#this is dangerous and stupid and threatening our citizens for no reason

[nimblermortal]

About the Speaker of the House fiasco, my (Republican) representative has this to say:

"The democratic process can at times look messy, yet this freedom to debate ideas is how our Founding Fathers intended for us to bring about the best outcomes for our citizens."

SIR

[itsclydebitches]

I've been reading through some of your RWBY meta's (They're very good!), and something that stuck out to me was how, in your entry on Volume Six's "Our Way", you said Cordovin's screams sounded painful. Specifically, when she had her mecha's arm severed.

That reminded me of what happened to Yang.

Take from that what you will.

Thanks, anon! <3

So if you've ever watched Criminal Minds there's a moment where Reid, the brainiac with an eidetic memory, tells his new co-worker, Rossi, a factoid and Rossi is all, 'Wow that was almost word-for-word from my book' and I went "This scene is nonsense." Not because Reid can remember a specific paragraph he read who knows how long ago — that's well established — but because Rossi remembered it. I have never once in my life remembered the shit I've written after, like, 2 months post-finishing it. Max.

Which is a stupid way of saying I needed to go back to the recap in question and remind myself of what exactly I said [checks notes] three years ago XD

ANYWAY yeah. It's an interesting parallel. I mean, it's quite obviously not a parallel the story is intentionally making, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still exist in the story for viewers to potentially interpret. I think one of the reasons why that (probably) stood out to me at the time was because it certainly wasn't the first instance of RWBY toying with the theme of mechanics as an equal to "real" bodies. Right near the start of the series we have Ruby reassuring Penny that wiring and the like is just as real as squishy blood and guts. And as you point out, we've just come out of an arc where Yang must accept her prosthetic as a new limb — different from her old one, but certainly not lesser. Cordovin hops in the mech not just because she's written as a hot-headed authority figure prone to trying to display her power in overt ways (two big guards standing at her shoulder), but because she literally, physically does not have the ability to stop RWBYJNOR+Q without it. The mech becomes her body for that fight and in a story that positions mechanical bodies as equal to "real" bodies... yeah, it reads differently when Cordovin screams over the loss of her metal arm than it does when, say, Roman jumps in his mech for the highway battle. Roman is a fighter. He has aura. When his mech is obliterated he can hop back up and continue the fight (even though he chose not to), making the mech more of a disposable tool than an extension of himself. Cordovin becomes more vulnerable and the danger of the situation increases the more her mech body is destroyed. It's why I hate moments like Ruby taking that headshot, with only the assumption that this mech's glass can withstand her sniper rifle keeping our hero from killing her. Even putting aside the context of the situation and how they should NOT be fighting this hard over an unnecessary plan, they're fighting someone who can't fight back without that tool. So eliminating the tool is questionable when this isn't, you know, a garden variety grunt or an established, evil villain. Say what you will about how "necessary" getting to Atlas is, it doesn't look good if the heroes are beating on people who literally can't defend themselves against their physical prowess. (Insert threatening Oscar and Whitley here.) Toss in the fact that the mech arm is a defense for the entire city and it's like, okay, the heroes aren't just dismantling Cordovin's mechanical body in a narrative that upholds mechanical bodies as an extension of ourselves, but they're simultaneously making the citizens more vulnerable too. This is a bad, horrendously stupid situation that they're perpetuating.

I say RWBY upholds mechanical bodies, but that's really not the case anymore. As I've mentioned in the past, what happens later in the story inevitably changes our reading of what happened before. A while back some fans were expressing discomfort that Ruby cut off Tyrian's tail right in the middle of her sister recovering from a lost limb. Importantly fans weren't upset that she did it — that's a common simplification I've seen to make critics look bad: "They really think Ruby shouldn't defend herself from the insane kidnapper🙄" — but rather that RWBY missed the opportunity to grapple with the obvious parallel there, allowing Ruby to work through another horror of combat and adding some nuance to Yang's story. That would remain a valid disappointment regardless of what came afterwards, but it's important that RWBY has steadily rejected the idea of body equality — an obvious metaphor for disability — as the story goes on. Yang shrugs off her journey by claiming that her arm is just "extra." Penny's metal body is stripped from her without her consent, without her knowledge even, and it's established that she hadn't understood true love and emotion (via the hug) until she had "normal" flesh to feel with. Ironwood's lost arm is read as a symbol of his madness, even though there's nothing in the canon that establishes he willingly chopped off his arm because he was impatient, or whatever the current claim is. Even if there was proof of that, it's still saying that having a metal arm is automatically worse than trying to get yourself into a position, both mentally and physically, to save what lives you can and by extension the entire world. People get that positioning a prosthetic as the worst possible outcome (ESPECIALLY when literal lives are on the line)/as a sign of insanity is bad, right? I mean yes, no media is perfect, we should reclaim bad representation, all of that... but it's still something that many fans are understandably upset with. But far from being just a one-off #choice, it's particularly bad in a story with so much else going on. Like how Ironwood is also the "most" disabled out of the cast (in terms of the amount of his body that's lost) and he somehow becomes a bigger villain than Salem. He's also given a semblance that just happens to read like a mental illness and, again, is framed as the cause of his bomb-happy downfall. We've got our insane villain Tyrian sporting his prosthetic tail. Our non-redeemed (like Emerald) villain Mercury with his prosthetic legs. Other disabled heroes like Maria and Pietro? The show does not care about them, writing them out of the story for the rest of the season (at least) without even a confirmation of whether they're alive or not — and that's following how Maria went "missing" for most of Volume 7, her status as Ruby's supposed mentor reduced to a single chat in Argus. This is the story that started with a pretty decent divide between disabled heroes and villains, with a wide variety of impairments... only to slowly make an enemy out of a disabled man here, redeem an able-bodied woman there, reverse the message that being an android is wonderful, write out a couple of disabled minor characters, make a few ableist comments along the way... the end result, as of Volume 8, doesn't look good. The problem isn't any one of these things, but the collection and the slow shift from where we started out.

Which, as said, colors our reading of past RWBY content. I can't, for example, enjoy Ruby's speech to Penny anymore knowing the story is going to go back on that a couple Volumes later. Similarly, what could have just been missed opportunities or (slightly) unfortunate implications automatically look worse in the context above. Ruby cutting off Tyrian's tail and not caring about that at all, the group unnecessarily tearing through Cordovin's mech, and not having Yang acknowledge that Ironwood gave her that arm, are all observations that many fans are more critical of considering that RWBY has done such a bad job with disability lately. I want to give my shows the benefit of the doubt, but that becomes harder the longer we go without the story giving me a reason to trust in its best intentions. Yeah, back in Volume 4, Volume 6, and even Volume 7, any of these potential story beats in isolation don't mean much, but when set against this backdrop, you start asking questions about why such parallels and connections have been ignored. Yeah, we can always assume that there are legit reasons at play, even the writers just straight up not noticing the potential there — and that might very well be true considering that most writing decisions are made for multiple reasons — but you also start to question whether the ableist turn of the story isn't having an influence too. Even if it's not an intentional influence... the end result from a storytelling perspective is the same. Why doesn't the story care that Ruby cut off someone's limb when her sister is struggling with that very loss, or that the loss of Cordovin's "body" is framed as physically painful, or that Yang has an emotional connection to Ironwood through both their status as disabled allies and him providing her with the means by which she re-enters the fight? Because RWBY doesn't care about these disability arcs and allegories anymore. It was already heading towards a version of the story where disability is shuffled off screen, killed off, shrugged off, or magically erased.

[jesawyer]

No Power Left to the Vanquished

My feelings, Conscript Fathers, are extremely different, when I contemplate our circumstances and dangers, and when I revolve in my mind the sentiments of some who have spoken before me. Those speakers, as it seems to me, have considered only how to punish the traitors who have raised war against their country, their parents, their altars, and their homes; but the state of affairs warns us rather to secure ourselves against them, than to take counsel as to what sentence we should pass upon them. Other crimes you may punish after they have been committed; but as to this, unless you prevent its commission, you will, when it has once taken effect, in vain appeal to justice. When the city is taken, no power is left to the vanquished.

- Sallust, quoting Cato the Younger, Bellum Catilinae

In the late years of the Roman Republic, a conspiracy arose from within the ranks of the Senate.  The aristocrat Lucius Sergius Catilina attempted to seize control of the government after his bid for consulship failed.  One of the consuls, Cicero, exposed the conspiracy and Catilina fled Rome to prepare an army.  Five of the conspirators were captured after the letters they wrote, in which they urged people to join the conspiracy, were intercepted.  The letters were read before the Senate and Cicero urged for the execution of their authors.

Julius Caesar pled for patience and clemency; after all, Rome had laws and customs to observe. He did not want to set a precedent that the ways of Rome could be set aside because they were inconvenient.  Cato the Younger, a longtime (and future) opponent of Caesar, spoke next.  His appeal won out because the Senate understood the reality of the scenario he was describing: when an institution is in imminent danger from those who seek to dismantle it, you must question if strict adherence to the institution’s laws and customs is worth more than the existence of the institution itself.

Fourteen years later, Julius Caesar, champion of Roman laws and customs, crossed the Rubicon in defiance of law, custom, and the explicit order of the Senate to mark what would become the end of the Roman Republic and the beginning of Caesar’s rule of the Roman Empire.  Caesar’s respect for Roman norms and civitas ended when they put him in personal danger.  As for Cato, he died with the republic and subsequently became its most lionized martyr.

In 1923, Adolf Hitler and Erich Ludendorff, accompanied by hundreds of other Nazis and members of the paramilitary Sturmabteilung staged the Beer Hall Putsch, an attempted coupe d'état against the regional Bavarian government.  Hitler’s goal was to pressure the elected representatives in Munich to turn against the federal government in Berlin through a public show of force and violence.  It failed.  Hitler was imprisoned, but he used his trial testimony to continue spreading his propaganda and dictated Mein Kampf while serving his sentence.  The Beer Hall Putsch was a success for the Nazi party in spite failing to achieve Hitler’s goals.

Ten years later, Hitler was the presidentially-appointed Reichskanzler of Germany. While the Nazis had the most seats in the Reichstag, it was still a minority party.  To ensure the passage of the Enabling Act, which gave the chancellor the power to enact laws without the involvement of the Reichstag, Hermann Göring, President of the Reichstag, suspended the rules for quorum and outlawed the opposition KPD (Communist party) from participating. Sturmabteilung forces entered the assembly chamber to surround and intimidate the non-Nazi representatives into voting for the law.  The passage of the Enabling Act marked the end of the Weimar Republic and the beginning of Hitler’s dictatorship over the German Reich.

The differences between the Beer Hall Putsch and and the Enabling Act were differences of organizational power, instruments, and outcome, not intent.  In both cases, the same bad actors were seeking to overthrow an existing government.  President Paul von Hindenburg and Franz von Papen failed to recognize that Hitler and the Nazis not only threatened the principles of the aristocracy or their other political opponents, but the Weimar Republic itself.

Was the Weimar Republic worth saving?  It was, by most accounts, including the little my grandmother remembered of it, an awful state.  Its government was, putting it mildly, dysfunctional.  Many of its citizens lived through an era of terrible poverty and violence following the end of the first World War.  But the Reich is what came after.  All other avenues of evolutionary institutional or truly revolutionary change ended with the fall of the republic.  The world suffered for it.

Trump and his allies have been attacking American institutions for the last four years.  Trump doesn’t have the ideological drive of Hitler or the strategic acumen of Caesar.  He just has the most base populist instincts to agitate a mob.  What he shares with Hitler, Caesar, and other would-be dictators is a desire to remove opposition and the institutional mechanisms of opposition through whatever means are at his disposal.  If he can do it through an executive order, he will.  If he can do it through political pressure, he will.  If can do it through intimidation, quid pro quo exchanges, and other illegal actions, he will.  And if it requires a mob of supporters to storm the capitol during a Senate session to overturn their certification vote, he’ll try use that, too.

People have been likening what happened in the U.S. capitol to the Beer Hall Putsch.  It’s a fair and reasonable comparison, though Hitler did actually march in his own coup attempt and was wounded during its defeat; Trump just gathered people together, lit a fuse, and watched them go.  But it’s important to remember that the differences between the Beer Hall Putsch and the Enabling Act were of organizational power, instruments, and outcome.  What if there had been more pro-Trump agitators at the capitol?  What if the Senate had not been evacuated in time?  What if Trump had more supporters within the Senate to begin with?  What if Trump were even mildly more intellectually competent or the various online factional leaders in his mob were more coordinated in their tactics and goals?

Facebook, twitter, and other social media sites have deplatformed Trump.  Several companies have suspended hosting services for online communities that have been involved in coordinating fascist, white supremacist mobs in the past. Trump’s supporters, in ignorance or bad faith, have decried that this violates 1st Amendment rights.  They are wrong, but even if they were not, the events of January 6th, planned armed protests on the 17th, and threats of violence against Biden’s inauguration on the 20th, represent the kind of imminent institutional danger that Cato spoke of during the Catiline Conspiracy.  “When the city is taken, no power is left to the vanquished.”

We have wrestled with how the government and corporations should moderate social media since these platforms emerged.  We will continue to do so in the future.  While we must take guard against the transformation of severe actions in time of crisis into the de facto way of handling our day-to-day problems, we must also recognize and act to resolve crises as soon as they appear if we have any interest in preserving the institutions they threaten.

I think of myself as a socialist.  My political thought is not as educated, as principled, or as nuanced as many other socialists I know, some of whom think that any efforts to preserve or work within existing American institutions is, at best, naïve; in practice, counterproductive; and, at worst, actively reactionary.  I often look at our institutions through the lens of a designer.  When I do, I see systems that do not work to produce meaningful social change.  I see systems which do not often work to accomplish any goals of its body politic.  In practice, our systems serve the needs and interests of the ruling class and the powers that have the means and knowledge to manipulate the members of that class.  The systems confine the use of violence and its instruments to the state, as the state sees fit, often to the detriment and mortal peril of the most disadvantaged and vulnerable among us.  It is hard for me to sympathize with those who deify the state and its institutions, especially a state like America that treats its citizens so cruelly.  It becomes even harder when adjacent political cousins perennially denounce any hesitance to support milquetoast centrist candidates as tantamount to treason.  Even so, when fascists, white supremacists, advocates of genocide are positioning themselves to imminently dismantle these institutions through intimidation and violence, it is not difficult for me to see the value in their immediate preservation.

But if the state and its institutions do survive the next few weeks, we will still live in a world where social media and the principles of freedom of speech are vulnerable to the predations of those who would use their contentious legal status to spread lies, foment popular dissent, and, if necessary, coordinate another violent coup d'état when the time is ripe.  The next time, perhaps the popular figurehead will not be as ignorant, as incompetent, as craven, as plainly stupid as Donald Trump.  You can already see his would-be successors positioning themselves for 2024 in the waning hours of his presidency.  The next time, the populist agitators may be more focused in their goals, more coherent in their strategy, more careful in their communication.  Those among them who have witnessed the spectacular failure of imbeciles like Jake Angeli, Adam Johnson, and Richard Barnett may be shrewd enough to learn from the disaster as they prepare for the future.

The Weimar Republic became vulnerable to the schemes of the Nazi party because its representatives failed to address the needs of its citizens and because its leaders failed to recognize the magnitude of threat posed by leaders like Adolf Hitler, propagandists like Goebbels, and paramilitary groups like the Sturmabteilung.  Our elected representatives may have finally, at this recent brink of disaster, comprehended the threat that Trump and his supporters pose to the existence of the state.  After they make their way through January 20th, the federal government will have to address the needs of a disaffected, impoverished, violently-policed, often disenfranchised populace.  They will also have to disentangle the mess that the government has created through their laissez-faire attitude toward social and news media regulation.  Their actions in the immediate future will tell if they intend to effect meaningful change or if they are content to use the next four years to pave a road to the ruin of the republic.

[burntmcnuggies]

Unexpected Encounter

Dabi x Quirkless! Reader

No warnings, just fluff. There is cursing! Please enjoy :D

“Damn heroes...” The black haired villain cursed to himself while barely managing to avoid being caught by police and obnoxious heroes. His turquoise eyes scanned the area around him quickly until he spotted a slightly open window. He clicked his tongue sharply in annoyance. ‘Looks like this is my only choice.’ He hid behind the bushes and slowly pushed the window up more and more while police searched the area. He hopped quietly into the house and closed the window with a click. ‘No one should be up at this hour... it’s almost three in the morning. There’s no way-‘ A creak of wood alarmed him, and he jerked around raising his hand to defend himself. A young woman stood there with a tired look on her face. “Huh...? Santa? But it’s not Christmas yet. Go back to the North Pole.” The woman mumbled before going into the kitchen.

“....What the fuck?” The villain whispered to himself watching the young woman walk to her kitchen and begin filling a small yeti cup with ice and water. Her hair was messy and she was only wearing an oversized shirt and some cute little black and white striped panties. The villains turquoise eyes shimmered in the dim lighting, watching her every move ready to turn her to ash if she noticed. She turned and finally noticed him, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “Oh? Wow what pretty eyes...” She smiled tiredly and walked closer towards him. Dabi readied his hand, and was about to fire at her, before she suddenly plopped onto the couch and turned the TV on. He was utterly confused on what was happening. “I assume you aren’t a very nice guy seeming as though you broke into my house. Help yourself to some snacks and drinks, just not my money. You would’ve killed me right away if you really were that bad.”

This irked him.

“You think I ain’t a bad guy?” Dabi stalked behind her and rose his hands beside her face, activating his powerful quirk. The heat was scorching, he wouldn’t be surprised if she got a burn. She absentminded grabbed his wrists and pushed them away from her face a little and sighed in bliss. “Mmm... now it’s nice and warm and not too hot.” He was at a loss for words. He was secretly hoping he wouldn’t have to kill her since it’d be more trouble on him, but this woman was beginning to get on his nerves. “You really are something you know that?” He stated in annoyance, walking around the couch and plopping beside the stranger, giving up. She looked up at him confused. “That’s it? You’re not gonna degrade me, insult me, hurt me, rape me, kill me?”

Dabi scoffed. “I ain’t that kinda villain ya little Slob. And I’m tired of you not takin’ me seriously. I gotta hide from the cops for a while. And your little invitation to help myself ain’t too bad.” The woman rolled her eyes and offered him a small plastic bag she left on the couch when she came home. Inside was candy, cracker packs, chips, fruits, muffins, nutrigrain bars, etc. Dabi gives her a skeptical look. “I don’t buy this one bit. No one would voluntarily let a villain into their home. Let alone give them snacks. I bet you’re just tryna be all goody goody with me while you wait for the heroes to come and take me away.” He brought his hand close to her face and flickers of blue flame began to rise from his scarred skin and to his finger tips, across his calloused palms, and up his arm to the heavy cuffs that laid there. His staples clicked as he pulled his lips back in a sadistic grin. “Sorry doll face, but that trick ain’t gonna work on me.”

“I didn’t call the heroes, or the police, or anyone for that matter.” The villain’s threatening presence faltered, and he furrowed his dark brows at her. She stared up at him, slightly adjusting herself to become more comfortable on the couch and not so close to the dangerous villain. “I agree with your beliefs. You’re part of the league of villains right? All of you believing in the hero killers ideology... I can’t say he was wrong. I believe in his ideology as well.” Dabi’s eyes narrowed, finding it hard to believe some random citizen he’d just met supported Stain’s beliefs. Her (E/C) eyes cast downwards, staring at the small snack in her hands she had pulled randomly from the bag. “My parents were anti-hero. Probably because we were all quirkless... they only mentioned the hero killer a couple times... but they both praised his beliefs, and showed me examples of false heroes and what they’ve done.”

‘Quirkless huh? Never met anyone without a quirk before. It really would be too boring to kill her.’ Dabi thought to himself while he listened. The woman smiled and continued. “I agree with him, just... not the whole killing people. But I agree we have false heroes in our society. Only a handful are actually real. I wish... we could go back to being quirkless. To live in a normal society where quirks didn’t exist, and you weren’t judged based on the type of quirk you had.” The villain finds himself intently stared at the woman before him. His behind firmly placed on the cushions of the couch, his head turned directly towards her, giving her his full undivided attention —which is rare. “Threats wouldn’t be so catastrophic... everyone would be... closer to being equal. This society just... relies too much on quirks, that a lot of people have forgotten that we’re all the same.”

A painful memory of his childhood flashed before Dabi’s eyes, and his brain was kicked into overdrive thinking about all of the stuff she said. A world without quirks? Maybe his life could’ve been different. Maybe his body wouldn’t be littered in heavy scarring and surgical staples. Maybe, just maybe, he could’ve been normal. “...what’s your name? Gotta know what to put on your tombstone.” His bangs cast over his turquoise eyes, and by the way his voice came out in just barely a whisper, she could tell he was deep in thought and considering everything she’d said. She smirked softly, clearly dismissing his empty threat and politely giving him her name. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). A quirkless girl with no dreams. And yours?”

“I go by Dabi.” The woman now known as (Y/N) smiled softly to the villain. Their eyes locked for a mere moment, but that moment felt like hours to the presumed heartless villain. He stared intently, unable to break his gaze away for an unknown reason he himself didn’t even know. Something about this woman intrigued him. “It looks like the cops are gone.” Her gentle voice broke him out of his staring, and he scoffed a little. She laughed and got up from her place on the couch and went into the kitchen. “Let me get you some stuff for the road!” The villain stood as well, immediately being on edge from the strangers absence. She still hadn’t gained his full trust, and they had only just met. She could be double crossing him. “You’re a strange and stupid moron. Ya know that doll face?”

“Not strange, just unique, and realistic.” She fired back from the kitchen, the sound of a plastic bag rustling echoing in the almost silent house as she prepared his to-go pack. Soon she emerged with the bag and handed it to him. “Here. There’s some nutrigrain bars, ramen packs, candy, water, some bandaids, and Aloe Vera. It may help out with the scars and make them smoother.” The villain peeked inside the bag and observed the items, narrowing his turquoise eyes in suspicion. He looked back up at her innocent smile, and furrowed his dark ebony brows. “Not just anybody would be nice to a villain like me for no reason. Whats your motive?”

“The reasoning is hidden somewhere in the bag! It’s not a grenade or anything! Do I look like I’d own something like that?” She laughed a little and pointed to herself in her favorite animal pajamas. He huffed and turned on his heel, propping a foot on the window seal that led to the awaiting touch of darkness to engulf him. “Thanks doll face. Don’t get yourself killed, and tell no one about this.” With that said he disappeared into the shadows. He took a couple back alleys and was about 2 or 3 blocks away from (Y/N)’s house before he stopped to look at what she had put in his bag. “What the hell...” He mumbled to himself pulling out a blue post it note. A smirk spread across his face and he shoved the post it note into his pocket, securing it where he wouldn’t lose it, in case he took her up on her offer.

‘Come again anytime Dabi. I want to hear more about your beliefs and the villain stuff! Stay safe!’

~(Y/N)

(Part two??)

[tired-college-student-writing]

#WaynesAngel

The Maribat AU by @ozmav and @maribat-archive is all I can think about atm, so enjoy more of this

Summary- After Grayson posts a video on the wrong twitter, Damian feels like he should lose his social media privileges, and possibly his hand.

Part 1

Part 4

Part 5 (HERE)

This was a impusle write as I was trapped in a car for over 50 hours in three days. Please do not ask for another chapter. 

_________________________________________

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Why is it weird that I’ve never met a Bat before? It’s not like Damian or the Waynes have ever seen Ladybug or Chat Noir or the Miraculous Team in Paris, and they’ve been in Paris a lot more than I’ve been in Gotham #confusion #AMERICAEXPLAIN

Jason Todd Lives @BestTodd

@FashionInGotham Whomst the Fuck is Ladybug and Chat Noir?? Also, Miraculous Team Sounds like some magical girl anime Cass watches

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd 🖕🏼

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve They’re the Paris superheroes, they showed up almost five years ago to fight the little bitch of a villain, Hawkmoth and his stupid peacock assistant, Mayra.

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve @ FashionInGotham WHAT?! Paris has heroes??

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve @ FashionInGotham @AFlyingGrayson Oh yeah, I forgot that the mayor was trying to keep it a secret from the rest of the world #MyB But yeah Ladybug and Chat Noir have been there the longest but there’s also Abeille, Viperion, Ryuko, Pegasus, King Monkey, Bunnyx, and Badulf

Chloe raised an eyebrow at her friend as she saw the tweet thread that was quickly going viral, “You realize my dad is going to flip about this.”

“He deserves it,” Adrian pipped up from where he was painstakingly painting Kagami’s nails a deep burgundy.

The other teen heroes hummed in agreement as Chloe huffed.

“Well Yeah, but I was hoping to do it with a little extra flair than a twitter thread.”

Alix snorted as she finished up Kim’s banana yellow toes, drawing a crude smiley face on his big toe with bright blue, “She’s dating the youngest kid of the most influential family in the world and has like 100 million followers. Plus she called Hawkmoth a little bitch and it already has 90k likes. I call that flair.”

It was a surprise when Nathanial had had his freak out during his second battle,  against a Crimson Peacock event no less, and had called her Lady Marinette in front of the other temporary heroes, but had lead to many nights like the one they were having now. Onesies of each other’s heroes’ identities donned as they lounged around Chloe’s room, simply enjoying each other’s company after a long patrol. Chloe and Adrian had demanded they have a spa night, which is why everyone was either giving or receiving mani-pedis while they waited for their face masks to finish. It was nice, to have so much support outside of the masks, especially as they entered their final year in Lychee.  

Marinette rolled her eyes, “It’s only 98 million, Alix, and plus I figured four months after I made this account was long enough to make the slip up seem genuine. We need to catch Hawkmoth soon, or else this entire mess will get a lot more complex.”

They all frowned as they realized the truth behind her words. They were all facing hard decisions if they couldn’t pin the man down, not like they hadn’t already sacrificed so much to continue the battle. Max had already turned down graduating early and a full ride to MIT, citing his desire to graduate with his friends before moving across the globe. Luka had been invited to tour with Jagged, only to politely decline, telling the pouting rockstar that he wanted to do some soul finding first. Kim had given up a summer training camp with the French Olympic team. Alix had given up going on an expedition with her dad and brother, missing out on the chance to explore the dunes of Egypt. Marinette had turned down three internships at this point, one from Audrey Bourgeois, One from Raven Baxter, and lastly and most devastatingly, one from Edna Mode.

They needed to end this, before the overwhelming feeling of their futures slipping right between their fingers got them akumatized.

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

Seeing the demon spawn panic when he realized @FasionInGotham isn’t any safer from maniacs in Paris then she is in Gotham is strangely endearing and vaguely terrifying #whyismyfamilylikethis

Duke of Hazard @DoneWithTheRich

@TJDrake Like you and Barb aren’t frantically searching for anything you can find on the Miraculous Team and these weird-ass butterfly dude.

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich Bugout.com, It’s in French but informative.

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich @CainYouBelieve How did you find this before Barbs and me????

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich @CainYouBelieve @TJDrake Alfred.

The news swept up the story in an instant and suddenly the whole world was demanding to know what the Parisian Mayor had been thinking and why the Justice League hadn’t been involved.

It wasn’t long until the entire Miraculous Team was seated in front of the Louvre. Countless new agencies from around the world were present, eager to hear the story of the sickeningly young-looking heroes, but the one video that received the most views was the shaky camera videos that were uploaded to Marinette’s Twitter, as they shortened the two-hour-long Press conference into manageable clips that highlighted the most important points.

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

Full Lineup, Damn. Haven’t seen that since the last time we had a Scarlet Moth incident. For those who need context, this is like seeing the entire founding Justice League together to us Parisians.

The clip attached showed A panning shot as they introduced all of the heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir sat in the center of the long table flanked by Vipirion, plucking his lyre absentmindedly, Abeille, glaring down her nose at the reporters, a beaming King Monkey waving excitedly, and an eerie serious Bunnyx sitting as still as a statue to their right, on their left was fierce-looking Ryuko looking ready to slice anyone who got too close, the calculating Pegasus, mumbling under his breath, and lastly the timid Badulf, struggling to keep his red bangs out of his eyes.

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

LMAO RYUKO #DRAGONQUEENSLAY

Don’t question Paris’ Heroes like that, they’re feisty.

The clip showed a British reporter demanding to know why the heroes hadn’t contacted the Justice League previously to gain their assistance in taking down the dangerous threat that was Hawkmoth.

You could Ladybug’s eye twitch at the condescending question, but before she could answer Ryuko leaned forward to the mic situated in front of her with a glint in her eyes.

“I apologize for my English,” She started, “I am not as versed in the language as some of my teammates. To answer your question on why we haven’t had the League’s help is because Green Lantern is a fuck.”

Silence filled the gathering before Chat, King Money and Bunnyx burst into giggles, the rest of the heroes struggling to keep a straight face. The media was staring at them dumbfounded until Ladybug finally leaned forward.

“I’m sorry for the outburst,” She started, lips still trying to twitch upwards, “But as Ryuko said we did ask for help. About five months into our heroship Chat and I received an answer from the League after trying for three months to contact them. The ‘help’ came in the form of Green Lantern coming and assessing the situation. Unfortunately for us, Hawkmoth is smart and when the neon green monstrosity of a hero flew in he laid low instead of attacking when a Leaguer was present. Without an attack and no physical damage present as one of my powers allows me to restore all damage done to Paris or its citizens, He decided we were powered children that were trying to get in the spotlight.”

“Getting lectured on wasting the League’s time and resources before he flew off really put a damper on us asking again,” Chat added in, toxic green eyes narrowed and laser-focused on the reporter, “So we handled it ourselves, gaining our own allies as we needed them. But please continue telling us how the League could have helped sooner if only we had asked for help.”

Clip after clip, ten of them total were uploaded into the thread. Explaining the worst battle the heroes had ever faced, the strength of their enemy, what the villain and his assistance could and would do, the worst attacks, the easiest wins, the ways that Ladybug and Chat chose their allies, but the last two clips seemed to get the largest reaction out of the audience, both at the press conference and the internet.

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Not gonna lie, seeing my tormentors get put on blast by all of the Heroes is very vindictive #IsthatMean? #MaybeSo

“You’ve seemed to have shifted your support away from one local blog, to another over any official news agency,” One of the nicer reporters at the events said, “Is there a particular reason? And why the sudden shift two years ago?”

Chat’s face was strangely pinched, “Oh you mean why we switched from giving exclusives to the LadyBlog to BugOut? It’s quite simple. We go to the news sources we trust to take the information we are willing to give without worrying about ratings as their top priority. We tried going to Nadja Chamack at first, the local news anchor that we all hold a great deal of respect for, but the producers threatened her to get a ‘highly-rated’ interview. It led to her asking questions Ladybug and I thought were counterproductive to the reason we were invited to the interview and was trying to turn us into celebrities instead of allowing us to do the jobs we needed to. It was a similar reason we stopped going to Alya Cesaire, the Ladyblog editor.”

Ladybug took over here, “Miss Cesaire has the ability to be a very good journalist, but as her blog grew in popularity, so did her need for highly viewed content, this caused her to not only start posting more rumors and speculation than anything we’ve ever said but also to stop fact-checking with us things she heard. Even after talking to her about removing the content that was blatantly untrue and was told no due to the high ratings it had received we realized that we simply couldn’t work with her anymore.”

Abeille piped up in a low regal voice that was dripping with venom, “It really didn’t help that when we started interviewing with Aurora Beaureal from BugOut, shortly after my introduction, Miss Cesaire began a smear campaign against her, claiming she was faking her sources and videos publicly on her blog. Luckily we were able to shut that down quickly enough but it didn’t stop Miss. Cesaire from running into battle to distract us, and frankly, harass us for answers even after we told her no. It’s lead to more than one incident where she, other civilians, and even ourselves have been hurt.”

“Either way,” Chat took over again, “We want to support local news sources but only when they are willing to listen to our boundaries and work with us instead of trying to push issues.”

“Does that mean that info we found on the Ladyblog is not to be believed?” Another reporter called out.

“I would take anything after the first post about Lila Rossi with a grain of salt,” Ladybug said, only for King Monkey to snort and lean towards the mic.

“Yeah and if Lila Rossi is mentioned at all in the post just assume everything in that post is fake. Miss. Rossi is a known liar and problem for us.”

“Can you give us an example?”

Ladybug sighed before explaining, “The first time I heard of Miss. Rossi was an interview on the Ladyblog of her claiming to be my best friend. Now I very much value the secrecy I and my team have created for ourselves because it protects our friends and families, but even a lie about knowing me in such a public setting is dangerous because Hawkmoth and Mayra have proven that they aren’t above underhanded tactics to try and get the upper hand in our fights. I went looking for the girl to explain why she can’t say such things for her own safety, only to find her telling a boy that she possessed the Fox Miraculous in a public park. I will admit I called her out in a way that wasn’t very nice but either claim was enough to put her in danger, but both were painting a target on her back and it scared me that someone would do something to impress a boy. After that, she was akumatized for the first time and since then it has gotten even worse despite me apologizing the second I cured the Akuma. Some of her lies are enough to count as Slander if any of the celebrities she lied about knowing saw the posts, but no amount of persuasion seems to get her to stop.”  

Wayne’s Angel @FasioninGotham

Watching their powers without the looming threat of an Akuma/Amok is a blessing. They look so cool! #Love #Miraculous

The clip started with the heroes standing in front of the table, grouped differently than before. Off to one side King Monkey, Viperion and Bunnyx stood, Viperion holding a microphone.

“While we would love to an demonstrate our powers as requested,” He explained, “Our powers are not really good for demonstrations. Mine is known as Second Chance.”

He raised his hand and pulled the slider across his bracelet as he named it, a flash of pale teal light admitting from it, “When activated like I just did, it allows me to return to the point of activation at any time before I detransform in fifteen minutes as many times as I wish with only myself remembering the previous changes I have made.”

Without even acknowledging the startled whispers from the crowd, he handed the microphone to King Monkey, who offered a cheeky smile.

“So my power is called Uproar. It allows me to create a toy-like object that when it comes into contact with someone causes all of their abilities to malfunction.”

He goes to pull his staff from where it was strapped to his back only for Vipirion to stop him. A silent exchange passed between the pair before the taller hero nodded and handed the microphone off to Bunnyx.

“Viperion and I have a similar reason for our powers being hard to show off, only his is a little more versatile,” She started in a voice devoid of any emotion, swinging her pocket watch slightly, “I have the power Burrow. It allows me, and anyone I chose to take with me, access to a pocket dimension where I can travel to any point in time or space that I chose, past, present, or future. While you might see me fight during any battle I can make it to, my power is a last-ditch effort, as I would have to travel back in time to change the past if I do this assume the future is unsavable.”

The hush that falls over the crowd was quickly broken by Ryuko tapping her group’s microphone to draw attention to the opposite side of the stage where she stood with Abeille, Badulf, Pegasus, Chat, and Ladybug.

“I believe it’s best to not dwell on any one of our powers,” She told them, “Our powers are scary and knowing that they can be taken from us at any time and used for nefarious purposes keep all of us up at night, but we ask you to trust us to use them only for good.”

She waited a moment for the crowd o calm down before giving her own explanation, “My ability is known as the Three Dragons, the Water Dragon, the Wind Dragon, and the Lightning Dragon.”

She handed off the microphone to Pegasus, before calling forth the Wind Dragon and bursting into a group of clouds that swiftly blew around the stage before traveling over to the Louvre Pyramid and watching as the heroine reformed at the top, offering a small wave before the call for Water Dragon could be heard and a large dome of water formed over the entire courtyard.

Before she could call for her last form the snake hero grabbed the microphone, “Lightning Dragon is a bad idea, Ryuko.”

The heroine didn’t even question him, instead, vaulting off of the pyramid, the crowed gasped only for her to effortlessly land next to Bunnyx in a crouch, brushing herself off as she rose and turned her gaze to the horse miraculous user, who quickly explained his power before calling forth Voyage.

His cry caused blue light to circle his arm and he sent it towards the top of the still-present water dome, with a controlled flick of his arm.

The heroes didn’t even blink as the crowd filled with cries as the Eiffel Tower fell through the portal, Ladybug’s yoyo whipping out to direct it’s decent, the entire courtyard shaking as the 10k ton structure landed.  

“I’m up next!” Chat called out with a large grin, while the reporters didn’t seem to know if they should pay attention to the moved monument or the hero. His explanation was short since they were many videos of him using it but that didn’t stop the international reporters from screaming as Cataclysm swirled around his hand eating away at the Eiffel Tower, leaving a pile of rust in the crater

“Is-Is this much property damage necessary?”

Abeille shrugged, “No, but once we get to Ladybug, it’ll make more sense. Either way my turn.”

An unpleasant chill went up the world’s spine as she demonstrated how she could freeze all voluntary movement of her target on Chat Noir, who was still as a statue the second her stinger touched him.

Ladybug quickly took the mic and began explaining her powers. The world watched in amazement at her pulling a red and black spotted camera from thin air before she launched it into the air with a cheer of “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Suddenly a glowing swarm of ladybugs formed and tore through the air, covering Chat Noir, releasing from Venom, before healing the crater and rust from nearby, dissolving the water dome in the same instance.

If there hadn’t been so many people present the world wouldn’t have believed that so much damage was just repaired in the span of ten seconds, but staring at the unimpressed Parisians around them the world finally seemed to grasp the reality of the situation.

These children were past what one would even expect from metas, from aliens and superhumans like they had seen around the world already. These were heroes that were harnessing the very forces that made up the universe and fighting them at the same time. Bunnyx wasn’t exaggerating when she mentioned that sometimes there would be apocalyptic endings to their fights.

Instead of letting the knowledge stew Badulf step forwarded, twisting the microphone as he explained his power of illusions for the reporters.

With a short tune on his flute suddenly the group of heroes was gone, All that remained was a Sign thanking them all for coming.  Even after the illusion faded the heroes were nowhere to be found, having used the final demonstration as the perfect cover to sneak away so that no one could follow them.  

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

I must say I was not expecting such an outpour of love for all of Our heroes but damn am I pleased by it. Ladybug is our big name but the others are honestly way underloved in Paris, especially Chat who’s been there since the beginning. #MiraculousTeam

Quick Poll Who’s your favorite, everyone? Mine’s Chat Noir

Ryuko (19%)

Abeille (12%)

Ladybug (14%)

Bunnyx (8%)

Viperion (12%)

Chat Noir (15%)

Pegasus (5%)

King Monkey (5%)

Badulf (10%)

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@FashionInGotham I like Badulf, he’s the newest correct?

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @CainYouBelieve Yup! He’s only been around for four months, but he’s a pretty great fox!

Tim Drake Official @TJDrake

Fun Fact: I just heard Alfred swear for the first time while watching the press conference and it was to call Hawkmoth and Mayra an arsehole FLOB and his fucking Slag.

Never been more terrified,

Based on the faces around me neither has any of the other Waynes #AlfredisTerrifying

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Why am I the go to person for everything Mircualous Team? BugOut.com is a great source if you want more info.

Still Queen Bee @BuzzBuzz

@FashionInGotham Probably cause you're most famous Parsian? Or cause you were a miraculous user once?

Jason Todd Lives@BestTodd

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz IM SORRY?? DID YOU JUST SAY MARIGOLD HAD ONE OF THOSE MAGIC FUCKING GEMS???

Wayne's Angel @FasionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz @BestTodd That didn't come up in the conference did it? A few of the old users of miraculous got outed as heros so LB doesn't call on them anymore, but keeps tabs on them since HM and Mayra will try and emotionally malipulate them into getting akumatized. A few of us bonded over it.

Still Queen Bee @BuzzBuzz

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz @BestTodd @FashionInGotham Its common knowledge in Paris, Mari, me and our other friend @NotaModel all had miraculous at one point, but HawkBitch found out so we can't ever use a miraculous again sadly. I had the Bee, Mari had the Mouse and Ari had the Snake

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

Why is Damian staring at a wall and not responding? What broke him? #Help???

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

@AFlyingGrayson Nevermind #HecouldnthaveanormalGF? #HolyShitMari

Wayne's Angel @FasionInGotham

So I can no longer say I've never seen a Bat before, just saw Signal and Red Robin, I think???

Gonna be real tho, I was expecting to see them in Gotham, NOT PARIS #wtf #Whyaretheyhere????

Marinette had barely sent the tweet before her phone was ringing.

"Are you being serious?" Adrian asked, in lieu of a greeting, "At least two of the Batfam is here?"

"Yeah," She whispered a bit numbly, eyes still focused on the roof she had watched them disappear from mere moments ago. It was far enough away that if she had been a normal human she wouldn't have heard them, but she wasn't a normal human, "Hey Adrian, Don't tell the team what I'm about to say, okay?"

"Are you okay, bugaboo?"  

"Questionable," She didn't even bother rebuking the nickname, "I think I might be dating a Bat."

______________________________________

Taglist: @kceedraws @northernbluetongue @starry-bi-sky @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @lexysama @vincentvangoose @theatreandcomicfreak @vinerlover @calvin1394 @interobanginyourmom @imanerddealwith @aarushi-03 @rikku052 @fantasticfourintraining @clumsy-owl-4178 @two-faced-biatch @celestiacq @vgirl-10123 @peculiarlylostdreamer @tinybrie @treebrosha @sam-spectra @zalladane @teresarosiadeviluke2112 @7-sage-7 @blue-peach14 @nataladriana9 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @xxmadamjinxx @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @i-identify-as-a-mango @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @vixen-uchiha @face-of-lazyness @lunar-wolf-warrior @derpingrainbow @drama-queen-supreme @vivilakitty @mystery-5-5 @synnesstra @ijustwannabecanadian @sharksharkbb @lysslovsanime @zazzlejazzle @corabeth11 @ur-average-reader @virgil-is-a-cutie @paradoxal-occurance @dur55 @this-is-vander @cowardlygaydinosaur @phantomneow12 @numbuh-7-knd @slytherinhquinn @celerystick045 @silvergold-swirl @dzcile @lordsmeldingtonthethird @asabella1224 @miraculous-simmer7 @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @kuhakuanon @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleredrobinhoodlum @todaylillypads @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @a-complete-fool @urbanpineapplefarmer @woodland-queer @miraculousl4dybug @teresarosiadeviluke2112 @imanerddealwith @seraphichana @literalfantrash @zebrabaker @captainmac6 

[buzzdixonwriter]

“I Don’t Think That Memes What You Think It Memes…”

There’s a trope being pushed currently by alt-reich supremacists that likens convicted murderer Derek Chauvin with the executed soldiers in Stanley Kubricks’s classic 1957 WWI movie, Paths Of Glory.

Great movie, BTW; go watch it.

First, a quick encapsulation of the film:

An incompetent general orders his battalion to make a suicidal assault across no-man’s land

The battalion, pinned down by murderous fire, can’t leave their trenches

The general orders his own artillery to fire on his own troops to drive them forward

His own artillery refuses

When the attack fails, the general orders soldiers be selected at random from the battalion and executed for cowardice in an attempt to frighten the battalion into following his incompetent orders

The general is brought down by his own incompetence, but too late to save the sacrificial soldiers

The alt-reich supremacist argument goes like this: “They” are sacrificing Derek Chauvin because “they” are afraid Black Lives Matter protestors will riot if they don’t.

Oh, really…?

Was Derek Chauvin told to charge The Wild Bunch, guns blazing?

No?

Did Derek Chauvin yank George Floyd -- who at the time was handcuffed and sitting inside a police car with the door closed -- out of said police car then kneel on Mr. Floyd’s neck for nine minutes and twenty-nine seconds with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face while his fellow officers, an Emergency Medical Technician, bystanders, and Mr. Floyd himself said he was putting Mr. Floyd’s life in danger?

Yes?

Well, then it seems like there’s a big difference between someone refusing to follow through on a stupid order that’s likely to result in them getting killed and someone who callously and indifferently chokes a human being to death despite pleas for mercy, doesn’t it?

This is literally why Colin Kaepernick knelt in protest: African-Americans are repeatedly discriminated against by law enforcement and courts, stopped / detained / arrested / charged / tried / convicted / sentenced more harshly than white Americans for the exact same crimes and offenses.

The Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

The Constitution Of The United States Of America: "We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

The Pledge Of Allegiance: "I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

The alt-reich supremacists argue Chauvin did not receive a fair trial.

Really?   How so?

Was Chauvin: 

informed of the charges against him?

informed of his Constitutional rights?

allowed to have a lawyer defend him?

presented with all the evidence against him?

allowed to confront his accusers in an open court?

allowed to challenge evidence, testimony, and witnesses in court?

allowed to present his version of what happened in court?

tried by a jury of twelve U.S. citizens selected at random that his own defense team could challenge or approve?

Yes?

How many of points 1 – 8 did Mr. Floyd receive at Chauvin’s hand…or knee? 

The alt-reich supremacists accuse Black Lives Matter of staging violent protests in response to Mr. Floyd’s murder.  While some violence and property damage was caused by BLM marchers, far and away the bulk of the violence and vandalism was committed by alt-reich supremacists acting as agents provocateurs.

There’s nothing new to this, of course.

The Nazis did it back in the bad old days, infiltrating peaceful protests and demonstrations to stir up riots so they could then blame the original demonstrators and use that as justification to oppress them.

(This is the point in our discussion where alt-reich supremacists will start shouting “Godwin’s law!  Godwin’s law!” to which I reply with this direct quote from Mike Godwin himself:  “By all means, compare these shitheads to Nazis. Again and again. I'm with you.”)

The alt-reich supremacists fail to understand that a fair trial does not mean one where the defendant is guaranteed a chance to walk free.

A fair trials guarantees a defendant a chance to explain things from their point of view and, if they or their lawyers can make a compelling enough counter-argument, then they may prevail.

Nobody told the twelve impartial jurors at Chauvin’s trial how to vote, nor threatened them with harm if they failed to convict.

Prosecutors hate to go to court unless they feel they have an overwhelming chance of proving their case.

A lot of the time, the evidence and testimony leaves absolutely no doubt about the defendant’s guilt and culpability.

Chauvin got as fair a trial as Charles Manson got (admittedly, Manson had the better, more cognizant closing argument.)

All it would take would be one single juror with a reasonable doubt to deadlock the jury and win Chauvin a new trial.

The evidence and testimony led the jury to think Chauvin was guilty.

Video showing a murderer kneeling nine minutes and twenty-nine seconds on their victim’s neck will do that.

Hey, know who else thought Chauvin was guilty? 

Chauvin himself. 

He acknowledged guilt by offering to plea bargain to the least of the three charges in exchange for being let off the hook on the two more serious charges.

(This offer to plea bargain was not introduced in court as it might prejudice jurors against Chauvin and that wouldn’t have been fair, would it?)

No, it’s crystal clear by their invocation of Kubrick’s Paths Of Glory that the alt-reich supremacists consider Chauvin to be innocent of deliberately murdering an African-American.

(It’s a pity Kubrick is no longer with us because one can easily imagine him reaming out these assholes with an M-60 chamber brush for daring to link his work with their bigotry.)

Kaepernick and Black Lives Matter protest against the view that police officers are entitled to ignore the law and abuse the civil rights of suspects just because those suspects are black or brown or fly the rainbow flag.

Chauvin was neither falsely nor unfairly convicted of murdering George Floyd.

If he didn’t want to be convicted of murder, perhaps he should have considered not murdering Mr. Floyd.

 © Buzz Dixon 

[depressedkakashihatake-fics]

Day Off

Hatake Kakashi/Baki

2481 Words

For: @temarihime

AU: Suna Kakashi Au

A day off. Those were surprisingly rare for Kakashi, especially when he knew that Rasa still had at least five more missions that he wanted him to complete. If it wasn’t for Temari’s insistence that he get the day off to hang out with her after her morning training, he was certain he would have been shipped off to complete another mission last night.

This morning, if Rasa was feeling nice enough to let him get some sleep.

But here he was with a whole day off, and a morning to waste away waiting for his little sister to be done with her training. Part of him wondered if she would convince Kankuro and Gaara to join them, or if she would take the chance to just have some time alone with him. Sometimes she could get a little...possessive, when it came to free time with her big brother. 

Either way he couldn’t hang around the Kazekage’s mansion all morning to wait for her. He had the urge to go out and explore Sunagakure. the home he so rarely saw these days. Baki and Temari had told him all about the new shops that had opened in the last few months. Places he hadn’t had a chance to visit yet that they both spoke so highly of.  

Though, exploring his home wasn’t so easy these days. Ever since Rasa had given him the hound mask it had become his identity. Something he always had to wear whenever he left the residence to go on a mission, or even to explore Suna. Rasa didn’t want anyone to see his face, claiming that it would upset the villagers and even some of the shinobi who may see him. 

He never explained why anyone would be upset if they saw his face. He simply said they would be and ended the discussion. Leaving the residence without his mask over his face wasn’t allowed, which was fine when he was younger. When ‘Suna’s Hound’ wasn’t a thing.

Now though, it wasn’t that easy.

Anyone who saw the mask would turn tail a run. No one wanted to be seen around that Hound Shinobi, fearing that their lives might be the next one he take’s if they so much as breathe the wrong way or insult Rasa in his presence.

It was the price he paid for being Rasa’s personal Shinobi. The one who had killed not just the enemy shinobi, but Suna Shinobi as well if the job called for it. 

And today it was the reason he was putting aside his hound mask and dressing himself up in a much more relaxed disguise. One that would allow him to flow through the crowded streets of Suna without raising suspicion or causing panic among the citizens. 

At least he hoped so. That was the whole goal of his disguise after all, and he’d be a poor Shinobi if he was caught by anyone. Certainly not deserving of the title of the Kazekage’s personal Shinobi. 

Putting on the last touch of make-up, he looked into the mirror and smiled when he saw a brunette with soft grey eyes and a pleasant smile staring back at him. It was perfect for a day out. No one would suspect such a friendly face to belong to Kakashi. 

He’d be able to find Temari and Baki without any incidents looking like this. 

A feeling of excitement buzzed deep in his chest when he thought about seeing Baki again. It had been weeks since he had been able to find a day off with the other man. Something he was sure Rasa was doing on purpose since he had never really liked the relationship building between Kakashi and Baki over the years. 

Today though, he’d get to spend time with his little sister and his boyfriend. He’d make sure of it. In fact he had no doubts that part of Temari’s plans for getting him the day off was to get him some time with Baki. She always talked about how sad her Sensei looked when he hadn’t seen him for a few days. 

He’d have to repay her for her help, and that definitely included making her a warm bowl of homemade vegetable soup when they got back to the residence. 

Taking one last look in the mirror, he smiled at the old familiar face he had created years ago and headed for the window. It would do him no good to be caught leaving his room looking like this.

Then everyone would know who their new visitor really was.

Suna was a lot more lively than Kakashi remembered it. With streets full of villagers making their way through the village, chatting amongst each other as they searched out particular shops or wandered aimlessly with their friends by their side. 

It was sort of nice. Years ago when he was a child Kakashi had never seen the villagers so relaxed. Perhaps it had something to do with the war going on back then. A war that hadn’t plagued them for years, though it wasn’t as if the village was completely safe.

Everyone knew about the danger that Gaara presented with Shukaku sealed within him. One bad day and the kid could level the entire village without a thought. Seeing the villagers with such carefree attitudes when there was an ever present danger within the walls of Suna was sort of concerning in a way.

Of course, as he thought that he noticed a sudden shift in the villagers attitudes. The shuffle of people frantically moving to the sides of the street, soft whispers being spoken among each other, and the way that everyone turned their attention to a small group of people making their way up the street towards him.

A group of people that he would recognize anywhere.

“You’re not going to kill Kankuro,” Temari’s voice carried through the street, a mixture of boredom and sternness in her voice. “He was just making a joke, Gaara. Let it go.”

Ahhh, just like at home. Apparently those three never changed.

“It was his decision to test me,” Gaara snarled, his eyes inspecting the area ahead of him and landing on the lone figure still standing in the middle of the street. “Fine, if i can’t kill Kankuro can i kill him?”

Well, that was a terrible way to start his day off.

“How about we avoid murder while we’re in the village,” Baki suggested.“Our job is to protect the people of our village, not murder them.”

As he spoke to his students, Baki zeroed in on the person Gaara was referring to, examining him as he continued to stand in their way. Kakashi could only imagine what was going through his mind at the moment. After all, only an idiot would keep standing in Gaara’s way.

Thinking through his options, Kakashi lifted the camera hanging around his neck and started to toy with the buttons. So far he had only gotten a few pictures of some beautiful Suna landscape and a statue at the entrance to the marketplace that he had never seen before. Nothing too exciting that he would be willing to put into a photo album, but beautiful nonetheless.

Perhaps this was his opportunity to get a picture of his favorite people. He would just have to hope that Baki didn’t try to slaughter him at the suggestion. 

Seeing the small group getting closer to him, Kakashi put on his best smile and lifted up his camera. “I suppose you wouldn’t be up for a photo?” He said softly, chucking when he saw Gaara glaring at him “think of it as an apology for wanting to kill me?”

“Gutsy,” He could hear Kankuro snickering behind his hand. A reaction that had probably led him to the original situation of Gaara wanting to murder him. “I suppose you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

“Three brats and a cute Sensei stuck with them,” Temari’s eyes went wide, and he could see Kankuro side eyeing Gaara with fear in his eyes. “Though, I guess the only real brat here is you, since you’re the one causing all the troubles.”

It was Temari’s turn to laugh, her eyes lighting up when Kankuro gave her a betrayed look. “What? He’s right. You’re the one bugging Gaara. You should know better by now.”

“How about we all calm down,” Baki’s eyes hadn’t left him the entire time, still trying to size him up and get a better understanding of what he was dealing with. “I don’t think the Kazekage would be happy having a stranger taking pictures of his children.”

“Then how about just the cute Sensei?” Sukea offered a compromise. “Or are you camera shy?”

Both Kankuro and Temari chuckled at that one, not even bothering to hide it when their Sensei glared back at them. “Go ahead Sensei,” Temari beamed up at him “I’m sure big brother Kakashi won’t mind if you get your picture taken by someone else.”

With a low growl in the back of his throat, Baki turned his eyes back towards the man standing in front of him and huffed. “You can take my picture, on one condition.”

Putting on his best smile, Sukea tilted his head. “Let me guess, you want a picture for this boyfriend of yours?” He chuckled. Baki was always trying to act so cold and distant, but he was such a big softy deep down inside. It was adorable. “I’m sure i can manage that. Though it might take me awhile to get you a nice print.”

How long depended on how many missions Rasa decided to send him on after his day off. Hopefully Baki wasn’t going to be upset if it took a few weeks. 

“I was thinking of a date,” Sukea’s eyes widened. That was a brave thing to say right after Temari’s comment about her big brother. “Preferably without the goofy photographer get up.”

Oh.

“Oh!” Well, that was certainly unexpected. “H-How’d you know?”

“The mole,” He glared over at Temari. Had both of them really figured him out that easily. “It’s why Kankuro and Gaara didn’t recognize you. You always have that stupid mask over half your face when you’re around them.”

That was actually fair, he was willing to give it to Temari. Whenever he saw Kankuro or Gaara he was outside of his room so either he was wearing his cloth mask over the lower part of his face, or his Anbu mask. Regardless, Kankuro and Gaara had never actually seen his face.

“What are you talking about, Temari?” Kankuro stepped forward and examined the photographer. “He just looks like any other dork in Suna.”

Closing his eyes, Kakashi took a deep breath and bit back the urge to electrocute Kankuro. He already had Gaara threatening him with murder almost every day, he didn’t need Kakashi to do the same thing.

“For ‘any other Suna dork’ he sure is lethal,” Baki responded to his students jab with a bored tone. “Though when he’s not trying to look like Suna’s local fashion disaster, most people tend to call him ‘The hound’”

Fashion disaster?

Kakashi threw a hand over his chest and gave Baki a wounded look.

“Is that what you really think of me?” He jutted his bottom lip out and gave Baki the best puppy dog eyes that he could muster.

“In this outfit? Absolutely,” Crossing his arms over his chest, Baki huffed “Two out of ten, would not bed.”

Temari and Kankuro both gasped, looking up at their Sensei with amazement and fear. Gaara was the only one who didn’t react, though that was perfectly normal for him. He probably wished he wasn’t here to listen to any of what was going on around him right now. 

“Well, at least now i know you have some standards,’ Sukea commented, taking a step into Baki’s space. “I’d say the same for myself, but i am dating you.”

Before Baki could think up a comeback, Sukea leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, ignoring Temari and Kankuro as they stood behind their Sensei snickering. 

Pulling back slowly, Sukea couldn’t help but smile when he saw the pink lipstick stain he had left behind on Baki’s cheek. On him the colour made his lips look a little fuller and provided some much needed colour to a face that rarely ever saw any sun, but on Baki it stood out like a sunflower in the desert. 

“How about I take your picture later,” he offered, “in a more private setting.”

For the first time since he had walked up to Sukea with his students, Baki smiled. “That sounds like a good plan,” his hand came up to settle against Sukea’s cheek as he spoke. “Until then, I believe you promised my student some time with her big brother.”

Somehow he wasn’t surprised that Temari had mentioned her plans to hang out with him today. How else would she make sure her Sensei knew that he had to wait his turn to see her big brother on his day off? 

“I best hang out with her then,” Sukea smiled, turning his attention over to Temari “Is it just going to be us two unleashed upon Suna today? Or do you want the boys to come along?”

“They can join next time,” Temari sprinted forward and linked her arm with Sukea’s “Today, it’s just me and you. If you can handle that.”

“I think i’ll manage, somehow.” Sukea chuckled.

“Try not to cause too much Havok, will you,” Baki interjected, smirking when Sukea glanced back over at him. “I wouldn’t want to have to explain to Rasa-sama how a photographer got his precious princess into trouble.”

“Like you’d even bother to lie to him that much,” Sukea huffed “you’d tell him right off the bat it was his favorite Anbu operative and he’d send me on an endless string of missions for three months as punishment.”

Running his thumb over Sukea’s cheek, Baki leaned in and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. A small taste of what he would get later when they were back at the Kazekage’s residence and he had washed away all of the makeup and tossed the wig and clothes off to the side. 

“Just remember,” Baki whispered against his lips. “If you end up getting into trouble and get punished with back to back missions, it means no cuddles.”

Baki always knew how to make him behave himself, even when he could see the mischievous glint in Temari’s eyes that told him he would be spending the next three hours trying to stop her from causing havoc.

No amount of enjoyment at the cost of other people’s sanity was worth missing out on months worth of cuddles. It simply was not a price that he was willing to pay.

[the-other-totally-normal-account]

Lobotomyhammer 40k: The Most Dangerous Enemies The Average “Clerk” Will Face

> OPEN FILE; ARTICLE 378-B OF THE CLERK REGIMENTAL STANDARD?

> [YES]       [NO]

...

... ...

Greetings, Clerk Omega-45978888402. Today, you will learn about two of the most common, and most dangerous foes you will face against. But do not fret or fear, Carmen Protects.

Here, we do not believe in sugar coating or downplaying threats, as that is likely to waste important resources, such as you.

SWEEPERS

They are named due to their tendency to "sweep" entire planets of all life; And to level with you, entire Regiments of Fixers and Clerks (Clerks just like you, mind you) have been reported to vanish without a trace besides a few distressed radio transmissions. They are often one of the most threatening entities one can encounter in the cold vastness of space, next to only Aleph class (and above, though those are rare) Abnormalities.

Their strength is that of their numbers, which is Legion. They are one of the more numerous threats you will have to face, though, thankfully, they do not often attack. When they do, however, it is devastating.

It is unknown exactly what they are, but they appear to be composed of a techno-organic shell, containing liquefied biomass inside. They need to regularly replenish this disgusting material in order to continue living; Like how we eat to survive, yet more dire.

Sometimes, citizens among those areas they "sweep" are reported by survivors as not having been liquefied for consumption. It is unknown where they are taken or what exactly happens to them, but theories and rumors are in abundance. It is best not to dwell on their fates, quite frankly.

Next up are the agents of the Great Enemy, Abnormalities.

ABNORMALITIES

Abnormalities are, as you have likely been informed during training, abominations that often must be purged from existence at all cost. One of the main threats they pose is that they have the tendency to corrupt those that encounter them, if they don't outright kill, so cleansing and oftentimes the "firing" of Clerks that encounter them often take place post conflicts.

Thankfully, "firing" is rarely done unless one is corrupted beyond repair, which often does not happen with the more common abnormalities, so you may rest easy after most engagements with Abnormalities.You will find a list below, however, of more dangerous Abnormalities, dangerous enough to have been cataloged by survivors and submitted to our archives. Some accounts may be obscured by personal hatred of the abnormalities mentioned on account of the experiences the aforementioned survivors had with them. Also, unlike other enemies you may encounter, they are far more diverse and varied than most. Thusly, it’s best to approach them if encountered as a unique entity instead of a greater part of a whole, despite that being exactly what they are.

ARCHIVED INFORMATION ON NOTABLE ABNORMALITIES

[The Blue Shepherd and his Infernal Hound. Threat Level: WAW] (Note: Especially cruel. Do not be taken alive if encountered. Recite prayer number 987 if encountered. It helped.)

[The Great Devourer. Threat Level: Teth] (Note: Remember that battlefields don’t have pretty glowing flowers sticking out of the ground. That’s this thing about to devour you if you’re tricked by it.)

[Infectious, Burning Love. Threat Level: Aleph] (Note by Veteran Clerk Alpha-118: That [EXPLETIVE OMITTED] turned half of my entire Regiment into mounds of bone and melted flesh. They were still moving and vocalizing and shrieking. If encountered, apply bullet to your skull.)

[The Greedy King. Threat Level: WAW] (Note: Stay behind It at all times. It's one of the dumber ones I've encountered.)

[The Ashen Child. Threat Level: Teth] (Note: If you're marked, you'll immediately be able to tell. You'll smell burning wood, and sometimes flesh. For the good of your comrades, die before it reaches you, or tactically retreat.) [Eurydice. Threat Level: Teth] (Note: Do not interact. Under any circumstance do not interact. Do not listen. Do not look. Walk away slowly. Don't look.) [The Mechanical War Machine. Threat Level: Teth] (Note: It's an oddly common one to encounter, and for that reason, a lot of information has been compiled on it by various regiments, but one of the most important parts is, perhaps, its origin. First appearance was during the Heresy, during a raid on a Sector that allied with The Sons of The Well. Unlike most Abnormalities, it seems like this one was made. It's unknown how this is even possible. It also seems to collect hearts. It's best to keep your distance from it and call in artillery support. Just don't let anyone die due to it, or, well, you don't want to see what happens. Also, it has a massive axe with a pretty decent reach on it. Don't get within range, though that goes without saying.) [The Brainless Scarecrow. Threat Level: HE] (Note: Tricky, vile [EXPLETIVE OMITTED]. If you're above the minimum education- why are you even a Clerk in that case- needed for getting a job at a Conglomerate Factory, keep your distance and set up a firing line. If you have a flamer, even better. It's a bit of a weakling if you've got enough manpower. On your own, pray for your life and run.) [The Living(?) Apple Threat Level: WAW] (Note: Burn it before the vines get you. I doubt you've ever seen a man be impaled [EXPLETIVE OMITTED] to mouth by a vine before but you're going to if you encounter this thing. Only thing you can do is prevent as many needless deaths as you can, really. Good luck.] [The Beautiful Beast. Threat Level: Teth] (Note: Do not interact. Do not under any [EXPLETIVE OMITTED] circumstance even remotely think about attacking this thing. You really, really don't want to know what happens to the person who manages to kill it in a futile attempt to send it back to where it came from) [The Patchwork Abomination. Threat Level: HE] (Note: PULSATING EYES. EMPTY. STITCHES. DEATH OF INNOCENCE. WRITHING ORGANS.) [Alriune The Crumbling. Threat Level: WAW] (Note by Veteran Clerk Alpha-118: Destroy it as fast as possible, before it relocates and causes an entire squad or something to lose their minds violently. Also, tip, if you notice those floating petals, take the thing out before there's a large amount of them. It's an odd sort of timer, I've found.) [The Queen Bee and Her Hive. Threat Level: WAW] (Note: Do not inhale the spores. If your regiment has helmets that use filters, consider yourself one of the luckiest people alive- hopefully, at least.  If you don't have helmets like that, you probably have melta charges. If you inhale the spores, I hope you know how to use one and are willing to give your life to Her and Her corporation.) [The Shard of The Galaxy. Threat Level: Teth] (Note: Plug your ears with something. Anything. If you don't have anything to do that with, consider deafening yourself. You can always get implants later.) [The Jittering Doll. Threat Level: HE] (Note: If she tries to give you a present, punt that little [EXPLETIVE OMITTED] across the battlefield. It's fairly stupid and mindless so you can probably pick it up and use it as a meatshield or sandbag if the need be. It has the annoying tendency to survive a ridiculous amount of punishment, though.] [The Butterfly's Burial. Threat Level: HE] (Note: Utilizes ranged attacks heavily. Engage in glorious melee combat from behind or pelt with grenades. Either way tends to work) [The Black Swan's Nightmare. Threat Level: WAW] (Note: Take great care when it comes to the lookalikes. If you do something they don't like or harm them, be prepared for a difficult fight with a massive mutated bird-like abomination and brace for casualties. To be honest, I'm not even sure what a swan is but if that's even remotely similar to what one looks like, I don't want to know.) [The Sleeping Carcharodon. Threat Level: WAW] (Note: Back off and don't provoke it. You do not want to be ran through by a drug addled... fish thing(?) going at ridiculous speeds, I'm sure. I've seen all of my squadmates die from that, and only managed to survive because I was taking a piss in the corner in the shell of a bombed out building.) [The Burrowing Tree. Threat Level: WAW] (Note: If you have servitors, order them to watch it. If you don't, I highly advise you to either end yourself before it gets an opportunity to turn you into a really messed up Carmenmas tree, or if you're confident enough try your luck and keep eye contact.) [The Mountain of Wailing Corpses. Threat Level: Aleph] (Note by Veteran Clerk Alpha-118: I sincerely feel bad for you if you have the misfortune to encounter this abomination. Melta and Flamer weaponry do wonders against it, but not all regiments have that kind of equipment. If you do, start burning corpses once it's spotted. Good luck.) [The Observer. Threat Level: HE] (Note: Look away if you don't enjoy being split in two by massive buzzsaws. Also, Abnormalities apparently are manifestations of human concepts, feelings, stories, traumas, and things we experience; But for the life of me I can't figure out what this thing even is supposed to be. It's just... awful. Anyway, call an artillery strike on the thing before it's too late if you encounter it.) [The Dimensional Refraction. Threat Level: WAW] (Note: [EXPLETIVE OMITTED]  [EXPLETIVE OMITTED]  [EXPLETIVE OMITTED]  [EXPLETIVE OMITTED]  [EXPLETIVE OMITTED]. This thing, this [EXPLETIVE OMITTED] thing. Newly emerged Abnormality, I'm a survivor of perhaps the first encounter with it. Almost the entirety of my regiment was wiped out by this abomination. 1,000 lights snuffed out in a blink, suffocated and pulled apart violently. We couldn't fight it. We couldn't see it. By sheer chance it was discovered that it could be viewed with Thermal and even then we couldn't deal meaningful damage to it. The vessel we were on was blown to bits as a handful of us managed to escape. Carmen protect you all.) [The Event Horizon. Threat Level: Aleph] (Note: I've seen the end of all things, the ultimate, finality of everything that ever was and will ever be. And it was heart shaped. I'm probably going to be "fired" shortly. Remember that there's no hope if you see the Blue Star.] [The Shy One. Threat Level: Teth] (Note: This one is very finicky. Best to leave it alone. It's harmless unless you catch it in a bad mood or take a peak behind the curtain.) [The Dreaming Void. Threat Level: Teth] (Note: I hope you have Recaff on hand and enough people who are insomniacs to wake everyone else when this thing shows up. If you don't, chances are you're going to fall asleep and never wake up. Also, don't attack it, even if people are dying due to it. It will raise your chances of death from "possible" to "completely screwed".) [CENSORED] (NOTE: CENSORED FOR YOUR SAFETY) [He's Not There. Threat Level: Aleph] (Note: Don't trust anyone around you if there's even the slightest chance this thing's around. It's gotten really good at acting since it was first encountered ages ago. You will die painfully, horribly, and you will be used as a skin suit by this abomination. And, if one of your squadmates suddenly says that they love you, put them down without hesitation. Whether it was genuine, or whether it was this thing wearing them, it doesn't matter; You may have just prevented a disaster. Don't express sorrow for the loss of a possible happy future if you were mistaken, it was for the good of all mankind. ...And, got to admit, it sucks that these things always come back, never truly dying.)

[incandescent-creativity]

Pre-Games: Olu and Mal

I. the big day

Mal shifts at the back of the crowd and picks at the pants she’s wearing.

“Don’t fidget,” Olu reprimands quietly.

“Easy for you to say,” Mal snaps under her breath. “You like wearing pants.”

“So do you sometimes. Why did you choose the suit when you’d rather the skirt?”

Mal scoffs. “It was hardly a choice. Barely more than tatters now.”

“My condolences.”

The reel ends, and the Capitol representative’s heels click as he moves back to the microphone. He’s saying something, but Maluka’s mind is still turning over. With such long hours in such different parts of the district, she hasn’t seen Olu in months. Now, today, in such close quarters, Olu stands at her side.

They’re just as tall as Mal remembers, which would be comforting if not for the fact that it just means their hand is close for the taking.

It wouldn’t be that weird, would it? Reaping days are exceptional, in the sense that they are exceptions to everyday life. Maybe Mal can’t see them every day while she’s busy with administrative work, and maybe she can’t hold their hand when Olu’s hands are raw from the rough scythes, but maybe today—

“And now, our first name.”

Crushing stray thoughts like dead leaves beneath her heel, Mal holds her breath with the rest of District 9.

II. the reaping

Olufemi prays.

They don’t know who’s listening. They’ve never known. It’s never mattered. Someone is, and that’s what matters.

With their eyes never straying from the glass bowl full of names, Olu prays.

Please, keep us safe. I know that two must be taken, but you have kept us from the jaws of death for so long. To your purpose, I’m sure of it. Let us serve that purpose still.

After all, the families that refuse to take tesserae subsist on the grain bars Olu sets aside for them. A monthly reprimand when the yield is lower than projected, for “unknown reasons,” is a small price to pay to ensure that District 9’s citizens do not starve.

It is a good purpose, and one that Olu intends to continue doing for as long as possible.

“And now, our first name.”

The man covered in green sequins and peacock feathers plunges his arm into the bowl, up to the elbow, and retrieves a scrap of paper.

Please. Your will be done.

“Maluka Samale, please come to the stage.”

The crowd begins to part, and the cameras begin to turn, but the only reason the name sinks in is a quick, brief squeeze of the hand. It is this moment of contact that triggers the realization: Mal—their Mal—is on her way to the stage.

Olu cannot breathe. Everything freezes up at once. Is this punishment? A prayer recognized for its selfishness, and thus realized through the taking away of their only companion in life?

By the time they think to volunteer, and ensure Mal’s safety, she is on the stage.

I’m too late.

Tears threaten to dampen round cheeks, but there is still one tribute to call. Then the visitation hours will start, and one last moment can be had between them.

A seed of resolve hardens in their heart. I will not let Mal away from me again.

The Capitol peacock already has his second slip of paper.

“Nora Collins, please come to the stage.”

Despair replaces resolve. The Collinses were the first family to approach Olu begging for an alternative to tesserae. Any other granarist would turn them in for attempted theft, they said, but Olu had a kind heart, they could tell. Would it be possible to spare some of their next harvest?

Nora, the Collins daughter, had grown up hale and strong as a direct result of the system they had devised together. She matured from a dead eyed child into an adolescent with the quickest weaving fingers around, and Olu watched it happen.

I cannot let her go to the Games.

Before the girl can take even her first step towards the stage, Olufemi fills lungs that call out over entire fields with the last free air they may ever know.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

All eyes turn to them, and they feel the weight of the crowd once again. An intimate knowledge of procedure and an increasing anxiety to escape the mass of people drives them forward.

“An unexpected twist here in 9!” the Capitol man narrates. “Here comes our lovely volunteer now—and just look at those shoulders! I think we have a contender here, folks, I daresay we do.”

He offers a hand to help Olu onstage, and they accept. Holding it delicately, he guides them both over to the microphone at center stage.

“What’s your name, tribute?”

“I am... Olufemi Abdalla.”

Turning away from them smartly, the Capitol man gestures for Mal to take his other hand. He lifts the two hands he has up in the air, though Olu’s slips out due to their height, and makes one final announcement:

“The tributes from District 9: Olufemi and Maluka!”

III. the visit

If I could have leapt off that stage and tackled Olu to the ground when Nora’s name was called, I would have.

As things went, all I could do was watch. They never even hesitated—as soon as her name was read, their voice spoke up. Credit where credit is due; they sounded strong. All confidence, no weakness. I’m not surprised the Capitol dude called them a contender.

That initial impression won’t last very long, though. There are no cameras in the visitation room, so nobody seems them hug the Collinses and put on a watery smile for Nora, but I don’t think Olu has it in them to be anything other than what they are: a good person.

Settling against a wall opposite their little gathering, I try not to be bitter. Unfortunately, I knew it. I knew that dumb heart of theirs was going to get them in trouble eventually, I knew it from the day I discovered their haphazard attempt to smuggle grain foodstuffs from their quota to the needy.

Their stupid “production” never would have gotten off the ground if it wasn’t for my insider access to the records, fudging the numbers to make sure they weren’t missing as much as they actually were. Olu would be stuck with the hard labor of the fields—there’s no chance of promotion with those numbers—but they also wouldn’t hang.

And now we’re tangled in another mess.

Maybe they could have managed it on their own if it were just the Collins family, but Olu never figured out how to say no to the other folks that approached them. People took to calling them Angel as a codename: “Go and see the angel if you’re in need of food.” “The angel will help you.”

If they’re an angel, what does that make me? Hiding in the background, covering tracks, lying on every paper I fill out every day?

A shadow falls over me, and I look up to see Olufemi approaching.

I drop my arms out of their somewhat aggressive position across my chest. “What?”

They freeze, a minute tic I’ve seen before that means I’ve completely misinterpreted the situation.

Hesitantly, they answer, “I... they just left.”

“So?”

“So, wouldn’t you like to trade spots to afford you a bit of privacy, as you did for me?”

I smile and shake my head, but I can’t force myself to put any warmth into it. “Nobody’s coming to see me off, Olu. My people are long dead, and I’ve pissed off everybody at work at least once before.”

They shift their weight back, now awkward with the weight of what I said. “Ah.”

“Yeah, I know. At least it simplifies things, right?”

“Of course,” they say delicately.

Letting myself slip down to sit on the floor, I sigh. “God, I wish I had a drink.”

Olu folds their long legs and drops to the floor, as well. Perfect posture, as always.

“I’m sure they’ll have alcohol on the train.”

“They better.”

IV. the train ride

Unfortunately, my prediction regarding the train’s alcoholic stores is an accurate one.

Mal proceeds to get “properly plastered” over dinner. I’ll admit that the wine is incredible, the finest I’ve ever tasted, but I sip at it only to complement the meal. She downs cups of it like its sole purpose is to intoxicate her.

As a result, I am the one to take her to her quarters. I suppose the Avoxes could, or perhaps the Peacekeepers, but I can’t convince myself to find either of those appropriate. The Avoxes have enough cleaning to do in the dining car, and the only danger Mal presents in her current state is to herself.

The doors slide open smoothly, to reveal a room decorated in dark tones. The bed has a dark grey duvet and its posts are made of dark wood, and the rug is a plush navy blue color. Even the lamps and lights along the wall are muted.

“Finally, a place that isn’t so fuckin’ bright,” Mal mutters as I guide her towards the bed.

“I didn’t think the rest of the train was too bright,” I say by way of making conversation.

“It was,” she says, with all the confidence of a child. “This is nice, though. Like you.”

I’m unsure whether she means that I am nice, or I am dark, but I suppose she is right either way. Regardless of meaning, it seems an appropriate moment to withdraw my hands from her arms. After a brief pause to ensure she doesn’t immediately fall over, I start setting aside extra pillows and pulling back blankets.

“You takin’ me to bed, angel?”

I huff out a laugh at the codename turned nickname. “In a sense.”

“Awesome,” she mutters. “You’re sexy as fuck.”

I could handle the first comment, but this second one prompts heat to my face. “Sorry?”

“Ah, don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re finally actin’ on it.”

I’m running out of pillows to keep busy with. “On what?”

“On our undeniable chemistry,” she answers, using a tone that implies I should have known this already.

“I mean, fuck,” Mal continues, “I’ve been trying to hold your hand for, like... years. Figures I’d have to get reaped for it to happen.”

This last sentence is muttered, and the sorrow that overwhelms me over our circumstances closes my throat. All I can do is step back and gesture an open arm to the ready bed.

Mal dutifully crawls in, brushing a hand against the skin of my arm in thanks as she goes. Perhaps it is just her recent words echoing in the room, but the touch does incite nerves in my stomach and chest. Hasn’t it always, though? Or is that her point?

“Olu,” Mal mumbles, one arm up in the air. “Stop thinking.”

This command, at least, is familiar ground. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to sleep with me,” she promises. “I’m clearly not all... here.” A yawn interrupts her speech.

“Clearly,” I say gently.

“But I wasn’t kidding about sleeping with you. I mean—”

She buries her head into the dent of the pillow for a second, and a frustrated noise is muffled by it.

“I do want you to sleep with me, but like, sleep next to me. I don’t... want to wake up alone like I have every day, for years. This place already sucks. I don’t need that on top of it all, you know?”

It appears that Maluka has forgotten that I also live and wake up alone, but all that means is I understand the loneliness she is speaking from. And as such, I can hardly deny her.

Adjusting the blanket she is under one last time, I circle over to the other side of the bed and crawl in beside her.

next

[musicprincess655]

The sun shines brightly overhead, and Dazai hates it. He would drown it out and disappear into the shadows if he could, disappear from sight, hide away.

He doesn’t let any of that show on his face, though. He keeps the same carefree, vacant expression in place, the one that people see and dismiss immediately, perfected from a life of being seen and not heard. If anyone knows how to disappear, it’s Dazai.

He knocks on the door of his destination, grateful to be there, grateful to escape the mass of people living their stupid, boring lives prescribed by the stupid, boring city. He’d sooner be alone than surrounded by them.

“Dazai-kun.” Fukuzawa gives him a stern look that only reads as welcoming because Dazai’s been coming here for years. “You’ve found your way back here again.”

“I always do,” Dazai says, falsely cheerful in a way that puts people at ease around him. “May I come in?”

The answer is always yes, but Dazai’s learned that Fukuzawa likes to be asked anyway.

“There’s always a place here for someone trying to escape Mori Ougai,” Fukuzawa says, stepping out of the way to let Dazai in. “Ranpo’s in the back with Yosano. I’m sure the three of you can find something to amuse yourselves.”

“You don’t have any new cases?” Dazai asks. Disappointing. The best part of coming to the detective agency is that sometimes, if he’s lucky, there’s a weird case, one that makes him work for it. He gets a spark of something like a genuine emotion when he has to push his brain to the limit to puzzle out something difficult.

“I have new cases, but none you’ll be interested in,” Fukuzawa says. “Just the old staples. Cheating, open and shut murders, theft, you know the drill.”

“That’s boring,” Dazai complains.

“That’s what Ranpo said,” Fukuzawa tells him. “Why don’t you go commiserate with him?”

Dazai wanders to the back of the building to do just that. Ranpo sprawls in his chair, leaning back on two legs, opening chocolates and throwing them in the air, trying to catch them in his mouth with limited success.

“There’s nothing to do,” Dazai complains, sitting across the table from Ranpo and dropping his head to his arms.

“Oh, good, the sassy lost child is here again.” Dazai twists to see Yosano levelling an unimpressed look at him.

“Hi, Sensei,” he grins. Yosano rolls her eyes and goes back to what she was doing.

She likes him. Dazai knows it. He laughed when she threatened to dissect him and suggested she take a souvenir for her troubles. She retaliated by leaving him anatomy textbooks she thought he’d find interesting and teaching him how to suture on a banana.

Dazai reaches across the table to steal Ranpo’s abandoned laptop. If there’s really nothing to do here, he’ll just default to an old favorite: poking at things he has no business sticking his nose in.

It’s not like he couldn’t have done this at his guardian’s house. It might have even been easier. His parents might have pawned him off on Mori as a cousin just closely related enough to be coerced into watching him, but he still has access to things most citizens of No. 6 don’t because of them. But that defeats his entire purpose of getting away from Mori.

He doesn’t hate his guardian. In some ways, Dazai is even grateful to Mori. He’s a difficult child to deal with, and he knows it. A combination of being smarter than both his parents and not yet having the social skills to pull his punches about it got him sent to live with Mori in the first place, though both of them will swear up and down that they needed to focus on their careers. Mori isn’t like that, though. Mori is smarter than him, and perfectly willing to let Dazai play whatever mind game he wants, mostly because Mori is capable of winning. He’s a challenge that Dazai desperately needs, especially back a few years ago when he was so bored by everything around him that he threw all the pills in his medicine cabinet down his throat just to see if that would make him feel anything.

But Mori also, in some ways, represents everything Dazai hates about his life. For one thing, he’s been remarkably good at stopping any further suicide attempts. For another, as much as Dazai likes a challenge, it’s not fun when he never wins.

So, instead, he comes running to Fukuzawa, someone who’s more than willing to take in a refugee from Mori. He gets to help Ranpo solve cases that challenge him, but that have a possibility of victory. Ranpo’s better than him, but Dazai’s learning.

And when there aren’t any cases to solve, and when Dazai’s feeling particularly spiteful, he likes to try and find all the secrets No. 6 wants to keep hidden.

His parents are both politicians, though Dazai doesn’t have a clue what they actually do. He doesn’t much care to find out. Instead, if they’re the ones making the laws, he’ll see what they hide in a place where they punish those who break their laws.

The Correctional Facility has more security around its information than Dazai thinks is strictly necessary. If all they have is prisoner information, it shouldn’t be worth this much effort. It was Ranpo who pointed out, in the middle of one of Dazai’s bitch sessions about it, that if it was really so hard, they must have something to hide.

What could a prison have to hide?

Nothing Dazai can think of in answer to that question seems like something No. 6 would be comfortable having any citizens know, and that’s reason enough for him to want to know anyway. He’s almost got it, too, teasing his way around a tricky firewall.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Fukuzawa joins them in the back, giving Dazai a reproachful look. He knows what Dazai’s doing, or at least has an idea, and he disapproves, but he hasn’t bothered to try and stop him.

“Looking for the truth behind the biggest lies No. 6 likes to tell,” Dazai says breezily.

“You should be more careful,” Fukuzawa says. “You never know who might be listening.”

“Sensei!” Dazai gasps, laying a dramatic hand over his heart. “How could you? I thought we had something special!”

“Please,” Yosano rolls her eyes. “You should be looking at Ranpo. He’s susceptible to bribery.”

“That is true,” Ranpo says. “I would sell you for snacks.”

“I am hurt.”

“That’s enough,” Fukuzawa says. “Ranpo, I need to get working on this murder case, and I need to interview witnesses. I need your help.”

“But going door to door sucks,” Ranpo complains.

“Not even you can solve a case without any evidence to look at,” Fukuzawa says.

“Make Dazai do it.”

“Dazai is not technically an employee.”

“Because you won’t hire him.”

“I will when he finishes school.”

“Ugh.” Ranpo casts a dark look at Dazai. “Thanks for nothing.”

“My pleasure,” Dazai says, turning back to his work.

He’s almost got it. He can even get a few pieces of information at the lowest security clearance levels. And, as suspected, what he finds isn’t good.

In fact, if he’s reading the snippets he can find right, the Correctional Facility might be more accurately described as a lab. It’s not that he doesn’t believe No. 6 is capable of human experimentation. He just wishes they were less cartoonishly evil. A government that does experiments on its own citizens? It’s like a plot from a low budget movie.

“What’s that face for?” Yosano asks him. “You look like you’re about to start laughing maniacally.”

Maybe Dazai should develop maniacal laughter. It would probably be a good skill to have.

“I found something cool,” Dazai says. And then yawns. Without him even realizing it, night has fallen. “I should probably go home.”

“You’ll be careful, right?” Yosano says. “The Lost Town is dangerous at night.”

“Aww, Sensei, you do care,” Dazai simpers. She rolls her eyes, already writing him off. “I’ll be fine.”

Dazai whistles to himself as he walks, hands stuffed in his pockets. Predictable villain plot or not, he still found something interesting, with the promise of more if he keeps digging. He should get at least a couple more weeks of entertainment digging out all the secrets of the Correctional Facility, and weeks more trying to decide the best way to use it.

Part of him wants to just release it to the internet and let chaos make its natural way through the city, but surely if he puts his mind to it, he can come up with something better. Something more targeted.

“Dazai Osamu?”

Dazai slows to a halt. A police officer looks him up and down, takes in the bandages around his wrists, the perfect wide-eyed innocent expression Dazai’s perfected over the years.

“Can I help you with something?” Dazai asks, pleasant, just a hint of fear, the perfect cocktail to portray a well-raised young boy with nothing to hide.

“You’re under arrest,” the officer says, stepping forward with a pair of cuffs. Dazai takes one step back before he thinks better of the urge to run. He knows his own ability, and if a real chase starts, he won’t win.

“For what?” Dazai asks as the officer shoves him in the back of the car. The man’s partner turns around, holding up a device and pressing a button.

“Looking for the truth behind the biggest lies No. 6 likes to tell.”

Dazai wishes he could at least feel surprised. It’s so predictable, he just never bothered to predict it. Of course No. 6 would spy on their own citizens. It’s probably in the wristbands everyone has to wear. ID bracelets, keys to anything in the city, why shouldn’t the also be listening devices?

Dazai suddenly realizes that the part of him that still wants to die is about to get its wish. Will they even bother with taking him to the Security Bureau? Surely they won’t bother with a trial. If they accuse him of stealing state secrets, they’ll have to admit what those secrets are or contend with the possibility that he will. Wouldn’t it be easier to shoot him out here and be done with it?

He’s not sad about the certainty of his death. He never has been. But it does seem like a shame to die for something when he barely found anything out. And, of course, he finally found something to hold his attention for a while. Now he doesn’t even get to finish it.

“Why are we going this way?” one of the officers asks. “Shouldn’t we just…you know?”

“Not for this one,” the partner answers. “Don’t you know who his parents are? We can’t just kill him, and we can’t take him to the Security Bureau either, he might be recognized. Looks like his mother.”

Dazai has never put much stock in his parents, is sure they don’t really want him around. But he also doesn’t want to die painfully, and that’s almost a certainty if No. 6 is the one sentencing him to death. Maybe they can at least spare him that.

Wait.

If they’re not killing him here, and they’re not taking him to the Security Bureau, there’s only one place they could be going.

“We can keep him in the Correctional Facility,” one officer says. “They can keep him out of sight until his parents come get him.”

If my parents come get me, Dazai thinks darkly. He sits quietly in the back and, for once, tries not to think as he’s driven to his own death.

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

As it began

Fandom: Xmen: Apocalypse (with mentions of Xmen: Days Of Future Past)

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Warren Worthington III x reader/ Platonic!Charles Xavier x reader

TW: language, death, mentions of suicide, a lot of angst

Genre: ANGST 

Word Count: 9.4K

Requests: OPEN

Masterlist

A/n: THE GERMAN AND POLISH IN THIS PROBABLY ISN’T ACCURATE (There are translations) italics means flashback! The second gif will make sense when you read the fic ;)  This is a Warren x reader, but it HUGELY focuses on Charles and the reader's relationship.  And Bitch. I’ve been working on this fic for well over a month and I’ve been so hyped for it. I’m so incredibly happy that I get to post it. I got the title idea from White Queen by the way. Enjoy you guys! I’m so proud of this fic!!!!! Also, this is the longest fic I’ve ever written by FAR! Massive thanks to  @writingfortoomanyfandoms for listening to my constant bullshit and proofreading certain parts. Ily wifey.

When Charles had taken her in as his own, it'd changed both of their lives. She'd been abandoned on the steps of his mansion when she was just two years of age, causing a large amount of panic to be instilled in the mutant. He and Hank had gone over any and every possible scenario, including making the decision on whether or not to keep her. Eventually, after a long, and quite heated discussion, Charles settled on the decision of keeping her. To raise her as his own. (Y/N) Xavier had her father wrapped around her little finger. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for her. That was until he began taking that evil serum that gave him his legs but took his powers. At that stage in life, she had been residing in the mansion for four years, meaning she had been there since 1968, six years after Charles losing any use of his legs. And for some reason, that thought agitated Charles. But he never yelled at her. His anger was always at Hank or anyone who tried to visit. However, even after he'd stopped taking the serum and reopened the school, he'd sent her away to Erik, knowing she would be safe in his protection. 1975 became (Y/N)'s worst year for that one reason. It was a little too much for the nine-year-old to understand. And no matter how many times Erik attempted to explain it to the young girl, she would never understand. She couldn't understand why mutants were exiles and reject, seeing as the only ones she'd yet to come into contact with were all beyond kind to her. Of course, she didn't understand.

But she understood now. A whole eight years later had brought equal amounts of good and bad knowledge of mutants to her vulnerable mind. Erik's family had become her own, though Erik would tell her stories of her own father at her times of need and fear. It comforted her, though she hadn't seen him in a long time, the memories she held of him were fond and brought a smile to her face. (Y/N) had been sitting on the couch reading a book and Erik's wife, Magda, was folding some clothes. It was peaceful. Magda was like a mother to her, as Erik was a second father, and Nina was like her sister. Suddenly, Erik rushed through the door, causing the teen to jump at the noise of the door bouncing against the wall. He was speaking through hurried words about how they all had to leave.

"You did a good thing; you saved that man!" Magda argued, putting a hand on Erik's arm as he began collecting belongings, dashing through the rooms, his wife hot on his heels. She watched from the couch, unsure of what to do, feeling helpless and lost.

"That's not the point. If I'm exposed, we're all exposed," Erik stopped, moving to stand before his wife, resting a hand on her cheek, "We have to go."

"This is our home. This is our two daughters home," She shot back, gesturing blindly towards (Y/N) and she felt her heart warm, despite the tense and fearful situation.

"We are their home. I told you who I was the first night I met you. I trusted you then. I need you to trust me now. We can't stay here anymore," A sigh escaped his wife's lips and she glanced at the girl, still sat frozen on the couch, though she was on the edge of her seat now. (Y/N) knew very well how dangerous it was for Erik's cover to be blown, despite being young at the time of his most recent incident. She was young and naive. But she wasn't completely stupid.

"I'll go get Nina," Magda stated before darting upstairs. Erik's eyes fell to the girl. Practically his other daughter. He could see the panic in her eyes. The fear she felt. He felt guilty. Slowly, Erik made his way over and pulled her into a hug. (Y/N) breathed him in, feeling safe in his arms. Her real father wanted nothing to do with her, she hadn't seen her adoptive father in years, so being held by a father figure was one of the nicest feelings she'd experienced.

"I know you're scared, but you've no reason to be. I made a promise to protect you and I will keep that promise to you, my wife and my daughter, even if it kills me," (Y/N) had never known sentimentality in his voice before Magda. It was almost like a breath of fresh air when you heard it for the first time. But the moment was broken by Magda, rushing back downstairs.

"She's not in her room," Magda's voice held trepidation and that made the teen incredibly anxious like never before. Instantaneously, she broke the hug and bolted to the window, seeing Nina's common spot barren.

"I don't see her out back," (Y/n) added, feeling her heart drop to her toes. Quickly, just as Erik and Magda began running around the house, she pulled on her shoes. Before she could get outside, Erik had already beaten her too it and the trio was sprinting to the forest, calling out the child's name. All of them felt their blood run cold at the sight of a group of police officers gathered in an opening, the front officer holding Nina in a tight grip, unrelenting even as she squirmed and struggled.

"Are you okay?" Erik called to his daughter, eyeing the police officers with narrowed eyes, anger spiking through him as they tightened their hold.

"Nic jej nie jest( she's fine), "The officer reassured coldly and Magda took a step forward, despite Erik's warning glance.

"Then let her go!" She yelled and (Y/N) carefully took Magda’s hand in hers to settle her despite the rage coursing through her.

"Zrobimy to. Chcieliśmy tylko porozmawiać (We will. We just wanted to talk)" Another officer added. The teen could spy Erik shooting Nina a reassuring look, and she calmed slightly.

"Nie nosisz odznaki. Żadnego metalu( You aren't wearing your badges. No metal)," Erik remarked quietly, watching as the officers shifted uncomfortably. It was clear they feared him despite their tough exterior. Their twitching. Their nervous habit. The things that made them so painfully human. The things that made them so weak.

"Niektórzy ludzie z fabryki powiedzieli, że coś dzisiaj widzieli. Coś, co nie miało sensu. Byłeś dobrym obywatelem, Henryk. Dobry sąsiad, dobry pracownik. Chciałbym w to uwierzyć. ( Some men from the factory said they saw something today. Something that made no sense. You have been a good citizen Henryk. A good neighbour, a good worker. I would like to believe that)" Magda took another step forward at that comment. Erik was a good man. (Y/N) thought so anyway.

"On jest (He is!)" She yelled, the hand that wasn't linked with (Y/N)'s clenched. However, th police simply ignored the woman, continuing on. (Y/N) was desperate to say something. But she knew better. She'd been taught, both by Charles and Erik, that in a moment of potentially life-threatening conflict, let adults talk, until she was one herself.

"Ale nikt w mieście tak naprawdę nie wie, kim jesteś (But no one in town really knows who you are)," The man raised his eyebrows a little, prompting Erik for a response.

"Wszyscy wiedzą. Jestem Henryk Gurzsky! Jacob, nawet zjadłem u niego obiad ( Everybody knows. I am Henry Gurzsky. Jacob, I even had dinner at your place)" Erik sounded panicked. Something she hadn't heard in a long time. He was scared. Terrified even. Jacob's eyes turned venomous, eyebrows turning down into a glare.

"A ty cały czas kłamałeś. Wpuściłem mordercę do domu (And you were lying all the time. I let a murderer into my house)."Jacob growled, but the family tensed in unison as the front police officer, the one holding Nina, produced a newspaper. It had a black and white picture of Magneto on the front, back in Washington, "Czy to pan nazywa się, Magneto? (Are you the one called Magneto?)" Erik's eyes turned desperate. He spared a glance at the women behind him. He couldn't do this to them. But he had to.

"Poddaję się. Proszę. Pozwólcie mojej córce odejść.( i surrender. please. Let my daughter go)" He begged, taking a cautious step forward, eying the archers with distrust evident in his blue hues. Tentatively, the officer released Nina, the girl instantly sprinting into her father's arms. Erik returned the hug tightly, wishing he could stay with her forever.

"Idź z matką. (Go with your mother)" Erik murmured to his daughter, tenderly pushing her so Magda could pull her into a protective embrace, tight against her body. (Y/N) wanted to intervene, offer herself instead, pull Erik back. Anything. She had been taught better to act on her emotions. Nina fought against Magda, trying to break free of her arms, screaming out.

"Proszę! Nie zostawiaj mnie. Nie pozwolę im cię zabrać! (Please! Don't leave me. I won't let them take you!)"Birds flocked in, seemingly, out of nowhere, aiming their sharp beaks and beady eyes at the officers. Their claws scratched and their beaks pecked, all of the officers ducking and flailing their arms in surprise. Magda speedily twisted Nina around, trying to stop her. But in all the commotion, everyone failed to notice a singular arrow shooting through the air.

(Y/N) let out a short scream as the arrow struck Nina, eyes widening and tears filling her eyes, hand covering a mouth as a sob escaped her throat. Erik's eyes were glossy and he sprinted over, collecting his wife and child in his arms. His nose was buried in his daughter's hair, tears leaking down his cheeks. She couldn't believe it. They were gone. A part of her wished it had been her instead of them. After all the hardship Erik had faced, he deserved happiness. And he'd found it. And in a second he'd lost it again. (Y/N) wished the arrow hit her. Erik barely glanced up as Nina's locket began floating before suddenly raced through the air. The metal glided through the men's necks, each of them falling one by one. He caught the bloodied locket in his hand, clutching it tightly, before letting out a sob into his girls' shoulders. (Y/n) felt terrified. She'd never felt that way before. Not around him. Never around him. Erik knew that without even looking. Why wouldn't she be?

"You should leave. You're no longer safe with me. Germany is the safest place for you right now. Away from me.

Only a few days later, (Y/N) had found herself in Germany, finally using the language Erik had taught her so many years ago. She was alone. Vulnerable. No one to guide her. No one to call a friend. Or a father. Her place of residence, given that she had no money, had become an abandoned bungalow. The bricks were disintegrating with every day that passed, rain pelting through the gaps in the roof whenever the weather called of it. Most of the doors had been knocked down, but the few that remained were slowly rotting away. It was always freezing and made her curl into herself and shiver, but it was the closest thing she had at home. Half of her brain was screaming at her to go back home to Charles, but she had no way of returning to her dad. So there she stayed, avoiding anyone she could, only leaving when she really needed to. Somehow, she fell into some sort of a schedule, giving her some peace of mind, Until they came. She'd been hurt. She was unprotected. She was a perfect target.

A large crash distracted (Y/N) from her task, instantly placing her on high alert. Erik's words swam around her head 'Don't let them corner you' ' Don't let them overpower you.' Carefully, and as silently as possible, she lifted herself onto a low hung piece of wood. The seventeen-year-old hoisted herself through a gap in the roof, head peeking over the side just as a small group barged into the room she was previously positioned in. There were two females, both held themselves defensively. One of them had pure white hair and the other had dark hair. Complete opposites but nothing particularly interesting to (Y/N). When her eyes shifted over to the two males, her opinion quickly changed. All of a sudden, the group had piqued her interest. The man, if she could call him that, was tall with a strong physique, easily towering over the others, His face was a light blue, dark navy etching decorating his face. Then she saw him. Blond curls sprouted from his head, making him look angelic as light filtered through the broken windows, huge opposition to the leather jacket he wore. He had gorgeous green orbs and (Y/N) felt her heart stutter. She watched as the group looked around, mumbling hushed words between them. She couldn't help but wonder if they were looking for her. But, surely, that was impossible. Why would they be looking for her?

"There's no one here. You were wrong," The woman with white hair stated, and the three younger followers turned their harsh stares to the man stood in front of them. The blue-faced man remained still, almost frozen until his eyes suddenly snapped to (Y/n). Her eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding, and she launched herself off of the short roof. As soon as she hit the floor, her legs were moving as fast as they could carry her, They may not have been a risk, but she didn't want to take that chance. She sped through the empty field that isolated the bungalow, desperately trying to reach the forest before they got too close. She prayed for luck. She didn't receive it. A loud clinking sounded from behind her, strong arms wrapping around her waist and pulled her backwards, letting go the moment before her body made contact with the hard floor. A groan broke from her cracked lips and she sat up slowly, shielding her eyes from the sun. A figure blocked the sun a second later. Then two. Then three. Then four. Her eyes opened, fear glistening in them.

'Don't show fear' the words, though spoken to her so long ago, snapped her back to reality. (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows, glaring at the group.

"Wer seid ihr?( Who are you?" She demanded, using an arm to support her body. When she received no response, she could feel resentment rising in her.

"Ich sagte, wer Zum Teufel bist du? (I said, who the fuck are you?)" It was then she noticed that the curly haired boy had two silver, metal wings growing from his back. An angel in sense of the word.

"Wir Sind Hier um Ihnen etwas anzubieten ( we are here to offer you something), "The angel responded and (Y/N) stood up, finding amusement as the three younger people tensed, folding her arms over her chest.

"Oh? Und was wäre das? (Oh? And what would that be?)"Every second that passed made her feel more on edge, wishing Erik or Charles were there.

"A way to show your true potential. Your mutation is your greatest strength," The blue-faced man's voice was low, breathy. It sounded almost like he was choking.

"Verpiss dich ( Fuck off). I don't have a mutation. So thanks, but no thanks. You wasted your time," After living in Poland for so long, a slight accent tinted her voice, intriguing Warren greatly. Yet, it almost made her cringe, memories of Magda and Nina clouding her thoughts. Just as she had turned her back to the group, she fell to her knees, a scream of agony tearing through her mouth. Millions of thousands of voices filtered into her brain, all overlapping and shouting. Her ears rung and she brought her hands to cover her ears, nails digging into her scalp. For some unknown reason, the sight bothered Warren immensively and he had to turn his head away. Her screams made him want to vomit. In her moment of weakness, (Y/N) failed to notice the ice gathering around her knees and her fingertips. Frost patterned her hand and arms and the ice gradually slithered down to her elbow. But just as the voices had begun, they were cut off once more. Chest heaving, she looked over her shoulder, fearfully taking her hands from her ears.

"What did you do to me?" She breathed it. She'd never heard herself sound so defenceless. She hated it.

"I showed you your true ability. If you come with me, I can train you to your full potential," A voice deep down was telling her to run. But in that moment of unguarded emotion, she accepted.

When (Y/N) was brought back to Poland with Storm, Psylocke, Warren and Apocalypse, Warren could feel the uneasiness radiating from her. The assembly arrived outside a factory, a man she knew far too well stood in front of the entrance. She hid behind Warren and, despite only knowing her for a few hours, he felt like he had to protect her. The longing glances didn't go unnoticed by Psylocke, who narrowed her eyes in warning. Warren swiftly outstretched his wings just enough to cover the newly discovered mutants. He didn't know what had come over him. All he knew was that he would die for her, should it come to it.

"Who the fuck are you?" Erik turned to face them, flinching when Apocalypse took a step closer "Stay back. Whoever you are, don't try to stop me from killing these men," (Y/N) shuddered. Never before had she heard him speak like that. She knew what he'd done in the past. Who didn't? But hearing those words from his mouth unsettled her.

Their fingers were locked together as Apocalypse ran a hand down Warren's temple and cheek, leaving a black tattoo in his wake. It'd been days since he'd first met her, but something had clicked between the pair. An angel, who never allowed himself to trust anyone, had become attached in such a short amount of time. That alone made him anxious. And he wasn't the only one. Erik had nearly fought her trying to make her stay away. He wanted to protect one of the last family members he had left. Both himself and (Y/n) knew that he couldn't do that if she went through with it.

"You can't do this," Erik stated, watching as she patched up a hole in Storm's outfit. Something Charles and Magda had taught her.

"I can. And I'm going to," She replied, eyes still fixed on the needle and thread, pulling a piece of thread between her teeth.

"I won't let you" He shot back, and though his voice was calm, she could tell he was perturbed. Before he was discovered in Poland, he'd never been so firm with her. Upon her thirteenth birthday, she had been granted free will and trust. She never dared cross him. Always the perfect child. Erik not once failed to see Charles in her, though she wasn't biologically his. His characteristics had rubbed off on her. And Erik didn't know if he could bear to see her fall.

"Erik, don't try and stop me. I've made my decision," (Y/N)'s voice turned harsher, taking the thread from her teeth as she finished working on the outfit. Despite the tense atmosphere, she still gracefully folded the outfit. Something Charles used to do, Erik recalled.

"I promised Charles-" Alarm bells rang in Erik's head when she stood up, an ice blast shooting from her hand, narrowly missing his ear.

"Fuck what you promised Charles! He decided to give me away to you, so I couldn't care less what he says," She seemed surprised as he was. Not at any time had she said a bad word of Charles. She'd admired him for forever. She was already losing her way. It hurt to see. Though at that moment, Erik's emotions took charge, causing him to snap. Something he swore he'd never do in front of her. Yet it had happened twice.

"You're not putting yourself in danger! I won't lose you too!" In his rage, a stray piece of metal flew at her, knocking her into the wall. Her head made contact with the wall before she fell down onto her hands and knees. A shaky hand came to graze the back of her head, pulling back only to see a bit of blood staining her frosted fingers. Upon seeing the blood, Erik took a few steps back. No. He had hurt her. He was supposed to be her protector. How could he? With all the commotion, Warren had run in, instantly rushing to her side, a hand on her shoulder and another on her waist. He was glaring daggers at Erik as he carefully helped her out. Expletives escaped Erik's lips as he threw the nearest object at the wall, making it shatter on impact.

"Ow, fuck," (Y/N) hissed, flinching away from Warren's delicate touch. The angel narrowed his eyes, pulling her back to his chest.

"Hold still," His words were harsh, trying to hide the rising concern in his body, accidentally pressing a bit too hard on her head. She turned in his lap, now straddling him, slapping his shoulder sharply.

"Careful!" That tone frightened her. Since she was young, her words were soft spoken. Charles had instilled it into her. The coldness of her voice was icier than her mutation could ever be. It was like a shard of glass, impaling whoever it was directed at.

"Can't you see that I'm trying? I could just leave you here to sort your own shit out, "Warren grumbled, glaring at her. She let out a sigh, resting her head on his chest.

"I'm sorry. Thank you for taking care of me, Warren," (Y/N) was exhausted. He could see it in her eyes. She'd been pushed to the limit by Apocalypse when training. Never giving her a chance to catch her breath. It wasn't fair. But she needed to learn. Warren released a frustrated huff, linking his hands behind her back. Why couldn't he stay mad at her? He'd been notorious for holding grudges against people for years over the smallest things, yet he couldn't seem to bring himself to be angry at her. Somehow, that irked him more.

"Warren, did you hear me?" She repeated, causing Warren to snap out of his trance and look down into her sparkling (E/C) orbs. He didn't expect what he did next. He didn't know why he did it or quite how it happened, but before they both knew it, their lips were locked in a searing kiss. (Y/N)'s fingers tangled in his hair and Warren gripped her hips, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Her lips were perfectly moulded for his and he felt like he'd died and gone to heaven. Fitting for him, really. The moment felt amazing but Warren broke the kiss, placing his forehead on hers. He resisted the temptation to touch his lips, still tingling from the hard but oh so wonderful kiss.

"(Y/N), you know we can't do this," he mumbled, his hot breath fanning over her lips. The warmth of his lips was teasing her. But she knew that he was right.

"I know," She responded sadly, not yet daring to open her eyes. Because if she opened her eyes, she wouldn't be able to hold herself back.

"I don't want us to get involved. We're going to war in a few days. And if we carried this on when that happens, there's no guarantee we'll return to each other. I can't hurt you like that," His words were barely audible like he was terrified of the thought. And honestly, he was. Silently, she nodded, climbing off of him, beginning to walk the door. He swore he could hear both his and her hearts breaking as she stopped at the door.

"Thanks for fixing up my head. I appreciate you more than you think."

Erik was mumbling to himself as Apocalypse decorated (Y/N)'s back with a dark tattoo, a long-dead language imprinting her skin in barely legible writing, just about visual through the sheer costume she wore. Her (H/C) locks had been tainted a dark blue at the ends, closely matching the shade of her fingertips. The subtle changes made her look different. Erik wasn't quite sure he liked it at all. All of a sudden, Apocalypse turned abruptly, staring directly at Erik. His head turned up to the ceiling after an almost silent statement she couldn't hear.

"It's always the same. And now this. No more stones; no more spears, no more slings; no more swords! No more weapons! No more systems! No more!" The god's voice raised with each item, bouncing off the cold stone walls and reverberating through the ears of the mutants. (Y/n) clung to Warren's hand. And at first, Erik thought her to be scared. But to his great dismay, he saw a grin rise on her cheeks at Apocalpyse's declaration "No more superpowers." Erik couldn't bear to see her change of character. The evil glint in her eyes. The darkness that tinted her innocent smile. He barely noticed a portal being opened until Psylocke aggressively pulled him inside. The group reappeared in a hallway that was pain-wrenchingly familiar to Erik and (Y/n). She tried to ignore the ache in her heart when she noticed the shock and sadness that crossed Hank's face upon seeing her. Then there was her father, leant over, unconscious in his wheelchair.

"Erik," Raven began softly, only to be interrupted when Erik speedily extended his arm, Charles' chair being dragged to him, his body limp and lifeless. It hurt to see him but she rapidly turned with Psylocke and Storm and walked back through the portal. A violent cough escaped her lips as she inhaled some sand on the other side. Warm gusts of air blew her hair and a drift in the wind brought out a desperate scream.

"CHARLES!"

She couldn't bring herself to look at her father. Despite the change of views and perspectives being brought to light, she couldn't watch him in pain. Warren had noted it. Of course, he had. (Y/n)'s tense uncomfortableness had not been lost on him. It was a dead giveaway. He wanted to guide her. Help her. But he couldn't risk it. In such a life-threatening time, he couldn't let himself get attached. A thought tickled the back of his mind. Because he knew it was too late and he was absolutely, positively sewn to her. Anyone could suspect it, given how close in proximity they remained at any provided moment together. Erik could see it. And he knew the look they both gave each other. The look he used to give to his wife.

A groan rose from Charles' mouth as he slowly regained consciousness. Warren knew little of (Y/N)'s backstory, though, from the way she shifted beside him, he could perceive that she and the professor had some sort of history, as clearly strained as it was. Charles reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose. Something she remembered him doing when everyone's thoughts were particularly loud.

"You're blocking me. How?" He asked, annoyance and confusion concocted together in his voice. Hearing his voice after so many years almost made his daughter flinch and question herself. What was she doing? She didn't stand by Apocalypse's values. Yes, she did. Of course, she did. Why would she be here otherwise? Apocalypse leant down slightly before taking a seat before him. Charles' eyes were squinting from the almost blinding sunlight beating down on the group.

"I can shield their minds from your powers. One of the many gifts I've acquired over the millennia. But to see inside the mind... to control it. That's your gift," Apocalypse got closer, his voice lowering in volume. Menacing. Almost. "You saw it, didn't you? The glory of what's to come," Charles wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response and jerked his head to Erik instead.

"You're going to take part in all this killing? The destruction?" Erik's eyes narrowed at the question.

"It's all I've ever known," He replied and Charles let out a weak, quiet scoff.

"No, it's not. You've just forgotten," Charles responded instantly, propping his arms against the floor so he could sit up. (Y/n) could remember being picked up by him and being driven around the mansion with him in his wheelchair, everything passing in a blur. She could remember, when he started taking the serum, chasing her around in circles, laughter echoing through the entire house before the mood swings kicked in. That was her father. And she was siding against him.

"No Charles, I remember. Your way doesn't work," As Charles tilted his head to look back at Apocalypse, a gleam of metal in the sun caught his eye. His heart almost shattered at that moment. She was there. His daughter. (Y/n) was stood right there, hand locked with Warren's, eyes glued to the floor. He'd watched her grow with Cerebro. But it was nothing like seeing her in person. He only wished it had been under better circumstances.

"(Y/N)," Charles called out softly. He observed helplessly when her face shifted before his view was obstructed by shining wings as Warren turned her around, arm around her shoulder, wings extended

The clinking of wings was the only way (Y/N) knew Charles had been placed down. Until there was a gentle request of her name.

"(Y/N), he's using you. You know that. This group aren't good for you. You don't stand for their beliefs," She didn't. She knew that. No. She did stand for them. She had to. Both desperation and disappointment were present in his voice. She narrowed her eyes, turning sharply on her heel.

"How would you know what morals I stand for? You haven't seen me since you gave me away," She snarled and Warren eyed the exchange curiously, watching sadness fill Charles' features. He was looking at her like he'd never seen her before. It took everything in her to not crack under Charles' gaze. And Charles could see it. In her eyes. But he also saw something darker. A force. A state of mind that he'd taught her to fight. And she'd succumbed to it. He couldn't see her fighting it once more.

"I gave you to Erik to protect you," He shot back, pushing himself up slightly.

"Well, look how that turned out," A loud crash outside distracted the two teens and Apocalypse made an entrance, his thundering footsteps slowly making their way closer.

"Enough," His voice, though hushed and lowered in volume, seemed to load the expanse of the room vibrate through every crevice."My children, you have done me well. Guard this place. Let not a soul disturb us."

"You're just another false god. Whoever's left to follow you and when this is all over they will betray you again, "Warren shoved Charles back against the stone slab, a grunt escaping his lips at the contacts. Charles had to keep his eyes on Apocalypse, for if he looked at (Y/n) he knew he'd see something he'd always feared. Seeing her lose to herself.

"(Y/N), go find Storm and Psylocke. I'll deal with the disappearing bastard," Warren did a tester spin, sharp feather-shaped knives firing from his wings. Perfect shot.

"Keep yourself safe," (Y/N) replied, adjusting her outfit. Warren gave her a smirk, disguising his concern with his bad-boy demeanour.

"No promises," With that, Warren launched himself into the air, flying to the peak of the building, positioned in the darkness. (Y/n) let out a sigh before sprinting out into the light, scrubbing her eyes as they adapted to the beating sun. In that second, however, a flash of silver knocked her over, a punch instantly being landed on her cheek. Another punch was placed in her ribs before someone pulled on her legs, tugging her so her head made contact with a stray stone, reopening the wound previously left by Erik. Peter attempted to strike the girl once more but ice swarmed around his ankles, pinning his feet to the ground. With a growl, a blue blast exploded from her hand, knocking Peter back. She was gone before he had the chance to get up. Loud snarls came from behind her, Hank gaining up on her. As he went to attack, she turned to face him and his eyes widened. The shock caused him to come to a harsh halt, his heels digging into the sand. She was here. A sharp pain tore through his body before he could contemplate the thought, ripping an agonised scream from his body, barely able to see Storm hover over to (Y/n) and pick her up to place her on a building top. It gave the mutant better aim. Storm hovered in the air, situated in the large gap between (Y/N) and Psylocke. Psylocke looked over at the two.

"Split them up!"She called, nodding at Scott, Hank and Jean. Storm's eyes transformed into a bright white, electrical sparks dancing between her fingertips. (Y/N) and Storm shared a look as (Y/N) sent ice in a line between the mutants, Storm using the solidified water to turn the ice deadly. The three x-men jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the skin-frying river between them. Just as (Y/N) went to assault them again, a flash of light distracted her, watching in horror as she saw Warren and Kurt disappearing and reappearing every few seconds.

"(Y/N)! No distractions!" Psylocke hissed, but she had already taken off, using the ice to quicken the place. That was until a red beam fired right beside her leg, singeing part of her outfit as she was sent to the side. She let out a pained moan, rubbing her ribs to ease the pain of landing on some metal. Suddenly, that same gust of wind returned picked the girl up and threw her in a pile of rubble, half of it collapsing on top of her. (Y/N)'s arms were pinned to her sides. She could barely breathe, only able to let out an almost silent call for help. She was going to die. No. She couldn't die. She'd never been so petrified in her life. Storm rushed over, earning a furious glare from Psylocke

"Leave her! She put herself in danger!" She exclaimed, using her neon pink rope-like whip to attack Hank, curling around his neck. Storm paid little mind, floating over to the pile (Y/N) was buried under. She began clawing at the rocks, tossing them behind her. All of a sudden, another pair of hands joined Storm in her quest to free the younger mutant and she looked up to see Erik pulling at the rubble. After a few seconds, though it felt like years, a hand poked through and the pair helped pull (Y/N) out. She coughed violently, holding her throat tenderly, rubbing her eyes to rid them of the dust that had fallen into them upon impact. Erik gestured for Storm to leave and (Y/N) attempted to silently ger up, only to be pushed back down by Erik.

"What are you doing? I need to get back out there!" She stated weakly, though the ambition in her eyes was undeniable.

"I think you've done enough for one day," Erik barely finished his sentence before he was sent backwards bt an ice blast. (Y/n) stood up, jumping onto a neighbouring rooftop, looking back ar Erik.

"Good thing I don't need your permission," she remarked and sprinted off. 

Warren noticed her on the roof as he soared through the air, risking a glance between the plane full of mutants and the girl. He yelled out her name and the duo shared a gaze as she leapt off the edge of the building. There were few people she trusted with her life. For some reason, Warren was one of them. Similarly to a few days ago, Warren's arms worked their way around her waist, but instead of tugging her to the ground, they elevated her instead. The winged boy landed on the plane, still keeping a tight grip on (Y/N), using his razor-blade feathers to cut a hole. (Y/N) and Warren dropped through the hole, facing the X-Men. She caught the group, each of them latching onto a different part of Kurt. She could barely look at Charles when an odd sense of guilt began climbing through her but she tried shoving aside as Warren began advancing. She quickly followed behind, watching with panicked eyes as the group started to flicker. But just as Warren went to pounce on the group, Hank jerked the plane so its nose was directed to the ground. The horsemen were sent backwards and (Y/N) let out a pained scream as Warren's wings lacerated her right arm. With an almost impossible strength and swiftness, Warren spun himself and the girl around. Tears had filled her eyes as the cut in her arm began throbbing and Warren's face contorted to one of sadness. No. She knew that look. He couldn't. He wouldn't. But he did. His wing sliced through the wall beside her and she latched onto him before he could get to the other side of her.

"No. Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare, Warren," Warren closed his eyes at her plea, resting his forehead on her own.

"I'm sorry," He whispered before he jolted her backwards and cut the other wall. Her body was sent flying through the air, terrified shrieks tearing from her throat. Two arms caught her before she got too close to the ground and she looked up to see Storm giving her a worried look. She placed her down but as she went to speak, a yell broke from (Y/n) as the plane made contact with the floor with a near-deafening crack.

"WARREN!" Her feet couldn't seem to carry her fast enough. X-men kept trying to hit her but she dodged their attempts. Warren was the only thing on her mind. The wreckage was being swallowed by flames, her arm was stinging and her head pounding. She had to get to him, Casting snow over the fire, she looked around frantically until she spied his sweetcorn- blonde locks. Desperately, she began shoving metal and rubble out of the way, finally reaching him. Cuts and bruises bloomed on his face and neck and she dreaded to think what wounds lingered beneath his clothes. Tears dribbled down her cheeks as she cupped his face. (Y/N) was almost too scared to check his pulse. She didn't want him to be...he wouldn't be. He'd be fine. He had to ber. The x-men watched in shock at the interaction. They'd almost forgotten that most of the group were still kids. Just like them. Erik eyed the pair. He knew there had been something going on between them. She was like a daughter to him. And he knew he had to help her. Slowly, he extended his hand, face twisting in concentration, focusing on the plane. Shakily, the remnants of the plane began rising, lifting from the trapped boy and Erik placed it down a few metres away, Reluctantly, (Y/N) put her fingers on his pulse point, almost releasing a sob of relief when she felt a pulse, as erratic as it was. One of her tinted blue hands ran through his hair, lips wobbling slightly. Hank couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Erik had saved Warren's life purely because (Y/N) cared for him. He'd never seen that much sentimentality in Erik. It gave him hope. For both Erik and (Y/N).

But now, there was a rage bubbling inside her like never before. Apocalypse had tricked them. Offered protection for his army in their most vulnerable moments and nearly gotten Warren killed. He had to be stopped. For Warren. She stood up on trembling legs. Her body language screamed weak, especially considering the blood that leaked down her arm, playing an acrobat act on her fingertips before dropping the ground. But the fire in her eyes was bone-chilling. Wiping away the last of her tears, she looked over to where Apocalypse was stood. Raven's throat was gripped between his strong fingers. (Y/N) could see the fear on her face. On everyone's face. But she couldn't see Erik. Where could he have gone? She froze, hiding behind a wall.

"The great hero. You are feeble. Just like the others," (Y/N) saw Storm's face, shock plastered on it. She could faintly recall Storm telling her that Mystique was her idol. And she was being strangled right in front of her. She couldn't imagine what that was like. She didn't want to "CHARLES! Come rescue your weaklings! Give your life for theirs!" It was then that her eyes latched onto silver strands. Peter's leg was crooked at a weird angle and an expression of pain was painted onto his face. "CHARLES! Will you do nothing?!" There was a pregnant pause, suffocating everyone in suspense. (Y/N) had no idea where her father was. She could only pray that he was safe. Swiftly, she spared a glance at Warren almost as if she was trying to build up her confidence. She had to do this. For him. He had to be safe. And if Apocalypse won, he wouldn't be.  A loud thud pulled her eyes back to the group. Raven had been discarded on the floor, gasping for air, and Apocalypse had fallen to one knee. His eyes were squeezed shut and he kept wincing as if he was being abused by an imaginary force. Until he suddenly opened his eyes, a  dark glare flooding to his features. His hand rose above his head as he stood once more, the wall to one of the few buildings scattered around Cairo being resorted to dust. (Y/N)'s mouth fell open and a small gasp escaped her lips when she saw who had been revealed. All the x-men (minus Peter and Raven) were crowded around Charles. Menacingly, Apocalypse began advancing, a sly smirk crossing his lips and as (Y/N) moved to step out, a large chunk of metal landed directly in front of Apocalypse, then another, creating an X. Apocalypse turned, as did (Y/N), and scowled. She grinned in parallel. Erik hovered over them, stone-faced.

"You betrayed me," Apocalypse stated, a glare taking his eyes captive.

"No. I betrayed them," Erik's voice was sharp before thousands of pieces of metal came shooting at Apocalypse's form. Carefully, (Y/N) adjusted the arm of her outfit covering the wound on her arm. She had more important things to worry about. Hank and Scott leapt from the building, Hank racing to Raven and moving her out of the war zone. Scott yanked his glasses from his eyes, a red laser beam coming from his orbs. (Y/N) looked between them before outstretching her arms ice blasts repetitively being discharged from her hands. Everything was going...well. Too well. As soon as that thought swam into her brain, Hank attempted to pounce on Apocalypse, only to be deflected and knocked unconscious upon hitting the wall. Erik was struggling and almost stopped when (Y/N) was sent flipping through the air, landing on her arm. She cried out when her arm with the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks in pain. Only two noticed Jean stepping out onto thin air. A loud scream was released into the atmosphere followed by an almost blinding orange light. With squinted eyes, she looked up, gripping her arm tightly. Upon the scream, Hank jumped awake, quickly punching Scott out of the wall. A purple force field began surrounding Apocalypse as everyone except (Y/N), unleashing their powers.

"He's getting away!" Hank growled. He'd barely finished his sentence when a crash of lightning struck the force-field sending a deafening crack into the air. (Y/N) watched with clouded vision, a tiny smile coming to her face in relief as Apocalypse began flaking away, his eery words lingering in the breeze.

"All is revealed," With a quiet sigh, (Y/N) let her head fall back against the grainy floor, allowing the gathering of black dots control her sight. The last thing she heard was two desperate cries of her names.

Warren had never been so worried his entire life. He couldn't sleep, he could barely eat. Charles had practically forced him to leave the infirmary. He was an outcast. He wished he could say he wasn't used to it. When she was there, he felt wanted and needed.  But she was still unconscious a week after the battle. Charles had almost been sick when Erik had come to him with (Y/n), a deep gash implanted into her arm. And when she had woken up, he wanted to be the first one to see her. Unfortunately, she didn't want the same thing. Warren had given her the biggest smile she'd ever seen and, despite being high, on what felt like, nine different types of painkillers, (Y/N) smiled right back before, pulling him into a deep kiss. This time, Warren didn't push away. Though her father was ecstatic that they were happy, another part of him wanted to cry. Since she got to school, she'd avoided him like the plague. If he taught any of her classes, she took off the second he dismissed his students. She refused to accept the telepathic training he'd offered and never came to his office when asked to do so. After a lot of hesitation from the others, she soon made friends with Kurt and Peter but even then, she stayed with Warren. Hank had tried his best to talk to the girl, but only ever got curt responses. Warren and (Y/N) had been given a room together and it was filled with happy memories, despite her attitude outside of it. She'd never loved anyone the way she loved Warren and he could safely say the same.

"Warren, are you listening to me?" Charles asked, alerting the attention of his love-struck angel. Warren's eyes snapped back to the professor, a small smile still glued to his lips. (Y/N) had come outside with Kurt and the pair had sat together on the grass, sipping tea that Kurt had brought out with him. No words were exchanged between the two, just silence as their eyes both skimmed over their books. She looked so peaceful and content. Recently, she'd been beyond stressed because of Warren regrowing his old wings. She cleaned his wings every night and massaged his back when it got sore. Never did she complain. Never had he been touched so tenderly by another person since he was a child. it almost made his heartache for how much love she had to give. But when his eyes fell to her arm, a shiver ran down his spine. He did that. He hurt you. The guilt he felt seemed to triple every time his eyes grazed over the scar. However, he had his old wings back. Soft and fluffy and so much safer for her.

"Sorry professor, I got distracted," His head turned back to (Y/n), a grin forming. Charles sighed, heart, stinging, but forced a smile on.

"Go to her. We'll continue this another day," Not even a second after he'd finished, Warren had already flown halfway across the garden to (Y/N) and Kurt's picnic blanket, nearly knocking over the teapot. Kurt let out a playful grown that earned a laugh from Warren before he pecked her lips, beaming into the kiss. Charles watched with a heavy heart, only to freeze when your eyes locked with his. He gave her a small wave accompanied by a sad-smile, only to be disheartened further when she looked away. Warren's arm wrapped around her shoulder as Kurt babbled away.

"Everything alright, frosty?" He mumbled, eyes scanning her face from any discrepancies.

"I'm fine," She quickly turned back to Kurt, distracting herself with his excited explanation of a movie Scott took him to see.

"Professor?" A young voice called. Charles turned his head to glance to his doorway. Alexander stood there, red locks glittering in the light of Charles' fire, blue eyes shining in fear. The clock on the professor's desk read long past midnight. He shouldn't be awake, let alone other students.

"Alexander? It's late, what are you doing awake?" Charles placed his pen down, wheeling over to the eight-year-old.

"They're arguing again. And it's really cold," He had barely noticed that Alexander was shivering. No one had to who 'they' were. The past three nights, Warren and (Y/N) had been arguing, waking up other students with their yelling or (Y/N)'s lack of control over her mutations. However, in the past three days, Hank had dealt with it but Hank had gone to another country to collect a student. So it was time for Charles to face the music. With a miniscule shake of his head, Charles lead the boy back to his room, directing other students who'd left their room back into them. Kurt suddenly appeared in front of Charles.

"It's getting worse. I think that it's serious this time," Kurt said, concern filling his heavily-accented voice, his hair ruffled and eyes still crusted over with sleep.

"Alright, Kurt. Don't worry. I'll sort it out. Go back to bed, please," Charles reassured the mutants and Kurt gave him an awkward but grateful smile before disappearing once more. When Charles reached the door to (Y/N) and Warren's room, he could hear their conversation clearly through the door, shooing students who continuously exited their rooms.

"Babe, we both need fucking help! You can't keep being so selfish!" Warren boomed, his wings folding behind him as he circled the room anxiously.

"I never said you couldn't talk to him! I just don't want to myself!" She snapped back, a hand running through her hair. She was sick of having the same quarrel over and over again.

"Why not? He's your father! You said you were close!" Charles felt his heart stop. They were arguing about him. because of him.

"Yeah! We were! But how could I face him after what I did?" Her voice lowered, so Charles could only hear the beginning of her statement. A few more words were murmured behind the door before Charles turned the handle, both pairs of eyes snapping to him like deers caught in headlights.

"(Y/N), my office. Now. It's not a request this time, either," Charles commanded, though his voice was soft and kind. He made his way back to his office, waiting for his daughter. He daren't read her thoughts. He couldn't invade her privacy like that. After a few minutes, the quiet creak of his office door made Charles look up from the papers before him, watching (Y/N) sheepishly making her way into the room. Her eyes were fixated on her fingers, eyeing how small fragments of frost danced around them. From the moment she stepped in, a chill filtered into the air, making Charles pull his blazer closer to his body.

"(Y/N), you are aware of what you've done, aren't you?" His voice remained soft and gentle. A part of (Y/n) wished that she could open up to him. Be like they used to be.

"Of course I am. Just don't understand why Warren isn't here too. I wasn't the only one," She grumbled, picking at the old worn chair she sat in. That chair used to be in the living room when she was a little girl. Bought back fond memories that she'd rather not think about.

"Because I've needed to talk to you for a while but you've never come to my office," Charles responded pointedly, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) looked to the burning fire to distract herself.

"I'm only here now because Warren made me," Charles remained silent for a moment, looking at the picture on his desk. It was an old picture, taken when (Y/n) was only three, of her in his lap. He was tickling her as she tried to read a book, her mouth open in laughter and a huge smile on his face. His girl. Sat right in front of him. And yet, it felt like he was talking to a stranger.

"You should know better than to disrupt other students so late at night. It's not fair to them. I know it's not the first time it's happened this week as well," He continued, folding his hands on the desk, gaze intense.

"Alright, I'm sorry. Can I go now?" She huffed, crossing her legs.

"Not just yet. Why won't you talk to me?" Charles sighed. He couldn't keep hiding from this. And he wouldn't let her either. Not anymore.

"I am talking to you," Charles scoffed, shaking his head.

"No, you're not. You're only giving me responses," (Y/N) looked beyond uncomfortable, shifting in her seat awkwardly.

"You really want to know why I'm not talking to you?" She looked up briefly, fire and fear in her eyes. Charles leant forwards, kindness glistening in his eyes. He was getting to her, slowly.

"Of course, I do," There was a pause, tension filling the space between them.

"Because I'm a disappointment. To you. I turned my back on the one person I loved more than life itself. If Warren wasn't here, I'd have probably killed myself by now," She didn't dare look at him. She couldn't. Charles features softened at her confession.

"(Y/N),  I-I could never be disappointed in you. You're my daughter. My little girl. no matter what you do, I'd never be disappointed. I was scared that I was going to lose you," The professor reached over and took her hand, sadness flooding into his blue orbs "Why won't you talk to me?"

"I won't let myself. I don't deserve your love and affection," A small crack in her voice seemed to tear his heart from his chest. How could she think that?

"What about Warren?" Charles inquired, though nothing in his voice was demanding, hurt or judgemental.

"Neither of us believes we deserve each other, so being together reassures us both. We're both a little broke," (Y/N) attempted to joke but it only made her sound more troubled by the second.

"You don't have to be. I want to be here for you (Y/N). If you'll let me," She pulled away. No. She was closing off again.

"I can't let you, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm a monster. I betrayed you. I joined Apocalypse and when you tried to reach out for me, I turned a blind eye," The room continued to grow colder with every moment that passed.

"You were lost and hurt. You did what anyone would've. You found a way to survive," He shot back, watching as the fire was extinguished due to the icy conditions.

"I could've found another way. You always told me that there's always another way," (Y/N) hissed, yanking her hands from him, fearful that the frost of her hands would hurt him. How hadn't she thought of that? She knew her dad would never admit if she was hurting him. She could've been hurting him this whole time and he'd never say a word. How could she be so stupid to let him hold her hand?

"And I've learnt in my time that that's not always true. Even so, sometimes it feels like we have no other option, especially if our minds are clouded. If we judged people by their darkest hour, we'd all be monsters. I mean, you've seen me in mine,"

'Who the fuck allowed him to be that wise at his age?' She thought before averting her eyes to the door. "But I hurt you."

"And I forgive you. Please, come over here," Charles signalled for her to come closer. With a truckload of reluctance, she slowly tiptoed around his desk, balancing on her knees so she wasn't towering over him, elbows placed on his legs. He rested a hand on her face, thumb running over her cold cheek. That's when the walls cracked and the dam burst. Salty tears made their way down her cheeks, her lip trembling. A  sob cracked from her throat as more tears streamed down, dripping from her nose an chin. Charles carefully wiped them away, resisting a sad smile when she leant into his touch. After a moment, and a lot of internal debating, (Y/N) clumsily clambered into his lap, wrapping her arms around him, face buried in his neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," She couldn't form any other words and Charles reciprocated the hug, running a hand through her hair to calm her. Like he used to when she was just a young child. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"It's alright. You're safe now. I'll never ket anyone hurt you ever again.”

Those words alone made her know everything would be okay. Maybe not now. maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, everything would be as it should be.

 Tags: @writingfortoomanyfandoms @metaphorical-love-for-a-car@queens-n-roses @freaky-dcaky @yourealegendfred@fierce-bab@dusthas-beenbitten   @bensroger @strangeandwonderfulconcepts @babebenhardy@benhardyjones @silvver-rose  

[thisisemilysfault]

Tybalt has Daddy Issues(tm)

Hello, all 5 people who read this blog. We have officially reached the stage of isolation for my Shakespeare Hot Takes, for which I apologize. I have done zero research for this, aside from reading the play in 4-6 classes every school year for the past 16 years, but who cares, in this, our plague year? Shakespeare certainly rarely seems to have bothered, and if unfounded assumptions are good enough for William, who are we to gainsay them?

So let’s talk about everyone’s favorite second-favorite probably at least third-favorite melodramatic trashfire of a boy in Romeo and Juliet: Tybalt. What do we know about him?

Well, in the order that we learn them:

1. He hates the Montagues and the idea of peace, and especially wants to stab poor Benvolio, hapless Cinnamon Roll, IN THE FACE. What you might call, if you were down with humor theory, a choleric dude (I.i)

2. He can recognize Romeo, a guy who mostly ignores the feud, by his voice, which implies that either all the Montagues have the same peculiarity of speech or that Tybalt is high-key obsessed with being able to find the right people to stab in a dark room or similar (I.v)

3. He is 100% down to stab Romeo in the middle of a party THE SAME DAY that Tybalt was threatened with death if he ever fought in public again, even though Romeo wasn’t really doing anything at the time. Tybalt wants to be tough and avenge the perceived slight to the Capulet family honor, and he has to be threatened with injury or death by the head of that family before he will back down. Even still, he vows revenge in a very “I’ll get you, pretty, and your little dog, too” sort of way (also I.v) 

4. So the next day, he sends Romeo a challenge to a duel (which Romeo never even sees, because he never goes home after the first day; no wonder his poor mother had a heart attack) despite both the Prince and Lord Capulet telling him not to fight, and in Lord Capulet’s case, specifically not to fight Romeo (II.iv)

5. According to Mecutio (an admittedly biased source), Tybalt duels frequently, because it is fashionable (Oh, hello, cheap joke about how stupid all French things are to please the English audience). He is dangerous, but only has a memorized set of moves, not “the true virtuoso spirit” (II.iv, and yes, the last one is quoting Poe, I’m weak)

6. When Romeo doesn’t reply by that afternoon, Tybalt rounds up a bunch of his friends and goes looking for Romeo’s friends, whom he approaches pretty politely, seeing as he tried to kill Benvolio yesterday morning. So he can control his temper, he just...doesn’t wanna (III.i)

7. The Stabbing: On purpose or nah? Depends on the director and the production, but I like it more when it’s an accident. Textually, Benvolio later says it was on purpose, but his reporting of events is only about 70-80% accurate in that monologue, so... Anyway, Tybalt runs away from a crime scene, which at least shows some self-preservation. But then... (III.i)

8....he runs back (possibly fleeing the citizens who show up later). Turns out Romeo is a better fighter than Tybalt. (III.i)

9. AND THEN, we find out Tybalt is Lady Capulet’s brother’s son, which means HE’S NOT EVEN REALLY A CAPULET (or, horrific idea I’m only just now considering, Lord Capulet married his 13 year old Capulet cousin, which is gross, but not outside of the realm of possibility) (III.i)

10. Tybalt gets buried in the Capulet crypt, which is either an honor for how he dies, indication that he was a ward of the Capulets, or a piece of supporting evidence for the incestuous Lord and Lady Capulet scenario oh God I hate my brain (IV.iii)

REGARDLESS. Tybalt has every reason not to be involved in the feud (not even his blood relation, persons of authority in the town and his family telling him to stop, evidence that Romeo is closely connected to a relative of the ruler of the city, not real provocation), so why does he go so much harder at it than literally anyone else in the play? It could just be that he likes fighting, but he does make an effort to avoid fighting Mercutio at first, and only draws his sword after Mercutio threatens him, so that’s not all of it.

My conclusion: Tybalt is desperate for Lord Capulet’s approval and to prove himself a “real” Capulet, so he is touchier about the family honor than any other Capulet we see. Sure, the Capulet servants will pick fights, and the Capulet guards would 100% kill Romeo if they knew he was making eyes at the boss’s daughter from directly under her window, and Lady Capulet will demand Hammurabi-style vengeance, but no one else is memorizing what all the Montagues sound like, just in case. All Tybalt wants is to impress his father figure, since evidently his real father is absent, dead, or so much of a nonentity that there’s no honor to be gained in associating with him.

Thus, Daddy Issues.

[cosmicjoke]

Why the condemnation of “Joker” by certain people on Social Media is the real Threat

I’ve got to talk about all this “controversy” surrounding “Joker”, and the hypocritical absurdity of it. 

Well, firstly, the vast majority of the social media criticism being leveled at the film is coming from people who haven’t even seen the movie, and yet are already condemning it as a dangerous, threatening, irresponsible work that somehow is going to endanger our very society.  I would laugh if the very thing these people are themselves doing wasn’t, in fact, the actual danger.  Because, whether these dimwits are aware of it or not, what they’re promoting is a thing called “censorship”.  Big word kiddies, I know.  They would have us believe that “Joker” needs to be shut down and suppressed as a film because it’s “dangerous to our society”.  Gee, I wonder where I’ve heard that before?  I seem to recall innumerable instances throughout history where the suppression of expression was excused by oppressive governments and regimes because, they claimed certain things being expressed or conveyed or examined was detrimental and dangerous to the society and culture.  I mean, usually those sorts of things are, in retrospect, acknowledged as a consequence of living in a police state.  You know, a society where individual thought and expression is deemed unacceptable, and where historically, if anyone dared break the law of what the ruling party deemed acceptable, they would be thrown in jail.

This all just brings me back to the sickening stupidity of these people now wailing about the dangers of “Joker” to our society.

Because god forbid a film should examine and depict the suffering of a mentally ill white man who’s been dismissed and neglected by a casually cruel and uncaring society.  God forbid a mentally ill white man should be shown any compassion at all, or understanding.  Because that sort of things doesn’t exist in the real world, hahahaha.  Because bad people are all born in a vacuum, evil isn’t a man made concept but an actual, tangible and definable human trait that’s completely independent of any other factors of the human condition, and their circumstances and environment have nothing whatsoever to do with how they turn out.  Oh no, chemical imbalances in the brain aren’t a real thing that can cause compulsive disorders in people.  That’s not real.  White people aren’t real people with real problems.  What a hilarious and absurd notion!  There’s no such thing as a white person that’s poor.  There’s no such thing as a white person who’s treated like trash by society.  There’s no such thing as a white person whose anything but fabulously wealthy and privileged and educated, and accepted with open, loving arms by the whole world. 

That entire paragraph was sarcasm, for the slow people in the back.

It’s funny, though, how these same people that claim those things like social and mental factors have nothing to do with people committing crimes will turn around and talk about the higher percentage of crime rates among minorities as being a direct byproduct of them living in socially disadvantaged circumstances.  I guess environment and mental health problems do effect people’s behavior, as long as they’re not white.

The point is, the people that are condemning “Joker” and shouting from the rooftops that it’s a “dangerous” film that should never have been made are by their very words promoting censorship and suppression of artistic expression, which in turn leads to an oppressed, police state society, where any given countries citizens are essentially prisoners of their own government.  THAT’S dangerous.  “Joker” isn’t dangerous.  It’s a movie about something real.  About how mental illness is something that often gets ignored by a society which isn’t comfortable with acknowledging it’s existence, and how that neglect of the problem only leads to it’s exacerbation.  How people’s casual and thoughtless cruelty towards those who suffer with mental illness can have a devastating impact on those people.   How unchecked extreme social injustice and obscene economic divides can reach a boiling point and explode in violence and rage.  About compassion and understanding for the disenfranchised and neglected and abused.  About how simply labeling someone as “evil” won’t ever solve any problem, because it’s an absurd and grotesque oversimplification of what really causes violence.  The character of Arthur Fleck is depicted as a multi-layered, complex human being, suffering human frailties and living under the intense burden of a callous, cold society which has little to no regard for the people that don’t fit in, or conform, or fit the profile of normality.  He isn’t a force of nature, or a being of pure, unstoppable evil, but a frail, vulnerable, broken man who, because of the stigma and ostracization of the world around him in relation to his mental illness, feels trapped and alone and misunderstood, with no outlet to express his pain, and no one to speak to regarding his darker, destructive impulses.  “Joker” is a film that deals with real world issues.  That doesn’t shy away from the ugly reality of those issues, and how those issues are treated by the world, and the responsibility of our society and our responsibility as individuals to help and look after those who can’t look after themselves.  To do what we can to make those who are laboring under intense negative thoughts and emotions feel as though they can speak to someone about those thoughts and feelings without being dismissed, or made fun of, or just flat out rejected or even recoiled from.  It’s a cautionary tale about what can happen when we as a society and as individuals fail to do our part and really allow ourselves to examine the true causes and reasons for why a person might resort of violence.  When we’re simply more comfortable with the idea that “evil” as a concept actually exists, is something born out of nothing, and how much easier it is to simply label people that lash out as such, rather than acknowledging that they, too, are human beings, and to reflect that their violence and destructive acts are things we ourselves would be capable of, were we to find ourselves suffering under the same mental problems and experiencing the same environmental circumstances they do.  Because it makes us uncomfortable to see these people as human beings, to see them being mistreated and abused, and to then feel sympathy or empathy in our hearts when we see them being hurt.  Because we would much rather believe they have no true feelings, no true emotions.  To believe that they aren’t people, but just things that should be regarded as nothing but repulsive monsters.  To convince ourselves that they can’t be hurt by the things we do to them, so we don’t have to experience all those awful feelings of compassion and empathy for their suffering, or feel guilt for treating them as less than human.  

Anyway, that’s my rant.  It isn’t this film that’s a danger to society.  It’s the people who don’t like what the film is expressing, and don’t want to acknowledge that what it’s expressing is based in reality, that are the real danger.  They’re promoting censorship, which in turn can lead to suppression of artistic, political, and religious expression.  Which leads to the destruction of freedom of expression.  That’s a real world, tangible threat, and it’s being proposed by people who claim to be looking out for the welfare of our society.  

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

Nurture and Nature 2

It has been three moon rises and Kevin still hasn't woken up. It put Earl on edge. There's no telling how long it's been since the man ate. There's also no telling how much iron was in his system. The shackles had obviously been iron. the blade used to cut Kevin's chest had to either enchanted or iron. 

Earl uses the time Kevin is asleep to research the Fae. There are multiple Fae that live in the palace but Earl wasn't close to any of them. He knew the captain of the King's Guard is a Fae. Cecil and Carlos seemed friendly with him. The human ambassador that they were hosting….Nyx, Earl believes his name is…..seemed fairly knowledgeable about the Fae as well. Maybe he could ask? But what would he even say? 

Earl is pulled from his thoughts as the door opens. Cecil enters and shuts the door behind him. "Still asleep?"

Earl sits his notes aside and nods. "Yeah. I think his body needs it but I'm worried he might not wake up."

"I wouldn't lose hope just yet. He seems stubborn." Cecil looks at Kevin, as if trying to learn his story fro

m his face. He looks back at Earl. "What're you doing?" He asks, moving closer and leaning over Earl' shoulder. 

“Research mostly. I don’t want to be left in the dark when he does wake up. I want to be able to help.” Earl looks up at Cecil. “I just don’t understand. Why take the priest? Priests are docile. Pacifist. It doesn’t make sense.”

Maybe they thought he would be easiest to break.” Cecil frowns. “Though I’ve found that the ones that are the most soft spoken are the strongest.” He looks over at Kevin, “We don’t know his story but we need to be careful. Something happened to him and we don’t want to risk triggering a bad memory.”

Earl nods. “I do have a favor to ask of you, while you’re here.”

Cecil stands upright and looks curious. Earl almost never asked for favors. “Okay?” 

“Can you fix this?” Earl holds up what was left of Kevin’s now bloodstained , tattered white cloak. “I think it’s important to him.” He had moved it when he carefully changed the bed clothes earlier. 

Cecil takes ahold of the cloak and inspects it. He runs his slightly webbed fingers over the soft fabric. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you Cecil."

Cecil carefully folds the cloak and tucks it under his arm. "It's the least I can do." He lets his touch linger on Earl's shoulder. "Carlos wants to call a meeting with the nobles about the camp we raided. Where we found Kevin. Where to go from here." 

"Does he have any leads?"

"I'm not sure. I think he's thinking poachers or maybe even a rogue faction. Whoever they are, they may be looking to start a war."

Earl sighs and sits back in his chair. Oíche could easily win a war but Carlos tends to do his best to stray from fighting. "What does Magnus or Rochelle think?"

"I assume we'll find out at this meeting."

"Right." Earl nods. "When is this meeting?"

"In half an hour. We have to wait for the nobles who don't live at court to get here." Cecil brushes a few stray hairs from his face. “I honestly have no idea how this meeting is going to go. The private council isn’t big on outsiders.” 

“I’m well aware.” Earl sighs before looking back over at Kevin. Would Carlos risk war over a man he didn’t know? He did when Cecil came here…. 

“We will figure it out.” Cecil puts a hand on Earl’s head. “We will. You know we will.”

-----.-----

Earl looks around the room. Carlos sits at the head of the table. Cecil sits to his left, not really paying attention as he worked on Kevin’s cloak. His hands had a soft purple glow as he mends the delicate fabric. Carlos’s King’s Deputy, Rochelle, sits on his right side, sharp eyes scanning the room. Between Cecil and Earl was Nyx, the human ambassador that both Cecil and Carlos have grown rather fond of. Across from Cecil, on Carlos’s right, sits Rochelle, the King’s Deputy. Next to her is Magnus, the captain of the King’s Guard. Rochelle is a Xaela, a tall proud woman with fiery red curls pulled into a long tight braid that hung heavily down her back. Black colored scales speckled her skin and tail, shimmering a rainbow of colors in the candle light. Strong but elegant horns curl delicately on either side of her head. Magnus was a little shorter than Rochelle. He was slightly tanner than most of the citizens of Oíche Vale. He has shoulder length dark brown hair worn in a ponytail. His ears and short and pointed like Kevin’s, while large gold colored wings fold neatly behind him so he doesn’t hit someone by mistake. 

Various nobles sit around the table, talking amongst themselves until an older woman with a kind face and long white hair speaks up. “Your Highness, what is this about?”

The woman is Josefina Ortiz, a dutchess that lives near the seaside. Her gentle face showed her age and wisdom. She wears her Selkie’s pelt proudly and despite living in a male dominated society, she never married. Instead, she runs an orphanage and holds the respect of nearly everyone.

Carlos sits forward and raises a hand to silence the room. “As you know, just over half a week ago, we raided the camp. We were only able to recover one surviving prisoner. We have reason to believe this group may be poachers.” There is a ripple of murmurs throughout the room. 

“What reasons do we have to believe that?” Another noble asks, an Elf named Tyler Brooks.

“The man we rescued has blatant proof that he was held by poachers or hunters.” Carlos speaks calmly. 

“What proof?”

Earl groans inwardly. He really didn’t want everyone to know about Kevin’s wounds. Not without Kevin being here. He prays that Carlos keeps it quiet. 

“Enough proof to convince both me and a medical professional.”

“Can you present this proof?” 

“He isn’t awake yet.” Earl finally speaks. “I’m not taking the lot of you to gape at a sleeping man without his consent. But I recognize the wounds and they are most definitely from a hunter’s knife.”

Tyler rounds on Earl. Earl groans inwardly. Here we go. 

“How do we know that the wounds aren’t self inflicted?” 

Earl glares at Tyler’s smirk, He was trying to force out more information about Kevin and Earl could feel himself backed into a corner. A soft whistling catches Earl’s attention. He looks at Cecil. The blonde was staring at Tyler, his purple eyes were glowing slightly brighter than usual. It had taken a while for Cecil to learn how to control his song but now he can use it freely and openly and have it affect only one person. Tyler squirms from the effects of the song but kept his glare. After several minutes, Cecil stops and goes back to his work on the cloak. 

“You stupid whore!” Tyler lunges at Cecil. 

Earl isn’t sure who reacts first. Carlos, himself and even Mangus stands but before any of them can react, there's a soft twang and a net flies across the room. It wraps around Tyler and causes him to fall to the floor. The room erupts into chaos as Carlos stands. The comotion had caused Cecil to jump back and tear the cloak more. He curses softly under his breath and sighs. 

Earl looks around and grins when he looks at the door. “Dave. Nice to see you again.”

Carlos moves to the door to greet the Nymph holding a compact bow. “It’s been far too long.”

"Aw you missed me?" Dave teases, slinging the bow over his shoulder before putting his fist over his heart and bowing. Carlos smiles. 

"Of course. Things were too quiet. How is your wife?"

"Very….very pregnant. She wants to raise our child at court. If you approve of course."

Carlos chuckles. "We can discuss this later. Of course I approve."

Dave looks around the room. "So ....what's going on?"

"Before or after you showed up?"

"Uh…..both?"

Carlos turns and addresses his council. "We will finish this later. When things have calmed down. You are dismissed."

It takes several minutes for the nobles to file out of the room and Tyler is freed from the net. He narrowed his eyes at Carlos. 

"Are you really ready to risk war over one person?"

"Brooks." Carlos says slowly, voice deadly calm but threatening. "Take a walk and wait until I address you again."

Tyler looks as if he wants to protest but instead chooses to scowl and turn on his heel. Carlos watches him go before closing the door and looks at the small group remaining. Cecil, Earl, Rochelle, Nyx-who had been quiet the whole time-, Magnus and Dave.

Carlos approaches Cecil first. He puts a hand on the mage's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Cecil smiles softly. "I'm fine. Don't worry." 

Earl watches Cecil, Carlos and Nyx have a quiet conversation before Cecil and Nyx stand. Nyx slips an arm around Cecil's waist and guides him from the room. Carlos beckons Dave to the table and he joins the others. 

"So what's going on?" Dave asks again, sitting in Cecil's now empty seat. 

"We raided a rogue camp because we were sent an SOS and we found a number of prisoners. Only one survived."

Earl sits forward. "And he shows obvious signs of being held by poachers or hunters. I wasn't able to look at the other prisoners because I was trying to keep the one that survived from bleeding out."

Dave nods slowly. "So what are we doing about it?" 

"We are still working to figure that out." Carlos sighs. 

"Maybe we should check out the camp again." Rochelle offers. "See if we can find anything." 

Magnus nods. "It's worth a try." He looks at Carlos. 

"It could also be extremely dangerous." Carlos rubs his temple, just under the gold circlet on his head. 

"I want to go with you." Earl stands. He feels everyone else look at him. 

"That's a terrible idea!" Rochelle protests. "You could get hurt."

"Please…. I want to go. At least look around. I need more information. Please?"

Carlos sighs, knowing that Earl won't relent. "Alright. But you aren't going anywhere on your own. That's an order."

Earl inclines his head. "Thank you."

-----.-----

Cecil had finally gotten the cloak mended and slips into the Infirmary. He folds the cloak neatly and lays it on the bed. It looks like Kevin is still sleeping and for a moment, Cecil just looks at him. His face is smooth and innocent in his sleep. Cecil had started to leave when he heard shifting on the bed. He slowly turns, panicked. Earl had left with the others at dawn and the only medical personnel left at court was Earl's apprentice Roger, whom Earl loved like a son. At the moment, Roger was attending classes. 

Cecil turns and looks at Kevin, who was sitting up and staring at him. Large amber eyes train on Cecil's face. Cecil rests his staff beside the door and puts his hands up. 

"I'm not going to hurt you."

[bountyofbeads]

Turkey Begins Syria Incursion, Targeting Militia Backed by U.S. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/09/world/middleeast/syria-turkey-kurds.html

Kurds mobilize in Syria as Turkey poised for imminent attack

By LEFTERIS PITARAKIS and BASSEM MROUE | Published October 9, 2019 :9:25 AM ET | AP | Posted October 9, 2019 10:15 AM ET |

AKCAKALE, Turkey (AP) — Warning of a "humanitarian catastrophe," Syrian Kurdish forces who are allied with the United States issued a general mobilization call Wednesday as Turkey threatened to invade northeastern Syria.

The Turkish operation would ignite new fighting in Syria's 8-year-old war, potentially displacing hundreds of thousands of people, and the Britain-based Syrian Observatory for Human rights reported that people had begun fleeing the border town of Tal Abyad. Kurdish politician Nawaf Khalil, who is in northern Syria, said some people were leaving the town for villages farther south.

Turkey has long threatened to attack the Kurdish fighters whom Ankara considers terrorists allied with a Kurdish insurgency in Turkey. Associated Press journalists on the Turkish side of the border overlooking Tal Abyad saw Turkish forces crossing into Syria in military vehicles Wednesday, although there was no official statement from either side that the offensive had begun.

Expectations of an invasion increased after U.S. President Donald Trump on Sunday abruptly announced that American troops would step aside ahead of the Turkish push, a shift in U.S. policy that essentially abandoned the Syrian Kurds, longtime U.S. allies in the fight against the Islamic State group in Syria. But Trump also threatened to "totally destroy and obliterate" Turkey's economy if the Turkish push into Syria went too far.

Turkey has been massing troops for days along its border with Syria and vowed it would go ahead with the military operation and not bow to the U.S. threat. A senior Turkish official said Turkey's troops would "shortly" cross into Syria, together with allied Syrian rebel forces to battle the Kurdish fighters and also IS militants.

Trump later cast his decision to pull back U.S. troops from parts of northeast Syria as fulfilling a campaign promise to withdraw from the "endless war" in the Middle East. Republican critics and others said he was sacrificing an ally, the Syrian Kurdish forces, and undermining Washington's credibility.

Fahrettin Altun, the Turkish presidency's communications director, called on the international community in a Washington Post op-ed published Wednesday to rally behind Ankara, which he said would also take over the fight against the Islamic State group.

Turkey aimed to "neutralize" Syrian Kurdish militants in northeastern Syria and to "liberate the local population from the yoke of the armed thugs," Altun wrote.

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan discussed plans for the incursion with Russian President Vladimir Putin. Erdogan's office said the Turkish leader told his Russian counterpart by phone that the planned military action in the region east of the Euphrates River "will contribute to the peace and stability" and also "pave the way for a political process" in Syria.

Turkey's Defense Minister Hulusi Akar told the state-run Anadolu Agency that Turkish preparations for the offensive were continuing.

In its call for a general mobilization, the local civilian Kurdish authority known as the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria, also asked the international community to live up to its responsibilities as "a humanitarian catastrophe might befall our people."

"We call upon our people, of all ethnic groups, to move toward areas close to the border with Turkey to carry out acts of resistance during this sensitive historical time," it said, adding that the mobilization would last for three days.

The Kurds also said that they want the U.S.-led coalition to set up a no-fly zone in northeastern Syria to protect the civilian population from Turkish airstrikes.

The U.S.-backed Syrian Kurdish group urged Moscow to broker and guarantee talks with the Syrian government in Damascus in light of Turkey's planned military operation. The Syrian Kurdish-led administration said in a statement it is responding positively to calls from Moscow encouraging the Kurds and the Syrian government to settle their difference through talks.

Syria's Foreign Ministry condemned Turkey's plans for an invasion, calling it a "blatant violation" of international law and vowing to repel the incursion. Although it blamed some Kurdish groups for what is happening, saying they were being used as a tool to help an alleged "American project," it said Syria is ready to welcome back its "stray sons if they return to their senses," referring to the pro-U.S. Kurdish fighters.

Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov accused Washington of playing "very dangerous games" with the Syrian Kurds, saying that the U.S. first propped up the Syrian Kurdish "quasi state" in northeastern Syria and is now withdrawing its support.

"Such reckless attitude to this highly sensitive subject can set fire to the entire region, and we have to avoid it at any cost," he said during a visit to Kazakhstan. Russian news media said Moscow communicated that position to Washington.

Earlier Wednesday, IS militants targeted a post of the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces in the northern Syrian city of Raqqa, which was once the de facto IS capital at the height of the militants' power in the region.

The SDF, which is holding thousands of IS fighters in several detention facilities in northeastern Syria, has warned that a Turkish incursion might lead to the resurgence of the extremists. The U.S.-allied Kurdish-led force captured the last IS area controlled by the militants in eastern Syria in March.

In the IS attack, three suicide bombers struck Kurdish positions in Raqqa. There was no immediate word on casualties. An activist collective known as Raqqa is being Silently Slaughtered reported an exchange of fire and an explosion.

The Observatory said the attack involved two IS fighters who engaged in a shootout before blowing themselves up.

IS claimed responsibility, saying one of its members killed or wounded 13 SDF members.

Also Wednesday, Iranian state TV reported a surprise military drill with special operations forces near the country's border with Turkey, in Iran's Western Azerbaijan province. The TV didn't mention the expected Turkish offensive into Syria or elaborate on the reasons for the drill.

The head of the Arab League, Ahmed Aboul Gheit, said he was alarmed at Turkey's planned offensive, adding in a statement that such an invasion would be a "blatant violation of Syria's sovereignty and threatens Syria's integrity."

Aboul Gheit said it also threatens to inflame further conflicts in eastern and northern Syria, and could lead to an IS revival.

Turkey Begins Syria Incursion, Targeting Militia Backed by U.S.

By Ben Hubbard | Published Oct. 9, 2019 Updated 9:52 AM ET | New York Times | Posted October 9, 2019 |

BEIRUT, Lebanon — Turkey launched a planned military incursion into northeastern Syria on Wednesday aimed at flushing out a Syrian militia backed by the United States, President Recep Tayyip Erdogan wrote on Twitter.

Mr. Erdogan said the operation aimed to “prevent the creation of a terror corridor across our southern border,” but provided no other information about where Turkish forces had entered Syria or how far in they would go.

Earlier Wednesday, a Syrian militia backed by the United States had mobilized its forces and warned of a “humanitarian catastrophe” as Turkey massed troops near the countries’ border for an incursion it said would begin “shortly.”

Turkey’s planned move to root out Kurdish militants in northeastern Syria, after the United States withdrew its forces from two observation posts near the border, has sparked fierce debates in Washington and could open a dangerous new front in Syria’s eight-year-old war.

New violence between Turkey and the United States-backed Syrian Democratic Forces would pit two United States allies against each other in ethnically tinged battles, leaving Washington in an awkward position.

Mr. Erdogan has been threatening to send troops into northeastern Syria to uproot the militia, which the United States has partnered with for years to fight the Islamic State, also known as ISIS. Turkey considers the militia a terrorist organization linked to a Kurdish guerrilla movement.

In an op-ed in The Washington Post on Wednesday, Fahrettin Altun, Turkey’s communications director, wrote that Turkish forces, with their Syrian rebel allies, “will cross the Turkish-Syrian border shortly.”

“Turkey has no ambition in northeastern Syria except to neutralize a longstanding threat against Turkish citizens and to liberate the local population from the yoke of armed thugs,” he wrote.

For its part, the Syrian Democratic Forces said the area was “on the edge of possible humanitarian catastrophe” because of the looming Turkish incursion.

“This attack will spill the blood of thousands of innocent civilians because our border areas are overcrowded,” the group said in a statement.

The Kurdish-led administration that governs the area issued a call for “general mobilization” to fight the Turks.

“We call upon our people, of all ethnic groups, to move toward areas close to the border with Turkey to carry out acts of resistance during this sensitive historical time,” it said.

Early Wednesday, Mr. Trump reiterated his opposition to United States military presence in the Middle East, writing on Twitter that “USA should never have been in Middle East.”

He said that Turkey should take control of captured Islamic State fighters from Europe whose countries had refused to take them back and who were imprisoned in northeast Syria.

Which Groups Control Syria

Kurdish forces control the northeastern part of Syria.

“The stupid endless wars, for us, are ending!” Mr. Trump wrote.

Tens of thousands of Islamic State fighters and their families are in prisons and camps overseen by the Syrian Democratic Forces, whose leaders say there have been no discussions with the United States about handing over the facilities.

A military coalition led by the United States partnered with a Kurdish militia in northeastern Syria beginning in 2015 to fight Islamic State extremists who had seized a territory the size of Britain that spanned the Syrian-Iraqi border.

That militia grew into the Syrian Democratic Forces and eventually took control of the areas liberated from the Islamic State, pushing it from its last foothold in Syria earlier this year.

But the partnership angered Turkey, which considers the militia a part of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, or P.K.K., a Kurdish guerrilla movement that has been fighting the Turkish state for decades.

In recent days, Turkey has been preparing an incursion, with forces bused to the border and howitzers positioned behind dirt embankments, pointed at Syrian territory.

After a phone call with Mr. Erdogan on Sunday, the White House announced that Turkey would be sending forces into Syria and said the United States would not help or hinder their advance.

On Monday, United States soldiers withdrew from observation posts near the Syrian border towns of Tel Abyad and Ras al Ain, in the area where Turkey is expected to enter.

The commander of the Syrian Democratic Forces, Mazlum Kobani, told The New York Times on Tuesday that his forces would resist any attempt by Turkey to establish a foothold in Syria.

His forces have been key to the United States effort to defeat the Islamic State in Syria, battles that left them holding more than a quarter of Syrian territory.

Mr. Kobani and a range of current and former United States officials have warned that a new fight with Turkey could pull his forces out of areas where the Islamic State remains a threat, opening a void that could benefit President Bashar al-Assad of Syria and his Russian and Iranian backers, or the jihadists.

Mr. Trump has repeatedly sought to withdraw the roughly 1,000 American troops posted in northeastern Syria as part of his longstanding promise to extricate the United States from what he deems “endless wars.”

But he has faced fierce pushback from others in Washington, including from Republican lawmakers.

On Tuesday, Mr. Trump sought to clarify his position, writing on Twitter that the United States had “in no way abandoned the Kurds,” but that it also had good trade relations with Turkey.

He threatened that “any unforced for unnecessary fighting by Turkey” would be “devastating” to its economy and currency, but without explaining what sort of action would cross the line.

Senator Lindsey Graham, Republican of South Carolina, addressed Turkey on his own Twitter account on Tuesday, warning the country not to go ahead with the operation.

“To the Turkish Government: You do NOT have a green light to enter into northern Syria,” Mr. Graham wrote. “There is massive bipartisan opposition in Congress, which you should see as a red line you should not cross.”

Erdogan orders Turkish offensive against northern Syria as Kurds mobilize civilian defense

By Kareem Fahim, Karen DeYoung and Asser Khattab | Published October 09 at 9:52 AM ET | Washington Post | Posted October 3, 2019 10:15 AM ET |

ISTANBUL — President Recep Tayyip Erdogan announced Wednesday that Turkey’s military has launched a long-expected offensive into northeastern Syria targeting U.S.-allied Syrian Kurdish fighters who have played a central role in battling the Islamic State militant group.

“The Turkish Armed Forces, together with the Syrian National Army, just launched #OperationPeaceSpring against PKK/YPG and Daesh terrorists in northern Syria,” Erdogan wrote on Twitter Wednesday afternoon, referring to the Syrian-Kurdish force as well as the Islamic State.

“Our mission is to prevent the creation of a terror corridor across our southern border, and to bring peace to the area,” he said. Turkish media outlets aired footage of warplanes leaving from an air base in Turkey’s southeast and large explosions in Tel Abyad and another Syrian border town.

The offensive has presented the Trump administration with a dilemma, because of the Syrian-Kurdish forces alliance with the United States.

The White House announced Sunday that it was withdrawing U.S. troops from the area that Turkey planned to invade, igniting a firestorm of criticism. Republican leaders denounced Trump’s abandonment of the Kurds. Pentagon officials struggled with explanations, humanitarian workers warned of civilian casualties, and Kurdish commanders said they might be forced to abandon their Syrian prisons holding thousands of captured Islamic State fighters and head for the front lines against Turkey.

Turkey views the Syrian-Kurdish fighters as terrorists allied with Turkey’s Kurdistan Workers’ Party, or PKK. A spokesman for President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Fahrettin Altun, writing in The Washington Post on Wednesday, called for international support for Turkey’s offensive. 

“Turkey has no ambition in northeastern Syria except to neutralize a long-standing threat against Turkish citizens and to liberate the local population from the yoke of armed thugs,” Altun wrote. 

Officials said they were uncertain whether Turkish forces would conduct a symbolic feint inside the border — which they said could enable the U.S. troops to return to reactivate the safe zone — or would force their way deeper into Syria.

Outside experts have cautioned that a large-scale Turkish operation, if it precipitated a security breakdown at prisons holding Islamic State militants, could prompt a larger U.S. withdrawal from Syria. The American presence, which includes about 1,000 troops in northeastern Syria, is a lean force dispersed across a number of bases.

Sabah, a Turkish newspaper close to Erdogan’s government, published a report Tuesday describing how the battle might unfold. It said Turkish armed forces would wait for the full withdrawal of U.S. troops before commencing any operation. Warplanes and howitzers would pound enemy positions, then Turkish troops would enter Syria from several points along the border, east of the Euphrates River. 

The military would advance as far as 18 miles into Syrian territory, the report said, without naming its source. After the operation was completed, Turkey would “continue its humanitarian work to bring back locals in the area.”

On the other side of the Turkish border on Wednesday, many residents were steeling themselves for the worst. Mikael Mohammed, a Kurdish father of three who owns a clothing store in Tel Abyad, a quarter-mile from the Turkish frontier, said he had not received any customers since Tuesday. U.S. troops based in the town withdrew early Monday after the White House announcement.

“All the shops around me are open, except that there are no people,” Mohammed said in a telephone interview. “The only people heading to the marketplace today are those who need to buy food or things that are absolutely necessary. People who are out there in the streets look as if they are going to someone’s funeral.” 

And the town itself was divided. Some residents supported the Syrian-Kurdish force, called the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), as it faced off against Turkey’s military might. Others supported rebel groups backed by Turkey.

“We have people who were displaced from Afrin because of the Turkish invasion — they are worried that they will be displaced once again,” he said, referring to Ankara’s 2018 military offensive against a Kurdish enclave west of Tel Abyad. 

“People are scared. When we used to see U.S. troops in the streets of Tel Abyad, we would feel safe; they were here to protect us. Yesterday, we saw U.S. troops, but this time they were on their way out of the area, and that terrified people,” he said. 

DeYoung reported from Washington and Khattab from Beirut. Sarah Dadouch and Liz Sly in Beirut contributed to this report. 

Turkey begins military offensive in Syria, Erdogan announces

By Helen Regan | Updated Oct 9, 2019 |

CNN | Posted October 9, 2019 9:54 AM

(CNN) - Turkey's offensive in northeastern Syria has begun, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan announced Wednesday, just days after the Trump administration announced it was pulling US troops back from the border area.

"Turkish Armed Forces together with the Syrian National Army against PKK / YPG and Daesh terrorist organizations in northern Syria #BarışPınarıHarekatı has started. Our aim is to destroy the terror corridor which is trying to be established on our southern border and to bring peace and peace to the region," Erdogan tweeted.

"#OperationPeaceSpring will neutralize terror threats against Turkey and lead to the establishment of a safe zone, facilitating the return of Syrian refugees to their homes. We will preserve Syria's territorial integrity and liberate local communities from terrorists," Erdogan added.

The start of the operation to move US-backed Kurdish forces away from its border came hours after Turkish government communications director, Fahrettin Altun, said the country's military was set to cross into Syria along with the rebel Free Syrian Army.

In a tweet early Wednesday, Altun said the the Kurdish People's Protection Units, also known as the YPG, had two options: "They can defect or we will have stop them from disrupting our counter-ISIS efforts."

Syria condemned Turkey's "hostile intentions ... and the military build-up at the Syrian borders," according to Syrian state news agency SANA.

"The aggressive behavior of the Erdogan regime clearly shows the Turkish expansionist ambitions in the territory of the Syrian Arab Republic and cannot be justified under any pretext," a source at the Foreign Ministry said Wednesday, SANA reported.

The statement added that the Syrian government holds some Kurds responsible for what is happening "as a result of their dependence on the American project."

CALLS TO AVOID A 'POSSIBLE HUMANITARIAN CATASTROPHE'

The expected offensive comes days after US President Donald Trump provoked a storm of criticism, including within his own party, by announcing that US troops would be pulled back from the border area.

Trump's decision effectively provides Turkish troops with a green light to attack US-backed Kurdish forces, though Trump threatened to punish Turkey economically if it does "anything outside of what we think is humane."

Ankara regards the YPG as a terrorist group affiliated with the Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK), which has fought the Turkish state for more than three decades. But the US backs the YPG and credits the Kurds for helping defeat ISIS in Syria.

The Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) said Tuesday that "all indications" point to a Turkish attack on its border areas and called on the international community to help avoid a possible humanitarian disaster.

In series of tweets from the verified Twitter account of the SDF, the General Command said the border areas of northeast Syria "are on the edge of a possible humanitarian catastrophe. All indications, field information and military assembly on the Turkish side of the border indicate that our border areas will be attacked by Turkey."

"This attack will spill the blood of thousands of innocent civilians because our border areas are overcrowded," the SDF said. It went on to call on the international community and those countries fighting against ISIS "to carry out their responsibilities" to avoid a "possible impending humanitarian disaster."

Separately, the group claimed Tuesday that the Turkish military shelled one of its points in northeastern Syria on the border with Turkey in an "unprovoked attack."

The SDF, which has vowed to defend itself against any perceived Turkish incursion, called on the US-led coalition and the international community to implement a no-fly zone over northern Syria similar to the one implemented in Iraq.

The Turkish Defense Ministry said Tuesday that the Turkish Armed Forces is "the only coalition and NATO army fighting the DAESH (ISIS) terrorist group in the Euphrates Shield Operation."

"Turkey is one of the countries most affected by DAESH's bloody activities and has fought against this terrorist organization both domestically and beyond its borders with increasing tempo and intensity," the ministry said in a tweet posted on its official twitter page.

The Euphrates Shield Operation, launched in July 2014 inside Syrian territory, was not only aimed at fighting ISIS but also the YPG.

On Wednesday, the SDF said ISIS "sleeper cells" attacked Kurdish positions in Raqqa, Syria, in the early hours, as tweeted by Mustafa Bali, head of the SDF press office.

Manbij Military Council spokesman, Shervan Derwish, also tweeted about the attack citing security sources saying, "more than 50 armed Daesh group in Raqqa are launching a coordinated attack to control Al Basel base in center of the city."

On Saturday, Erdogan announced that the country had "completed our preparations and action plan" and was ready to launch a "ground and air operation" east of the Euphrates river, with the goal of establishing "peace" by clearing the region of "terrorists."

Reinforcements deployed by the Turkish army could be seen arriving at the border town of Akcakale on Tuesday, according to the state-owned Anadolu news agency.

TURKEY WON'T 'BOW TO THREATS '

The Kurds have long been considered as among Washington's most reliable partners in Syria and in the broader campaign against ISIS in the region.

US-backed Kurdish forces have been responsible for holding all captured ISIS fighters in the area. However, according to the White House, this responsibility will now fall to Turkey.

Trump has defended his decision to remove US troops from the area, saying he was "not siding with anybody" -- Kurdish forces or the Turkish government -- and reiterated an earlier warning to Turkey about potential economic devastation.

"I told Turkey if they do anything outside of what we think is humane ... they could suffer the wrath of an extremely decimated economy," the President said.

Turkish Vice President Fuat Oktay said his country won't "bow to threats" in an apparent response to Trump's warning.

"Turkey will teach a lesson to terror organizations that threatens our southern border and we will give an opportunity for Syrian refugees who are currently in Turkey," Oktay said. "Our message to international community is clear. Turkey is not a country that will bow to threats."

The abrupt move, announced in a Sunday night statement from the White House press secretary following a call between Trump and Erdogan, has prompted a rare show of bipartisan opposition to the Republican President.

Trump has faced a barrage of criticism from within his own party, including Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, Sen. Lindsey Graham and former US Ambassador to the UN Nikki Haley about the decision.

And the former top American general overseeing operations in the Middle East said Trump's "decision to seemingly abandon our Kurdish partners could not come at a worse time."

"The decision was made without consulting US allies or senior US military leadership and threatens to affect future partnerships at precisely the time we need them most," retired Gen. Joseph Votel, who led US Central Command from March 2016 to March 2019, wrote in an opinion piece in The Atlantic.

[silver-tangent]

I am really tired of Conservatives being hypocrites strutting around acting like their side has done no wrong.