Farah says, ignoring him. 

“Laswell has moved off the grid.” Alex says, opening the driver’s side of the SUV. 

Smart, if things are as bad as she thinks they are. 

Christine gets into the back, letting out a long breath. She’s closer now to finding out what’s happened to you. The guilt is still eating her alive. If she just hadn’t left, if she hadn’t believed the phone call, put it above your safety. 

Things might have been worse if she had stayed. 

“Kate filled us in about everything.” Alex says as he drives away from the airfield. “At least in regards to the pack and your involvement.” 

“There’s some things she’s not telling us.” Farah says. “Though if things are as bad as they sound, I don’t blame her.” 

“I don’t know much of anything.” Christine says, staring out the window as they drive out of the city. “I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t left her alone...” 

“It’s hardly your fault.” Alex says, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “If this was all planned, there wouldn’t have been anything that would stop it from happening.” 

“They might have done worse if you had stayed there.” Farah says, speaking Christine’s own fears aloud. 

“I wish I could see her. Make sure she’s alright.” Christine says. “If something happens to her...” 

“From what I hear she’s a hardy omega.” Alex says, trying to comfort her. “She’s withstood a lot. She can survive the 141, she’s probably giving them hell as we speak.” 

**Content Warnings: light torture, choking to the point of almost passing out, blood, very detailed descriptions of pain, non-fatal stabbing**

It’s getting hard to breathe. Phil’s grip around your throat is getting tighter and tighter, less and less oxygen getting to your bloodstream and your brain. Your mouth has an almost permanent metallic taste as blood drips down your chin. Blood stains Phil’s arm from where you bit him, teeth marks red and angry looking from where they broke the skin. 

“You fucking bitch.” He growls, jaw clenched. “Your alpha should have taught you some manners.” 

His hand squeezes tighter, cutting the air off entirely. You begin to panic, tugging against the restrains with your raw, cut up wrists. Black dots begin to dance in your vision, your legs straining against the zip ties keeping them attached to the chair. Your hands and feet are going numb, your entire body tingling. This is it. You’re going to be choked to death. 

He holds his hand there for a moment, letting you struggle before he lets go and you suck in a gasp of air. You slump over in the chair, blood splattering on the floor as you cough, your throat raw and sore. Tears burn in your eyes as you heave, trying to get the oxygen flowing through your body again. 

Phil bends down to your level as you sit there, head hanging as blood drips from your mouth. Your tongue is raw from how many times you’ve bitten it. It’s impossible to tell how much time has really passed. There’s no windows in the room. The only light source is the cracks around the door behind you. Even then with the bright light in your face constantly, it’s hard to tell anything anymore. 

“Feisty still, but everyone has their limits.” His hand cups your chin as he stands, lifting your face to follow him. His hand holds the back of your head up as he wipes at the blood under your nose and on your chin almost gently. 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you stare up at him, unable to even care anymore that his hand is so close to your neck. All he has to do is move it down just slightly and squeeze and you’ll be unaware of anything around you, at the mercy of his bidding. 

That would almost be a relief. 

He dumps another icy cup of water over your head, keeping you from slipping too much into a panic. The cold water stings the cut on your chest and the one on your arm as it slides down your shoulders. You’ve lost the ability to feel the throbbing in your calf, numb to most of the pain in your body. 

Why haven’t they come for you? Where is your pack? 

Have they written you off for good? Was finding Shepherd more important than you? 

Phil’s phone goes off, your stomach dropping. He stares at the screen for a second before turning back to you. 

You shake your head, the tears cascading down your cheeks. “No,” You start to shake. “No, please-” 

“You know I have to, darlin’.” He moves behind you, tugging on your hair to keep your head up as one of his men stands in front of you with a phone in hand. 

He counts down on his fingers before pressing record. 

“Having fun yet?” Phil says as he reaches around your head, holding your chin in his hand. He tilts your head back making you look up at him. “We sure are. Aren’t we, darlin’? Tell them. Tell them how much fun we’re having.” 

You’re still crying, unable to stop as you stare at the camera. They really have given up on you. They’ve deemed you unworthy of saving. They’ve let you sit here and be beat up and tortured all because they put the job first. 

They really have given up on you. 

Are they even watching? 

“Please,” You croak out, half begging your pack to care, half begging Phil to have mercy. 

“Since you can’t seem to bring yourselves to care about your own omega,” He shifts slightly, someone handing him something behind you. You catch a glint of metal, your heart rate picking up. You’re panicking, breaths coming in shaky gasps. You know he can do worse. He’s threatened worse, but what is he going to do? “It seems you need a little more...motivation.” 

You try to wiggle out of his grasp in panic, wrists bleeding again from tugging at the zip ties. They’re coated in your blood, your leg throbbing but you don’t care. You need to get away, get free. “No, no-”

You let out a scream. 

It’s sharp and piercing, but nowhere near the sharp pain in your neck. It fires through your very nerve endings, making you aware of the very cells in your body. It shoots up into your brain, igniting every neuron in your brain. Your very blood feels like it’s boiling, your skin on fire from the pain. Every inhale feels like you’re breathing in sand, and every exhale is like glass shards dragging through your lungs and up your throat. The tears streaming down your face may as well be slicing through layers of skin, every wound pulsing and throbbing with a new kind of angry vengeance. 

You’re sobbing, nearly choking on air as the pain continues to pulse in your body. It’s too much, every sensation inside and outside of your body meshing together in an agonizing harmony. 

“Shhh.” Phil tries to shush you as he bends down, his cheek resting against the side of your head. “I know, I know. You’ll be alright.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head before letting you go limp in the chair. 

Your scream still hangs in the air even after the video ends. 

It’s otherwise silent in the room, all eight of them feeling the weight of their decisions on their shoulders. The scents in the air are full of pain and regret and guilt and anger. 

“Was that fatal?” Kate asks, breaking the tense silence. 

“No.” Christine chokes out, her voice shaky. Her hands are trembling where they’re tucked against her sides. Her arms are crossed over her chest, trying to bring herself some kind of comfort after what she had just watched. “He went for the scent gland. It’s not a fatal injury, unless you go too deep, but he knew what he was doing.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “It’s just incredibly painful.” 

Her words hang in the air for a moment, all of them still trying to process what they had just seen. 

John slams his hands on the table, all of them jumping. “I fucking told you.” He says, his voice laced with the deep growl of his alpha. “I fucking told you Kate, she should have been flown out here as soon as you made the call.” 

“I know.” Kate says, undeterred by his anger. She’s seen it many times, though she’s rarely been on the receiving end of it. “I know, I made a bad call. None of us knew they would take it this far.” 

“But we knew something was going on behind the scenes.” John says, still radiating anger. “All precautions should have been taken.” 

“There was no guarantee her being here would have stopped them. She might not have been any safer here.” Kate says, trying to ease his anger, even though she knows it’s completely warranted. “This goes far deeper than we thought it did. Even before this plan was set into motion.” She waits a moment, letting the air settle. “A year ago, a convoy was smuggling missiles and other weapons into the Middle East in an off-the-books operation. The convoy was attacked and the missiles and arms were stolen by a Russian PMC group. The operation was conducted under the command of Shepherd, and the soldiers in the convoy were all Shadow Company.” 

“That’s how Graves is tied into this.” Kyle says. 

“It goes deeper than that.” Kate says, pulling up a file and displaying it on screen. “The missiles and weapons being smuggled weren’t being sent to aid allies in the Middle East. Shepherd sold them to AQ and the Russians. The PMC group that attacked Shadow Company was hired by Shepherd to make it look like an ambush.” 

“Fucking weasel.” Simon growls. 

“I don’t know how much Graves knows, or how much he helped hide the entire operation, but his ties to this go even deeper than that.” Kate says, and they all shift closer. “Graves has history with your omega.” She says, pulling up an old photo. “We combed through one of her brothers’ Facebook pages. Found an old photo of her dad with Graves. They served on the same base when her family lived in Texas before Graves left to join MARSOC. She would have still been a child at the time.” 

They stare at the photo, Graves clearly identifiable as he stands next to another man, beers in their hands. There’s two other boys in the photo, young and grinning at the camera. Standing in front of Graves is a little girl, a happy grin on her face. They’re all in various combinations of red, white, and blue. 

4th of July, they assume. 

“That’s how she got into the institute so fast.” John says, staring at the photo. He’s never seen a photo of your father before. You must take after your mother. “Graves pulled the strings.” 

Kate nods. “He did, but under the condition he would be the one to claim her when she grew old enough. The CIA wiped out that claim when they froze her file.” 

The 141 all shift on their feet, sharing looks. John feels a sick twisting in his stomach at the implications. Your position in the photo suddenly makes sense. Anger burns in him, deep and bubbling like magma. He’ll kill the bastard. 

“This is revenge then.” Johnny says. 

“In a way, I think.” Kate says. “We took away what he wanted. Graves wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.” 

“This all is what the initiative was created for.” Christine says, leaning against the table. “A contingency in case this all was uncovered.” 

“A way to control us.” Kyle says. 

Kate nods. “Yes. It was all a plan to give the 141 a weakness, a way to be controlled should the situation arise. In this case it just so happened to be the uncovering of his traitorous arms deals.” 

“We were all pawns in this.” Christine says. 

“We let them walk right in and take control like that.” John says, turning to Christine. “You let them walk in and take our omega.” 

She turns to face him, undeterred by his agitation and anger. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I got a call from one of the front desk workers in the med center saying that someone was waiting in my office for me.” She explains. “They wouldn’t say who it was, and the whole thing felt off. I knew whoever would be visiting me was not going to be friendly, so I felt it was safer to leave her in the barracks than take her with me and risk something happening in a place she doesn’t know well. In the barracks at least she’d know places to hide and barricade herself.” 

She takes a deep breath, still facing down John fearlessly. He’s coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump at any moment should he deem it necessary. It’s those protective instincts, the knowledge that his omega is somewhere else, taken unwillingly and being tortured feeding into that need to fight. 

“My office door was open when I got there.” She continues. “I always leave it locked. I went in prepared to fight, but I was attacked from behind. Hit over the head and drugged with something fast acting, something that would keep me incapacitated long enough for him to strike.” She stares up into his eyes, projecting her scent just a bit to try and get him to calm down. “We all made mistakes here, things we thought were the right choice at the time.” 

She’s not wrong. They all know it. They had just seen proof of it.  

“The assailant?” John asks, turning back to Kate. 

“Corporal McKinney.” Kate says. “He was in Shepherd’s pocket from the start. Someone who could watch first-hand. Someone who could sneak into the barracks unnoticed without many questions. He was likely the one that put the cameras up.” 

“Fucking wanker.” Simon growls. “He approached her once in the mess. Early on. Tried to introduce himself to her. Backed off as soon as I intervened. Never tried again, at least that we know of.” 

“She never mentioned him.” Christine says. “Or anyone else on base that might have tried to approach her.” 

“Where is he now?” Kyle asks. They’re all angry, frustrated. How had they not seen this happening? 

“Local police tracked his car to an abandoned airfield not far outside of Hereford.” Kate says. “He was dead inside. Police ruled it suicide.” 

“I’m sure it was.” John says. 

They all know it wasn’t. 

“Shadow Company likely picked her up from there with orders to stage a suicide.” Kate says. 

“One less loose string to worry about.” Simon says. “Covers their tracks in England.” 

They all go quiet. How this had all happened right under their noses? They’re all guilty of falling for it, for being too trusting in a world they know they can’t be too careful in. Allies can turn on a dime and become enemies. Betrayals can be easily bought. Things can turn downhill within a blink of an eye. They’re supposed to be prepared for the worst, ready for every possibility. 

They had written this off as a conspiracy, and now their omega is paying for it. 

“We need a plan.” Farah says, breaking the silence. 

“We can’t let Shepherd get away with this.” John says. 

“We cannae just leave her.” Johnny argues against his head alpha. It’s a brave thing, considering his alpha’s current mental state.  

“I don’t know how much more she can take.” Simon backs his beta up, the desperation and pain on your face still visible in all of their minds. 

“Let us go after Shepherd.” Alex says, offering up a solution. “He’s obviously watching for you to come after him.” 

“We can move undetected.” Farah agrees. “He’s less likely to expect us. You need to focus on your omega. Shepherd will show himself again eventually.” 

“Do we have a lead on their location?” Kyle asks, turning back to Kate. 

She nods. “We do now. I sent a team out to try and track location through the videos and where they were being sent from.” She pulls a map up on screen. “We have a location.” 

“Texas.” Alex says. 

“He took her home.” Christine says. 

“We have a plan then. We go after Graves, Farah and Alex start tracking Shepherd. Kate is eyes in the sky for us.” John says. 

“She’s going to need medical attention as soon as possible.” Christine says. She looks at Kate. “Where is the nearest military base from their location?” 

Kate types on her computer. “Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth.” 

“Get me there and I’ll be waiting. She’s going to need someone she knows.” She says, looking at John. “She’s not going to just let anyone close to her after this. She may not even let you close.” 

John stares down at her for a long moment. She stares back unflinchingly. She doesn’t get intimidated easily, not after years of dealing with institutes and alphas alike. 

He lets out a breath, staring down at her for a long moment before he nods. “I trust you.” 

“Short reunion this time.” 

“I’m just glad I got to see your face again.” Christine says, looking up at Alex. 

“Things are...complicated.” He says. “Maybe after all of this is over we can go and get some coffee. Talk about our lives...as much as we can.” 

The corner of her mouth twitches up in a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

Alex pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly. “You’re doing good work, Chrissy.” 

She shakes her head at the nickname, but she holds him just as tightly. “I’m trying to.” 

Alex pulls away, squeezing her arms. “I’d say you are. You care a lot. To the point some might call it a character defect.” 

She scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Not like you’re much better.” She glances at the car where Farah is waiting patiently. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Oh, we’re....” Alex blushes to his ears. “We’re not...” 

She gives him a look. “Mhm sure.” She looks up at him one more time. “Be safe.” 

“As best I can.” He says. “Take care of yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself either.” 

“I try not to be.” She squeezes his hand before stepping away. 

She watches the SUV drive off, stomach churning with nerves for both of them. Shepherd is dangerous, but Alex has fearlessly faced down danger since he was a kid. He’s always been brave and determined, loyal and unafraid to do what he thinks is right no matter what. She trusts him to take care of himself, she trusts Farah to help him, even if she only met the woman today. 

She trusts them both to take care of each other. She trusts them both to help put an end to this. 

Your body aches, muscles screaming. You can’t take much more. Your cheek throbs painfully, swollen to the point you almost can’t see out of your left eye. The pain burning from your neck makes the other pain in your body nearly irrelevant, nearly nonexistent. It’s like electricity, burning through your very cells. Every movement seems to make it flare, makes the electric shock jolt through you. The burning pain that follows makes you whimper, a pathetic choking sound squeaking out from your bruised throat. 

The pain makes you nauseous, vomit staining the front of your shirt and pants. It’s mostly bile and the little food you’ve gotten since your kidnapping. 

Nutrient bars, meant to keep you fed and nourished for a short period of time. 

You may never be able to eat them again. 

“Fuck.” Graves curses, staring at his phone. “They’ve backed off.” He steps up to you, looking down on your pathetic form. “Looks like your boys do care about you after all.” 

Do they? Are they really coming for you, or have they simply given up chasing Shepherd because they lost all their leads. Will they come for you, or will they leave you here to rot? What will Graves do then? Try to take you as his own omega? Kill you out of anger? 

Your stomach churns and you can feel the bile rising. 

You vomit again, the warm liquid splashing into your lap. You can’t lean far enough anymore, not without the risk of not being able to pull yourself back up, not with the pain burning your every movement. You can’t even lift your head anymore, your body weak and battered and bruised. There’s blood everywhere, on you and on the floor. You can still taste it in your mouth, mixing with the sourness of bile. 

Graves gives you a disgusted look before turning to the others in the room. “Duran, Lewis, keep watch. The rest of you come with me.” 

He leaves the room for the first time in what you assume is days. For once the cocktail of scents begins to disperse, all but two of the alphas finally disappearing. Where they’re going or what they’re going to do, you don’t know. You can’t bring yourself to care either way. You just want to go home. You want to see your mother again, your brothers and sisters, even your father would be a welcome sight after this. You want your alpha, you want him to hold you, to take you in his arms, keep you safe.

He abandoned you. He left you to suffer like this. 

Your breathing picks up as you sit there, chin to chest as you stare at your bloody shirt. The smells in the room are awful, the scents no longer there to block out the sour bile and metallic stench blood. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, pink tinted splatters dripping onto your pants. What are you going to do now? What are they going to do to you now? Will they keep you alive long enough for your pack to arrive then kill you in front of them? Will they torture them too, make them watch as the life slowly leaves your eyes in revenge for chasing after Shepherd? 

A sob rips through your sore throat up out of your lips. 

You just want to go home. 

You just want to be free. 

You can be. 

Distress. The final defense. The last ditch effort omegas have to save themselves. Distress will lead to your omega taking over, and if nothing else, a quiet death you won’t even realize is happening. Your body will give out and you’ll be safely tucked into the back of your brain, comforted by your instincts. You won’t have to worry anymore. You won’t have to care. 

If nothing else, the pain will be over. 

I’m sorry. 

You begin to breathe heavier, ignoring the pain in your body as you push yourself to hyperventilate. The alphas behind you might do something, might try to stop it. They could, but would they even know how? Would it even work if you got too far? They’re not your alpha. They can’t comfort you, bring you back from the edge without forcing you. Will they even bother? 

You tilt your head to the side, putting pressure on your injured scent gland. You sob at the pain, the burning flowing straight into your very cells, making them scream. You push through it, your wrists twisting against the zip ties, digging them further into your already damaged wrists. The pain pushes you to a point of panic, your heart rate through the roof. You can feel it, the tightening of your muscles, your joints locking into place. 

You’ve never done it purposefully before, but in this state, it’s not hard. 

They left you. They’ve abandoned you. They’ve given up. It’s all your fault they left. They’re not coming for you. You’re not worth it. 

The thoughts send you down the spiral, the edges of your vision starting to go dark. You’re floating away, hands and feet going numb as your wheezing, shallow breaths block the oxygen from getting to your brain. You’re sinking, your body floating as you begin to retreat into the back of your mind. The cage is open, your omega soothing you as you drift off, curling up in the back recesses of your mind. 

You’re safe now. She whispers. 

There’s no going back. 

You’re going to get out. 

Even if you have to do it yourself. 

The last breath you remember taking is shaky, making you cough before your vision begins to fade to grey, then to black. You’re getting out of here no matter what. You’re going to go to sleep. If you fail, you’ll never know it. Your death will be quick and gentle and you’ll never know it happened until you’ve moved on to whatever is next. 

You won’t remember any of this. That’s your only consolation. 

Your vision fades to black as all memory and awareness leaves you. The last thing you remember is the snap of the zip ties around your wrists as they break. 

“Graves has moved with some of his men to the western building. It’s likely the hostage is being held in the eastern building. Gaz and I will go after Graves. Ghost and Soap will try to secure the hostage.” 

“Keller is on her way to NAS JRB as we speak. They’re on standby for medevac.” 

“Stealth is our priority. They know we’re here, we risk losing the hostage. Quick and quiet, take them by surprise. The faster we do this, the sooner it will all be over.” 

**Content Warning: blood and slight gore, someone gets shot offscreen, some gorey and explicit imagery towards the end**

He’s not unfamiliar with high stakes missions. It’s his specialty. He’s cool and calm under stress and pressure, which is why he gets chosen for them. He can detach easily, get the job done and then go home and forget. 

So why are his hands shaking? 

This isn’t a high stakes mission, not like one he’s used to doing. The stakes are higher, higher than he’s ever had before. It’s not just eliminating some faceless target, it’s not just rescuing some faceless hostage. 

It’s rescuing you. 

How much did he get for this assignment? How much did he settle for once he learned you were involved? 

He hates that you were involved in all of this. He hates that they all fell for it, blind to the truth, blind to Shepherd’s traitorous actions. They refused to entertain those conspiratorial thoughts, and now you’re paying for it.

He hates it.

He should have never left you alone like that. He should have argued against Price and his decision to leave when they knew something wasn't right. They should have known something was going on behind the scenes, that there was a higher purpose to all of this.

His conspiracies had been correct from the start.

He hates that it had to come to fruition.

How could Graves torture an innocent omega? You're not just an innocent omega to him, though. You're a broken promise, a lost opportunity, one he'd waited for, for a long time. Of course he wouldn't have stopped as soon as they started going after him. He wouldn’t give up just because Shepherd told him to stop. He’s ruthless and uncaring of who he hurts and why. He gets his orders and he completes them, no matter what, so long as whoever is giving those orders can pay a high enough price.

Far too much despite that fact, most likely. Maybe he should become a merc. Less rules and more money.

It’s not a bad idea. 

He lasers his focus on the building as they creep through the trees, moving silently. Two against however many are inside. It was impossible to tell with how many were moving between the two buildings constantly. 

He brought the whole squad. He planned on putting up a fight regardless. 

At least they have the element of surprise on their hands. 

“We move silently through the building.” He says as they approach the door. There’s two guards standing outside. “They know we’re inside, things could go downhill quickly.” 

“On you, LT.” Johnny says, taking point beside him. 

“Drop one, I’ll take the other.” He says, aiming at one of the two Shadows guarding the door. 

It’s quick and quiet, their bodies slumping onto the damp dirt. Simon scans the area before moving forward to the door. It’s unlocked, Johnny pushing it open slowly to check for a trip wire. 

None. 

Sloppy, or perhaps on purpose. They can’t be too careful. Shepherd will have let Graves know they’re not on his trail anymore. He’ll be expecting them. 

They split up, combing the bottom floor of the building. He takes out two more Shadows, checking every room for a sign of their target, but they find none. 

“Second floor.” He says, waiting at the base of the stairwell for Johnny to join him. 

“You think she’s in here?” Johnny asks as they creep up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise. 

“Well, we’ll find out.” 

It’s far too unguarded to where they’re holding you. Graves will have assumed they’d split up. He must have moved most of his men to the western building to put up as much of a barricade as possible. He can picture Graves standing there, the smirk on his face as he holds a gun to your head. Will he take that risk, shoot you in front of them and give them nothing to live for? Or will he use a knife, letting you die a slow, painful death in front of them? 

Or, maybe he moved them to the western building to make them think that’s where you are. Focus their attacks there so they leave you behind. He gets cornered, he send the word to kill you before any of them can get to you. 

More red herrings. 

He pauses before he reaches the top of the steps, taking out the shadow standing down the hallway. They split up again, looking through rooms at the top of the stairs, making their way down the hallway. 

One of the doors is open, and he silently motions for Johnny. He counts down silently in his head before rounding the corner, rifle up as he scans the room. His stomach churns as he looks inside, taking a couple cautious steps forward. He’s seen a lot of things in his time, done a lot of things, but this is different. 

“Screaming Jesus.” Johnny says, lowering his rifle as he steps in behind Simon. 

There’s blood everywhere. 

It’s coating the floors, leaving a sticky residue as it dries. It’s the room you were in. He recognizes it from the video, and the bright light in the corner is a dead giveaway. The chair in the middle of the room has been broken, the wood of the arms snapped off and splintered. There’s four bloody zip ties on the floor, along with several instruments on the floor including the ice pick. 

He wants to shove that into Graves’ eye for what he did to you. 

There’s two bodies on the floor, one of them dead in a pool of his own blood, the other choking as blood seeps onto the floor under him. He steps up to the shadow, putting his boot on his chest and pushing. The Shadow lets out a groan, coughing up blood. 

“Where the fuck is she?” He growls, staring down at the quickly paling face. 

“Fucking bitch went crazy.” He chokes out. “Went running.” 

Simon steps back, pulling out his handgun and firing two bullets into the Shadow’s head. 

“Price, we found the room.” He says into his comm. “The hostage isn’t here. A half-dead Shadow said she bolted.” 

“LT.” Johnny says, motioning to the door, the only other exit from the room. There’s a bloody handprint on the door, one too small to be one of the Shadows’. 

“I think she managed to get out.” He says, staring at the handprint. His stomach drops, his hand tightening around his rifle. He glances down at the bodies, throats cut and faces bloody. “I think her omega took over.” 

“You and Soap go after her. She’ll do the one thing she knows to do, the one instinctual thing she can do if she has nothing to fight.” Price says. “We’ve got Graves cornered.” 

Simon pushes the door open, cool air flowing into the stuffy room. There’s bloody shoe prints heading down the stairs. He can see the rapid turn on the concrete below before they head off towards the trees. 

“I’ve got a trail.” He says. 

“Go.” Price says. “Simon...you know what you have to do.” 

He does.

He motions for Johnny to follow before hurrying down the stairs. The longer they delay, the further you’ll get. He doesn’t doubt some Shadows followed you if you made that much of a ruckus. The more time they waste, the more dangerous things get, and not just because they might lose you or the shadows might catch up. 

He races towards the treeline, rifle in hand, but there’s no one else standing guard. Price and Gaz will have taken care of those in the other building, and those that were outside probably went after you. 

He slows once they break the treeline, trying to catch any hint of your scent that might be left. His only hope is that you’ve left a trail. He’s a tracker, he knows what he’s doing. His senses are stronger, more in tune. He can find you. He can track you down. He has to. 

The guilt is eating him alive. If something happens to you, he’ll never forgive himself. He’s right here, so close and yet so far. You’re running on borrowed time and there’s only so much of it left. Eventually you have to slow, eventually your body will start giving up. Will it be too late then? If a Shadow finds you when you can’t fight back...

“Dead Shadow ahead.” Johnny says, motioning to the slumped over body ahead of them. “We’re on the trail.” 

“Let’s hope she left more markers on the way.” He says, kicking the Shadow, but the stab wound in his neck is all Simon needs to know. “Keep going straight.” He says, continuing on the path they’ve been following. He needs just a whiff, a hint of your scent. Something. 

They come across another dead Shadow, this one off to the side of the path they had been following. He turns, making an adjustment before moving forward. Johnny keeps close, both of them watching for more Shadows, or for any glimpse of you. All they can hope is they’re on the right path. 

He nearly sets off in a run as he hears a sound ahead. It’s a yowl, almost like a mountain lion. It sends a tingle down his back, his alpha blaring warning alarms. A threatened omega is a dangerous thing. Fierce and protective of themselves, capable of great feats and lethal if you get too close. 

It’s you, no doubt. 

Price had been right. 

He has no choice. 

He pushes forward, his steps quick as he makes his way through the bushes. He spots you near a boulder, trying to fight off a Shadow. He’s got the upper hand, using his size against you. You’re getting tired, your movements slowing. Simon aims with his rifle, a shot to the head dropping the Shadow. You drop into a crouch, surveying the trees. You’re covered in blood, a knife in your hand as your wild eyes search for them. 

“Distract her.” He says to Johnny. “Make yourself as unthreatening as possible. I’ll go around and get her from behind.” 

He doesn’t even wait for an acknowledgement before he’s moving, slipping around to the side of the boulder. Johnny steps into the clearing slowly, holding his hands up, talking to you quietly.

“Easy, kitten. Ye know who I am.” Johnny is careful not to get too close, his steps slow as he moves to the side, getting you to turn. “We’re just here to help ye. Get ye home and safe.” 

You’re holding the knife up, brandishing it at Johnny. Simon isn’t sure if you’ve ever thrown a knife before, but he doesn’t put it past you to try in this state. 

He hopes Johnny’s reflexes are fast enough. 

He slips out from behind the boulder as you pause, wasting no time as he races up behind you and grabbing you before you can bolt or go for Johnny’s neck. You let out another yowl, struggling against him as he wraps an arm around your chest. Your teeth sink into his arm and he lets out a curse, but he doesn’t let go. If he lets go, they won’t get another chance. It’ll be too late. 

He doesn't want to do it. His mind flashes back to his father and mother, one of the few times his mother fought back. It hadn’t lasted long before her body went limp, practically a ragdoll in his father’s hold. Simon had grabbed Tommy and ran, barricading them in his room. They didn’t want to see what was going to happen next. 

He doesn’t want that kind of control over you, he doesn’t want to put you through that trauma. The disorientation, the fear, the confusion. That must have been what it felt like after being sedated during your heat. You had been sick for days, crying in Johnny’s room. He had heard every sob, every attempt to soothe you. 

He put you through that. He made you face that despite the fear on your face as Johnny escorted you to the med center. 

And now he has to do it again. 

He has to this time. He has no choice. His only other option is to let you die. Price will never forgive him. Johnny won’t even look at him again. He’d betray them worse than you did, worse than Shepherd, worse than Graves. 

You never really betrayed them in the first place, though. 

You were afraid, untrusting of them, unsure because of your past. He had been foolish to blame you, foolish to think it was somehow your fault. You acted out of fear, out of terror. How you must have felt in those moments when that beta showed up, when you faced down Shepherd alone, when you returned to find your space invaded and those cameras all over your room. They weren’t there to protect you, they weren’t there to support you. They left you alone and you hid it from them because you didn’t know any better, because you were so afraid. 

He’s a goddamn fucking prick he’s been. 

Tears blur his vision as he tucks his free arm behind you, shifting your position just enough so he can get his hand around the back of your neck. You kick out with your legs, releasing his arm, your head tilting back in a last ditch, instinctual effort to protect yourself. 

His eyes squeeze closed as you let out a yelp, his fingers digging into the back of your neck. It’s hard enough it will leave a bruise, but he has to be sure. It’s the only thing that might save you. It’s his only option, his only chance to keep you alive. 

“There you go.” He says quietly into your ear. “Need you to relax for me.” 

Your body goes limp in his hold, head resting back against his hand as he holds you there. Your muscles twitch as the tension leaves you, eyelids fluttering before they close. His arm stings where your teeth had sunk into his skin, hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t care. 

“Keep resting.” He says, easing his hand from the back of your neck as he shifts you in his arms. “Gonna get you somewhere safe.” 

You’re like a ragdoll in his arms as he lifts you up, cradling you against his chest. You’re warm, hair sticking to your forehead. 

“Call it in.” He tells Johnny, his eyes still glued to your face. “We need that medevac now.” 

“Price, we got her.” Johnny says into his comm. “We need medevac stat.” 

You look so peaceful despite the blood soaking your body. Partially yours, partially the Shadows you killed in your escape. You look like a gruesome painting, a gorey depiction of an omega pushed too far. Something they’d put on display in a museum, a photo that would win prizes in celebration of such a natural state caught on camera. It would be circulated for decades, something talked about centuries from now. 

A raw view of humanity’s inner beasts. 

He can’t stand it, seeing you like this. They did this to you. They are the reason you’re like this. They made the bad call in the end, they put you through this. You won’t forgive them, not after everything. You went weeks without them, without a word and then this happened. Innocence tainted in the blood of the guilty. The bloodstained omega held in the arms of the blood-tainted alpha. He should be the one covered in their blood. He should be the one carrying the weight of torture and desperation on his shoulders. 

The guardian dog covered in blood in the name of protecting his innocent sheep. 

How he’s failed you. How they all failed you. 

He pushes past the pain, past the grief, past the guilt and the horror of what they did to you, what they put you through. 

They’ve got you back. You’re safe. 

It’s over. 

NEXT ->

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

[winndycakes]

Winndy Rambles And Gushes About Chuck Tingle

Wanted to ramble a little about one of my favorite authors, creators and overall just super rad people; Chuck Tingle.

Like many people, when I first heard of Chuck, I took him as some sort of meme. A troll, a joke, someone not to be taken seriously. After all, the majority of his works are "silly short erotica stories around dinosaurs, cryptids and even living concepts and items". How COULD this be serious? It's a question I asked before, years ago, and one that many still do to this day.

One holiday season, a friend had made a post on FaceBook saying "first five people to comment I'll gift you a book". So I did. The book I got was a physical copy of the "Space Raptor Butt Invasion Trilogy" by Chuck Tingle. Since I had a book of Tingle's now, I really had no excuse to not read it for myself.

Erotica normally isn't my thing (I'm pretty ace and grey aro too), but very quickly, I was charmed by the prose. As you read Chuck's stories, there's a fact that becomes very apparent. Chuck Tingle is a great writer, a really great writer. How he writes, how the words flow together, one sentence going into the next. The characters, the plot, the little bits of lore, dialogue and all he puts in... You quickly begin to see; this is NOT a joke.

It is not a meme. He is not trolling you. It is art. Passionate, sincere, genuine art. And it's beautiful. The more you read, the more definitive it gets.

I will admit, I have read aloud many a Tingler for friends and others in Discord servers, both to share my joy of Tingle with others, but also, it is fun to look at how different his works are. It's fine to laugh along with them even.

The moment that really was like... angels singing, light shining down and there's bishi sparkles and a heavenly soft pink background appearing for me though was the summer Chuck Tingle released on of his first full novella's; "Trans Wizard Harriet Porber and the Bad Boy Parasaurolophus". Like many, I was crushed and gutted at JKR's extreme turn to committing to transphobia (and of course the hindsight of realizing... the HP books and universe were not as kind and welcoming as I remembered growing up). So when Chuck Tingle (in one weekend mind you) came out with a 50k novel affirming trans people and their belonging in not just queer spaces, but being on this Earth, as fellow human beings, it was... affirming. It was the welcoming feeling I had gotten with the original HP books all those years ago, but it was real. (Also please read both Trans Wizard Harriet Porber books. They're delightful, fun and the magic system Tingle creates is so, so cool and interesting).

The next thing that got me just mega hype for Tingle was his first foray into horror; "Straight". "Straight" is Tingle's answer to the ever popular trope and genre of zombies and the apocalypse that comes with them, and what a fun turn of tables he takes on them. Zombies in the Tingleverse are not undead beings, they're not humans afflicted by a virus, instead a strange cosmic event happens once a year, when one night, all cishet people on Earth get this animalistic, violent urge to brutally harm and even kill all queer people. I won't get too spoilery about it but it is a very fun romp, and as someone who has been fatigued by zombies, it is a welcome new perspective.

Not long after this, Chuck came out with two full, traditionally published horror novels; "Camp Damascus" and "Bury Your Gays". Both are very different experiences in horror, both a joyful celebration of being queer and your authentic self even in the face of those looking to silence you, permanently if they must. I had the pleasure of meeting Chuck (twice!) while he was on tour for both of these books, getting my copies signed (along with my copies of the Trans Wizard duology and my beloved copy of the Space Raptor trilogy) and was able to tell Tingle myself just how important he is to someone like me; another queer autistic creator. (I was also one of the few people to win the little mini games he gave, twice, but that's a different story).

Ultimately that is what I am trying to get at. Growing up, and even for all of my 20s, there wasn't really someone like Tingle. Someone unabashedly authentic, themselves, queer, open and imo most importantly, joyously so. One is often told "just be yourself" but that can be hard to do when it seems like the world is against you for one reason or another.

Seeing a creator like Chuck shows how important it is to have such a presence in the world, and I was glad I got to tell him myself. I've had a lot of hardships in life, a lot of losses, a lot of grief, but someone like Chuck is there to tell you to keep trotting and remind you; Love Is Real.

And that's truly the ending message:

Love Is Real.

[reasonsforhope]

"More than three-quarters of UK universities have pledged to exclude fossil fuel companies from their investment portfolios, according to campaigners.

The move, which is part of a wider drive to limit investment in fossil fuels, follows years of campaigning by staff and students across the higher education sector.

The student campaign group People & Planet announced on Friday that 115 out of 149 UK universities had publicly committed to divest from fossil fuels – meaning £17.7bn-worth of endowments are now out of reach of the fossil fuel industry.

Laura Clayson, from People & Planet, said it would have been unthinkable a decade ago that so many institutions had formally refused to invest in fossil fuels.

“That we can celebrate this today is down to the generations of students and staff that have fought for justice in solidarity with impacted communities. The days of UK universities profiteering from investments in this neo-colonial industry are over.”

People & Planet set up the Fossil Free universities campaign in 2013. As part of its efforts the group has highlighted the “struggles and voices” of communities on the frontline of the climate crisis in an attempt to bring home the real-world impact of investment decisions made by UK universities.

Clayson said: “The demand for fossil-free came from frontline communities themselves and it is an act of solidarity from global north organisers campaigning on this … We have a responsibility to speak the lived experiences of the communities resisting these inequalities into megaphones at protests and in negotiations within university boardrooms, to highlight their stories of struggle in spaces so often detached from the reality of everyday life on the frontlines.”

One of the projects highlighted by the campaign is the proposed East African Crude Oil Pipeline (EACOP) – a mega project that would stretch almost 900 miles from the Lake Albert region of Uganda to the coast in Tanzania, and release vast amounts of planet-heating carbon.

The pipeline is being built in spite of local opposition, and there are reports that protesters and critics have been met with state violence. Hundreds of student organisers have been involved in the struggle.

Ntambazi Imuran Java, the lead coordinator at the Stop EACOP Uganda campaign, said its members appreciated the efforts of UK students to bring an end to universities’ fossil fuel investments.

“[This] supports those who have worked tirelessly to stop deadly extraction projects like EACOP … Regardless of the arrests and violations on the activists, students’ activists and communities, we continue to demand for the Uganda authorities to stop the project and instead invest in renewables.”

People & Planet said four UK institutions – Birmingham City University, Glasgow School of Art, Royal Northern College of Music and the University of Bradford – had recently incorporated fossil fuel exclusions into their ethical investment policies, meaning 115 out of 149 UK universities have publicly committed to divest from fossil fuels.

Later this month, the group will group will unveil its latest university league table that ranks institutions by their ethical and environmental performance. Campaigners say they will then increase pressure on the remaining 34 UK universities yet to go fossil-free."

-via The Guardian, December 2, 2024

[themagicwolf6677]

nice

🩵 POWDER BLUE PEARL 🩵

Abandoned by her owner, as she was shattered and put in a Cluster; she belonged to the Blue Diamond court; was found by Dark Blue Pearl and her owner, which forced them to fuse to obtain a larger Pearl, so she had to hide the gem from her to avoid suspicion and be a little more respected, although she did not come out as expected; they were sent to the Sea Spire, where they were poofed and therefore separated, their owner took the Gemstones from the two, bubbled them and fled, but was corrupted in the attempt, the Pearls in the bubble were not corrupted but were released up to CYM. Now the two live in Homeschool and only fuse on important occasions; she hopes to meet again with her owner when she will taken out of the cluster (they are not permafusion but if they were they would be called ? Pearl)

[minyare2906]

[RELEASE] CHIISANA SHIMA NO YASASHII HIBI FULL VOLUME

Title: Chiisana Shima no Yasashii Hibi | Sweet Daily in a Small Island | ちいさな 島 の やさしい 日々

Author/Artist: Asakura Kamui

Rating: +18

Summary: Kurasawa Shizuka met Masaki Tsutomu in a small clinic on a small island and they’ve grown from friends to lovers there.

Their situation has changed, since Tsutomu is now a university student, however, their feelings for each other haven’t changed. Secure in his position with Tsutomu, Shizuka suggests telling their families about their relationship.

The first person who should know about it is Tsutomu’s father, Shuuichirou. Shizuka goes to have a talk with him, but Shuuichirou makes him leave without listening to him. This doesn’t discourage Shizuka. Along with Tsutomu, they’re ready to do their best to get approval for their relationship from Shuuichirou.

This is a love story of two people living on a small island and their tender days.

Chapter 01 Read online: Gdrive

Chapter 02 Read online: Gdrive

Chapter 03 Read online: Gdrive

Chapter 04 Read online: Gdrive

Chapter 05 Read online: Gdrive

Chapter 06 Read online: Gdrive

Chapter 07 Read online: Gdrive

Extra Papers Read online: Gdrive

Note: Good morning!! Hope you're all doing fine!

Well, we won't have any more releases for this month, so I'll say Happy Hallow's Eve!! Or Halloween for those who celebrate it ;)

Yup, a year has passed, but it's finally here! Yay! Thanks to Itwearsadress we've been able to have the full volume translated to be able to deliver it to all of you! It's taken a while, but I hope you enjoy all the di-... I mean, the cute story that this volume tells. It is a good continuation of the first volume and I really hope you all like, at least as much as the other volume, if not more.

You'll get the full volume via Mega link in 2 weeks, hope I won't forget.

I wanna thank @itwearsadress first, because we wouldn't have been able to finish this volume without their help. But also @slutsq for lending her raws, it's been great to work with them. And, of course, toshirodragon, my partner in crime, for giving such a great touch to the text.

Enjoy it!! And have a great day!

@cm-scans

[nerdykeppie]

Launching Tuesday - Historically Queer, our next enamel pin collection!

We Have Always Been Here.

Ten pins - two pairs, five single pins, and the La Maupin mega pin (she needed extra room for her headdress) - each with multiple unlockable colorways.

We launch Tuesday, 9/12, at 3PM Eastern, noon Pacific. Follow us on Kickstarter to be notified when we launch -- or just to help out! The visibility to Kickstarter from having followers on our campaign helps a lot. :D

Featured in this campaign:

Enheduanna, oldest named author. Incorporating trans themes into writing thousands of years old.

David & Jonathan, king & prince whose love surpassed the love of women.

Sappho, Lesbian poet. She should need no other introduction.

La Maupin, also known as Julie d'Aubigny. The original disaster bisexual. Opera singer, swordswoman. May have burned down a convent.

Publick Universal Friend, American religious figure. Going by gender-neutral pronouns since the year the Declaration of Independence was written.

Anne Lister & Ann Walker, the Gentleman Jack & her wife. Acknowledged as the first same-gender marriage in modern Britain.

Dr. James Barry, British surgeon. A transgender man, Dr. Barry performed the first C-section done by a European in Africa in which both mother & child survived. He is also credited with vastly improving conditions for wounded soldiers in the British military.

Nikola Tesla, Serbian-American genius. Listing Tesla's inventions would take a series of posts. Liked pigeons better than people.

If you don't see your favorite historical figure, don't fret! We've planned multiple sets of Historically Queer figures. We can't use them all up at once. :) Help ensure we can make future sets by helping us create this one!

Frequently Asked Questions under the cut.

Hey, what flag is that on Sappho?

That's the Sapphic flag, created by @tepkunset. NerdyKeppie's owner, Spider, is a butch lesbian who uses that flag for their art.

Hey - what about [historical figure]? How could you forget [historical figure]? This is erasure!

We didn't forget, we promise - this is the first of several installments of this project. After the absolute stress of the last Kickstarter when we had 300+ different SKUs by the end of the project, we decided to take a more focused approach to Historically Queer. We attempted to provide a good cross-section of identities, and will continue to expand in future projects. Spider has a huge folder on his computer full of planned pins and reference images.  

But historically...

Yes, we know that it isn't totally proper to use today's terms to discuss people who lived a long time ago. But also, how else do we talk about our community history in a way that's understood, and celebrate our shared queerness, other than to use the words and iconography which are understandable to us now? We celebrate our shared history with the words and understandings most accessible to all of us, and we hope that by providing not just the pins but a few elementary facts about these historical figures, we'll encourage people to read more about them in their original context.

[birdofcauthon14]

A quick PSA not for Langdon fans in general, but especially for the mega-stans who won't shut up about his "disappointing ending" in the inboxes of people who haven't solicited their opinions:

A character can not be a villain...while still being an asshole who desperately needs to work on far more than just their tragic drug addiction.

Because there's not a personified villain in The Pitt. The villain is the American medical system and the stressors and attitudes it creates in those who are trapped within it. In many ways, the villain is American society itself, which creates unapologetic pricks like Driscoll and sucks in vulnerable young men like David and lets down the poor, abused, and marginalized.

However, that does not make Langdon less of an asshole. Langdon is compelling because he's an asshole who has, let's be honest, a LOT to work on about himself. And it's independent of his addiction, too, which is not a personality flaw but rather one of those tragedies created by the faceless villain of American medicine. He deserves sympathy for that, and people are right to say it, but the way he behaves independently of it is another story. Langdon, on his own, is egotistical, obsessed with his own authority, is an awful teacher who plays favorites, and has terrible bedside manner. He's Gregory House played straight, in a universe where there are consequences for his behavior.

From someone who is a big fan of both characters, take some cues from us Santos fans and wait for Langdon's character development to play out. I know engaging with literally anything in good faith is, as a human trait, basically dead these days, but for god's sake, give it a try just this once, because sometimes media doesn't hand you your perfect ending on a silver platter IN SEASON ONE.

And fucking stop flooding people's inboxes with your unsolicited doomer bullshit. As with the character you're stanning, your feelings and circumstances do not give you a "get out of consequences for being an asshole free" card.

[lacunammmm]

I have noticed something...and maybe I'm poking a mega dead horse now but...Izu has no emotional investment in this damn story, not only in the "lets save shig" but in everything.

1) why he wants to be a hero so badly? Shrugs

2) What he thinks of AFO? Shrugs

3) what he think of LoV? Shrugs

(nothing that any other hero wouldn't be able to say)

He has no connection, not even with am and it's pathetically sad bc this boy is a fan of am...and he doesn't even know the name of am. Is that a thing where heroes hide their names? But we can see their faces so the name does nothing to help...so yeah, Izu looks like an idiot here.

Izu never thought about stain or Lov, let alone shig, until the plot says let's save shig.

I'm not saying if dfo was real would be better (small mercy on Hori's side) I'm telling I would like to see a reason as why Izu...is connected to this story. Same for Shig...as anyone could have taken his place (and I don't think the writing is clever enough to go "anyone can be a hero/villain. There no great destiny, it's your choices" SMTH spiderman USUALLY does)

It's because the villains aren't allowed to majorly affect Izuku's life in the long term. Think about it. All Might lost his mentor/mother figure, he lost his health at AFO's hands, and then his quirk publicly burned out in his second fight with AFO. The fight between All Might and AFO is full of pathos. But what does Izuku ever lose and how does Shigaraki or AFO make things personal for him? Nothing, and they don't. The main cast is too bubble wrapped and their plot armor is too thick. Another reason the villains are so impotent is because the story mandates that the main characters leave every encounter smelling like roses. Imagine the following What Ifs. -As retaliation for Kamino, his mother is put in the hospital when Shigaraki orders a hit on her. One of AFO's "friends" is happy to do the job. She was only saved because of Izuku's timely intervention. He fought the assassin off in his home and this battle left him and his mom bleeding and the assassin got away. Said assassin, and we could pick any of the guys who were Final War Arc assassins, they just didn't get sent to Tartarus in this universe, comes for a rematch later. Let's say it was Dictator. -Izuku returns to his family home after Machia's March and sees it's been demolished. He has to pick through the remains of his stuff and his scattered All Might merch and his mother's things. We see him help his neighbors out with their packing up. -Bakugo's sacrifice for him in the first war arc had disastrous results. The guy lost the use of his legs because the tendril pierced his spine when Tomura skewered him. Izuku was at his bedside watching him go through the 5 stages of grief. When Izuku left to start his Dark Hero arc, Hatsume was suggesting an experimental robotic spine replacement. Everyone thought she was crazy but Bakugo said yeah. When next we see Bakugo, he's on his feet but admits he's had to relearn how to walk. It's still not perfect. It probably never will be. But he's here for Izuku.

If canon is going to have All Might using a super suit that lets him 1 vs 1 AFO, and a battlefield heart repair succeeds AND the patient explodes his heart back into functioning, why not go in on theoretical prosthetics? The author is the one who wrote Bakugo getting skewered. Let's actually have that stick. And this is with following the mandate that the heroes and those adjacent to them must live. Let's remove the shackles. You wanna know a way you could have made Shigaraki a huge threat who had major impact on the heroes? Let him kill: Endeavor, Aizawa, and Gran Torino. Three people he had dead to rights but the narrative doesn't let him finish off. Let him. The heroes are allowed to kill the villains. Let a villain kill a hero who actually matters. No one gave a shit about Midnight, not even her two best friends. The story wanted to give something for Mina to do, so we get a really half assed connection where she wants to avenge Midnight because she liked her classes. Not because she had a close bond to Midnight. Not because she was her mentor who taught her things. Not because Midnight was the Aizawa to Mina's Shinso, no. Because she made class time fun. We could go further, you know. Rather than making hero society comically pathetic and thin skinned, make Tomura the menace the story pretends he is. You know all those heroes who quit because the public criticized them too much and left Japan to become a warzone and for people to fend for themselves? No, that doesn't happen. Instead, they were all at the raid on the PLF. All of the squared up to fight. Tomura killed them. Each and every one of them. We'd have panel after panel of him popping people's heads off and punching through bodies. Deku watches this dude go full terminator and then he crashes out. They said he had the physical stats of All Might, plus regeneration? Then let him rampage. Deku's "I'll never forgive you!" actually has weight and means something if Tomura is currently coated in the blood of Izuku's comrades. Not characters who existed just to die to make it look like the heroes lost people, no. Characters the audience could actually begin to care about. The Star And Stripe arc doesn't even need to happen. Tomura was simply so badly wounded from the excessive damage he took in his massacre that he needs to heal. Considering the fact that the final war arc has Deku keep Tomura in the air during their battle, you didn't even need to have chapter after chapter of him fighting mooks while his quirk is erased. Just let everyone jump this man. It gives something for people like Momo and Kaminari to be doing, rather than acting as a fucking battery for a coffin in the sky plan that logically should have ended in tears and death for everyone in UA if "Tomura Shigaraki" was smart enough to simply focus down Monom a and Aizawa. He could have just face tanked everyone's attacks, smashed two heads, and then killed everyone at UA, effortlessly, with a Decay wave. I want to say that the Coffin In The Sky plan was the stupidest thing Nezu could have ever done. Even if Izuku was present like they'd planned, hinging everything on Tomura NEVER breaking line of sight or using someone else's body to obstruct Aizawa and Monoma's view of him, while putting the whole school on the line... Well, it's on brand, given how negligent he usually is about safety and the well being of his students.

[loudlyhappycupcake]

In the image, Mega Pearl is seen saving Spinel from Pink Diamond.

In the Steven Universe universe, Mega Pearl is a powerful being with the ability to manipulate time and space.

Pink Diamond is a Gem who was once part of the ruling Diamond Authority.

Spinel is a Gem who was once Pink Diamond's playmate.

In this image, Mega Pearl is using her powers to protect Spinel from Pink Diamond.

It is unclear what is happening in the image, but it is likely that Mega Pearl is saving Spinel from Pink Diamond.

This image is likely from the Steven Universe movie, which was released in 2019.

The movie is about Steven Universe and the Crystal Gems trying to save the Earth from Pink Diamond.

In the movie, Pink Diamond is revealed to be the villain.

Mega Pearl is a powerful ally of the Crystal Gems.

She is able to use her powers to help the Crystal Gems defeat Pink Diamond.

In the end, the Crystal Gems are able to defeat Pink Diamond and save the Earth.

@shironezuninja @evander2511 @aromantyczno-liryczna @bitter-yet-civilized @billyjoelmutt @miniaturejudgeturkeytree @evaiskindaweird @untitled14360 @twiliartsdreams2017 @twinklemaddie @cartoonfan21 @wolfie245 @sakulovejulius12 @lillywhynot8098 @punk-63 @leo-x-u-raptor-fan @collector-noceda-clawthorne @aamericanotaku @pinkdiamondsearth @chaodeknoi @clairaquos @bossbabyfan2 @bloodmoon24 @enchantedchocolatebars @niyatales4ever @jazzyrazzy157 @moonlighteclipse17 @dianathunderamazon-blog @gametoon @gamebruh12 @disneyblabberlover @buy-some-motherfuckin-apples-iv @roxxywolf-multiversa @ajaxus166 @freyzw0rld @princessfandom812 @princesshillaryellaworld25 @saltysoulballoon @broadwaygirl918 @princess-paige-place-of-fun @ellie67 @jedimemories

[dr-spectre]

Do you write fanfics? And if you do, how. I'm trying to learn how to write but blank page syndrome kinda kills me

Yes i do dabble in the occasional fanfic writing and i did write some shit for Splatoon. I wrote Marie x Shiver shit but that will never see the light of day, and i wrote a rewrite of Splatoon 2's finale which is somewhere on my blog...

And yes i did do late night writing for both of them and this is what i looked like by the time i was done.

Anyways, what i wanna say first off is that feeling stuck or lost when on a blank page and you see that blinking cursor is very very common amongst writers, trust me, it feels very daunting and intimidating.

But we have to break it down into two possible options.

Are you feeling scared because you don't know what to write?

Are you feeling overwhelmed because you know what to write but you cant bring yourself to write?

If you are number 1, the best choice of action is to step away from the blank page and do something else, trying to force your brain to write while it has no idea on what to do is a very bad idea. Take a breather, drink some water, do anything else to reset your brain. If you wanna write but have no ideas, then consume media. If you wanna write fanfiction, consume others fanfics, see how they write it, how they structure it, etc. A lot of fanfiction is basically character interactions and exploring different ideas within a universe that the author loves, so don't put big expectations on yourself. You don't need to write the next masterpiece, you just need to write, something down. Can be anything you want as long as you're enjoying the process!

If you are number 2, this is where things get tricky. What you wanna do is ask "why can't i bring myself to write?" Do NOT ask yourself that question in a mean way, really look at yourself and think why it is you cannot write? Do you feel tired? Do you feel lost? Do you feel like it has to be perfect?

Writer's block tends to be a symptom of other things like feelings of anxiety or even executive dysfunction. I'm not gonna throw any diagnoses at you because that is dumb and it's up to you and or a medical professional to figure that out but, really think to yourself on why you cannot write. Does this feeling apply to other things in your life?

If you want something practical, break down the task into smaller chunks. Break it down in a way where you feel "okay i do this amount today/this hour/this 30 minute chunk/this 15 minute chunk and I'll be happy" and stick to it. Don't go over your target, reach your target, and no matter how tiny it is, reward yourself at the end of it.

I wanna add one last thing too, but i do have a friend who writes fanfics and he basically tells me that the reason why he writes is because he becomes so obsessed with an idea that he HAS to make it. It's like a virus that gets into his head and he enters this ultra mega flow state until it is done. If you can master that flow state then you can get anything done, however it does take a while and starting something is always the hardest part. ALWAYS! But once you start something and you really love doing it and you truly believe that what you are doing is valuable to yourself then, it will become hard to stop.

Btw that person is @crump-laude they write some very neat fanfics but some are suggestive so keep that in mind....

[geminipixels]

A bookworm and her finance bro older brother.

Meet the Sharma siblings, Rahul and Rima. I wanted to make some more ethnically diverse sims for my game. Ethnic wise, these two were inspired based upon South Asia, specifically India and Pakistan. Below are their download links if you're interested in adding them in game. Feel free to change them to fit your sim style, or use them as townie’s for your saves or to populate worlds.

Also, credits and much love to all the CC creators whose custom content was used 💞.

Download Rima here.

Rima is an aspiring journalist and self-proclaimed author pursuing a degree in Communications. While socializing isn't really her thing and she can be a bit clumsy, she has a creative heart of gold. Although she hasn't had any real life romances, she definitely has a few book-tok lovers somewhere on her bookshelf...

Download Rahul here.

Rahul is a typical finance bro. He spent his years at university investing his parents money, arguing over stocks and drafting up business plans. Graduating with honors in business, he plans to become a CEO of a mega-corporation somewhere in Bridgeport. Though he'll always make time to be there for his little sister.

Sidenote: Only their everyday looks have Custom Content. Every other outfit used packs and base game.

They may appear slightly different in your game due to my personal gshade preset, lightning mod, default eyes and skin and slider. My slider settings are set to 2 for facial and 1 for body, below are some links of my sliders and skin I used on the siblings.

My sliders are all from OneEuroMutt found here.

My default eyes are from here by Brntwaffles.

My default skin is made by @nectar-cellar found here. Though for these specific sims I used a skin by Brntwaffles called Fresh Blue found here.

[storytowrite]

|You will always be mine ~ Lee Minho series|

PART 9

Paring: Minho x Y/N

Genre: smut, angst, university au

Word count: 1705

Warnings: sex, 18+, Minho is a psycho, dom!Minho, sub!reader, abuse, slight BDSM, kidnapping, violence, age gap, Minho is an university professor, Y/N can be hurt physically (and mentally too I guess).

Synopsis: Who knew that accidental fuck in the club bathroom with a handsome man will bring you to a lot of unexpected events.

Author's note: I kept this series for a really long time not sure if I want to post it or not, but I decided to do it anyway, so I hope you'll like it.

——————————

You ate dinner in silence. You sank into your thoughts. You thought about Lisa, about the pictures, about Jeno, about the university, generally about everything. You didn't even listen to what Minho was talking to you about. 

“Hello. Earth to Y/N... Can you hear me?” The man asked. 

“Hm? Ah, yes, yes... Forgive me Minho. I was just thinking.” You replied and smiled apologetically at him. 

“Mhm... I noticed.” He muttered, not entirely satisfied with your answer. “I asked if you liked it?”

“Yes.” You replied with a smile. “It's mega delicious, you cook very well.”

“Thank you kitten. Would you like to watch a movie?” He asked, picking up the dirty dishes. 

“And what kind?” You became interested. 

“Go to the living room and choose something.” He instructed you and went to wash up. 

You immediately went to the room, where you sat down on the black leather couch and took the TV remote control in your hand. You started looking for interesting movies, casually checking what movies Minho had watched recently to get a sense of what he liked. 

It turned out that Minho watches everything. Starting with action movies, or horror movies, and ending with romances, or fairy tales. You sighed quietly and turned on the first better romance. You didn't really feel like watching anything that much. You would honestly rather go to bed. 

Minho came to you after a short while. He sat down next to you on the couch and embraced you lightly. His hand rested on your shoulder. He kissed your cheek and pulled you tighter to him. You leaned against him. 

“ So, have you decided what we're watching, kitten?” Minho asked. 

“‘”Oh, I don't know... Some kind of romance, I didn't check the title.“’” You replied. “I think I'm tired, Minho... and I don't want to watch the movie too much. I would like to lay down...”

“Ah, too bad.” He said very unhappy. “I thought we would have a pleasant night after the movie.” Saying this, he began to glide his hand over your shoulder. “In the end, we didn't finish our fun in the car,” he said.

“Because you thought I was being naughty Min... Besides, I don't feel like it.” 

“Maybe you don't, but I do.” He replied a little more sharply than he intended. You looked at him slightly puzzled. 

“And what are you going to do, force me?” 

“No...” He sighed quietly. “You know very well that I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want...” He didn't sound very convincing. His behavior was strange to say the least. “Go and lie down Y/N, I'll come over later.”

“Sure, good night Minho...” You said and kissed him on the cheek, then disappeared into the bedroom, where you changed into pajamas and lay down on the bed. 

Sleep, however, did not come easily. You began to sink into thought again. You didn't like the man's behavior. More and more, you began to wonder about him and what the two of you had in common. But did it really connect? Or were you just a toy for him to use whenever he felt like it? He was ceasing to like the arrangement you had entered into. You sighed quietly. If it continues like this, then, I'll end it, you decided in your mind, then fell asleep. 

The next day you woke up quite sleepy. You glanced at your watch again. It was nine o'clock. The lecture you should have attended had already been going on for an hour and a half. The plus side was that the lecturer in charge was Minho, so he would rather forgive your absence. 

You got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Minho left you breakfast on the table. You smiled slightly. The man really cooked well. You sat down at the table and started eating. The apartment was quiet, far too quiet. You decided to turn on the TV, you just happened to come across a news channel. 

This morning, a woman's body was found near the ponds. The woman was probably raped, and then the perpetrator must have carried out the murder, by strangulation, probably done with a rope or thin line. Investigators are looking into the circumstances of the incident.  

You gasped. The moment the camera caught the woman's corpse, before the TV had time to blur it out, you noticed a piece of clothing belonging to the dead. Red material was wrapping the woman's body. It was probably a dress. The news did not give the name of the deceased, but you had a feeling you knew her. 

Terrified, you put your uneaten breakfast aside. You began to fear that the perpetrator might have been Minho. After all, he himself had said he would take care of Rheena. What if it was her? You didn't really know the woman. Aside from one unpleasant interaction, you had nothing in common, but the thought that Rheena could have ended up like this made you shudder. 

But what if it was just a figment of your imagination? What if it wasn't Rheena, but some random woman? You began to think about this intensely. Should you ask Minho about it? But do you have reason to believe that Minho did it? After all, he cared about you and wouldn't hurt anyone, right? No, it's probably just a coincidence, and you're imagining too much. 

You sighed quietly and went to the bathroom to wash your face. You rinsed yourself with cold water, hoping to soothe your thoughts at least a little, but it didn't help. You decided to take a cold shower. You stripped off your short nightgown and entered the cabin. You stood under the shower and turned on the water. You didn't know how long you had been there. How much time had passed? 

Suddenly, immersed in your thoughts, you felt someone's arms wrap around your waist. You let out a scream, pulling yourself out of your musings. You felt strong hands glide over your body.

“Shh...” You heard a familiar voice over your ear. “It's okay, kitten, there's no need to shout.” Minho said in a quiet, soothing tone. You calmed down slightly. When did he manage to return? You didn't even hear him come in. 

Minho's hands glided over your body. He gently brushed every scrap, staggering circles with his thumbs on your bare skin. He moved one hand to your breast and gently began kneading it. The other hand, meanwhile, moved across your body and landed between your legs. Minho hooked the most sensitive spot on your body. You felt his finger slide inside you and gently begin to move. Your body responded to his every touch. You let out a quiet moan of pleasure and leaned your head against his shoulder. This gave the man easier access to your neck, on which he began to place wet kisses. 

You began to melt under his touch. You closed your eyes slightly, forgetting everything you were thinking about before. You let yourself be carried away by the pleasure that was building more and more strongly in your body. The sounds you made from yourself were getting louder and louder. Minho brought you to the edge. His thumb found its way to your button, and his finger began to move decidedly faster. You were already about to reach orgasm when he suddenly stopped. He took his hand away and stepped back slightly. You looked at him with a questioning, slightly hazy gaze.

“Lean your hands against the wall, kitten,” he said. The man said firmly. “And gently push yourself out toward me.”

You obeyed him. With your hands, you leaned against the wet tiles and pushed out slightly, exposing your buttocks. Minho smiled slightly. You felt a gentle slap on your bottom. The one. The second. The third. 

You received a total of ten spankings, five on each buttock. Your bottom turned mildly red. However, you didn't mind. The excitement that gripped you did not allow you to make any protests. Minho massaged both of your buttocks gently. He moved closer to your body, rubbing his manhood against your feminine parts. After a while, before you had time to say anything, you felt his presence inside you. 

He began to move inside your female parts, setting a pace that was not too fast. Your breathing sped up. You began to make loud moans from yourself. With each moan, the man's movements accelerated. His hands held your hips. He drove his fingers hard into your naked body. He brought you to the edge. You let out a loud, prolonged moan, reaching orgasm. 

You rested your forehead against the cold tiles. You normalized your breathing. The unexpected sex gave you an incredible sensation. You continued to feel Minho's presence inside you, who now embraced you tighter from behind. 

“The whole lecture today I was thinking about you, you know?” He whispered in your ear while gently biting the petal of it. “You weren't in my lecture, and I still couldn't concentrate. What are you doing to me Y/N? You're driving me crazy.”

The man finally slid out of you and moved slightly away from you, but still embraced you. You turned to face him and hugged him, hiding your face in the hollow of his neck. The water from the shower ran down your naked bodies, and you persisted in the embrace. 

Finally, you decided to leave the bathroom. Minho helped you out of the cabin and handed you a bathrobe. He threw a second one over himself. You smiled slightly at him, and he just wanted to watch that smile forever more. 

“What do you want to do now?” The man asked, but before you had time to answer, you heard the doorbell ring. “Wait, let me see what this is about...”

Minho walked to the door and opened it. Behind the door stood two other men in police uniforms. Minho raised one eyebrow slightly.

“Yes? Can I help you gentlemen?” He asked, raising his eyebrow slightly. 

“Senior Sergeant Christopher Bang and Junior Sergeant Lee YongBok.” Said one of them. “Lee Minho? We have some questions, can we come in?” 

——————————

<- Part 8 | Part 10 ->

-> Series Masterlist

Taglist: @yaorzu-blog, @iovecb97, @hpnsfwaddict, @syedazarintasnim, @palindrome969, @biujulia

[mariacallous]

Not long ago, I was reading the newsletter TheRighting, for which the journalist Howard Polskin combs through the right-wing mediasphere so you don’t have to, when a back-to-back pair of links jumped out at me. The first, from Townhall, announced that it was “Time for Trump’s DOJ and FBI to Deal the Pain.” Republicans “control federal law enforcement right now,” an excerpt pulled out by Polskin read. “That means we get to set the agenda, and we need to ruthlessly and brutally use the law to defeat our enemies’ outrageous and disgraceful attacks upon patriotic Americans.” The second, from The American Spectator, focussed on the role that Elon Musk’s company SpaceX played in bringing home astronauts who had been stranded on the International Space Station, arguing that the supposed rescue reinforced the earthly premise of Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE: that the government is riddled with waste and other actors can perform its functions better. “If the private sector can recover astronauts,” the subheading read, “it can do anything.”

One of these links leaned into the idea that the government should be smaller; the other that it should be bigger. This juxtaposition—and apparent contradiction—seems to be everywhere at the moment. While catching up on the news on a Sunday in early April, I came across stories that attested, respectively, to significant forthcoming job cuts at the Internal Revenue Service and to the Trump Administration’s unprecedented plans to use the agency’s data to go after undocumented immigrants. The same day, Kristen Welker, the host of “Meet the Press,” asked Scott Bessent, the Treasury Secretary, about tariffs that have been called “the biggest tax hike on Americans in decades”—and then about the Administration’s plans to extend President Trump’s 2017 tax cuts. More recently, I read a story in the Times about a root-and-branch push to slash regulations across government, which Trump described as the “deconstruction of the overbearing and burdensome administrative state.” (A notice published as part of this effort, at the Federal Communications Commission, was literally titled “DELETE, DELETE, DELETE.”) I then clicked through to the paper’s live blog for that day, which led with Trump threatening to strip Harvard of its tax-exempt status should it not bend to his will.

Perhaps the two overarching themes of Trump’s first hundred or so days back in office have been that he has brazenly pushed the boundaries of executive power—over Congress, the courts, universities, law firms, the media, former bureaucrats who have slighted him, migrants disappeared without due process to a mega-prison in El Salvador—while, at the same time, empowering Musk and DOGE, among others, to pare back the federal government and withdraw it from long-standing areas of activity. At least at a glance, these narratives seem to channel a classic political divide, between those who think the government should stay out of people’s business and those who think it should take a more hands-on role. That Trump finds himself on both sides of the divide surely reflects, at least in part, the chaos of his approach to governance; whether he pursues a particular policy often seems guided less by philosophical rigor than by naked self-interest. There’s also the issue of execution. Some of his early policies—not least his tariffs—have been implemented in messy ways, and have at times appeared to be driven by incompatible impulses.

At the same time, the Trump Administration seems to be trying to appeal to a broad coalition that runs from traditional small-government Republicans to Silicon Valley techno-libertarians and the nationalist hard right. The latter’s priorities, in particular, involve expanding executive power in ways that are frequently at odds with an instinct to cut costs. The Administration’s breathtakingly ambitious deportation goals are perhaps the clearest example; Tom Homan, Trump’s “border czar,” has been prodding Congress for more funding. (“Our level of success depends on the resources I have,” he said in February.) This is before we even get into Trump’s desire to take over Canada and Greenland, which would expand the government in a very literal sense.

Moves that might appear to shrink or to grow the government, however, are not always as contradictory as they seem. Oren Cass, a prominent policy commentator who serves as the chief economist at American Compass, a conservative think tank, told me that “the simple small-government-versus-big-government dichotomy that dictated most of our political fights in the nineteen-nineties and two-thousands isn’t the right axis on which to understand a lot of the conflicts and a lot of the opportunities” of this moment. In part, he is right; we are in the midst of a political realignment that muddies old dichotomies. But evaluating exactly how government is getting both smaller and bigger under Trump 2.0—and, in some ways, getting bigger by getting smaller—is a revealing lens through which to view where this Administration, the country, and, perhaps, our broader political world may be headed.

During the Obama years, Jonathan Havercroft, an academic who teaches political theory, and who is now at the University of Glasgow, was reading Nietzsche in preparation for a lecture when he came across a reference to “misarchism,” a world view that combines aversion to government, as the entity that regulates social life, with support for a robust state that enforces order and traditional morals. Havercroft wondered if the concept might help explain the rise of the Tea Party, the Republican movement that emerged in furious opposition to Barack Obama and advocated for a mix of both libertarian and authoritarian policies. (The Tea Party was broadly anti-tax, as its name suggested, and opposed big-government programs like the Affordable Care Act, but many adherents seemed to favor stronger immigration enforcement and an aggressive approach to counterterrorism.) Havercroft and a colleague tested his hypothesis against data from the American National Election Study, found support for it, and predicted that this world view would continue to shape Republican politics long after Obama.

As the misarchist framework suggests, the idea of “the state” can be theoretically distinguished from the idea of “government,” wherein government is conceived as an entity that provides services and welfare and the key characteristic of the state is what the sociologist Max Weber called its monopoly on legitimate violence—as Havercroft told me, “what we today would think of as police power, protecting borders, military power.” The two terms have often been used interchangeably, particularly in the postwar era of democratic welfare states. Many countries, though, have combined small-government principles borrowed from neoliberal economics, with its emphasis on free markets as the main driver of social organization, with vicious crackdowns on freedoms of speech and association. Pinochet’s Chile, for instance, both privatized the pension system and disappeared people by dropping their bodies out of helicopters into the ocean. It has been speculated that the scale of Chile’s neoliberal turn would have been impossible without its accompanying authoritarianism. In a 1982 letter to the libertarian economist Friedrich A. Hayek, Margaret Thatcher acknowledged the success of Pinochet’s reforms, but noted that “in Britain with our democratic institutions and the need for a high degree of consent, some of the measures adopted in Chile are quite unacceptable.”

Many neoliberal economies have been premised on the notion that a strong state is needed to create a strong market—though that state, ultimately, might do fewer things. A Ferrari or a Porsche might be smaller than a Jaguar, Ernesto Gallo, an academic who has studied a growing body of literature on what is called “authoritarian neoliberalism,” told me. But the smaller car may be “stronger in terms of power.” Even in the age of Ronald Reagan and Thatcher, the idea of a spectrum running from small government on the right to big government on the left was an oversimplification. (In Reagan’s first Inaugural Address, he declared that “government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem,” and then went on, for example, to significantly increase defense spending.) In 2001, a journalist launched the Political Compass, a tool designed to move beyond such simplifications by adding a social scale perpendicular to the economic one, creating ideological quadrants that have since become a staple of political-science classes. Singapore, for instance, is highly economically free but sharply socially authoritarian.

Trump, despite continuing to celebrate Reagan’s legacy, has in many respects moved away from the consensus that defines the former President’s economic policies. In 2019, Veronique de Rugy, a libertarian and senior research fellow at the Mercatus Center, at George Mason University, wrote in Reason magazine that Trump’s first Presidency would “end up being, by a large margin, a very pro-government intervention administration,” citing, among other things, his first-term tariff policy. Now that Trump is back in office, de Rugy told me, he is redoubling his pursuit of that policy in a way that constitutes “an utter abuse of executive powers” and mirrors “the very same arrogance that the far left has always had, that government knows best and can consciously reorganize the economy.”

Indeed, an ascendant wing of the Republican Party has actively pushed for a more muscular government—in the areas of family and industrial policy, for example—after reaching the conclusion that Reagan-style market orthodoxy has hollowed out communities, among other bad outcomes. Cass, who is generally aligned with this wing, accused DOGE of “cutting the things you actually wanted to be building up”; its approach to head-count reduction, for example, slashed an office overseeing subsidies for the domestic manufacturing of semiconductors.

But Cass sees DOGE more as a wasted opportunity than a faulty premise, and he sees spending cuts as a necessary part of realigning the government’s priorities; in his view, for example, it might take less government to enforce universal tariffs than to regulate individual free-trade deals, or to coördinate industrial policy than to retrain and support workers left behind by the market. But “the actual substantive goal of both building some things up while cutting other things down has to be paired to a rhetoric that recognizes that updated reality,” Cass said. And on that front “there’s still a ways to go.” Many figures in the Administration still speak in very classically “small government” terms. The Deputy Treasury Secretary complained to Politico recently that “the government’s gotten larger” and “more involved in people’s lives.” DOGE called for “small-government revolutionaries” to join its team; Musk has said that the U.S. should privatize “everything we possibly can,” and danced around with a chainsaw gifted to him by Javier Milei, the avowedly libertarian President of Argentina. (He also reposted, then deleted, a missive stating that “Stalin, Mao and Hitler didn’t murder millions of people. Their public sector workers did.”) Havercroft told me that Musk is acting like the “misarchist-in-chief.”

And yet it’s also fair to question how much Musk et al. are actually shrinking the government. (Bessent himself reportedly did this recently, during a shouting match with the DOGE head in the White House.) Musk once spoke of wanting to quickly slash two trillion dollars in federal spending, but he has since revised down that figure; so far, the cuts have fallen far short of his ambitious goals—and that’s if you take DOGE’s self-reported claims at face value, which is, erm, ill-advised. And many government workers fired at DOGE’s behest have subsequently been reinstated, because their jobs turned out to be essential or because the courts intervened to clip DOGE’s wings. Over all, spending is actually higher than this time last year, spurred largely by debt interest and automatic increases in Social Security payments, which Trump has promised not to touch, even though they make up a substantial percentage of the federal budget. (Whether you believe Trump’s promise, of course, is a different question; White House officials have suggested that the early cuts targeted “low-hanging fruit” to build political cover for less popular decisions to come.)

If that budget is “the debt-ridden dad on the way to buy a $250,000 Ferrari on the credit card,” Jessica Riedl, of the center-right Manhattan Institute, told NPR in early March, then “DOGE is the $2-off gas card he used along the way.” Last week, Riedl told Reuters that she believes the initiative will end up costing more than it saves. Other analysts seem to agree, citing the costs of firing and rehiring people and lost productivity—not to mention the legal bills it has racked up defending its work. DOGE, Riedl said, “is not a serious exercise.”

The extent to which the Administration has cut government spending may be debatable, but surely it wants to be seen as slashing away. Musk has talked about the cuts in terms of efficiency, but he has also cast them in Manichaean terms. The U.S. Agency for International Development, or U.S.A.I.D., for instance, was (among many, many other things) “a viper’s nest of radical-left marxists who hate America” and needed to “die.” His army of engineers tinkers largely out of sight of the public, but Musk himself wants people—his supporters, yes, but, as with any good troll, probably more so his critics—to see him as a warrior and to pay attention to him, be that by posting hyperactively on X or by showing up in Wisconsin in a cheesehead hat and framing a state Supreme Court race as existential for civilization. After waving Milei’s chainsaw onstage at the Conservative Political Action Conference, in February, Musk sat down and proclaimed, “I am become meme”—hardly a classic expression of the desire for government to recede from people’s lives. (“DOGE started out as a meme,” he added, with a chuckle. “And now it’s real.”) If Musk, to a certain extent, has become a representation of the government, his ubiquity suggests that the government is growing, at least as an object that demands people’s attention.

The Administration has used Musk, DOGE, and other financial maneuvers to expand its power in more concrete ways, too. The gutting of U.S.A.I.D. threw down a gauntlet before Congress, which ultimately created the agency, and before the courts. Keen observers of authoritarianism see the mass firing of civil servants as a way station on the road to autocracy. The way the cuts and their associated efforts have been handled has certainly made federal workers feel targeted, demoralized, and even paranoid; there have been reports of some of them hiding their laptops and using white-noise machines for fear that their conversations are being recorded, and likening DOGE’s presence to a panopticon, a psyop, and a horror movie. This appears to be at least partly by design: Russell Vought, the director of the Office of Management and Budget and a key intellectual force behind Trump’s aggressive wielding of executive power, has said that he wants bureaucrats “to be traumatically affected. When they wake up in the morning, we want them to not want to go to work because they are increasingly viewed as the villains.” (There are wider fears that DOGE is trying to build a surveillance state by seizing control of people’s sensitive data.) The Administration is also pulling at the purse strings as a means of asserting power over organizations that receive federal money but are supposed to be independent—like the United States Institute for Peace and, reportedly, NPR and PBS—by sending in DOGE or attempting to claw back appropriations that Congress already authorized. Terminating grants, or threatening to do so, has been a primary instrument in Trump’s war on private universities. With cuts comes leverage comes power.

The DOGE part of all this might be at an inflection point. Musk, following weeks of reports that he is on the outs, confirmed recently—after Tesla, his car company, reported a huge drop in profits—that he intends to spend less time in Washington. (Ever the misarchist, he blamed recent protests targeting Tesla dealerships on special interests drunk on government largesse. “The real reason is that those who are receiving the waste and fraud wish it to continue,” he said.) Musk has suggested, however, that he will continue to spend around two days per week on government business. And it would be naïve to think that Musk taking a step back will spell the end of DOGE, though the volume might be turned down and Congress will at some point have to weigh in. (“DOGE is a way of life, like Buddhism,” he told reporters this week, when asked about succession planning. “Buddha isn't alive anymore. You wouldn't ask the question: ‘Who would lead Buddhism?’ ”) Musk has embedded allies across the government. Vought and others remain in place—and their plan to radically reshape the federal bureaucracy has much deeper ideological roots than some faddish crusade named after a meme. The ultimate boss, of course, is Trump himself—a man who surely cares less about the size of the government, in some philosophical sense, than about rooting out the parts of it that he views as hostile or disloyal and using what remains to enforce his whims.

One recurring motif of Musk’s tenure with DOGE has been that he thinks the government should be run like one of his businesses. Generously, his cuts might be cast in the Silicon Valley tradition of moving fast, breaking things, and then building them back up from zero. Similar has been said of Trump, albeit in a more old-fashioned sense. Businesses, Havercroft, the political theorist, told me, are often “actually quite authoritarian” in terms of how they are run.

Earlier in his career, Havercroft was keenly interested in the idea of the state, and how the concept grew out of the idea of the “estate,” or personal possession of the ruler, as depicted in Niccolò Machiavelli’s “The Prince” or Hilary Mantel’s “Wolf Hall.” “In one sense, I think Musk and Trump are trying to re-personalize the state,” Havercroft told me. “ ‘We’re now in charge, it’s my state, I get to run it.’ ” We spoke before Musk’s recent comments about withdrawing from government affairs. If the private sector can do anything, as The American Spectator would have it, it can certainly reabsorb Elon Musk. L’État, c’est encore Trump.

[armoricaroyalty]

Rosalind of Armorica: The princess will see you now

Crown Princess Rosalind wants to become the most accessible member of the Armorican royal family. Is she ready for the pressure?

It’s hard to escape Crown Princess Rosalind. The 27-year-old heir to the Armorican throne is seemingly everywhere: cutting ribbons at hospital wards in Nordienne, meeting with conservationists and gamekeepers in the highlands north of Bortaine, smiling on the cover of glossy supermarket tabloids.

The omnipresence is part of a deliberate strategy, according to the Crown Princess. “We can’t hold ourselves apart from the people we serve,” says Rosalind. “We need to be hypervisible. We have to be real to our people, not just faces on stamps.”

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author's note: I never do recreations, but I did recreate this 2021 Tatler cover because it was just really striking. Thank you to @warwickroyals for sharing the Tatler graphic with me!

article continues below the cut!

Of course, hypervisibility is nothing new to the mega-popular heir to the Armorican throne. Already a superstar within her home country, Rosalind rose to international prominence after accompanying her father on a state visit to Uspana in November 2017. At just 27 years old, she is already considered one of the most accomplished living royals. In 2012, she graduated from the elite Allard University with dual degrees in economics and music performance. Two years later, she launched herself into full-time royal work, quickly racking up 34 patronages, ranging from the national ballet to the Ministry for Sustainable Energy. Last year, she completed over 400 engagements on behalf of her father. In terms of extracurricular activities, Rosalind is an accomplished tennis player, speaks six languages fluently, composed the score for ANN’s upcoming documentary on sustainable energy Green Horizons, and owns an international real estate portfolio valued in the hundreds of millions.

Sitting across from me at a private supper club in the tony Pearl District, she brings a relentless, focused energy to our conversation. Everything about her conveys poise and intensity, from her impeccable posture to her ad-exec smile to her sensible suede pumps. Her favorite rose-shaped brooch (purchased by her great-grandfather in 1962 and worn by both her grandmother and great-grandmother) adorns the lapel of her cropped jacket, which the diminutive Crown Princess has paired with wide-legged trousers. Her smile doesn’t waver as the conversation turns to her relationship with her father.

"We have very different styles. [My father has] never given an interview, and well, look at me now!”

“His Majesty is very supportive,” Rosalind says. “We work together very well, and in the last few years, he’s really come to rely on me.” It’s a bold claim for a member of the normally self-effacing and media-shy Armorican royal family, but it’s backed up by the numbers: including his weekly visits with the prime minister, the reclusive King of the Armoricans carried out just 131 engagements last year, approximately one third the number completed by the overachieving Crown Princess. “We have very different styles,” she laughs. “He’s never given an interview, and well, look at me now!”

"I suppose [my parents] meant well, but [my upbringing has] been quite a disadvantage."

Crown Princess Rosalind is the oldest child and only daughter of Andre, King of the Armoricans and former hockey pro Elise Sutton. According to Rosalind, the King and Queen—then the Duke and Duchess of Arbor—tried to give their children an “informal upbringing,” away from the pressures of royal life. “I suppose they meant well, but it’s really been quite a disadvantage,” she confesses. “When I meet my peers internationally, it’s very clear that they were more directly brought up to rule. I used to feel so behind. I’ve had to work hard to catch up.”

“Was it difficult, growing up as a member of the Royal Family?” I ask.

“No,” says Rosalind, hesitating. “But I think that it was difficult to be royal in my family.”

“I think that it was difficult to be royal in my family.”

[pale-opal]

Hear Me Out 2:

So. I know that this image, like the ones in the last post I made, is incredibly niche. I also suspect that, the MMX and Warrior Cats fandoms, much like the Mega Man and Homestuck fanbases, probably don't have that much overlap. However. I am not going to let that stop me from drawing this conclusion: if the books existed in the MMX universe, Axl totally would've read Warrior Cats. And he would've loved it. To prove this, I am going to write an entire multipoint essay about this strange little reploid, and this somehow stranger series of books. Buckle up, folks. This one is going to get wild. Now, first things first: I need to explain what Warrior Cats is. For those of you not in the know, Warrior Cats (also known simply as Warriors) is a book series that follows several different groups of cats known as "clans" through their time in a forest. Every writer who has worked on the Warrior Cats series has done so under the pen name "Erin Hunter". However, some of the authors identities are known. For example, the first few arcs were primarily written by a woman named Victoria Holmes. - The cats are not anthropomorphic (for the most part). They are feral. Humans exist, but they can't understand them. Pet cats are referred to as "kittypets." - A clan cat receives several names during their lifetime. If they are born into the clan, they are born as [noun/adjective]kit. As an apprentice (a warrior cat in training), they would be called [noun/adjective]paw. Once they become a warrior, usually at 12 months (or "moons", as months are referred to in the books as such) of age, they will become [noun/adjective][noun 2]. Cats who are the appointed leader of their clan are known as [noun/adjective]star. Cats that join a clan from elsewhere have a chance to go through this naming system as well, but they do not have to if they don't want to. Cat names will be used interchangeably, depending on when that specific cat had that name. - Leader cats have nine lives, of which are given to them by Starclan (cat heaven). There can only be one leader at a time. Also, there is a hell-equivalent known as the "Dark Forest". Dead clan cats get sent to one of these two places after death. Their ghosts can also die - either through fading (being forgotten by the living), or through severe injuries and other similar causes of death. - The clan cats follow a set of rules known as the "Warrior Code". It is mostly composed of basic rules, such as not being allowed to kill cats for no reason, not being allowed to quit being a clan cat to go live with people, etc. However, some more complex rules were added. An example includes a rule that allows a leader to be disposed by their subordinates. - I will be discussing spoilers for the entirety Warrior Cats series. If at any point during this essay you want to put on a life jacket and jump ship so you can experience these books blind, feel free to do so (however, I do recommend skipping to the final few bullets of the "Additional Notes" section before leaving the cruise, as I do mention topics that I think would be a disservice to not warn new readers of beforehand). I also have to provide a content warning for violence because these books can be dark sometimes.

Part 1: Character Arc Cousins Something that makes a book or story likeable is relatability. And how do characters become relatable? By having experiences that readers are likely to have gone through themselves. And if we go through the Warrior Cats series, we find that there are quite a few characters that Axl would relate to. For instance, there's Firestar:

Let's go through a list of the things he and Axl have in common: 1. Born as a kittypet named Rusty, Firepaw leaves his home to join Thunderclan because he feels he's meant to be doing something else with his life. Axl leaves Red Alert when they become evil, and joins the Maverick Hunters because he doesn't feel that it's right for him to be using his copy ability to harm innocents. Shared experience: leaving home to pursue their destiny. 2. Firepaw spends the majority of The Prophecies Begin (the first set of Warrior Cats books) trying to prove himself worthy of being in Thunderclan, even when he becomes Firestar. Axl spends all of X7 trying to prove himself to the Hunters, and continues to work toward doing so when he fails to win X's approval, even after all he's been through. Shared experience: proving themselves to people who are older and more experience than they are. 3. At the end of The Last Hope (the final book in the Omen of the Stars collection), Firestar dies from his injuries in a fight against the ghost of Tigerstar I (long story), his final life being spent protecting his clan. Guess what happens to Axl in X8? If you guessed "gets a mysterious black crystal shoved into his head by Lumine's corpse after working together with his homies to kill him, leaving him in a near-comatose state," congratulations! You're right! Your prize is... um... the satisfaction of being correct! Huzzah! Shared experience: dying/becoming severely injured after working to secure the greater good for their loved ones.

Firestar's not the only character Axl would relate to, either. There's also: - Squirrelfight (both characters do reckless things to keep others safe, and have an early habit of rushing into things. They also have trouble getting older people to take them seriously.) - Hollyleaf (both she and Axl betray people they care about - and they both do it with murder, too. (Axl has to kill the members of Red Alert, while Hollyleaf betrays Thunderclan by killing Ashfur (note: to clarify, Hollyleaf did not betray Ashfur specifically. She betrayed the clan by breaking the Warrior Code (although one could make the case that she didn't actually break it, but that's a whole issue of its own))) - Dovewing (similar to Firestar somewhat: both Dovewing and Axl work with older characters, and struggle to fit in with them)

Usually, the more relatable the characters are, the more a viewer or reader will enjoy the story. And with four whole cats that he can feel free to project himself onto, Axl's all set to have a great time reading Warrior Cats on the basis of the characters alone. But that's not the only reason he'd have a heck of a time. There's also:

Part 2 - The Drama of it All

Let's make another list. This time, we'll take note of what Axl likes, what kind of person he is, stuff like that. Axl: - Is trigger happy. Literally. One of his lines in X8 directly states that the thought of fighting mavericks "makes [his] trigger finger itch". The boy lives to fight. - Is a child. Based on his behavior (not taking certain things seriously, wanting to be treated as an equal to those older than him, being easy to amuse), as well as the way he is voice acted (he had a female VA for X7, and a common practice in voice acting is to give male characters who haven't gone through puberty a voice actress or a male VA who is younger or around the same age as the character being portrayed. Additionally, the voices given to him in X8 and Command Mission are at a somewhat higher pitch than X and Zero's - while he does sound older, it's clear that he's younger than X and Zero) tell us that he is not meant to be the same age as the other members of the Hunter trio. Warrior Cats is aimed at middle-school aged children. Keep this in mind. - Despises injustice. He ditches Red Alert when they go maverick, and spends an entire game trying to become a Hunter. And after he becomes one in between X7 and X8, he gets darn good at it. By Command Mission, he's an S-Class Hunter alongside X and Zero. Oh, and in X8 he shoots Lumine in the middle of an evil laugh and tells X and Zero to disregard his evil monologue that he just finished giving.

Based on all this, I think it's safe to say that Axl would enjoy how Warrior Cats includes the following: - The first antagonist, Tigerstar I, attempts to kill Bluestar (the leader of Thunderclan prior to Firestar), kills several innocent cats in his quest for power, and manipulates a dying clan to become its leader after getting exiled from Thunderclan. And how does he get his dues? By getting killed by the second antagonist, Scourge, with all of his lives being taken by one wound, (yes, this is considered a children's book series). And Scourge gets killed by Firestar, who takes him out after coming back to life from Scourge killing him first. You know. Like a boss.

- The majority of Warrior Cats start off as kits or apprentices, meaning that they begin their journey as children and/or pre-teens/teenagers. Recall the target demographic for the books. Now recall how old Axl is. I think you see where I'm going with this. - All of the major villains in the Warriors series meet a terrible fate, one that matches their horrible actions. We already talked about Tigerstar I (and Scourge, to a lesser extent). Now here are some other examples: Brokenstar: He forced kits (aka BABIES) into becoming apprentices before they were of age (6 moons old) (which is not only against the warrior code, but also dangerous because... well, I think we all know why it's a bad idea to send an actual baby out to do certain things like hunt or fight against entire adults in any context). He meets his end by getting blinded and poisoned by his own mother. And then when he dies, he goes to the Dark Forest. Ashfur: After becoming bitter over how Squirrelflight chose another man over him, he decides to go and kill her and her children. But guess what? Not only does that loser fail miserably in doing that, but Hollyleaf also takes him out. Unfortunately, Ashur somehow gets let into cat-heaven. However, this lapse in Starclan's judgement leads to Ashfur being able to magically force all the dead cats in both the Dark Forest and Starclan to do his bidding. He also possesses Bramblestar. But you know what happens to him afterwards? HIS GHOST GETS DROWNED IN A POOL OF WATER THAT SAPS THE LIFE FORCE OUT OF THE CATS THAT GO IN IT. YOU KNOW. LIKE A FREAKING LITWICK (shout out to Bristlefrost for being the one to take out this poser).

Part 3 - It's Not All Perfect Now, anyone who's read Warrior Cats knows that the series has some... interesting flaws in its writing. From forbidden romance being the Special of the Day every series to established lore being retconned at the drop of a hat, the Warriors books have gone through their fair share of bad writing decisions. Here's how I think Axl would respond to some of those issues:

1. Continuity Errors: - "Redtail's Debt" has dubious canonicity. It was established in the second book of the first arc that Redtail, the first deputy of Thunderclan talked about in the series, did NOT kill Oakheart (a former deputy of Riverclan) in a battle that took place in the first book's prologue. Whether or not he did was a huge part of the intrigue of the first two books, and finding out he didn't was an important part of uncovering Tigerstar I's treachery. The writers who took over after Holmes retired from the series retconning this has horrible implications for the series timeline. (And it makes Ravenpaw (one of the most iconic characters, and the one who revealed that Redtail wasn't a murderer) look like a liar for no reason. And we can't have that.) As a result, I think Axl would be pretty upset about this one. I feel he'd take the lore for these angry kitty-cats super seriously. He probably has a mock timeline in his room on the wall. He takes notes whenever new bits of worldbuilding is introduced. He represses the urge to bang his head against a wall whenever the writers confuse a cat's lore with another (looking at you, Graystripe). He knows everything about these cats, and he knows that Redtail didn't kill Oakheart. - On that note, the Heavystep situation would drive him up a wall. For those of you don't know, Heavystep is a character who has died a grand total of three times in the Warriors series. But he was never leader or anything like that: no, the authors just kept losing track of him. But you know who didn't lose track? The readers. I like to think Axl has an original copy of the book Dark River. In the original print of that book, Heavystep was brought back to life for a fourth time. This was later fixed in a reprint, but Axl doesn't know that. 2. Forbidden Romance: Until recently, cats who belonged to different clans were not allowed to become mates. But due to some changes in the Warrior Code, that is less of a problem. However, that doesn't change the fact that we got a lot of forbidden relationships in the series before that point. But even with that in mind, I think Axl would actually eat this sort of plotline up. He'd love it. We've already established that he would enjoy the more violent aspects of the drama. So why not the drama that takes place between characters in non-violent ways? - I figure that Axl would enjoy it until the last book of Omen of the Stars (AKA The Last Hope). That's when he starts punching the air out of frustration. I can totally see him venting about it out loud to anybody who will listen:

Axl: "And then Dovewing chooses freaking BUMBLESTRIPE over Tigerheart, even though Bumblestripe tried to ask her out DURING A FUNERAL." Zero: "And then what happ--" Axl: "Dude, I haven't even told you the worst of it. Before all that, Jayfeather was catching feelings for someone from the freaking PAST because TIME TRAVEL. And - oh. OH. Let me tell you about Firestar and Spottedleaf. Guess what they do. While everyone around them is dying and fighting for their lives. Guess." Zero: "Firestar.... moves on from her?" Axl: "HA! I WISH. No. Instead, they have an entire MOMENT. IN FRONT OF SANDSTORM. I HATE IT HERE." - As you can tell, Axl wouldn't exactly be supportive of the whole "Spottedleaf x Firestar" debacle (Spottedleaf dies in the first arc after Firepaw develops a one-sided crush on her. Spottedleaf starts to reciprocate as a ghost (after Firepaw becomes an adult and is named Fireheart), only for this to continue... until the day Spottedleaf's ghost dies). I imagine Axl would be fine with it at first, but once Firestar becomes mates with Sandstorm? All bets are off. I just can't see Axl supporting Firestar emotionally cheating on his wife. Axl would appreciate a lot of things - adultery most likely wouldn't be one of them. - Omen of the Stars would probably leave a bitter taste in Axl's mouth as far as forbidden romance goes (even after Dovewing ends up getting together with Tigerstar II) until The Broken Code, which would end up redeeming the concept in his mind in the most dramatic way possible:

Axl: *Is crying* X: "Aw, Axl! What's wrong?" Axl: *Is holding book 5 of The Broken Code, weeping miserably* "Bristlefrost and Rootspring just w-wanted to be h-happy, but now they can't, because -- because Bristlefrost is dead!" X: *Has no idea what he's talking about, is trying his best* "Oh, no! That's... that's awful." Axl: "And now all Rootspring has left of her is a vision of her and him with - with the kids that they'll n-never get to have-!" *Sobs* X: "Okay... how about... how about you read something a little happier-" Axl: "No, that - that's okay. I wanna finish it." X: "Are... are you sure?" Axl: *More serious than he has ever been in his life* "Yes." X: *Puts hands up* "Well - okay, then!"

Part 4 - Conclusion So. To sum this up, Warriors is a book series that contains copious amounts of violence, underdog characters to root for and relate to, killable villains, romance, and things that people can complain about. And Axl is someone who would enjoy all of that. In other words:

Rest in peace, Axl. You would've loved Warrior Cats. ...

(Yes, I know he's technically not dead. But he may as well be since we never got X9. The writers of the ZX series didn't even know what his final fate was supposed to be. That's why we got Model A and not Axl. Seriously. Look it up.)

Part 5 - Additional Notes Here are some other things that I would like to say that wouldn't fit into the whole of the essay:

- This took way longer than expected: it was in my drafts since August 10th! I actually had to edit a certain part of the essay because the arc A Starless Clan concluded while I was writing this. But now it's free. And I am now able to start work on another essay meant to boggle hearts and minds. Get ready. - Axl's favorite villain would be Tigerstar, even though he reminds him of Sigma. Reading about him getting killed twice gave him deja vu. - Zero would read Warriors to get a feel for it, so that he could understand whenever Axl started ranting about it. He ends up losing the plot and has to resort to watching YouTube videos. - X, on the other hand, would get super invested - but only after Axl started reading A Starless Clan. Which means that he's got a long way to go before he can relate to Axl's cat-related tangents. - Signas tried to read Warriors because Axl brought it up during a meeting once. He confused it for Tailchaser's Song (1985) and ended up introducing Axl to a new book to get excited over instead of figuring out what's "hip with the kids." - Axl cried at the end of The Last Hope. He bawled his eyes out. Just completely inconsolable. And then he read Dovewing's Silence, and cried some more. - When Grey Wing said "Kill me. Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you won.", it formed an entire core memory in Axl's brain. He would totally say this at some point in the fight against Red. And Red would just laugh and recall when Axl lived with Red Alert and spent a bunch of his free time reading silly cat books. The tension is eased. And then Zero runs over with his sword while screaming a battle cry and then they remember that they're at war. - Now for the serious parts. To begin with, there is a certain novella in the series known as Spottedleaf's Heart. Long story short, I don't like the idea of Axl reading this book. I don't like the idea of an actual child reading this book (at least, not without guidance). So Axl will not be reading it. I do not feel like it would be appropriate for me to explain why here, since it involves topics that would be hard to discuss in what's supposed to be a lighthearted essay. However, Moonkitti has a video that explains the issues with this book in case you want to know what it is I'm referring to (however, please heed the warning that she provides at the beginning). - For the second point, I'll cut straight to the chase: Warriors has quite a few examples of ableism and sexism. I didn't discuss either of them in-depth because I felt that it would be out of place tone-wise in the grand scheme of the essay, but again: I would be doing you a disservice if I didn't at least warn new readers about these aspects. To be specific, these problems are issues because it sometimes feels like the writers resent having disabled and female characters existing in their narrative at all. However, something that is worth mentioning is that there seems to have been efforts made over time to fix these problems. - In case you're wondering how Axl would feel about all this, here's how I see it: he'd hate it. While there aren't any disabled characters in the MMX series that he could've interacted with, Axl does know what it's like to be underestimated and mistreated for reasons outside of one's control. So he would most likely be personally upset by how the narrative takes the chance to sideline or get rid of characters in a similar position, regardless of whether or not the reason why was because of a disability (I imagine he would have some very strong words to say about what happened to Snowkit). As for the sexism: as far as I'm aware, most of the female influences in Axl's life are positive, with him knowing all of them personally. Why wouldn't he get mad about how the series treats women? Especially when all of the ones that he's friends with have been directly involved in what he does as a Hunter, or in saving the world in the case of MMX Command Mission?

Additionally, the books sometimes have legitimate trouble properly writing abusers. Some are written in genuine, believable ways, while others are written that way by accident or aren't fully treated the way they should be by the narrative. This leads to some... odd implications as to what is considered abuse in Warrior Cats and by the authors. In light of that last sentiment: do not come after any of the authors. While you don't have to respect all of their writing decisions, that doesn't mean you can just run around attacking people. Be respectful.

Furthermore, Warriors also includes relationships between characters with lengthy (and sometimes problematic (which is a topic that warrants it's own discussion, although I am not sure if I should be the one to discuss it)) age gaps. Keep that in mind before you start reading. - TL;DR: read the books at your own risk. And be mindful of what you're getting into.