#what next what other countries are being silenced what other people are being attacked and fucking suffering

[starii-lins]

hi guys i identify as fucking done and my pronouns are sick&tired

[prettyforwoso]

Help Us Understand.

Barca x teen reader

Alexia x teen reader

Lionesses x teen reader

word count: 3500

Summary: y/n, a talented 16-year-old footballer, nicknamed "la princesa," battles the harsh realities of adolescence. Burdened by self-harm scars and body image insecurities, she attempts to hide her struggles from the team. The team uncovers her deepening eating disorder, prompting a collective effort to guide her through recovery.

tw: mention of eating disorders and self harm

Being a teenager in this world is hard. Not only are you working with shitty hormones and breakouts on your face, you also have to put up with the nightmare of other teenagers. Most of them are fine, in fact, what seems to be the worst of it, are the people who are no longer teenagers, and think that’s a valid reason to attack those who are younger and more vulnerable than them. Like you.

You are a lioness, 16, debuting at 15, now playing for Barcelona, a along side your England teammates, Lucy and Keira. You are known as “la princesa.” The nickname came around after your first game for Barca, in which, you scored a Hatrick and pulled a neat assist. the fans linking your talent to Alexia, saying how much you play like her. Quick, rough, strong. You have always been that way.

This nickname sparked a close connection between you and Alexia. She took you under her wing the second you got off the plane in Barcelona. She didn’t like the idea of you living alone in a new country, despite your ability to speak perfect Spanish. So, you lived with her “only for the first few weeks” which has turned into months. Alexia acts like she is trying to help you find an apartment, but isn’t, like secretly loves having you around, seeing so much of her younger self in you. She fusses over you, cares for you, feeds you, scolds you, drives you to school, gets emails from your school. She has stepped into your life and has supported you in every way a mother would.

You have a bad history with self-harm. It was Leah Williamson who noticed it first, well maybe just the first person to speak to you about it, but you don’t know that. You were rooming with her for your first England camp. Nervous about the girls seeing your scars, you were always wearing a long sleeve under your training kit, which at times got hard as it was summer.

A few girls would joke to you, “how are you not boiling?” was the consistent one that just made you want to rip the skin off whoever said it. It was some of the older girls who brought it up with each other at a post-match dinner that you managed to get out of. It was Lucy, Leah, Mary, Beth and Lotte who exchanged their concern, how they never seen your arms, how you were always somehow too busy for ice baths, how you shivered when someone would grab your wrists. They all kept a close eye on you, but decided not to come to any conclusions, as in reality, you were known to be the sunshine and smiles of the squad.

But you weren’t, and deep down, they knew that too.

It all came crashing down one afternoon, when Leah found a bloody rag in the bathroom bin, she investigated further and found your blades in the back of your phone case that you had left on your bed.

She called Beth to your room, who then called lucy, they gathered together in your room, talking about the next steps. The three of them sat in an almost silence, saddened by the conformed truth. They made their plan, not wanting to waste any time.

They found you in the games room, laughing with Ella as you and a group of girls played table tennis.

“y/n, sorry I just need to grab you real quick” Leah said, breaking her observant silence. You were pulled into a room, it all happened so fast. Lucy placing you on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and Beth pulling your phone out of her back pocket. Leah speaking, you didn’t hear any of it, your focus being on Beths hands, taking off your phone case and picking up the tiny metal blades. You just cried and cried as they talked to you, you didn’t say a word, not denying anything. You cried into lucy’s arms as they tried to understand you and your reasoning being the scars. It took some gentle tugging and tears of resistance for your top to be pulled over your head, leaving you in just your bra and pants in Lucys lap as Leah ran a gentle finger across the healed and fresh marks along your arms. Beth moved closer to you, taking your face in her hands, clearly holding back tears of her own.

No one was supposed to know. But when they did, it killed you.

The bad thing about talent is the expectation of performance, and when you underperform, you would be attacked online. The hatred and negativity really got you, and ruined a lot of your confidence and the girls knew that. They knew the comments you would get, about your play, your personality, your body.

The comments about your body were some of the worst, and they didn’t get better when you started at Barca, in fact, they got worse. It was almost like it was all you saw. You would make a post about a game and hardly anyone would speak about how well you played or how many goals you scored. All you would see was the comments about how your body has changed, how you look in the kit, your legs, hips, arms, boobs. It got so bad that you stopped posting all together and turned off all your comments. Soon however, they comments came to the Barcelona Instagram page, and the pages of your teammates. You worked harder that ever. Working out was no longer about training your body to perform and be strong, it became about looking different and making changes to your body physically.

You were running lengths each morning and evening as well as staying back at training. You weren’t fat, or thin, nothing abnormal for a teenager with a changing body. You had bigger boobs than you did 3 months ago, wider hips, thicker thighs, yknow, everything normal, but the fans didn’t think so, and that’s what got the best of you.

Alexia noticed your increase in running and working out but at first brushed it off as you wanting to prove yourself to a new team. But it soon became hard to ignore when you were finding excuses to not eat, the snacks she would buy you because she knew you loved them, sat in the kitchen untouched. She tried to pretend she couldn’t hear you coughing up each meal in the bathroom, more for her own comfort.

It became too much to ignore when others noticed.

“Why are you running so much little one?” Mapi asked you, completely innocently after training one day in the change room.  At first you pretended not to hear, until you realised the whole team was awaiting an answer.

“Do you think I’m just naturally the fastest on the team?” you joke back, getting a laugh from her and a few others. Alexia remains stone face, looking as though she could see right through you.

A few of the girls watched you through squinted eyes as you pull your bag over your shoulder, noticing your spine that wasn’t visible last week. They exchange looks amongst themselves as you and Alexia walk towards her car.

“I got a call from your school yesterday” Alexia says, hiding behind her sunglasses as she pulls out of the car park.

“Why” you ask dry as you pull your phone out of your hoodie pocket. Alexias’s silence was inevitable. You turn your head towards her, awaiting a response. She keeps her eyes on the road, rolling her tongue along her top teeth, looking out at the cars ahead in deep thought.

“Why are you hiding from me bebita?” she breaks her silence, with an almost whisper.

“What are you talking about” you snap back in her direction

“You tell me Pequeña, Why do you think your school called, Se honesta conmigo” her eyes didn’t leave the road.

“No sé” you reply, swallowing the truth that lingers on the tip of your tongue, threatening to reveal itself.

“What is going on with you” Sabes que no deberías actuar de esta manera.” She takes a breath, remaining hidden being her bold sunglasses, refusing to look you in the eye, scared of becoming too vulnerable.

The silence was deafening. Pulling up in the driveway, you reach for the car door, your attempt at defusing the situation quickly rejected as Alexia locks the doors, trapping you in a conversation. You refuse to turn from the window, Alexia now being the one begging for eye contact.

“Bebita, look at me” she whispers. Her failed attempt of a resolution resulting in her hand reaching for your long curls, gently moving your head around to see your face. Her breath hitches as she looks at the tears swelling in your eyes, immediately bringing her thumb to wipe them off your soft skin.

“I hate when you yell at me” you begin, chocking on almost every syllable. “Estoy tratando de ser valiente”

“oh cariño ven” she says desperately as she pulls you effortlessly over the centre console and into her lap, wrapping her arms around you. Your tears just get heavier, as you hide your face into her neck, the idea of getting out of the car, now long forgotten.

“Bebita, your school is worried, you are the top student, why are you not doing work? Hay algo que te distraiga? She gently nudges you in her arms as she askes. “I am worried for you, talk to me”.

You just couldn’t bring yourself too. The truth is, you were too distracted for school, for homework, for study. There was so much on your mind right now. The last thing you were worried about was classes that you already knew all the content for. You were hungry, not eating at all, desperate for control over your changing body.

The next dreaded team bonding night came all too soon. Your tried to convince Alexia you were too busy with school but she wasn’t having a bar of it, almost having to drag you out the door and into the car. Nothing you wanted to do more in that moment than curl up in bed with a teddy and your warm blanket Alexia got you for my room in her house. But it was unavoidable. Alexia was correct in the way of you having to be at the dinner, in her perspective it was to show up and be social, for you personally it was about proving the concerned rumours between the girls that you weren’t eating wrong. However, that didn’t exactly go to plan.

Alexia parks in the driveway of Mapi and Ingrid’s home and you follow her inside. You greet all your teammates, receiving a kiss on the cheek and head pat from most of them and they smile down at you.

Since the conversation in Alexia’s car a few weeks ago, she hasn’t let you out of her sight, you didn’t even get into the not eating stuff, but still has watched your every mouthful over the past few weeks. You still had your tricks, not eating when she wasn’t around, running now three times a day on top of training, and all else. You were deteriorating. Dark bags under your eyes and hallowed cheeks.

“Y/n come get some pizza before you sit” Frido pulls you to the kitchen away from the crowd that was the typical team bonding, this felt like a test.

“Oh no, its okay” you scan your surroundings before following up your statement. “Alexia fed me before we came” you smile, attempting to be casual.

“oh, that’s weird, we always have dinner at team bonding” she raised an eyebrow, questioning what felt like your whole existence. She grabs a slice for herself and tries to offer you some anyways, failing as you kindly decline, insisting you will have some later.

People were scattered everywhere around the home, some sitting around the table playing card games, others vacating outside with a drink. You scan the house looking for place to escape to. All you wanted was to leave the overstimulation that was this monthly event.

You head towards the empty bathroom, the room you spend probably the most time in at other people’s houses. You begin to almost run towards it as you hear your name being called. It was too late; Lucy was stood outside yelling your name through the door of the garden.

“Y/n, come talk to us we miss you” she giggles as she enters the room to get you. You begin the walk of shame towards her. Overthinking what is coming next. Stepping out the door onto the porch your gently grabbed by the back of the neck and brought to a group of women standing around. Their faces light up as they see you. The group consists of Mapi, Lucy, Alexia Frido, Jenni and Ona, all sharing a bottle of wine.

“Y/n, you want a drink?” Ona asks, you aren’t sure if she’s joking or not.

“No Ona, she is a child” Jenni interferes and takes the drink Ona is pouring, handing it to Lucy, who puts it down with ease. You crack a smile at the interaction. They think you are so innocent…

“You’re not old enough for a drink yet Bebita, especially on an empty stomach” Alexia jokes with a smile.

“empty stomach?” Frido butts in, tilting her head in confusion at the contradicting information.

fuck.

You let out a load cough to clear your voice before quickly excusing yourself from the conversation. “I need to pee” you announce before hurrying inside, finding Ingrid at the table, playing cards with a few others.

The group, now abandoned by you stand in a deafening silence.

“She’s not eating is she?” Frido breaks, looking at Alexia with wide eyes.

“Shes not doing good, no” Their captain reply’s looking down at the glass in her hand.

“So we were right” Mapi says through squinted eyes as she tightened her grip on the stem of her wine glass.

Most of the team has been talking for a few weeks now. Lucy briefly filled them in about your history with Self harm and how you were managing it now. But the not showing up to meal times and doing overtime in the gym was something she couldn’t explain. However, they soon linked it to the bullying from people online about your body. It became to much for them all when Alexia broke down in front of them, claiming her worry for you. It was clear there was a bigger picture to what you were letting them see, seeing as their usually stone faced, strong captain had tears in her eyes over you.

Your rapid weight loss didn’t go unnoticed, even coaching staff beginning to threaten benching you if you didn’t gain some weight, claiming you were too weak to continue at full trainings and games. You always just told them you were sick, claiming it as an excuse for the weight loss and loss of appetite.

At first, everyone, including team members believed you, until they noticed you weren’t getting better, like you would if you were really sick with a catchable illness.

“So what are we going to do? because we cant loose her, shes our best” Lucy asks, getting more frantic as the sentence rolls out her mouth.

“I’ve tried talking to her, she just lies, tells me shes fine, ella me ignorará” Alexia says, finally looking up from her half full glass, meeting the eyes of her teammates.

“I know she needs me, but she won’t talk to me, she is sneaking into my bed each night for comfort, I wrap my arms around her when she falls alseep, ella tiene miedo de estar sola, shes been clinging to us, as if she is desprate for help, but doesn’t know how to ask. She won’t leave my side, unless there is food involved. luego ella desaparece” Alexia blurted out, speaking slow and clear, explaining herself.

“Maybe if we all try” Ona breaks her personal silence, earning a raised brow from a few listeners, the nodding heads soon followed.

“Bebita, can I come in” You hear Alexias voice beam through the small gap in the doorframe.

“A few of us are here too see you” you tilt your head in confusion at her followup statement, why are people here to see you, so late in the evening. You thought everyone would have returned home after team bonding, as did you and Alexia, why was there people outside your bedroom door?

You sit up in your bed, still tucked under the covers in your hoodie (that may of may not be Alexias) and shorts, clinging to your Stitch teddy. You close your laptop playing your movie and move it down the bed, finally giving Alexia a response.

“ehh, yeah come in” you say, unsure on what you are agreeing too.

You remain put under the safety of your covers, as if they would protect you from danger as the group of women enter your once personal space, finding refusge in spots around your room, most of them making themselves at home on your bed, espechailly Alexia, who comes up close to you and wraps and arm around your shoulders. Lucy, Ingrid, Mapi, Frido and Ona looked at you, as if they were waiting for you to break the artifical silence.

“Querida estamos aquí para hablar contigo” Ingrid is the first to speak up, beofre Mapi adds to her girlfrinds statement.

“I think you know what about” she fidgests with her rings. “we are just trying to understand”

“so help us do that, please sweetheart” Frido interupts.

You shake your head and close your eyes, as if you could open them and it would all go away. “I don’t know what your talking about”

“I have lectured you enough about your lying bebita” Alexia says in a stern voice.

The silence isn’t going away. You were in full control of it, and you knew that. You knew that they were waiting for you to talk, no one was going to make it easy for you.

”Desearía poder hacer que todo desaparezca” you shut your eyes once again as the tears start to spill out the creases. “I just want to be able to control what is changing”

The girls don’t speak, they are waiting for more, and they won’t break untill they are statified.

“I don’t know how to ask for help, or how to be okay” The tears get heavier as you push out the words, Alexia runs her free hand along your face, nudging you to keep going. You put in your best efforts to regain your breathing as your lip quivers in Alexia’s hand. Still no one was talking.

“I never meant for it to get this bad, I just wanted to get some control, I feel like there is so much online about me, rumors, hate, negitivity, all things I cant just reach out and get my hands on, to be able to toy with it and mold it to the way I want it. There is so little I can control, but my body, I can. No queria llegar tan lejos. Im so scared of losing myself, I want to hold onto the me that I am forever but I know I can’t, but I wanted to try, and that is why I yearn for whatever control I can get. So many ideas are put into my head about what my body should look like, how tall I should be, how much I should weigh, how tan I should be, how I should hold myself. I realised I am so calm and content when I play football, and that is because I am perfect at it, no one finds flaws in the way I play, but I second I step off the pitch I loose that warm feeling, because I have flaws again. When football is out of the picture, I am covered in them. I just wanted living to feel the same as playing, perfect and flawless.

The amont of tears in the room should safe a deadly drought.

“nuestra niña hermosa, estamos aquí” Ingrid climbs onto the bed coming closer to you, followed by the remaining womens in the room, all finding a spot, as close to you as they could get. So many arms are wrapped around you, so many hands holding your face, wiping your cold tears away.

“Let us help you darling” Lucy and Ona say in an unmost unison.

You slowly allow yourself to nod.

The following weeks were slow and painful, but what isn’t in recovery? The girls put it upon themselves to keep you in check, taking turns taking you out on small adventures, like going for walks or getting icecream to get you out of the house as you were ruled out of training and playing for a few weeks by your phycologist, that Alexia and Lucy insisted that you saw, they drove you to each appointment and picked you up, no questions asked. Meal time in the house became a big thing, Alexia discarding the idea of sitting around the table and eating, instead opting for sitting wherever, weather that was outside, or in, watching a movie, or just chatting. This change of environment around meals made eating less of a chore, as you got better, teammates would come over for dinner and it became more a social event, a more relaxing endeavor. You slowly made your way back to training as you got your fitness back, earning pats on the back from your team who you had made, very proud.

[kvetchlandia]

Uncredited Photographer Workers in the Social Democratic Government of Salvador Allende Being Arrested By US Funded Troops During the Military Coup in Chile 9/11/1973

The other 9/11. Today is the 50th anniversary of the US sponsored and funded coup that overthrew the democratically elected social democratic government of Salvador Allende in Chile, replacing him with a brutal military dictatorship under Augusto Pinochet that ruled and oppressed Chile for the next 19 years.

"Surely, this will be the last opportunity for me to address you. The Air Force has bombed the antennas of Radio Magallanes. My words do not have bitterness but disappointment. … the only thing left for me is to say to workers: I am not going to resign!...T hey have force and will be able to dominate us, but social processes can be arrested by neither crime nor force. History is ours... I address the youth, those who sang and gave us their joy and their spirit of struggle. I address the man of Chile, the worker, the farmer, the intellectual, those who will be persecuted, because in our country fascism has been already present for many hours — in terrorist attacks, blowing up the bridges, cutting the railroad tracks, destroying the oil and gas pipelines, in the face of the silence of those who had the obligation to act. They were committed. History will judge them... These are my last words, and I am certain that my sacrifice will not be in vain..." Salvador Allende, from his final radio address to the Chilean people, shortly before his suicide in the face of what surely would have been his judicial murder had he been captured by the military junta.

[awritesthings1]

The Midas Effect (Part 1)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Summary: After the King dies, the Dark Ones invade the Capital and burn your palace to the ground. You plan an escape, which ultimately fails and seemingly crash lands you back in time. Will the help of a familiar Jedi be able to save you from your fate?

Word Count: 2.5k+

Note: This is a oneshot, but consists of 2 parts.

AO3 link

Next part

-

When the sun begins to ache, and the birds catch the last worm, darkness floods the land. Vermin scurry through sodden trenches, squealing in delight at a moldy pastry found next to an unearthed tree. They come in the night, like shadows chasing you down the hallway. Your father called them the Dark Ones; vicious spirits starved of the violence they craved.

You never imagined they would come like this. As a child, your father reassured you they were nothing more than monsters that lived under your bed. Of course, he wrapped an arm around your trembling shoulders while tears rushed down both cheeks. He laughed a moment later when you told him you had seen a shadow under your bed the other night. You were too small to understand.

Growing up with the epitome of luxury, monsters living under your bed was your biggest worry. With a palace cherished by those before you, and love built into the walls, it was easy to forget how lucky you were. Your father was never King to you like he was to everyone else. He was the man who checked under your bed for monsters, and said yes when your mother said no.

Now, your old life is ashes in a pile of rubble.

Because the monsters didn’t live under your bed, they lived in Imperial bases.

“Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.

“No thank you.” Your nose scrunches at the noise of the bubbling pot. It was too loud. What if the Dark Ones heard and were making their way up the mountain at this moment?

Vee, your maiden, knew you like the back of her hand. When you were born, she tied herself to your wrist for better or for worst. In her own right, she became your mum while your parents were busy doing whatever ruling a country meant. But with that came the inability to lie or hide things. “They won’t find us up here, now come have some tea.”

You pick at the dirt under your nails, considering her words before reluctantly grabbing the ceramic mug being shoved into your hand. The older woman sits next to you by the fireplace. Silence thins over the cackling flame, fanning away the curious insects.

You watch a spider spin a web in the corner of the miniature brick house. Luckily, a rural traditionalist farmer had found you and Vee picking at his crops and offered you some shelter for the next few days. You doubt he would have offered otherwise if you weren’t the next heir to the crown. Most traditionalists preferred to stick to themselves, living off the land the same way ancient civilizations would have.

A thunderous attack on the western front claps across the mountainside, rocking the earth beneath your feet. You are careful to clutch at the stone tiles as your drink spills into the cracks. Dirt gathers in your hair, no doubt sprinkling into the tea boiling over the fire.

That was how most of your nights started now.  

From the corner of your eye, Vee speaks up. “We can’t stay here forever. The war is getting closer.” 

You stiffen at her words, tucking your knees into your chest. “No, I cannot leave my people to fend for themselves… This is their home.” The last word bites into your flesh. You shift away from her embrace, feeling the heat of the fire burn closer to your skin. You accidentally inhale a deep breath of smoke, bursting out into a coughing fit.   

“I know, this was my home too,” Vee begins, soothing her hand down your back. “But I want to leave. My husband is waiting for me on Alderaan, and you are the only person keeping me from him.” When your coughing settles, you look to her and see tears brimming her eyes. She reaches for your hand. “Please, don’t make me stay.” 

The thorns in the palace gardens never stung as much as this. You wish you could wrap a bandage around this just as easily. But this was bigger than you, and who were you to subject her to this when she only stayed out of loyalty to your parents. 

“One more night,” you promise.

Her braid swings from her shoulder as she reaches to wrap a ratty blanket across your lap while simultaneously pulling you into a tight hug. “One more night,” she agrees, “but we leave Caridaan this time.” 

Despite not wanting to admit it, she was right. After spending months living back-to-back in freezing mountainous terrain, biding time was fruitless. Sitting around had only made you pity yourself.  

You nod your head. “First thing tomorrow,” you agree, “arrange a ship to Alderaan.” 

The woman squeals in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. The rags drag against your skin at the contact, briefly making you flinch. You certainly won’t miss wearing whatever Vee hastily stitched together once your old clothes became unmendable. A warm dip in the refresher wouldn’t hurt either.  

As the woman settles by the fire and huddles her body from the elements, you wait until her chest lulls into the familiar rhythm of sleep. Rising from your spot, you drape the blanket over her shoulders, pulling it to cover the rest of her body. Quietly, you step outside. 

The horizon is buried under countless layers of clouds and midnight shadows. But on the cliffside, a chill of frigid air ghosts past your neck, triggering a flare of goosebumps down your arms. Golden streaks light up the night sky, but it’s not beautiful or mesmerizing. It’s disgusting and twists your stomach in a way worse than hunger. Because each light is a life being snuffed out. Fires, bombs, and weapons lay siege to little villages and peaceful communities, all in efforts to take the Capital. 

To take your throne. 

And while you may not live up to the name of your father, or be anywhere near powerful enough to stop the attack on your planet, you just may know one person who might.

-

Outside your window, a ghastly storm howled across Caridaan. Not that you had noticed, of course, because you were too occupied preparing your hair for bed. Dressed in your silk nightgown, you pinned it back carefully until the movement of your door drew you away.

The gentle steps of your mother rounds the corner. Your shoulders drop at the sight of her. Vee is by her side, nervously picking at her nails.

“Your father couldn’t come to wish you a good night, so I am here.”

You recognise the wavering tone in your mother’s voice when she speaks. Her eyes linger on the floor as she purses her lips, swallowing a shaky breath. The hairs on your arm raise.

Your mother was never an emotional person.  

“What happened?” You question, peaking a glance at Vee who looks equally as disturbed as your mother.

“Nothing, my dear.” Her voice cuts off, supressing a sob.

The tension in the room pulls taut.

Your mother attempts to blink away tears before reaching for a tissue on your vanity. “…It’s just that…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, scrunching the tissue into her palm and bursting into tears. You rush over to hug her without question. She trembles into your arms, gripping the back of your nightgown like a vice. “It’s your father.”

You suck in a breath at her words, the scent of a distinguished candle lingers.  

“He’s dead.”

-

A sudden jerk of the ship throws you headfirst into the wall.

“Maker! Are you hurt?” Vee cries out from her seat in the cockpit while squeezing the armrests to death.

Her voice is lost to a flood of alarms and a grunting engine. You crumble to the ground, clutching your throbbing head with a groan.

“Hold on! We’ve been hit!” Cries the Alderaan pilot, dipping the ship into a nose dive.

Your soul leaves your body as you are flung into the ceiling of the ship faster than you can blink.

“They’ve circled us!”

“Well? Do something!”

Desperately, you clutch at anything to ease your descent when the ship levels out. Fighting through the splitting pain in your head, you cling to a pipe heaving frantically for a break. When the ship levels, you drop down only to spit out the mouthful of blood and hair in your mouth. Without wasting a moment, you scramble to lock yourself into the closest seat.

Explosions continue to shake the ship, spinning your thoughts around.

“M’good” you mumble incoherently to no one in particular.

A series of coughs explode out your lungs, when a gush of freezing air pricks at your skin.

“Emergency hatch is open!” The pilot yells while flipping a few switches and pressing a big red angry button.

Vee’s hand reaches over her armrest to squeeze your hand. Tears are pooling down her cheeks.

Was this how you die?

The moon glares from behind Vee’s head, blinding you momentarily before a dark figure crosses your vision. Biting back the pain, you glare at the silhouette, desperately trying to work out if you were seeing things.

The Alderaan pilot struggles for what only could be seconds before a bright red light slashes at something before disappearing into the dark. You hear the pilot plead before they are carelessly shoved away from the console. You turn to Vee to gauge if you were imagining things, but she appears to be transfixed at the same sight.

“Hold on!” The dark figure commands.

You don’t think to question it as both you and Vee let go of each other’s hands to clutch the armrests.

Within a matter of moments, you feel the ship pull towards the ground. Your heart is thumping loud enough for the cockpit to hear. Fire catches at the descent of the ship, illuminating the cockpit with flaming gold light. Blood rushes to your head, consuming your vision in vivid white. Despite your grip, you begin losing sensation in your fingers. Fighting to stay conscious, a fierce scream rips from your lungs before the weight of your body disappears.

This is death. This has to be death. Your head was no longer in pain, and the feeling in your fingers had returned. You feel cold drops pelt your back as you hunch over on something sodden and gasp for air. You violently cough up your lungs, as your eyes adjust to your surroundings.

A rush of adrenaline laces through your veins.

Pulled straight from the pages of a horror story, the palace you once called home sits quietly up the hill.

Shivers wrack your body. You were dreaming, you had to be. But the violent pelting of rain soaking the ground beneath your knees says otherwise. You unwind your fists from the sodden grass, clutching your muddy clothes in disbelief. Upon closer inspection, you recognise it to be the slip you use to wear to bed. You pull at them, expecting your fingers to slip through the fabric like they would in a dream but the silk brushes against your skin the same way it always did.

Your blood runs cold. This was impossible. The palace burned down in the invasion.

“You know you shouldn’t be out here this late.”

You jolt, twisting around to see the Jedi Knight that guarded you in the months following your father’s death. Rushing to stand, your back is as stiff as a board while you watch him incredulously. Mud squelches under his boots when he moves to wrap his robe around your shoulders. He appears to be unbothered by the rain, instead squeezing your shoulders to give you a gentle nudge towards the palace. Your feet refuse to move.

“Anakin?” The disbelief in your voice is evident. “What’s happening?”

Anakin’s curls are plastered to his face as he squints through the rain to meet your eyes. His mouth hangs slightly agape, blinking at you sceptically for a moment before exhaling with an amused smirk. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you would pull something like this just to get my attention, princess, but I’m flattered,” Anakin remarks, stepping over you to sling his Jedi robe across your quivering shoulders.

Your nose fills as tears build in your eyes. Frustration, anger, fear and relief battle for your next words. “I’m scared,” you decide without much thought. The tears and exhaustion slip into your voice as you snuggle into the warmth of his robe.

The smile on the Jedi’s face falls, immediately gathering you up into his arms. Your nose presses into the nape of his already soaked neck, gasping for air between each sob. Anakin doesn’t mind though, letting you shift your weight into his body. The rain continues to pour down, plastering your now translucent nightgown to your skin. Ever the gentleman, his gaze shifts to the sky, blinking away the rain drops falling into his eyes. Your cries sink his heart but he knows that if you two were to stay out here any longer, you would surely catch a cold. Carefully, he maneuvers your arms around his waist then bends to cradle the back of your thighs and carry you through the mud to the palace.

You are too immersed in gripping the back of his shirt and crying into his shoulder to care. Maybe you were dead and this was the afterlife. But what about Vee? And your people? Had you left them all to die?

Your wet feet slap onto the stone tile as Anakin sets you down. “Am I dead?” You hiccup.

Anakin’s head shakes. “No, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You sniff, nodding gently while you take in the appearance of the room connected to the back entrance. It looked the same way you had left it before the fire. The candles were all snuffed out except for the one Anakin had lit and held to see your face through the dark. Even the boots of the servants looked hastily tucked beneath the table.

“Go change into something warm,” Anakin’s spare hand cups your cheek to draw your attention back to him, “I’ll have some hot tea ready.” His thumb wipes away the remaining drops of rain on your skin. You forget to breathe at the touch of his real hand. It’s short-lived though as he retreats through a door into the servants kitchen.

You are left in the dark, partly expecting to wake up any second. For a moment, you think you might be slipping away then realise it is only a draft from a window a servant must have forgotten to close. Reluctantly, you step closer, shutting the window quietly. You consider going to your room to change, but you know you can’t face crossing the threshold and reliving all those memories. So, you settle for one of the spare servant attire draped over a hook before meeting Anakin in the kitchen.

[mewlabu]

Some angry couch warrior posting unconfirmed claim about Israel/Palestine: *10,897 reblogs*

Images and videos of daily attacks and destruction of Ukrainian cities and people: *60 reposts and mostly from Ukrainians*

I am honestly so disheartened by this world and so angry at every western leftist, and the flood of Palestinian or Israeli flags when there is no much silence now about Ukraine.

You told us we had enough support that's why you needed to focus elsewhere, so when do enough if us die for you to think us worthy of attention again?

I don't mean this to be an what about. This is just an expression of personal hurt and disappointment at the so called progressives.

And at the so called allies who defend the skies of one ally, finger wagging at them at most over what they do with their offensive weapons they give them while Ukraine begs and pleads for help, told not to hit the enemy here or there, told to watch itself or be left alone and even as Ukraine did everything it was asked for, fighting this war with hands tied and blindfolded, while it was dragged through every possible mud imaginable, belittled, and told to know it's place, it is now left alone anyway, while allies can't even manage sanctions worth a damn, while allies show concern over their oil prices, while allies debate and hand wring about Ukraine isn't NATO and escalation, another ally of theirs erases entire cities and with their weapons.

When so called progressives and allies of the oppressed spent years telling Ukrainians why the mere presence of bad elements in their country, and any mistake among any of their people in history means they should all be left to a hungry empire, don't deserve to live free, now call a terrorist organization who kidnap, rape, murder and oppress "freedom" fighters. The same people who dehumanized Ukrainians for years, called Ukraine a puppet, a proxy, a nation without a will of its own, now do the same to Palestinians, ignoring internal voices and needs. The same people told Ukraine over and over to accept its fate and give up, not to drag the world down with it, to take what they get and be fucking grateful, now demand the most useless and outlandishly impossible, uncompromising victory, who cry genocide at any suggestion of giving up, who have refused to see what life is like for Ukrainians under occupation, are now eagle eyed about why Palestinians or Israel's can't give in based on a history of abuses.

When every tragedy and massive loss of life by Ukraine was called into question, was doubted, lied about, debates, and turned over on every side to diminish the suffering, every report of every tragedy and accusations in I/P conflict is treated as gospel by thousands and then these same people turn around and mock Ukrainians for being so privileged, even as Ukraine stands increasingly alone apart from words and promises.

The hypocrisy is so blatant, so painful. Funny even when these same people point out petty instances of "bias" and "hypocrisy" of this state or that or the media.

This is not a special or unique anger and despair. This must be how many feel as the western "activists" move on to their next hip cause, presiding over tremendous suffering and deciding which one actually matters, completely blind to their own arrogance, and the colonialism of that thinking.

Then the dare, dare to use Ukraine to claim and compare to illustrate the bigger scope of the tragedy as if the losses aren't ongoing, as if soldiers aren't people, as if entire generation isn't being wiped out defending their country, as if lives can be weighted like grain. It does a disservice to all of the people involved and is moreover unnecessary. No one who doesn't yet support your cause is going to be convinced by these comparisons. It serves no benefit to raise support for one, merely feeds the self righteousness of current supporters. It only paints the other as less worthy of attention, as less important. It is a cruel and self serving act by people with no teeth in either game.

And I'm so angry.

I have no trust.

[blade-that-was-broken]

"There is someone here," Branch grumbled.

"Do you think they are Bergens?"

"Probably not. Bergens don't really wait and watch to attack. They just grab."

"Even if it isn't," Holly added. "We'll be gone before they open tomorrow."

"Right," Darnell agreed. It wasn't even five minutes later that the silence set in. "Does anyone...?"

"Feel like we are being watched?" Holly finished. "Yeah."

"WHAT ARE YOU D-"

"Circle up!" Branch barked and his friends did, covering each other's backs and flanks, forming some semblance of a circle. Each of them brought up their hands or other small weapons for defense. "Show yourself!"

"What are you?!" The booming voice repeated.

"Not until you show yourself!"

"Are you... trolls?"

"I'm not tell you anything. You could be a Bergen!"

Distantly, someone screamed.

"I'm not...what?"

"We aren't looking for trouble. We are just passing through," he added, confidently.

"You passed on sacred grounds!" the voice tried to sound spooky but he could hear the tremble and awkwardness.

"This is an amusement park, newsflash!" Branch snapped.

"Branch, my dude, don't antagonize," Darnell muttered.

"Wait... Branch?" another, different, voice echoed.

"Biscuits and Gravy," Holly yelped, pulling Branch in and closing him behind all of them. "Inside."

"Wait..." Branch tried but he was pushed inside the circle, his friends protecting him on all sides.

"You won't touch him!" Synth yelled to the void.

"Wait! No!" the voice shifted. "I'm a troll too! He's... he's my brother! I'm his brother!"

Wait what?

"What?"

Branch pushed his way through the group. A troll in a green sweater romper and crazy green hair, stared, wide-eyed. "Branch?" B moved forward but Holly stepped in front of him.

"Whoa there, cowboy. We..."

"That's my baby brother!"

"Not a baby," he grumbled.

"Your name?" Darnell asked.

"Branch, c'mon. Tell..."

"You're name," Darnell insisted. Branch let him.

"Clay," he finally said. "Bitty B, who are these...?"

"It's Branch," he replied, flatly. "Not Bitty B or any childish nicknames you gave when I was a baby. Just Branch."

Clay paused and nodded. "Uh... okay, yeah. Wow... you're... taller?"

"That's what happens. People grow over sixteen years."

"Who are these people?"

"My friends."

"What are they?"

"Excuse me?" Holly snorted.

"They're trolls, obviously."

"They look... different?"

"Well yeah, they are different types of trolls."

"Types?"

"I don't think he knows about the other genres," Minuette frowned.

Branch paused. "Maybe not."

"Dude, I have so many questions."

"I imagine."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I didn't know you were here. We're just passing through to get back."

"Get back? Like home?"

"Yes? There's..."

"Wait? So other trolls survived?"

"What?"

"Have you seen my sister?" another troll ran up next to Clay. She looked familiar.

"Why would I have seen your sister?"

"You're with the other trolls, right? More survived the escape?"

"The escape? What escape? I have no idea what you're talking about."

Clay stared. "What do you mean? Didn't you escape the troll tree during the escape?"

"Trolls escaped the tree?" Branch asked, surprised.

"Wait... Branch, how do you not know about this?"

"Branch lives in Country Territory," Holly piped in as Branch mulled this over. So there had been an escape and Clay knew about it. Which meant he was probably at the Tree. There and Branch spent the entire time thinking he was gone. He frowned. Holly continued. “We don't really know about other pop trolls."

Clay looked akin to horrified. “Where have you been?”

Branch didn’t say anything. Everywhere.

[fanficsthatmakemybraingobrr]

A Night In Cairo

Chapter 2

Indiana Jones x Gender-Neutral Reader

Content warning: Mild panic attack

You’re a Intern at Marshall College in Bedford Connecticut and you work with Dr.Jones, but he sucks at his job and is never there and is always behind with work making you get the short end of the stick. Then he drags you on a trip to Cairo with him.

I don't quite like how this chapter turned out,  I mean I posted it on a03 and I've been wanting to rewrite it but I want to see how it does on here and maybe I will maybe wont! And please give me feedback and tell me what I could do better next time! I hope y'all enjoy!

link to Chapter 1

Link to AO3

When Jones said the morning you didn’t think he meant 5am. Now you're in his car as he’s driving you to god knows where. You two are sitting in awkward silence. It feels like the silence is lasting for eternity.

So many different thoughts rush through your head while you look out the window at the passing scenery trying to distract yourself. Dr.Jones still hasn’t told you why the hell you are going to Cairo. You’ve never even been out of the US! You had no idea how to pack or prepare for a trip like this! And Egypt for your first trip? This is all way too overwhelming. All of your anxieties and nerves Eat away at you as you sit in the passenger side seat. You need to start asking questions.

“So uh… Dr.Jones-“ He chuckles and lightly waves his hand in the air.

“Please cut it with the formal crap, just call me Indy.” You look at the older man with slight surprise. He's never acted this friendly towards you, he's always been really professional. Maybe he's acting so differently because you two are out of the office? So many thoughts are racing in your mind.

“Um alright Indy-” You grimace slightly saying his first name, it feels weird. “Could you tell me why we are going to Cairo and especially at such a short notice? I mean I've never been out of the US before let alone being on a plane!” You spiral into a rambling mess asking a million different questions at once. Indy sighs. 

“Hey calm down ___ it’s going to be fine.” You shoot him a confused look. What does he mean? It's going to be fine?. He basically kidnapped you and is now taking you to a foreign country! 

“I received an invitation from The Museum Of Cairo to one of their fancy Banquets after I returned an artifact that I found last time I was there. We fly in tonight. The banquet is tomorrow night and then we leave straight away the next morning. ” Indiana says nonchalantly. There's a long pause between you and him.

“And you kidnapped me because…?” Indiana jeered at your comment.

“Hey! I didn't kidnap you! This was all just a little last minute…and I brought you with me because they gave me a plus one and….well…” He paused and had an embarrassed look on his face.

“You don't have any friends?” Indiana's eyes widened and he scoffed at your smartass remark.

“No! because you're my intern, I just thought it would be a good experience for you. and it's nothing too intense, it's basically a vacation if anything you should be thanking me!” This conversation didn't make you feel any better about this damn trip, at this point you don't think anything can. The rest of the car ride fell into the awkward silence once again.

Soon enough the car pulled up to a terminal. As you exit the car, you realize this is your first time on a plane. As you both entered the cabin a short stewardess in a blue uniform with red lipstick greeted you telling you to enjoy your flight. The cabin was pretty spacious with comfortable looking seats and plenty of amenities. Both you and Indy’s seats were vertical from each other with a small table in between. You take your seat closest to the window. Looking around you there weren’t many other people on the plane. 

“Wow, this looks expensive..” your eyes landing back on Indy as you take your seats, the older man chuckled, taking his hat off, placing it down on the table and grabbing a book out of his carry on.

“This is all paid for so enjoy it. We’re gonna be on this plane for about 10 hours.” 10 hours? You could feel your anxiety start to build as the information settled in. What are you going to do? You started thinking of different ways to cope with your anxiety but it just feels worse. The stewardess walks up to the middle of the isles addressing the passengers. 

“Hello, everyone!” She announced with a high pitched peppy and somewhat languid voice.

 “Welcome to your flight to Cairo! This is going to be a long journey, so please make yourself comfortable! If you need anything or have a question or concern during this flight, please don’t be afraid to ask me or one of my fellow stewardesses. We will be taking off very shortly, so sit back, relax and thank you for flying with us, we hope you have a pleasant flight!” You would be lying if you said her voice wasn’t annoying.

The plane slowly started to move forward, as the aircraft moved the tighter your chest felt and the more knotted your stomach got. Gaining speed the cabin rumbled, gripping the armrest, your body felt tense and numb with your anxiety growing more. The plane lifted up from the ground, it felt like you were sinking into your seat while your stomach dropped. You desperately try calming yourself down but failing miserably the feelings of panic were too overwhelming. You look around for something- anything to help. 

Indy couldn’t focus on his book with your heavy breathing in his ear, it was almost getting on his nerves, but he couldn’t be upset about it. It would be hypocritical of him. There have been times where he’s gotten nervous on planes. This trip was also pretty last minute, and it’s your first time flying..dammit now he’s starting to feel bad. You’ve done so much for him and have worked really hard your whole internship, the least he can do is try to comfort you. Indiana placed his book in his lap with a sigh and turned his head towards you. You are staring at the ground with your hands tightly clutching to the armrests of your chair. 

“Hey.” He says in a hush but commanding tone, Indiana isn’t used to comforting people so he was trying his best not to sound too awkward or unnatural. Your eyes were glued to the ground; it felt like you couldn’t speak. There was a pause and you managed to let out a small ‘hm?’ trying not to sound too anxious. 

“Hey, can you look at me?” He grumbled a bit, you snapped your eyes shut and tried to calm down just feeling more overwhelmed. Indy exhaled- he didn’t mean to say it like that he’s just not good at things like this. You deserved better. Indiana gently placed his hand on top of yours. You open your eyes a bit taken aback. This time he spoke more softly.

“Hey ___ it’s going to be okay.” Your hands slowly let go of the chair. That was the first time he’s actually called you by your name. You turn your head and look at him. His face is different. You’ve never seen this kind of expression on him before. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his eyes look at you with worry and concern. A part of you wanted to look away or at least somewhere else but the way his glasses framed his eyes made it almost impossible. Indiana slightly squeezed your hand snapping you out of your daze.

“I promise. It’s okay___.” He’s never acted like this before, and it’s kind of nice. There was a pause of silence and you just looked at him, it wasn’t uncomfortable- it was the opposite, it was oddly comfortable? 

“Do you feel better?” He tilted his head to the side waiting for your answer. 

“Uh yeah, I do feel a lot better thanks.” You pulled your hand away, his touch was starting to feel like a little too much. Your face felt warm but you definitely felt better than before. Indy had a small smile on his face.

“That’s good, I was worried.” He then picked his book back up. 

“Try to sleep, it’ll help time pass by.” Indiana suggested as he started to read his book again. He was right, maybe you should try to sleep. After not being able to sleep last night and having a panic attack, you’re pretty exhausted. You shut your window and lay your chair back, there’s nobody sitting behind you, so you have quite a bit of space to lay back. You then prop your feet on top of the table and then your head against your chair. You didn’t realize how heavy your eyelids were until your head hit the cushioned headrest of your chair and soon enough you were out.

[baelpenrose]

Project Praetorian 40: New Arrivals p2 What they're Capable of

This one focuses on Kimmy, and snaps back to the ride over in the blackhawk. Pretty much all the new arrivals have LAYERS.

Beta read by @canyouhearthelight and @writing-with-olive

Oh, TW for more of Jared being himself, which after last chapter should require no more explanation. Also for Imperator being almost unbelievably evil and ableist. Like, Jared is a prick, what Imperator was planning with regards to Kimmy is horrific.

Oh and see if you can count the layers in the title.

Kimmy

The arrival to the new base wasn’t exactly making a shining first impression. First she’d been yanked out of a wheelchair, had her chair shoved into a shitty chopper, and then she’d been forced to fly for hours with a douchebag white supremacist, a girl who was probably cool but who she couldn’t talk to for language barrier reasons, and a dude who would probably be fine but who was busy having anxiety attacks about flying in a helicopter. 

So functionally her discussion choices were either the neo-Nazi dick or silence. She chose silence. That is, Jared made a snide remark to Micah that even the cripple was keeping her cool better than Micah was. 

“You’re really lucky we’re all strapped down so I can’t slap you. Actually, honestly, you’re lucky my legs don’t work because if they did, kicking would still be an option.” 

Jared sneered. “Half a spine and still more than this neurotic little beta will ever have.” He jerked a thumb at the terrified boy next to him.

“I’m proud of you, you’re evolving. You got through a whole two sentences without a racial slur. If you can get through the rest of the ride with no slurs of any kind, maybe your balls will finally drop and a girl will look at you without gagging.” 

“I got your balls and gagging right here.” “Yeah, but that’s why you’re strapped down, and by the time we land, if you stand up and try something, I’m sure I can get someone to get a proper ballgag in you before you’re halfway through it. Honestly, if you ask real nicely, I’ll pantomime the concept to Mia. All that talk about immigrants fucking our country, there has to be some kind of repression there. If I can find an English-Spanish dictionary and you stop being an asshole, maybe I’ll ask her if she’s down to peg you. She doesn’t even know you’re a douchebag, she doesn’t know what you’ve been saying.”

Jared scowled and finally shut up, realizing that he was losing, and Kimmy smirked, offering Micah a slight grin. Jared was right about one aspect, unfortunately, which was that Micah was neurotic in ways that could be difficult or annoying at times - and certainly weren’t helping him survive this shithole.  

*** 

When they finally landed, it didn’t take long before she was offloaded and put in her chair again - almost immediately drawing looks. One curious - followed by an almost immediately dark, almost terrifying look from a wiry boy with short curly hair. A good-looking black guy who introduced himself as Xavier was already squaring off with Jared - and she wanted, badly, to watch that but found herself pulled aside by two people. One was a girl with teak-dark hair and long skirts, and the other was a person whose every aspect screamed some variety of genderqueer - and who didn’t speak. Until Kimmy recognized that the gestures they were doing were a form of speech, at which point she managed to fumble her way through some of the ASL she remembered from the disability support group she’d been put in after her accident.

The deaf person reacted with obvious delight, signing faster than Kimmy could follow, and Kimmy said, “wait, wait, slow down, I’m not totally fluent.”

The other girl nodded. “Right, sorry. I’m Casey, this is Shiloh. You probably have a lot of questions. So. Welcome to Imperator and welcome to the Praetorians. We get experimented on, given superpowers, and forced to fight aliens. None of that is a joke.” Casey said with a grimace. “We managed to win this cookout as a reward for our first major victory.”

Kimmy felt a flutter of nervousness. “I…knew about the experiments. We’re getting changed to be super soldiers? Can…can they fix my spine? If they can’t…” 

Shiloh winced, then signed something. “What happened to it?”

Kimmy looked down. “I was a gymnast, heading towards regional championships when I was around twelve. I was doing the beam routine, but I…it was a dumb mistake. Twisted a bit. Hit my back on the dismount. Total fluke. Had the twisties, didn’t call it. Near-total paralysis below the waist. I’m lucky in that I had good doctors, and I can…still go to the bathroom without a lot of help, like it didn’t take a lot of work to give me that capacity.” 

“Won’t your parents ask where you went? I mean, you were a gymnast in regional championships, you disappearing is gonna…”

Kimmy winced. “Yeah. Uh. Thing is. They had hopes of me being an Olympian at some point. So, when I broke my back, they put in a lot of work to try to restore me, but when it didn’t work, things just kinda…got more distant. I mean, yeah, I got support groups, but I went from being the thing they were excited about to being a thing they had to deal with. Like at first I was all for the tests, since I wanted to get back on the beam as badly as anyone, I hated being bound to a chair and sorta still do, I want to be able to run and jump again, but after a point, I just wanted the constant testing to stop and the disappointed glares when nothing worked to stop. There’s a reason I wanted to make sure I could handle my own catheter. So then about three months ago, they heard about this new, experimental trial for nerve regeneration pioneered by a Dr. Winters at the Aventine Research Institute, and they signed me up…”

She suddenly went quiet as she noticed that Shiloh had gone absolutely still, their gaze very, very far away and breathing very slowly. Casey wasn’t touching Shiloh, very noticeably, but was quietly signaling someone for help.

“What’s…” Kimmy signed, slowly. 

Shiloh signaled and Casey replied. “They say I can tell you. Your parents signed you over to their mother. For the same reason that their parents experimented on them. It’s a little different, at a guess since you started off wanting to be fixed, and being paralyzed actually did take your sport from you whereas they didn’t really mind being deaf, but…that’s why.” 

Kimmy absorbed that. “What kind of hell is this place?” 

Casey was quiet, clearly thinking about something. 

Kimmy felt cold. “Can they fix my legs?” 

Shiloh didn’t move. Casey was quiet. “I’m not sure.”

“Then what do they want me for? And…what’s the process like?” 

Shiloh signed, slow enough for Kimmy to follow. “It’s terrible. It’s frightening, painful, humiliating. Powers are a crapshoot. Combat is better, mainly because you aren’t helpless. I’m sorry your parents sent you here.” 

Kimmy felt her blood run cold. “But can they fix my legs? So I won’t be helpless?” Underneath that, the real question: what are they going to do with me?

Shiloh

Kimmy’s reactions to their answers were the obvious ones, and Shiloh glanced at Casey, and realized neither of them could give the kid the answer she obviously wanted. Couldn’t answer the question she was really asking. Truth be known, Shiloh did know the answer. Had read the medical data out of Koleth’s process because it was really relevant to the body modifications they and their siblings were undergoing and how it impacted their metabolism. Impacted their healing. 

Shiloh looked to Casey to translate. Then began signing, very, very fast. “Short version: theoretically yes, but we don’t know for sure if they can. Yes, it’s possible, but power development seems to be random chance.”

Koleth, in short, had no idea what impacts anything would produce when someone was tested. Merely that all impacts behaved within certain parameters of anomalies, and that there were predictable parameters of mutability in the genome that made someone a Praetorian candidate. Yes, Kimmy’s spine COULD be regenerated by the process - but she could just as easily wind up with a powerset that would be near-totally useless in combat if attached to someone who could not move or could only move from inside a vehicle. Yes, Kimmy could wind up with a powerset that suited her perfectly to being in a support role away from frontline combat and thus made her disability unimportant, like Echo or Shiloh themself, but they could also very easily wind up like Casey or Jonathan or even Vergil, who despite being able to stay back to some degree still needed to be able to maneuver at which point she would be effectively useless to Imperator.

“We aren’t totally sure what we’ll have you do, but Mark? Her boyfriend? The skinny guy with the curly hair? Yeah, he’s the boss in combat, he’ll figure out something. Or you’ll get a power that’s more suited for spying and figuring out the enemy, then you’ll be taking your orders from Echo, the black girl who looks like a model.” Kimmy nodded as Casey translated, even as the other girl glared at Shiloh for calling Mark her boyfriend.

And Shiloh knew Franklin, Stricken, and Gideon too well to delude themself that they’d keep a useless asset, nor even gamble on the possibility of one. Meaning they already had an alternative use in mind if Kimmy developed a powerset that neither reversed her disability nor allowed her to deploy in a way that made it irrelevant.

“That said, if you’re really worried about it, there’s something I can try.” 

And Shiloh knew their own parents, and more chillingly, Koleth, well enough to know exactly what that alternative use would be.  Kimmy would develop the ability perform to the standards of the rest of the Praetorians, or Kimmy would be used as a test subject to determine the outer limits of the mutation process without any of the safeguards Koleth kept to avoid damaging ‘valuable assets’ - like the Praetorians who were definitely useful in combat. 

Casey snapped a look at Shiloh. Then spoke for herself. “You said it was an injury. They straightened it and braced the spinal column surgically, right?”

Kimmy nodded. “Yeah.”

Casey turned to Shiloh. “Are you even remotely sure this is possible?” 

Shiloh signed back rapidly, explaining to Casey what they hadn’t to Kimmy. Then finished, “worst case, I accidentally put her in shock when the nerves start reconnecting and the shock kills her. Which is still better than what happens if Koleth gets to play with her.” 

Casey nodded. “She should know.”

“I wasn’t gonna start without asking. And we should both eat a lot before I try. This is gonna be one of the hardest things I’ve ever attempted.” 

Casey turned back to Kimmy. “Shiloh is our medic. They can regenerate damaged tissue. They might, might, be able to fix your spine, but they say you both need to eat first. And…they said it might put you into shock and kill you if the nerves connect wrong, because it is going to hurt horribly when they first start. Other hand, you’re in real danger if we don’t and the powers you get don’t make you useful in combat - the people working on us are evil. It’s your decision. I, personally, would trust Shiloh more than I trust Koleth.”

Kimmy glanced between them, then took a breath. “Fuck it, I already do. Just because they asked and they’re used to people trying to fix without asking. Wait, question, do powers usually eat a bunch of calories?”

Shiloh paused. Casey answered. “Seems different for all of us.”

“Makes sense. Okay, so…food, then Shiloh tries to make me walk again.” Kimmy tried to wheel herself over, struggled on the shitty paving of Imperator’s walkways, then based on Casey’s reaction, let loose a truly impressive litany of profanity. Her wheel had gotten caught in a pothole that had been there as long as any of them remembered and was invisible in the bad lighting. She relented, signaling that yes, someone could help her. Casey began helping her wheel over to the meal tables and piled her plate high with a bit of everything, whereupon Kimmy began wolfing food down with reckless abandon. 

Casey

Casey flicked a signal at Shiloh. “I’m gonna go talk with Gideon and be right back. About kidnapping someone to be tested to death.”

Shiloh nodded. Then signaled, pausing. “Check with Echo to make sure we don’t need him alive.” 

Casey snorted. “I’m not gonna kill him. This time.” 

Gideon was talking with one of the pilots by the landing strip, and Casey took her time. She grabbed a marshmallow stick from the fire and heated it until it glowed, then jogged over, heating it and keeping it hot with her power. Something to add a little fear to the situation.

Then Gideon saw her and calmly hung up the phone. “Ms. Martin.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“Are you approaching me with a demand from all your team or just yourself?”

Casey didn’t answer - no point in letting this asshole think she had no backing or that Mark wasn’t in control of the team. “I’m not saying anything the others won’t. It can’t happen again. Imperator can’t scoop someone up for the purposes of testing them to death.”

“How do you know that was our intent?”

“You don’t keep people around you can’t use. If Kimmy couldn’t fight - and you have no way of knowing what powers she’ll develop - you’d have found another use for her. That’s the obvious one.” 

Gideon inclined his head. “Since the process could kill any of you, just that Koleth’s safeguards make it less likely when the asset is valuable - why is this so different? You all risk a bad reaction every time you climb in the tubes.”

“Risk is one thing. Guarantee is another. We’ll fight aliens, but our loyalty is to each other first - and we’re not going to watch another Praetorian tortured to death for Koleth to refine something.”

“You just met the newest one. Your bond isn’t that strong already. Even in such a sentimental group.” 

Casey shrugged. “Maybe not. But we’re in it with her, which we aren’t with you.” Then, with a gesture, the air around the glowing marshmallow stick blazed to life and she waved it like a wand, feeling the heat raise her hair in a wave, lighting the night around them with the force of her fury. “It won’t happen again Gideon. If it does, I’ll burn you alive one layer of skin at a time.” 

His normally inexpressive face went pale at that, and Casey hoped she’d made her point. She felt hollow and shaken on the walk back. The display of power had been so…minor, honestly. The threat was only meant to accompany it to scare him, something that she could imagine one of the villains from one of Mark or Xavier’s nerd movies saying - made credible by the fact that, at least on a physical level, she could actually do it.

When she’d actually said it she’d come to the horrible realization that not only could she do it, she actually would if Gideon ever again.abducted a kid for the sole reason to be tested to death.

She forced herself to walk back to the cookout, and saw Shiloh and Kimmy eating, signing slowly back and forth, even as Molly approached them and chatted with Kimmy, Vergil edging in. She heard Kimmy mention something about rhythmic gymnastics to Molly, and Molly smiling back.

Kimmy

The night was going well - existential terror notwithstanding. The new crowd seemed a lot better. Cute, shy, skinny boy who everyone told her was the team sniper but who seemed like a dork. The cute ginger with the rosary who kept stealing glances at a gorgeous girl who Kimmy could only assume by description was Echo. The girl who’d welcomed her in, the black boy who made Jared back down, the super hot giant dude, Shiloh, and the boy who everyone told her was in charge talking with Micah and actually getting the guy to relax. 

Overall things were looking up on arrival here. 

Then, Molly and Xavier took up a position in the middle of the place and began pumping music and Kimmy found herself clapping and laughing. Okay. If this was going to be my life now, experiments or not - especially if I got my legs back - this might actually be a step up from parents looking at me like a disappointment for getting hurt in a competition I’d been too nervous to back out of when I’d gotten a condition that made even the GOAT back down. 

Then, as the music was dying down, Shiloh handed her a rag, and Casey gripped her hand. As Shiloh put their hands on her spine, Kimmy saw Molly looking at her, curiously. 

Then Casey told her to bite down on the rag. Kimmy nervously put it in her mouth, biting down on the cloth and clenching.

Then her world flashed in pain unlike anything she’d ever experienced - it wasn’t like breaking her back. It was like having hot wires replace the nerves, having them all set ablaze. But she could feel fibers moving beneath her skin, like it itched on the inside. Kimmy screamed into the rag, and bit down. Kimmy was certain she had half-crushed Casey’s hand, and Shiloh stood up. She could hear Casey asking where Shiloh was going and Shiloh flashed an answer Kimmy couldn’t understand. 

Casey whispered in her ear. “Fixing this is taking a lot out of them, they’re grabbing coffee and more chow then they’re gonna come back.” Kimmy felt tears trickle down her cheeks, eyes blurry with the pain - it hurt so much. But it hurt. She could feel the pain.

Kimmy don’t know how long she waited, but Casey was with her, gently stroking her hair and whispering assurances. Then Shiloh was back and the pain flared up worse, but Kimmy could suddenly feel her toes again. The pain subsided, sort of. Though it was there and it was horrible, she could feel the lower half of my body again. 

Kimmy spat out the rag and tried to twitch her legs, which were slowly coming to life like a thousand little pinpricks. The girl shoved the rag back into her mouth to scream again. 

Then, as slowly as she could, she stood up, leaning a little on Casey and Shiloh, and smiled, throwing the rag aside, even as her back ached. Casey said something to her, about how nerve pain took time to heal, how Shiloh was warning her it would take time before the pain went away but that she was actually better.

Kimmy saw the redhead - Molly - looking between her and Shiloh, mouth agape. 

She was overwhelmed, in shock. She was walking. 

She turned, slowly, and looked at Shiloh. 

“Thank you,” Kimmy whispered, throat hoarse with pain and joy at the same time. 

Shiloh signed back. “I couldn’t let them use you up and throw you out.” 

“Even still.”

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟬

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback | 4:4 answer

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "You have two choices: be my friend or be forced to be my friend."

Gilbert: "I'm going to ask you one more time. I want to be friends with you."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Until now, we've become friends just as we were drifting along.

I was only being threatened, regardless of my own will.

(But…)

Emma: "Please be my friend."

(I don't want a relationship that starts with blackmail in my daily life.)

I hold out my hand to Prince Gilbert, suppressing my inner nervousness.

After a few moments of silence, cold fingertips entwined with mine.

Gilbert: "… You've got some nerve to be my friend on your own will."

Gilbert: "Of course I have no reason to say no. I'd be happy to be your friend, but—"

Gilbert: "I hate lies."

He squeezes my hand with a painful grip.

It was so strong that I thought that once he grabbed me, he would never let me go again.

Gilbert: "If you betrayed me after saying you were my friend, I might kill you out of grief."

(Wait, that's not good. I'm in a position to betray Prince Gilbert no matter how I try.)

Even if we are friends, it does not change the position of Rhodolite and Obsidian.

Emma: "… What is this "betrayal" you speak of, Prince Gilbert?"

Gilbert: "Well…"

Prince Gilbert doesn't seem to have any intention of bringing up the betrayal that comes from the difference in position,

There was a pause, as if he were choosing his words.

Gilbert: "That you are no longer you."

Emma: "…?"

(Hey, that's weird…)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "If you stay in a place like the court, where your greed is exposed, you will eventually fall."

Gilbert: "I'd like to be able to see them up close and personal."

Gilbert: "I was curious to see how the most beautiful heart in all of Rhodolite would turn out."

Gilbert: "So, my friend. Isn't being your friend the fastest way to be close to you?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(I feel like Prince Gilbert wanted me to change.)

(He’s interested, but maybe that means he doesn't want me to change.)

Even here, Prince Gilbert is inconsistent.

Gilbert: "Oh, and..."

Gilbert: "Additionally, you will die instead of me."   //   Add to that the fact that you'll die in my place."

Emma: "… But—"

When I tried to talk back, he held my hand so tightly that my voice leaked out.

Gilbert: "I'm a lot stronger than you think."

Gilbert: "… I may not be as strong as other people, but I can handle a surprise attack on my own."

Gilbert: "If you're my friend, you won't betray me, will you?"

His red eye, which usually have no emotion, sway slightly.

It's a threatening word, but there's a worry unbefitting of a prince of an enemy country.   //   The words sound like threats, but there is a concern in them that is uncharacteristic of a prince of an enemy country.

(I don't think he'll admit that he's "worried", but... it makes my heart flutter.)

Emma: "I understand."

Emma: "… The next time something like this happens, I will believe in Prince Gilbert."

Gilbert: "Then, it's a promise."

Prince Gilbert, with his back bent, kisses me lightly on the cheek.

The heat slowly spread to my face from the touch of his lips.   //   The heat slowly spread to my face as I felt his lips on my cheeks.

(I've been asked to kiss him on the cheek before…)

Emma: "O-Oh, is this how it's done in Obsidian?"

Gilbert: "No way. We don't have a culture like that, and we wouldn't do it for anybody, so why would we?"

(… Then why…)

Gilbert: "Look, Little Bunny too."

With a tap, his index finger is pointed at his cheek.

(It's not an atmosphere that can be refused...)

(... No, don't be strangely conscious of this. For Prince Gilbert, this must be a sign of affection.)

I willingly pressed my lips against Prince Gilbert's cheek.

Emma: "Is this okay?"

Gilbert: "Yes, but your face is so red. It's just a friendly kiss, but you're so naughty."   //   "Yes, but your face is so red. It's just a friendly kiss, but it's so naughty."

Emma: "I'm just not used to it!"

Gilbert: "Then do you want to do it every day until you get used to it?"

Emma: "… Please give me a break."

(Why do I feel so nervous when all I do is kiss you on the cheek?)   //   (Why do I feel so uneasy just by kissing you on the cheek?)

Gilbert: "That's right. As a sign that I've gotten closer to you, Little Rabbit, you can call me Gil from now on."

Emma: "I can't."

Gilbert: "Ehh... a nickname would have been more like a friend."

Emma: "Before we became friends, Prince Gilbert was a guest of honor."

(I wonder if people who are close to him call him "Gil.")

(... I wonder. It's like something just tugged at me–) **

Gilbert: "Oh well."

Prince Gilbert smiled, picked me up, and started walking towards the entrance of the chapel.

The stinging air and the suffocating bloodlust had disappeared before I knew it.

═════════════════��

From the next day on, Prince Gilbert remained with me as before.

However, he had plans for this afternoon, so we decided to go our separate ways.

(While Prince Gilbert is away...)

As usual, I pushed open the door to Prince Chevalier's library.

I thought about reporting, but there were two figures in the library today.

Emma: "Oh, Clavis!"

Clavis: "Oops, did you come here to meet my brother? I didn't think spring would come to this unsociable man…"

Emma: "More than that! I have a lot of things I want to ask you, Clavis."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "Clavis, is he really betraying Rhodolite!?"

Luke: "Maybe. Don't you know there are rumors that he might be an Obsidian spy?"

Luke: "I don't know what you're thinking, but Clavis was responsible for the assassination attempt on Chevalier the other day."

Luke: "He's working with some of the anti-monarchy faction, and he's sending a number of assassins after him."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "I'll ask straight to the point."

Emma: "Is there anything you are guilty of?"

Clavis: "No?"

He should have known what I wanted to ask him, but his answer was refreshingly immediate.

He is puffing his chest out as if to say that he really has nothing to be guilty of.

Clavis: "Well, think about it? If I'm really betraying Rhodolite…"

Clavis: "This guy won't shut up now, will he?"

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "… That's true, too."

(There's no way someone like Prince Chevalier hasn't noticed Clavis' evil deeds.)

If he were a traitor in the true sense of the word, he would have received the punishment he deserves by now.

(There is no way he would claim to be a traitor so openly to me as well.)

Clavis: "But, yes..."

Clavis: "I wouldn't mind betraying Rhodolite for my evil deeds."

Emma: "… Are you really saying that with pride?"

Clavis: "Ah. Because I want to be a prince who can act not for the sake of the country but for the people."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Clavis: "What is right for one person is evil for another. Isn't that what the world is like?"

(… I still don't see how helping the anti-monarchy faction is connected to Clavis's view of justice.)

It may be too early to condemn it as "bad."

(As Belle, maybe this is the point where I need to find out.)

Chevalier: "… Nonsense."

Prince Chevalier, who was sitting in his usual chair reading a book, takes a languid breath.

Chevalier: "I don't care about my foolish brother. You are here to report, aren't you?"

Emma: "Yes, but..."

Chevalier: "I don't care if he listens. Tell me what happened last night."

Emma: "Then—"

Thinking back on what happened at Clavis's secret soirée, I spun my words in detail.

I'm a bit embarrassed about what happened in the chapel, so I thought I'd limit myself to a brief report,

When Prince Chevalier heard everything, his brows furrowed.

Chevalier: "What did you get from the soirée?"

Emma: "What did I …get?"

Emma: "The fact that there are people who are anti-monarchy and that Obsidian is trying to use that faction..."

Emma: "I think what I have gained is a proper understanding of the situation that Rhodolite is in."

(… And also Prince Gilbert’s heart.)

Clavis: "Hmm... why?"

Emma: "Why..?"

Clavis: "Why did the World Disaster bother to teach you such a thing?"

I was taken aback by Clavis's muttering.

(Prince Gilbert's actions always have a meaning. But what was the meaning of last night's incident...?)

Clavis: "I thought it was for the same purpose as with Chevalier—to instill a sense of distrust towards me…"

Chevalier: "It's not connected to distrust. I think there's another purpose."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "I feel that Prince Gilbert... was testing me somehow."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "Is that how you do things?"

Gilbert: "You say that as if you're criticizing me, but I have good intentions."

Emma: "… Your "good intentions" are to bring war to this country?"

Gilbert: "To try to change something, you have to make sacrifices."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "Knowing that I would definitely oppose him, he proudly broached the subject of business right in front of me."

Emma: "… I don't know how to put it into words, but—"

(I think he was enjoying my reaction.)

Chevalier: "I think you might be right on target."

Prince Chevalier gets up from his chair and puts the book he was holding back on the shelf.

Chevalier: "It seems more likely that they are using you to make some kind of judgment." //  "Apparently, there is a high possibility that he is using you as a basis for making decisions."

Clavis: "What do you mean by judging?"

Chevalier: "I don't know."

Clavis: "… You…"

Chevalier: "But there must be a reason why it should be you and not some ordinary woman."

After picking up a new book, Prince Chevalier sat down again.

Emma: "… I'm a normal person, except for the fact that I'm Belle."

Chevalier: "Then why were you chosen as Belle?"

Clavis: "Is it because Sariel fell in love at first sight?"

Chevalier: "It was probably because she was described as "the woman with the most beautiful heart in all of Rhodolite."

Emma: "Oh…"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "I was curious to see how the most beautiful heart in all of Rhodolite would turn out."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chevalier: "He's trying to make some kind of judgment about a woman with a beautiful heart, not just any woman out there."

Chevalier: "… That's about all I can say right now."

(The important thing is "what kind of judgment am I trying to make?")

(I wonder what Prince Gilbert wants to see through me.)

Emma: "I'd like to find out."

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

While Prince Chevalier snickered, Clavis, unusually, had his smile fade away.

Clavis: "… I'm feeling a bit uneasy at this point."

Chevalier: "In that case, you should investigate the area around the anti-monarchy once again."

Clavis: "Are you going to keep an eye on me all the time?"

Chevalier: "It's possible you're not looking hard enough. Check back to see if there's really any connection with Obsidian."

Chevalier: "Eyepatch seems to have said and acted like he was about to start a business, but it wouldn't be strange if he had already started."

(... That's not true...)

(... I'd like to believe that's not true.)

I was frustrated that all I could do was pray.

Clavis: "I don't like it when you make me work for you, but I have no choice."

Clavis: "I'll go over it again; you don't mind if Nokto comes along, do you?"

Chevalier: "Yeah, but not Jumbo."

Clavis: "Why?"

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

(Why not Luke?)

Prince Chevalier said nothing more, and Clavis simply shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated manner.

Clavis: "It seems we're done here. Emma, I'm glad you're here. Would you like to have dinner with me today?"

Emma: "Sounds good. If you'd like, please."

(I should be all done reporting for the day, too.)

(… Oh, yeah…)

Emma: "I'm sorry. There was one last thing I wanted to ask you."

Clavis: "What?"

Emma: "Maybe it's not something I should just casually ask..."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Well-dressed man: "Miss, do you think you can have a serious conversation with them?"

Well-dressed man: "The royalty who left more than a thousand of their own people captive to die on the day of the bloodstained rose day!"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "Is it true what they say?"

(I've always wondered about that.)

Clavis: "Ah."

With a suspicious smile, Clavis affirms.

Clavis: "The Obsidians offered us to surrender in exchange for a thousand prisoners they had taken."

Clavis: "Do you think this will give away the country?"

"This," Clavis pointed to Prince Chevalier, who was continuing to read a book.

Clavis: "We were on the battlefield at the time, and we were in direct command."

Clavis: "Leon and Chevalier each have the final decision on the battlefield."

Clavis: "At that time, Chevalier's own decision to reject the other party's request..."

Clavis: "As a result, the enraged Obsidian commanders killed all the prisoners."

Clavis: "… Innocent civilians, including women and children, were sacrificed."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Clavis: "You can understand why the mere sight of Chevalier's face would make some people want to kill him, can't you?"

(… If it hadn't been for Prince Chevalier's ruthless choice, Rhodolite would probably no longer exist today.)

(Wrong choice for a person, but right choice for a country… That's what it must be.)

I said it was possible to bridge the gap through communication, not violence, but...

This resentment and hatred will surely never go away.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "Royalty is not absolute justice, so you are the evil one here, you know?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(… By now, Prince Gilbert's words are sinking in.)

Clavis squints his eyes as if he is staring somewhere far away.

Clavis: "… The past will never go away no matter what we do."

Clavis: "On top of that, we have to choose what is best for the future."

══════════════════

Gilbert: "Little Rabbit."

Emma: "Whoa!?"

Blood-colored eye suddenly filled my vision.

Leaning back, Prince Gilbert deliberately lowered his eyebrows.

Gilbert: "What's with that reaction?"

(… I was surprised.)

(You got me thinking about yesterday again.)

As I took a breath to clear my mind, Prince Gilbert's smile deepened for some reason.

Gilbert: "Even though I and Little Rabbit are in such a close relationship, I still get hurt."

Emma: "What's with all the such-and-such?"

Gilbert: "Oh, you don't remember? That night, when we embraced so passionately—"

Emma: "Please don't use confusing words!"

Gilbert: "Oh, did I make you so flustered? What were you imagining?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "Ahaha!"

(Prince Gilbert is in a very good mood today!)

He is in a great mood, even yesterday, as Prince Gilbert was in such a good mood that he was humming a tune.

Gilbert: "Well, anyway, what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Emma: "Nokto is going on a business trip, so I will accompany him."

Gilbert: "Is your leg okay now?"

Emma: "Yes. I saw the doctor this morning, and he said I should be fine to walk normally."

Gilbert: "Then it's fine. When will the negotiations end?"

Emma: "I am told he will return to the court around evening."

Gilbert: "I see. Well, then—"

(… Oh.)

Suddenly, I stop, and Prince Gilbert stops alongside me.

Ahead of me was a bureaucrat from the domestic faction with so many books that he almost lost sight of what was in front of him.

(I think that person was...)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Bureaucrat: "Tell me why that woman is here."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

I remember the cold look he gave me before.

I hesitated for a moment, but then I mustered up my courage and stepped forward.

Emma: "Hello. Are you going to visit Prince Leon now?"

When I approached him, the bureaucratic man rolled his eyes and then expressed his disgust.

Bureaucrat: "... Yes. Well then—"

Emma: "I'm here to help."

I reached out to support a pile of books that were leaning and about to fall down…

Bureaucrat: "Don't touch it!"

He shakes my hand away, and a stack of books falls to the ground.

The books scattered on the floor hit my leg, and it hurt.

Bureaucrat: "Ah…"

Emma: "I am sorry. I've startled you."

(I should have approached him more carefully.)

I gather up the books scattered around my feet and rearrange them into a neat pile.

By the time the man who had been standing there stunned came to his senses, I had finished collecting all the books.

Bureaucrat: "I'm sorry too... but I don't need your help."

Emma: "I understand. Please take care."

When I hand him the collected books, the man takes them awkwardly and leaves without further ado.

Nothing has changed.

Yet, strangely, my chest feels relieved.

(I've given up even talking to him before because I was afraid I'd make him uncomfortable…)

Gilbert: "You poor little rabbit."

Prince Gilbert, who had been watching the series of events from a distance, stands in front of me.

He lifted my chin up by the handle of his cane, and my eyes met his red ones.

Gilbert: "Oh, but... you looked fine."

Emma: "Yes, I'm self-satisfied, but now I feel refreshed!"

(This is much better than holding back and not even saying what I want to say.)

It feels like a crevice has been opened in an uncomfortable space.

Prince Gilbert huffed and poked me in the leg with the tip of his cane.

Gilbert: "It's fine to approach people who are against you, but don't carelessly get hurt."

Gilbert: "I get jealous when I see scars inflicted by someone other than me."

Gilbert: "So much that I want to kill him…?"

(… I wonder if this is also something that Prince Gilbert is worried about.)

Emma: "I'll be careful."

When I answered honestly, Prince Gilbert released his cane with satisfaction.

Emma: "By the way, weren't you just about to say something?"

Gilbert: "Good. If you hadn't remembered, I would have done something terrible to you."

(… It's not safe.)

Gilbert: "You're free in the evening, aren't you?"

Gilbert: "I want to go on a date with you."

Emma: "Okay."

Emma: "No, a date?"

Gilbert: "Yes, a date."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "It's a yes, right…?"

[ram-bam-writes]

Reluctancy pt. 2 [Kyle Garrick x NB Reader]

A/N: A bit shorter than last time, but we get to the good stuffs next chapter ehehe >:3

Summary: Deciding to trust the strange Captain for now, Garrick decides to take things to the rest of his team. After a thorough interrogation, he and the 141 learn of the Adders’ mishap and what it means for the state of innocent people. And they need to act fast… even if it means fighting alongside the percieved enemy.

CW: Mentions of blood/injuries/scars (non-explicit), mentions of biochemical warfare, some cursing, interrogation (light), no beta we die like soap, etc

Word Count: 2182

[Pt.1] [Pt.2]

It’s a strange thing, you think, to need his help. You’ve been the Captain for the Adders for years now, something of a family business, and you’d never needed anybody’s help before. The Adders worked as a pack of themselves, but hardly engaged with anyone else. You were in and out with your operations, stealing intel when you could and planning attacks as needed.

And for years, you’d been on the radar of most anti-terrorist organizations. With the state of the world, and the fact that your team is comprised of just about every demographic known to man and held no loyalty to any region, you’d been blacklisted by most countries. 

And you accepted that.

Mostly because no one could find the Adders. Your team had been careful. It was easy, too. With no matching demographics, you and a group of your soldiers could be near each other with little to no suspicion. And it was easy to talk politics when none of you looked the same. To the untrained eyes, it seemed like you were discussing cultural differences. There was no connections.

The only identifier was you. 

You knew everyone on your team by heart. You loved each and every one of them, ensuring the best care was given. And when one was injured just a little too much for your liking, you gave them a quick out and a place to go. How could you not? The Adders weren’t bad. They just weren’t… legal. You were… vigilantes. When world leaders said no, you said why not. 

If only you could persuade the 141 of that. 

“So let me get this straight,” Ghost growls, eyes narrowed behind his mask. “Your team went rogue and you want our help to get ‘em back?”

You purse your lips. Why did they insist that your team went rogue? You didn’t say that, even if it was the truth. Why was Garrick so adamant about that being the truth? And why did he need to tell everyone?

“No. They got taken,” you argue, voice firm.

But you’re met with silence. Garrick, after collecting the photos from a secure file on your USB, had taken you to an interrogation room beneath the barracks. After getting everyone else involved — irritating you to no end — you’d been strapped to the chair and left at their mercy.

“Y’know, I really don’t trust that.” Was Soap always so passive aggressive? Or was Ghost rubbing off on him… “Gaz, why’d you bring ‘em, brother? You know the Adders ain’t a friendly group.”

Gas, currently leaning against the corner of the room with his arms crossed and signature blue hat covering his eyes, offers a low rumble of a hum. “Did I not tie them to this chair?”

“That’s not the point, mate, and you know it,” Ghost growls. “You should’ve killed this snake when you got the chance.”

At this point, you are content to glare at the empty space on the wall. Part of the reason you never wanted them involved was their backgrounds. Having to figure out a way to get each of them to trust you was a hassle you aren’t looking forward to. 

“Can we focus?” You seethe, finally glaring at the Captain of the 141. “My team is gettin’ their asses sold by the Cartel and none of y’all wanna fix this? I know where they are. This can’t be that hard to take!”

Price, keeping an eye from afar, takes a drag from his cigar. He stares at you for a long moment. “Why are you in such a rush? Does your little team not have the capacity to handle themselves?”

“That’s the look of-a irritated leader, Captain,” Garrick comments, eyes flickering from under his hat. He looks… angry? “Their team is goin’ against ‘em.”

May the gods above help your patience. “Will you shut up about the Adders? Of course I’m irritated. None of you are taking this seriously!”

“Y’could always just tell us, lad.” Soap leans closer, his eyes dangerously dark. “Tell us why the rush.”

…

…

…

You sigh. They needed to know, it seemed.

“They got themselves access to a biochemical weapon known as the CMACC. Chemically Modified Arsenic-Cadmium Compound. The CMACC was designed by a military facility in Northern France.”

All four of the men sit up a little, eyeing each other cautiously.

“The operation the Adders went on was to retrieve the CMACC, abduct the scientist responsible, and destroy any and all trace of scientific notes about it.” Garrick’s tone is low. “That didn’t go to plan, did it?”

“I lost all contact with the Adders shortly after receiving the notification that they’d collected it. Five hours later, Mexican news outlets had their hands on a mysterious outbreak in a remote city. Arsenic and Cadmium contact.” 

Your eyes lower. You hadn’t meant for this to happen. You wanted the weapon destroyed, not used. Not mass produced. So when one of your retired soldiers gave you insight to their plans of straight up terrorism, you knew you needed to react. The 141 is your only hope at this point. If you aren’t careful, you won’t be able to protect anybody. 

“So why now?” You blink up at Price’s voice. “Why come to us now?”

“The Adders want to use the CMACC as way to… threaten the people. If they don’t give up information on the Cartel…” Soap finishes for you. “They’ll set ‘em off… Fuckin’ hell… It’s Shadow all over again.”

You bite your lips at that. You’d worked with Shadow Co really closely in the past, up until a recent mishap had you questioning your f— your coworker. Had you really become another Shadow Co? No… Maybe your Adders did. But you hadn’t.

“I don’t know why my Adders turned,” You admit. “I don’t know why they went rogue. They’re better than that, I know it.”

Price leans forward tone quieting as he asks, “Then why do you think it’s them?”

“An old friend sent me intel. And if that wasn’t enough, I woke up on the streets with nothing but a snake-shaped brand in the middle of my arm,” you bitterly say, teeth gritting. “Bruises on every inch of my skin and blood in my mouth…”

Garrick takes several quick steps over, lifting up your sleeves and removing the bandage he’d put on. Sure enough, the 141 earns the sight of sickly skin, and a set of knife carvings in the shape of an adder. And right along the center was a large, deep X. 

They left the Adders.

Garrick hadn’t said anything at the time. But he’d seen it, and he tried not to let it get in his head. He doesn’t trust it. But the bitter tone you hold and the gloss in your eyes tugs at his heartstrings more than he’ll ever admit.

“They aren’t lying, either,” Garrick says to the team. “Couldn’t even walk on their own.”

“Thanks,” you mutter bitterly. But, in all fairness, you don’t see the way his deep brown eyes glimmer. You miss the subtle glance he gives you, and then Price, the moment you lower your gaze.

Price nods slowly and brings his hands up to his beard. At this point, a new danger has appeared. It’s not just the classic Cartel crash or an arms deal. This is a weapon that can cause far too much damage for anyone’s liking. 

“Alright,” Price’s gruff voice rings out, adjusting his position to fold his arms across his chest. “We’ll head out. On two conditions, Captain.”

You nod quietly from your seat. At this point, you’re desperate for help. You’ve got no where else to go, and no one else who will listen. It doesn’t help that Soap and Ghost are talking amongst themselves, eyes unamused and filled with a deep and unwarranted look of displeasure. 

Price takes a dangerous step closer. One of his large hands rests firmly against your shoulders, his hat covering the tops of his eyes in a threatening way.

“A: You’re attached at the hip to Sergeant Garrick.” Though he tries, Price silence Garrick with a firm look. “And B: You turn yourself in the moment this all is over.”

You swallow. None of what your team did was bad. Not until now. But… you lead them. You’re the common denominator, as unfortunate and unfair as it is. 

You have no choice. “Yes, Sir.”

“Aye, “But don’t expect me to go easy on them.” Garrick says, taking in a deep breath and looking around at the rest of the 141.

“Kill them if they get outta hand,” Price seethes, walking out the door. “No sweat off my back.”

With that, the rest trail out behind the Captain. And you’re left in the dark room with your thoughts while they, presumably, gear up.

———

“Move.”

You might actually explode. 

After a lot of convincing, Price had eventually given you access to the armory to suit up. It wasn’t fancy, nor was it organized, but it’d work. Gaz delivered your uniform back to you, which had still been in his room. You promptly discarded the Adder patch, and Ghost fitted you with a bulletproof tac vest and a thigh holster. 

They didn’t let you fill it.

Gaz had kept an eye on you, just as Price has ordered. His dark gaze always stayed on your hands, watching for the slightest hint of movement that you might try to sabotage them. After, your bicep was held by the annoyed Sergeant, dragging you to the helicopter that Nik had prepared. 

Which is what lead you to this moment. Being squished up against the Sergeant, who has his eyes locked firmly on you. He pushes at your legs, attempting to scoot you away further. Instead, you get pinned to the metal wall of the helo, which elicits a low growl out of you. 

There’s a moment of regret when Gaz’ hand comes out to pin you against the edge of the airborne vehicle, grip all too tight. 

“I said move,” he seethes, eyes searching your entire body. For what, you aren’t sure, but you’re aware that they drag up and down your entire form before releasing you. “Snake…”

Maybe if the bitter taste your old team left in your mouth wasn’t so fresh, that insult wouldn’t have stung so much. What would it take for them to realize you’re trying to fix this. You didn’t want this! You never did. But there’s not much to do. Nothing but sit and take the insults. Lords know they’re all waiting for any excuse to end your life they can get their hands on. 

You keep yourself crimped up against the wall, not daring to make the Sergeant any more irritated than he already is. So you resort to just… watching the scene. The way that Garrick fiddles with a patch in his hands, one you can’t quite make out but assume is his 141 patch, and the way his eyes seem lost in thought.

He looks conflicted, in a way. He prolly doesn’t want to do this. In a way, you don’t blame him — Any of them. After what happened with Shadow Company, you almost expected to be shot on sight. And if they knew, they might think the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. But that apple had rolled far, far away, right?

At least, you thought.

Shadow Company had been good at one point. Maybe morally ambiguous, but… they meant to protect people. 

So did the Adders.

And look where that lead to.

Maybe the apple was still attached to the tree...

“We’re ‘ere…” Soap’s voice echos through the comms device around your neck. “Get ‘em ready, lad.” Gaz nods, grasping your arm with a vice grip. “You think I’m lettin’ them go?”

A loud roar of a laugh leaves the Scotsman, his eyes shimmering as he punches the Sergeant’s shoulder. It’s an endearing sight to you, if a bit painful. It reminds you of some of your own soldiers, the ways they’d tease and taunt and just… exist. Like normal people. Not soldiers, not bloody fields, not knocking on deaths door at every corner. Just… people.

You miss them.

If it weren’t for Gaz shaking you up and yanking you out of the helicopter in front of everyone else, you probably would have cried. But Gaz doesn’t waste any time, dragging your body roughly through the golden fields of Tecate, Mexico and towards the safe house on a nearby hill. 

The warehouse is nothing fancy, but that’s sort of the point. It’s meant to be secluded, dark, and unnoticeable. And the inside isn’t any better. Dingy furniture, processed and canned rations, dust and grime on every inch of the wall, and the foul scent of mold fills the environment. The Sergeant doesn’t ease his grip on you when you sniffle, blinking back tears that threaten to spill at his roughness.

You’re tossed to the floor of a secluded room and locked inside. For now, it seems this is how you’ll be. Not even the pain in your wrists from the all too tight zip-ties can distract you from it all. Tied up and left to think of your old team, the parallels to your father, and the way Gaz or the rest of the 141 didn’t even pay you any mind. You really don’t exist to them outside of the label ‘Terrorist,’ no matter what you do.

What a bitter pill to swallow.

[smbilodeau]

9/11

This was originally written five years ago. Things haven't changed, so perhaps it's time to post this again. -----

“Never forget.”

I’m seeing that a lot today.

“Never forget.” It’s about the 9/11 attacks, of course.

I haven’t. I won’t. We’re not allowed to.

Let me tell you what I haven’t forgotten.

I haven’t forgotten odd comments from other visitors at Neuschwanstein Castle, where Criss and I (and her sister Toni and Toni’s husband Bob) were on September 11th, 2001. We were on vacation in Europe, celebrating Toni and Bob’s 50th wedding anniversary. We’d spent the previous week in Paris. We’d overheard a few remarks about the “accident in New York” but didn’t know what that referred to.

I haven’t forgotten returning to our hotel, and having the desk clerk express her sorrow about the “planes in New York” when we stopped to collect our keys to our rooms. We expressed our confusion. She said that she was sorry about the planes flying into the World Trade Center towers in New York City, as she knew we were from New York.

I haven’t forgotten our shock, our rush to our room, our frantic cycling through channels on the hotel television trying to find something that would tell us what had happened that wasn’t in German. Our worry about Lara, in NYC, who we knew had recently moved to a new apartment in Chelsea, our lack of knowledge about just where Chelsea was in relation to the towers.

I haven’t forgotten being unable to reach Lara by phone, our growing desperation to reach someone, anyone, who’d heard from her since the crashes.

I haven’t forgotten seeing the second crash on endless repeat on CNN International while Criss was trying to get through to Lara on the phone.

I haven’t forgotten the next hour as we trekked to a nearby computer cafe, and began trying to reach friends and family by instant messaging, the difficulties of using a German keyboard, the lack of news from the few people I was able to reach.

I haven’t forgotten the relief, the bone-deep release of fear that was on Criss’ face when, later, she finally got through to Lara’s answering machine and heard a message from Lara letting everyone that she was all right, that the crashes hadn’t affected her.

I haven’t forgotten the Europe-wide moment of silence the following Friday, ninety seconds of utter silence even in the heart of a major modern metropolis, as all voices were stilled, as all traffic stopped, as all broadcasts were stilled.

I haven’t forgotten the way that we, as Americans, were treated by complete strangers on our way home, the kindness, the sympathy, the utter compassion with which our fellow human beings responded to the tragedy in New York City

“Never forget.”

I haven’t forgotten the way the country came together after that, in our misery, in our loss for a few brief weeks. But only a few brief weeks.

I haven’t forgotten the way the then-administration of this country pissed away every bit of good will that the world had given us because of our loss, in the name of petty revenge and party politics.

I haven’t forgotten the endless, pointless wars in which they entangled us. How could I forget what we’re still embroiled in, eighteen years later?

I haven’t forgotten that the leader of the current administration’s only public response on that day was to go on TV within hours of the towers fall to brag about now owning the tallest building in New York because of their fall.

I haven’t forgotten the rights that we’ve been stripped of because of bad legislation rammed through in fear and jingoism, nor the security theater in airports we’re forced to endure every time we fly because of that same cowardice.

“Never forget.”

I haven’t. I won’t. We’re not allowed to.

I hope you’ll forgive me if I choose not to wallow in this annual misery and faux-patriotic stoking of all the worse aspects of our country’s self-image. Instead, I’m going to wish my niece a very happy birthday, and try to do something happy with the day.

What I want you to never forget is that the best response to terrorism is not fear, or cowering, or sadness, but joy in what we still have, in what we still can be. Be joyful today. May your day be happier than you expect, and brighter than you hoped for.

Joy, my friends. Never forget joy.

[mrs-monaghan]

Hybe didn't?

Lmao they were no.1

Things hybe 'did' for Jimin FACE era

1. Denied him of 4 MV, to artist who build that fuxking company. While giving their rookies 4 MVs on 1st album, Yoongi and Hobi a documentary and now a world tour. Apparently 4 MVs request is unreasonable, my ass.

2. Lets forget about other international platforms but they Didn't raised a finger against hanteo robbery even if it's their own home country. Still no one knows where that 770K sales went. Conveniently stole his #1 soloist sales record.

3. Didn't sent LC to radio even after mass request from fans and it achieving no1 on BB, left all work to be done by fans. LC had a very big opportunity to go even big but how much fans can do without a single support from agency ?

4. No celebrations or theme cakes like other members, no interviews or hype after No.1 BB like bangtan had during dynamite era. When rest country was celebrating and their share prices shoot up. Even Jimin's dad's friends celebrated while it's silence from his agency.

5. Even his pre orders still not shipped which is affecting charts. It's been a month, mind you. Took days to restore CDs in BTS store. Took days to add LC to This is BTS Playlist, which is the biggest we can have, while haegum was added in a day.

6. Army were begging them about BB situation for 3 WEEKS but no response but conveniently corrected the website just a day before D DAY. No comments regarding his 90%+ sales being deleted while all K media were writing about the BB payola.

7. Cut down his promotion to 10 fucking days leaving even Jimin disappointed and doubtful about his promos. Just to announce a whole new album in a week and killed hype of FACE.

8. Threw him to hands of kpoppies and antis, they were rentlessly attacking him since SMF dropped, articles were written, they were making sexual harassment and rape jokes against him. 'Artist protection' no where to be found. Didn't even took down korean articles or hate blogs.

9. Made him overwork and finish everything within 10 days till he was sick. He attended parties with tapes on his neck and was sick af by end of promos, even on BB hot 100 announcement day.

10. Remember when Filter was removed from iTunes when it began outstreaming ON ? Yeah same thing happened. FACE tied with BTS record for iTunes album IMMEDIATELY next day there was a 'glitch' and FACE falled.

That's an accurate depiction of me rn. I said in a comment and I'll say it here. I love Jimin with everything I own, but I'm gonna need my man to start having some sort of defiance. He doesn't see his potential, fine. But he needs to start prioritising himself. He don't need to be putting others infront of himself all the damn time. Did other members put their shit on hold for his sake? No. He was born to shine...its why he's so hated because he doesn't need to do much and people will gravitate towards him. If YT didn't do what they did SMF and LC would both have over 100M views by now. No seriously think about it. Forget the streamers like u and me. We have 74 million subscribers on Bangtan TV and 70 M subs on Hybe labels. Then Jimin has 49M followers on insta. Lets say 10 million are people with multiple accounts. That leaves 39M followers. Again, forget the streamers. Lets say there is a person who is busy so they only have time to watch his MVs once before going to work and once before bed. Then we of course have the haters obsessed with Jimin who also watched the MVs at least once. Add the fact that both MVs for sometime were number 1 and 3 on trending which means locals who like to see what's trending clicked on the songs and watched them. And then that's when the streamers come in. The math does not math no matter how much u try. The fact that LC doesn't even have 50 million views is absolutely ridiculous.

But, I digressed. Back on topic. Hybe did do him dirty. BH been doing him dirty for fucking years. But he stays. If you've been listening. You will notice Suga and Jimin are the two members who've been the most vocal about coming back as 7. I'm not saying the rest don't want that, but Yoonmin do appear to want that the most.

We have seen Jimin refuse to go hard when he's dancing with people who are not as good. The TT he did with TXT he did not even try. He took the cute route. And that's not the only one. VIBE he could have gone harder, but u can see he is holding back because that is not his song, he was a feature. Watch how he dances with Suga versus how he dances with Jhope. U will see a clear difference. Jimin has always, always put other people into consideration. Its why u will see when V is making fun of Jimin he won't stop and keeps going and going. But when Jimin is making fun of V, he will catch himself and stop and admit he has gone to far.

He has always put Bangtan before himself and it sucks. Look at JK "what are they gonna do, fire me?" JK knows the power he holds and uses it and takes advantage of it. He knows he's indispensable. But then so is Jimin and I wish he would follow his boyfriend's lead because this is absurd. Other members have gotten sm and he got so little. How and why was he okay with this?

I would bet my right arm (I'm right handed btw) that he has also put BTS before his relationship and could have been the cause of some of their fights. And u know JK sees whats happening and doesn't like it one bit. BH weren't promoting his man to his satisfaction so JK did a whole live dedicated to Jimin. He said; fine, I'll do it myself.

Y'all think I'm kidding when I say JK stays for Jimin 🧐

I hope military service hardens Jimin and he comes back with an attitude because this man deserves to reach even greater heights than he already has.

Fuck Hybe and Bighit with a fucking cactus I'm fucking done with this shit

[jameswilsonsupremacy]

the 2023 trans kid’s spelling bee

(**originally written in April of 2023, can be watched here.)

first contestant.

your word is… eradication.

definition: to do away with as completely, as if pulling up by the roots. eradication.

eradication. E-R-A-D-I-C… I see…

…increased death rates for transgender people all across this country.

I see my entire community go into a unified state of pure panic.

I see a group of people doing whatever we can to calm each other down because we are terrified.

terrified of how we are silenced despite our screaming,

of the deconstruction of the very little rights we have,

of becoming the next dead kid in the news.

but who are we kidding, it won’t be our names to identify us.

only our gender.

because the people marked in red cheer on the spoken words

transgenderism must be eradicated from public life entirely.

and the people marked in blue are not doing enough.

yet it isn’t about red or blue or any of the other colors that honestly seem to replace the blood of american citizens,

because political parties seem to be much more important of an identifier instead of the human lives at risk of unimaginable loss.

still… it IS imaginable.

because we are seeing the start of mass destruction of an entire human race.

i watch people debate what step of genocide we are at because everything is moving so quickly;

so quickly that i am afraid that i could have missed the important news deciding my safety in this country.

i witness the hope drain from the eyes of my siblings all over the country

and i pray that my own ambition continues to stay alive.

because i honestly don’t know how much longer i can fight this;

i don’t know how much longer i can fight to find more reasons to survive.

they claim that it is to ‘protect the children’,

but what about the countless children who now watch in fear of the horrific outcomes?

what about the children just like me who never really got to be a kid

and now i’ll be eighteen in October with a childhood full of fighting to prove the fact that i am allowed to be alive.

it‘s not my traumas that made me trans;

i fear the person who helped me grow into who i am today.

the first girl i ever told took advantage of me to the point that i am still stuck

picking up the shattered pieces of myself that she selfishly demolished.

i cannot truthfully respond to the question of who first knew i was trans other than myself

because i know she supported me endlessly as i figured myself out.

and while i sometimes wish i could have hidden myself in the closet to hide it from her,

i know her toxic leechings of my confidence cannot shake who i am.

pressuring someone back into the closet does not erase their identity.

taking away our rights and our freedoms will not erase our identities.

forcibly outing trans people to try and ‘shame’ us socially will not stop us from being ourselves.

i try to find the radiant examples of trans joy but i am struggling.

i am struggling to smile at the progression in the world because there is far too much regression for it to be okay.

i would never wish a fraction of my distress on anyone.

but i’m in a safe state, Michigan, so i shouldn’t worry, right?

no.

this is not an individual state issue,

this is a human rights issue and i will scream it until my throat is red and raw and feels as if there is blood coating

every inch of it.

because i will not stop begging for people to realize that we are under attack

and i am scared.

i cannot just ignore that fear but i will pretend that i am confident in my safety

because my cis friends and my cis family will never understand what it feels like to see people cheer over the extermination of your own kind.

sorry.

the eradication of my kind.

so let me spell it out for you… eradication.

the–mass–GENOCIDE–of an entire population.

eradication.

-L.R.K.

[claire-starsword]

Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 2-3 & 2-4

"You're Gong's pupil!?"

Bleu freaked out when Karna introduced herself. Because he thought his huge Master Monk ally from the Shining Force and that dainty girl made a weird combination.

"It shouldn't be that shocking…" Karna pouted, her cheeks glowing by the bonfire's light. Her hair, silver with a rosy tint and in a tall updo, looked like it had an orange glow to it when against the night scenery.

"Also, I'm not officially his pupil yet. That's why I'm chasing after a master as great as him, I want to be accepted properly."

She put her chartreuse shawl back on, and hugged her knees within her white robe with golden embroidery.

"Gong never stays in a place for long. Looking for him must be tough."

Bleu gave a wry smile as he reminisced of Gong, who always had a serious look on his face as he walked in silence. He was a strange man, who preferred to be under the stars than having a roof over his head.

"Yeah. I had a loooot of trouble to find out he's in Manarina. And after aaall that… I did hear that the mages there use monsters to protect their country, but I didn't think they'd be this bad."

"That's not it," Krin rebuffed loudly from the other side of the fire. Cerberus, laying down on the ground, perked her ears at the sudden shout of her master. Both of her heads stared at Krin with worry.

"We're a whole day away from reaching Manarina. Who knows how many monsters you'd need to protect a radius that wide. They wouldn't do something so absurd no matter what. Or attack people without mercy like that. And most of all, Manarina has no reason to be on lockdown…"

She cut herself off.

"Or there might be one now," Karin completed her sister's dark thoughts.

"But, I never saw a fog-like monster like that at Manarina. There's no summoning magic capable of bringing something like that."

"Indeed. Those demons are Dark Smokes, malice given shape," Camallia told them after being silent so far.

"If you know them, does that mean they're from Parmecia?" Bleu asked, and she nodded.

"Clearly, something has come to this land of Rune."

Camallia narrowed her emerald green eyes, as if thinking of something.

"We'll be fine as long as nothing has happened to Manarina. Let's set out as early as possible tomorrow."

By Bleu's suggestion, they all went to sleep.

Save for Bleu and Karin who stood doing watch, everyone wrapped themselves on their traveling cloaks and laid down. It was a warm night. With the thick cloaks and bonfire, the night air didn't help the girls cool down one bit.

The firewood cracked occasionally, making Cerberus' ears twitch. Save for those noises, the night went on silently.

"Karin…" Bleu whispered, turning to the girl at the other side of the fire, who had her back turned to him. They had been staring in opposite directions to watch over the whole area. The others slept quietly next to them.

"Karin…" he whispered again. No answer.

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm not angry," she replied this time. "I might be looking like it because I'm sleepy. Once the moon rises a bit more, I'll let Camallia take my place."

She still had her back turned on him as she answered, but, as if suddenly thinking of something, she looked at him.

"Never mind that, are you okay without sleeping?"

"Haha, that's because I'm different from you all. It's no problem for me," he laughed.

"Yeah… Of course. You're different from us. You're a Sacred Dragon. Sorry, I'm tired so I'll switch with Camallia now."

She went to wake up Camallia without giving him time to reply. With drowsy eyes now opened, Camallia nodded in understanding without saying anything. Karin wrapped herself in the cloak next to her and curled into sleeping position, her conversation with Bleu ending there.

The embers reflected in Bleu's eyes danced weakly to the wind.

4

The following dawn came. The group hurried to Manarina, with Karna having joined them.

Karna had said that, with a Sacred Dragon by her side, she could surely get to Manarina safe and sound. Bleu allowed her to come along. He only meant to protect her until they arrived. He and Karin had no clue just how deeply grateful and interested in them she had become.

Bleu went flying to survey the way ahead. With his wings spread out horizontally, and his head and tail stretched out, he looked like a beautiful cross.

The group crossed the desert region surrounding Manarina. Krin had done just fine by being smart and riding on Cerberus' back, but Karna dragged things out quite literally by getting her legs stuck in the sand.

Though it wasn't just her; Karin and Camallia also struggled for having never traveled through a desert before.

At last, they could see the walls surrounding Manarina. It was a beautiful construction, covered entirely in reliefs of geometrical patterns. Spells and magic stones were placed in strategic points. This magical wall powered a strong barrier that protected the town.

Once they arrived, the group went straight to Otrant's mansion, taking no time to rest.

Within the walls were a bunch of houses of many different shapes crammed together. It looked like an architectural exhibition. Otrant's mansion was in the very center of that agglomeration.

The mage who welcomed them only wanted to let the Sacred Dragon and Krin inside, but Bleu rejected that.

"These girls have information that needs to be discussed with the Great Wizard Otrant."

His words carried weight as a Sacred Dragon, so the mage with a dull green beard reluctantly let them all inside.

They all entered the majestic place, with even Karna coming in last, seizing the opportunity as no one would stop her. She threw a mischievous and smug grin at the stern bearded mage at the doorway, then quickly got inside.

The mage made a displeased face, and closed the door without a sound.

Surrounded by many silent mages, the greatest wizard of Manarina was laying down on a bed.

"I'm sorry, Sir Bleu," was the first thing Otrant said.

"What happened?" Bleu asked, "I did not hear that an illness had befallen you."

"No, it is no illness. It is shameful, but I fell to a monster attack the other day. Please forgive me for the discourtesy of receiving you in bed. No, more important than that, forgive me for letting the Manual be stolen."

"What did you…"

Surprised, Camallia approached the great wizard. The feelings that had spurned her on were written in her creased eyebrows.

"Tyrin, I told you to not let anyone uninvolved come in…"

Noticing the girls behind Bleu, Otrant questioned the stern mage from before.

Vexed, the mage named Tyrin apologized. Bleu hastily intervened for him. Though it was late to do it, he introduced Camallia and the other girls.

"So, you say you came from a distant continent to Rune, seeking the Manual?"

Camallia nodded at Otrant.

"Yet, the Manual can be a great danger depending on who possesses it. We intended to get Sir Bleu's approval here to seal it forever."

"Certainly, the Manual should not be used for the resurrection of things such as the Demon King Darksol, and the Dark Dragon that received his soul. We must avoid this. However, in my land to the north, the Manual is urgently needed. The Sacred Dragons who protect the power of the earth need its power. Should they fall, the uncontrolled earth will run wild, and bring meaningless destruction."

"There is no destruction with meaning anywhere in this world… Also, could you explain what is this 'Power of the Earth'?"

"It is power within the earth. Used well, it brings great blessings to the people, but used by evil, it will tear the earth apart and swallow everything. It is clear that evil creatures who desire this power have come to this land. The ship that brought me here was assaulted, and monsters of Parmecia attacked us on our way here as well, likely trying to delay us."

"Monsters attacked your party and stole the Manual. It might have been the same group, or they might be allies. From a distant, foreign land…"

Otrant's face contorted with growing anxiety.

"Then, wouldn't all of this be the work of people trying to revive Dark Dragon?"

Tyrin spoke from the row of mages gathered in the room. The others chided him for speaking without being asked.

"The monsters went from Rindo to Shade Abbey. If they wished to revive Dark Dragon, they would head straight to the Gate of the Ancients to the south. They seem to be heading to the opposite direction. If their aim is a continent to the north, they must get a ship. But our forces extend to both Rindo and the western bay. Given that, there's only one place where they could get a ship."

"Uranbatol, or perhaps Waral," Krin answered Otrant, "that's where they're headed."

"Camallia, can't you pinpoint the Manual's location again?" Bleu requested, remembering what she had done back at Rudo Village.

"No, it's impossible here. It seems to be because of the barrier, so unless I leave the town for a moment…" Looking a bit scared, she touched her circlet's jewel.

"So, chasing after them will be a bit complicated…"

Bleu mumbled to himself. Karin immediately complained.

"Don't tell me you want to chase after them. That's impossible, you won't reach them in time."

"But we can't just stay still here, can we?"

"Those devils should be past Shade Abbey already. It's too late, there's no way we would catch up to them."

"If I fly, I can definitely catch up to them as they enter the Pao Plains. Besides, I shouldn't take you all to something this dangerous anyway. I'm going, by myself," Bleu told her like she was an unruly child. Perhaps looking at her like that was an excuse to justify his idea.

"There's no point in going alone, what do you think you can do by yourself?" Watching Karin raise her voice, Krin and Karna frantically got between the two.

"Sir Bleu, Lady Karin is correct," Camallia stated plainly, supporting Karin. "The Manual is not something that belongs to you only."

At a loss for words, Bleu stared blankly at the two girls, moving his head to one and the other multiple times.

The one who lent him an unexpected helping hand was none other than Otrant.

"The Manual has been under the Sacred Dragons' control for a long time. The responsibility and rights to it now fall upon Sir Bleu as one of them. He was destined to be part of the Shining Force since the beginning, just as the hero Max and the robot Adam. Protecting the Manual is his duty as Sacred Dragon. We have no right to intervene."

"But we shouldn't put up with a right that forces one to do the impossible, or throw reason away," Karin argued head on with Otrant. Brushing away Krin, who tried to keep her quiet, she took a step forward. Krin was stuck in a big dilemma, her sister's unyielding spirit being a terrible headache at the moment.

"Then, it would be great to have a possible, reasonable, well planned pursuit."

Surprising everyone in the room, Tyrin spoke. The other mages all scorned at his impertinence. Otrant quelled their ire, and let him continue.

"A dwarf acquaintance of mine knows a way through the northern mountains. Crossing that path and going through the Pao Plains, how about we enlist the mercenaries at the Pao Train to ambush the devils? A safe, necessary strategy."

Otrant showed interest in Tyrin's suggestion.

"It is not a bad idea. Around this time of the year, the Pao Train should be staying at the west. It things go well, we might be able to surround them with the pursuing party we sent earlier, or with the soldiers of Bustoke. But, this quick path over the mountains that you speak of, does it really exist?"

"It is not over them. The dwarf path goes through the mountains. In either case, we cannot send a force bigger than this one from here. It would take too much time to ask Shade Abbey or Bustoke for reinforcements. I believe relying on the people of Pao is the wise thing to do."

"True. Do you agree? Sacred Dragon Bleu, and, Karin of Rudo Village."

If they could depart right away, Bleu had no objection to it. He could decide between heading to Pao or taking a detour to Bustoke depending on how things went.

Karin reluctantly agreed with the plan as well. There was no reason to continue to be stubborn there. At least she could stop Bleu from running ahead and obsessing over the Manual so much. She held the edge of his wing like she would never let go.

She had made it clear that she would be coming along, and Bleu didn't want to fight on that there. On the contrary, without freeing himself from her grip, he opened his wing slightly in her direction.

"Then, I leave to you, Tyrin, the choice of who will go along Sir Bleu. I will prepare you provisions and a proof of your identity to Queen Koron. As a representative of Manarina, go with Sir Bleu until the Manual's fate is decided."

Tyrin bowed in reverence to Otrant.

"Sir Bleu, is it fine for you to take Tyrin along?"

Bleu nodded slightly when asked. No reason to refuse it then and there as well.

"Should you successfully reach the monsters, retrieving the Manual takes priority to defeating them. Once the Manual is recovered, you decide what should be done with it. We can lend our power to seal it back in Dragonia, or you might destroy it immediately, do as you wish."

"What did you… Destroy it, that's…"

Bleu looked shocked at the bedridden great wizard. Everyone else did as much. Camallia remained quiet.

"Should it fall on evil hands once more, unsealed, there will be no choice but destroying it. I believe only you can do it. Should the time come, if you may, do not hesitate," Otrant said severely, and then took a deep, tired breath. Just talking seemed to have exhausted the great wizard significantly. Pretty much everything had already been discussed. All that remained was to decide what to do. Prompted by the mages, Bleu and his group left Otrant's mansion.

"Well, shall we go then?"

Tyrin, who had left with them, did a light stretch. He must have been holding it back to keep a proper stance in front of Otrant. And there was someone else who had been patiently holding back on speaking all this time.

"They finally let us go. That kind of uptight place isn't my thing."

Karna took an exaggerated deep breath, then abruptly called Tyrin.

"Old man, old man."

"Hey, hey, who are you calling an old man. I'm still young, I'd rather you don't treat me like an elder. You seem to have elf blood as well, you could be quite old," Tyrin threw back at her, looking terribly upset. Though to Karin, who was in her twenties, he really looked like the perfect image of an old man and nothing else.

"But I'm just about to be seventeen…"

Hearing that, Tyrin was speechless. To a long lived elf, that was basically a baby.

He sighed, and Karin and Krin laughed awkwardly at that. Though Bleu and Camallia didn't make a sound, their lips quivered as well.

"So, I just wanted to ask you something, do you know a monk called Gong?"

Karna brought up her main question, unconcerned for the mental damage she had just inflicted on him.

"A monk? I do have the feeling I've seen one around," Tyrin answered, scratching his beard as he recalled a faint memory. Karna's face brightened up at the answer.

"Where where where, wheeere is he?"

"In the place we're going now," Tyrin jumped away in a panic from the girl who had grabbed him with plenty of strength.

"And where are you taking us?" Krin asked, pushing him away with her arms as he came flying at her all of a sudden.

"I believe you know that better than anyone. Come, let's not waste time."

He winked at her, and hurried off.

To next part>

Translation notes:

Karna has a quirk of dragging out her vowels a lot, mostly when she's complaining, but also when excited as well. I did include it in the translation as much as I could where it didn't look weird, but it's even more notable in the og text, where it's also more consistently at the very end of her sentences. Also, this is a novel only quirk, she doesn't speak like that in the game. She does sound pretty different in the JP version compared to the localization though, so I've retranslated all her scenes for your convenience if you want to compare all portrayals of her.

Lots of color descriptions confuse me in this book, such as Karna's hair being "silver with rosy tint" and Tyrin's beard being "dull green" (though i can kinda buy this one a little more). It's worth mentioning that, in the afterword, the author mentions playing the games by borrowing as he did not have a Mega Drive. So I'm unsure how much reference he had to work with. Also, Karna does have pink hair in the overworld due to palette limitations.

The monsters are usually called 魔物 (mamono), a word that can also translate as demon/devil (though slightly different from the one used for the demon kings, 悪魔 (akuma)). Since they seem tied to the devil kings anyway, I've been using all possible translations to not make the text repetitive.

The monster types are usually presented with kanji describing them at first, and furigana giving the english name they have in game. For example, the Dark Smokes were presented last chapter as "fog-like monsters" in kanji, and "Dark Smoke" in furigana. After that the text just referred to them as Dark Smokes. But since it's revealed here that no one except Camallia recognized them, I avoided using the name in the previous part. It felt weird to add narration clarifying the name there only to have this conversation here later.

Max is not referred by name here, Otrant simply calls him "the hero". That flows very weirdly though, especially next to Adam's name, so I added it in. I find it a bit weird to pretend these heroes don't have canon names.

Adam is referred to by his promoted class name, 機神 (kishin), something like "mechanical god". I put it as robot only to not stand out too much people who only know the english version (I refuse to call him a cyborg though, that's just wrong).

As I said before, Max is referred to as "hero", which is also his promoted class, but I can nerd out a bit more about it. The exact word used is 勇者 (yuusha), which means "hero", "brave person", and to my knowledge is the most common word for jrpg heroes in general, so of course it is the word for the class in Shining games... except the first one! There were quite a few changes in japanese class names after the first game that went unnoticed in the english version due it adapting them as the same. In the first game, the hero class is 英雄 (eiyuu), which to my knowledge puts more emphasis on the person's deeds, as in "someone who has gone down in history". Since the character are still in the middle of their great adventure when they promote, this might be why they changed it, but that's just my speculation. Either way, Max would show up in another game eventually (Final Conflict), so he does get the 勇者 class like everyone else there. None of this has any bearing in this novel but now you know.

For all his protests about not being an old man, Tyrin uses the わし (washi) pronoun, associated with old men. This is different from the game, where he uses the more regular and formal watashi.

[partum-memoriae-muses]

Name: Aria

Series: Fandomless

Faceclaim: Michiru Kaioh from Sailor Moon

Age: 25

Height: 5'2"

Birthday: February 25th 18XX

Birthplace: Unnamed England-based country

Species: Human with the blood/ability of sirens

Occupation: Dancer/Singer (previously) , Princess by marriage (previously), Vagabond (currently)

Orientation: Pansexual

Father: Unnamed (deceased)

Mother: Unnamed (deceased)

Spouse(s): Unnamed Prince (Husband, deceased)

Bio:

Aria is a young woman with a special gift. She is descended from sirens from back when knights and mermaids roamed the world, and this gift is the ability to cast magical spells using the power of her voice when she sings. It's a gift she has to keep hidden, as told by her parents when she was a child. Yet her parents died when she was a little girl from an illness, which left Aria alone to wander the world as an orphan child.

Aria carried life as a singer and dancer with a group of traveling entertainers. Her songs and dancing set people at ease, believing she was just gifted instead of being truly magical, until she caught the attention of a king's 2nd son. She was preforming for the palace in a country she didn't know, but her performance had left the prince in awe where he would approach her to ask for a dance.

Although whispers emerged disapproving that the prince marry a lowly entertainer, they still starting a loving relationship. They would be married the next Summer, where everyone would be in shock in how beautiful she looked on her wedding day. Whispers of shame turned into whispers of pride that such an elegant woman would be marrying a prince, who held the title of a Duke unless something happened to his older brother. The two were head over heels for each other, with Aria spilling her secret of her magical voice to him. He vowed never to tell a soul but the king caught word of it and had awful plans in mind.

Yet her husband didn't know his older brother and the king were conspiring against him. The reason? They wanted to use Aria's singing voice as a weapon. As her husband would obviously be against it, he was ambushed and held captive. Aria begged for her husband's freedom, which went all according to their plan to use Aria as a weapon. They wanted to use her voice to murder whoever they wanted to gain political power and respect.

As a descendent of a siren, there was a defense mechanic to her voice. With a darker tone in her songs and words, Aria's voice could kill people. The process was as though they were suffocating, as though her dark singing voice commanded all the air to flow out from someone. She had only used it a handful of times to defend herself from thieves and attackers, but she wasn't the kind of person to want to kill others.

With pain in her heart, she agreed where she would use her voice for spells to kill whoever the king wanted. All the while, she's believing that her husband will be returned to her soon. What she didn't know is that the king murdered his own son upon immediately capturing him. Why? The king and his first born son believed that they could play on Aria's weak heart forever if they just kept telling her that he would be released soon.

When her job was done, the king's rivals all defeated with the dark air of her songs, she would beg for her husband back. He refused, saying she had to keep singing for him or else he would kill her husband, little did she know he was dead already for some time. He wanted her to sing until she dropped dead, but it wasn't Aria who would be dropping dead.

She didn't want to kill the king, too innocent for this world to believe that a king just had to be honest. Aria didn't know that dishonesty was the common practice for a king. As much as she didn't want to, she had put her foot down.

Approaching the king's room, she began her dark song and killed the king. When he collapsed on the floor in an attempt to approach her and strangle her to silence her song, he had died there. She stole the prison keys from his body and ran to the underground cells, sending the guards to sleep with a peaceful melody.

Upon entering the cell, she could barely hide her screams of grief. There in that cell to rot was her beloved husband, the prince she loved more than anything in this world. Fearing for her own safety, as the one man who would protect her was dead, Aria knew she couldn't stay in this country. She would flee into the night with tears streaming down her face.

As her husband's brother assisted in all of this, he knew Aria was the one who killed the king. For revenge and to wipe his hands clean, he called for Aria's execution and told the country that she was a witch who killed his brother and the king for status. Once whispers of praise for her elegance and kindness turned into ones of how she must have been the devil's concubine for murdering their beloved ruler. All the while never knowing how sick and twisted the king was.

Tears down her face as she continued to flea, many swore they heard the sound of a ghost wailing in agony from her sobs into the night. Once an innocent young woman, who found love and believed the world was good, had to run away from it all.

A fugitive for the murder of the king, prince and a user of witchcraft, she roams from place to place in search of somewhere away from all royalty. All she can really do is find a way to pick up the pieces and continue with her life again, even as it's hard. She still grieves for her husband and almost wishes she was just an ordinary human woman, perhaps then they could have had a happy life together. Yet she has chosen never to sing to others again, only to herself. Her magical singing voice does not work on herself, but she still sings to herself just to hold on to the one thing she used to love doing.

Aria is a gentle but very elegant young woman. She hides her grief and pain behind a gentle smile and a friendly disposition. Descended from sirens meant she is unbelievably beautiful and enchanting to anyone who meets her. She'll enjoy the occasional witty banter, if only so she doesn't completely lose herself in grief.

Yet she is extremely distrustful of royalty and won't sing to others anymore. She only sings to herself as a comfort, singing songs of grief in hopes that it'll someday ease her soul. If only her soul could be comforted by her songs. If she were to sing to others again, it would have to be in front of someone she'd trust with her life as she did her husband's.

At this point, all she can really do is hope that the melodies in the wind will guide her back to happiness again.

[nityarawal]

10/30/22

40% Houseless 

Afternoon Songs

Sun Is Going Down

Autumn Is Upon Us

Set Your Clocks Back

It's Cozy Knitting

On Cold Winter Days

One Stitch

Two Stitch 

Three Stitch, Four 

Mending The World 

Back Together 

Brave Moms Of Iran

Speak Up For The

World

One Stitch, Two Stitch

Don't Forget Your 

Power

One Step, Two Step

Words Transform

The Hour 

Grievances For Airbnb

PNC Banks

Management Failing Thee

BNVA Already

Out Of Business

Bought Out When

Management Dissed 

Us

Turning It Around

Corporate Slavey

No Momma Wants To

Be Raped

For Militia

Domestic Terrorism

Bullies

Discipline Your 

Military

And

Discipline The

District Attorneys

Discipline The Ogres

Judges Taking Bribes

On Our Heads

Discipline Marines

Witchhunting

Moms With Blue Light

For Government Crimes

Public Defenders

Sex Stings

Mathew Robert's

Whitney Ryan

Boxabyl Villages

That's What We Need

Not Court Conspirators

At Airbnb

How Many Reservations

Did You Cancel

To Smear Moms

Slumlord Them

To Trafficking Institutions

How Many Children

Did You Steal? How

Many Dogs Choked

For Your Hosts

Revealed?

How Many Animal

Rescues Called To

Missionise The 

Country-Side

How Many Fascist 

Spies Have To 

Perform With

Communism From Germany?

On Divorcees?

How Many Nazis

Lied On Bribes

How Many Airbnb

Manager Pleas

Gag For #PrinceOfPegging

Rentals

Murders Of Idyllwild

Swept Under The Rug

How Was Ayni Raimondi

Involved?

Is She Still Manager

Or Did Her Daddy

Conservator

Take Over?

How's Ayni Sweet 

Little Angel

My Godmother Helene

Fairing In The War 

On Women?

Does She Have Any

Clout

At Airbnb

Or Is She Caged

Like The Lakshmi Harem?

How Many Moms Sold

At Court By Sotheby's

Coldwell Banker

Shane Stewart

Idyllwild Realty

How Many Moms 

Trafficked To A Campground

In The Murder Capital

So Airbnb Can 

Take Bribes On Their 

Canceled Listings

Clients 

Head?

Was Sweet Jade

At An Airbnb

Before Slummed 

To The Bluebird Motel

Missing Persons

Kidnapped by Militia

Sheriff Bianco

Jeremy Parsons

OATH KEEPERS 

Who Bought The 

Japanese Restaurant

With Jaime

A Lawyer We Heard

In The #PrinceOfPegging 

Clan

Why Does Carlos 

Take Out His Boys'

Host A Slave On A

Bicycle In The Garage

On Cowbell Alley

Why Does The Boys

Club Wine And Dine

Each Other

Why Won't Carlos

Marry His Wife

Said Partner 

Why Is His Lady

2nd To The

Boys' Club

#PrinceOfPegging

Mafia Of Idyllwild

Why Is Carlos

Renting His 

Unpermitted Garage

On the Corner Of Cowbell Alley

In Saunders Meadows

Infested By Pregnant Rats

Why Is Carlos Taking 

Out The Boys Club To

FERRO

And Why 

Does His Son Suspect

Him Of Pedophilia

With Shane Stewart

Why Did Carlos Tell

Me His Evil Secrets

If He Didn't Want

Them Exposed

By a Journalist

Realtor

Basically An Officer 

Of Court

Why Is Kosh's Mom

Smearing Me With 

Slander Like Her 

Daughter Trafficked

For A Sex Cult

Why Is A Grandmother

Of Nine-

Being Accused Of "Crazy?"

Set Up

To Be Caged

Money Off The Books

For Nazi Slaveowners

Why Has It Become

A Trend

To Move In

Paralegals

Police Dogs

Cops Invading

For Late Payment

At Airbnb

Oh Don't Come Out

In Your Bathrobe

On The Way Back

From A Shower

Or You Might Have

A Heart Attack

Like Karen Carpenter

Gettin' Served At Airbnb

Watching Your

Landlord Sweat

Four Times

A Week

Get Your Tenants

An RO Too

Rope 'Em Into A War

Weaponizin'

Against The Dogs

Next Door

Triple Your Income

Kosh

Do A Bribe

Take A Plea Bargain

For Silencing

Learn How To Lie

Be Like The Managers

Silencing Police

At Airbnb

PNC Bank

Love Your Home

And Income

But You Might Go Out

Of Business Shortly

For The People Matter

More Than Your Bribes

More Than Court

Estrangement

Silencing

Alienation

Lies

Mammas Matter

#Mothers4NaturalLaw 

Don't Drug Your

Sister - I Heard Her 

Baby Call Her Momma

Heard You Chastise 

The Little One

No Uncle Deserves

Her, Unless You Can

Help The Children 

Reunite With Her

Rightful

Mom And Stop The 

Lies Before Her Grandma

Is Abducted And

Killed On Bribes

We See Your Trajectory

Transparency Too

Workaholic On The Gerbil 

Wheel- Pink Faced

Too Busy

To Enjoy 

Your Home

Albino

Guilt Trippin' Your 

Happy Tenants

Camping In A 

Cellular Dead Zone-

Modellin' Murder

Safety

Capital Adventuring

If We Want Excitement

We'll Get A Zipline

And If We Want 

To Go Camping

We'll Use Prudent

Mammas Sensibility 

Approved Sites

Boycotting Airbnb

#OwnYourDataNow

No More Facebook

Peepin' Tom's

With Cameras

Court Alibis

Can't Pay Mortgages

And Lie

Put Your Debts To Rest

And Stop Abusing

40% Houseless!

40% Houseless! 

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moeezi Huntley Rawal