#-by sending the civilians to fight a war on their behalf so that they may reap all of the benefits & none of the risks

[multifandumbmeg]

Knightmare and Darach 12.1

Snippet one from the Mega-chapter getting posted to tumblr instead of waiting til I write the whole thing and post on AO3 because I feel guilty for not posting so long lol. Consider it a sneak peek. Continue reading if you wish: TW for violence, war, PTSD

Day 1.

Devastation.

That was the word Ajak had used.  

The word was not enough to describe what they were seeing. Druig knew in the coming years, new words would be invented to explain what was happening right now.  

Fifteen miles out from where they expected to meet the Deviant Army, the Royal Army had ordered its ranks into formation. Druig, being in the Mage Corps, was of course forced to part from Makkari for the first time. They had a loose battle strategy in mind.

Five miles later, they could see obliteration on the horizon. The Deviant Army was far closer than they had expected them to be. Black smoke billowed into the sky from thatch houses and barns set ablaze in the chaos. Though they were miles away from the violence, their screams echoed across the plains.  

Druig felt a dread unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The deafening screams grew louder with every step, and that is when he realized no one else could hear them. It was their minds, crying out in anguish and fear. The wave of terror hit him viscerally, and he bent over to vomit instinctively.  

“Lost your nerve already boy?” One soldier asked. “You haven’t even seen battle yet!”

The mages were more understanding. Knowing of his powers, several paused their march and eyed him nervously where he knelt on the ground in evident pain. Also having been on the receiving end of his powers, they refrained from laying hands on him.  

“Um- High Mage Andgeir!” One called. Andgeir turned with a rageful glare.  

“What?”

“The Darach, sir,” The mage managed.

Andgeir gave him a thorough glare as he assessed the situation.

“What’s happening, Druig?” He asked.  

“They’re screaming,” Druig moaned, “they’re all dying.” Andgeir ordered someone retrieve Makkari at once before they fell further behind.  

“Druig, who are you hearing? The villagers or the Deviants? Can you pinpoint where they are?”

Druig emptied his stomach again. So much for that lovely binge of muffins this morning.

“Villagers,” he mumbled.  

“Can you focus in on the army? Tell us where they are, what they’re doing? Their formations?”

Druig shivered as the collective trauma ripped through him.

“I feel everything, so only if you want friendly fire.” He growled in response. It was too much. He was feeling everything, all of them, at once. Dying, screaming, running, helpless, pained.  

“I need you to describe where the civilians are, Druig. Focus in and tell us where they’re hiding so we can protect them and send people to lead them away.”

Druig fought against the immense agony to locate each one in the upcoming village. He was still describing locations- this family in their house, these men outside fighting- no, dead- that group hunkered in the schoolhouse- when Makkari appeared before him, looking concerned.  

Druig, she signed, clutching his face in her hands and smoothing his hair. Look at me. Focus on me, what’s wrong? When he only moaned in response, Andgeir explained on his behalf.  

“We’ve got the information we need for now,” Andgeir concluded. “That was very helpful, Darach. We may yet save some lives. But now I need you to stop, we need to get up and keep going so we can actually make a difference.”

“I can’t,” Druig choked. He felt like he was going to faint. He felt like he was turning inside out.

“You two seem to have a bond. I have to lead the Corps. Get him up and operational,” Andgeir ordered Makkari. She nodded tersely and turned back to her friend.

Druig, you have to shut them out. Remember your mental walls. You can block them all out, just focus on me. Come into my mind if that helps. Just focus on me, Makkari soothed, and Druig tried his best to follow.  

He took refuge in her thoughts for a moment, feeling her flood him with calm and affection, almost as if her conscious was greeting his at the door with a hug. Gradually, he felt his walls building back up, the shouting din dulled to whispers and the physical ache now a gentle disquiet in his bones. His breathing levelled out and his heart slowed.

“Thank you,” He whispered, signing the word repeatedly.  

Thank you, Makkari signed back. You just saved a lot of lives. We have to get there and stop this, though. We need to go fight.  

“I can do it,” Druig replied, climbing to his feet.  

They pressed on to the town, which was already in ruins. The battle plan evaporated at the first sign of the Deviants. Upon seeing the ferocity of indiscriminate violence the men of the Deviant Army were inflicting, he at first thought they were the monsters Ajak described. But then he saw the real Deviants. The beasts, no, abominations was right. They were like nothing that had ever existed.  

Pure chaos unraveled as Domo’s army tore into their enemy. There were monsters of every variety among them, clawed beasts on the ground and flying terrors above. They smashed through walls and tore through people. Ripped heads clean off their bodies. Gutted villagers and alighted limbs from unwilling soldiers.

The villagers were being dragged from their homes by Deviant soldiers and Deviant monsters alike. There were at least ten Deviant soldiers for every member of the Royal Army besides the creatures, and no amount of spellwork could keep up.  

A family ran from a house as it was torn asunder and its remnants burned to cinders. The monsters saw no difference between these civilians and their enemies. A four-legged one bisected the father and kept on its advance, soiled in his blood, as if nothing had occurred. The mother screamed as a flying beast swooped for her young daughter, stumbling and confused, and she shoved the child with every ounce of her strength out of its grasp, leaving herself to collapse to the ground and become its new target. She was dropped to the ground with a sickening crunch less than fifty feet away. The little girl was like a deer in the lamplight, frozen with fear and completely unable to process the violence she had just witnessed. She stared blinkingly, nothing behind the eyes, in the middle of the carnage.  

A Deviant soldier moved in to finish the job, and Makkari cut him down with extreme prejudice. She was shaking with rage. Finally, she snapped into action. She realized quickly the monsters were doing the most damage, and the majority of soldiers were ill-equipped to handle them. Seeing the urgency of eradicating them, she ushered the child in the direction of a standing building and ran straight for the closest clawed fiend on the ground.  

Makkari drew her swords and lunged at the creature. It was disturbingly fast and exceedingly vicious. Even with her speed, she knew she couldn’t make any headway in killing it without others to help distract it. Suddenly, six men from the Deviant army hurtled toward the monster, weapons ablaze. It took her a moment to register their glowing gold eyes.

Her head whipped around to see Druig, not far away. The little girl was in a golden shield box on the ground behind him, just like the barriers he’d raised to protect himself from her in their first skirmish. It looked uncomfortably like a cage, but she was safe. Makkari let her brain do the thanking as Druig’s head and hands snapped back in forth in every direction.  

Shield for the child. Six soldiers on the Deviant. Fireballs at the beasts in the sky. Shield, soldiers, fireball, repeat. This was difficult. He couldn’t manage all these separate spells at once, and occasionally still dodging or blasting back enemies that came for him directly. He looked at Makkari with some desperation, hoping her Deviant battle was coming along well. His gaze landed just in time to see her land the finishing blow on the creature, slitting its great neck. Three of the soldiers had already been demolished by the beast, and Druig was extremely concerned he hadn’t been able to sense this change before now. He wracked his brain for solutions to their vastly outnumbered forces as one of the flying creatures fell out of the sky and incinerated on impact from his flames. He flagged Makkari down.  

She came running and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding to have her near again.

Watch my back, he signed. She nodded fiercely and got to cutting down men and beast left and right around him. He maintained the child’s shield as it was a simple and low cost enough spell while he closed his eyes and focused his energy. He spread his will out amongst the crowd in a vast wave, demanding their minds give over. Instantly, 400 men fell unconscious on the ground.

This was nothing compared to the number still in play, but it levelled the playing field to some marginal degree.  

Some of their army moved through and attacked these slumbering foes, and Druig felt compelled to stop them. Before he could shout, Andgeir appeared beside him.

“We don’t have time for that, we’re dying out here. This cannot be sustained. We must retreat.”

“They’ll follow,” Druig retorted. The evil he’d seen in this few mere minutes had told him as much. They would relentlessly advance and cut down the Royal Army and any innocent in their way until the army scattered and Domo surrendered.

“We’ll have to force them.” Andgeir said coldly. “Mages!” He boomed at the top of the noise as a single blue stripe erupted from his hands into the sky. The symbol for retreat. Soldiers and Mages alike began running back all too willingly to Andgeir’s stand. “With me,” He bid Druig.

A wall of flame erupted in front of Andgeir’s hands and he pushed it back to the village’s now-defunct borders. One by one, the mages followed suit, expanding the length of the border across the singed land.  

“Now, Druig!” Andgeir called. Druig obeyed for once in his life, pushing with all his might to build the enormous barrier and press backward, forcing the enemies to retreat. Only the flying beasts remained, and the army and mages picked them off quickly. Thena came running.

“How long will these fires hold?” She asked curtly, covered in gore that seemed not to phase her.

“They won’t,” Druig replied honestly.  

“We still have to retreat,” Andgeir affirmed. “But it will give us some time to move inland, evacuate the civilians and perhaps scramble them momentarily.”

Thena nodded and gave the orders; the entire army began heading back the way they came, some rallying the survivors from the village to follow. They were extremely few.

Druig turned to the child who had been cowering behind him and finally let the shields dissipate. She stared up at him with wide, bleary eyes and trembled, unable to speak. He felt something constrict inside him and he couldn’t bear the weight of it. He couldn’t fathom a child moving on with the memories of such profound violence in her delicate and uncomprehending mind. He bent down slowly and pressed his palm to her forehead.  

The girl’s eyes glowed and faded in a moment. She stared up at him, tiny brows furrowing in confusion. Her expression was blank.

“Go follow the other villagers,” He ordered gently, her eyes flashed gold and she did as she was told.

Makkari laid a hand on his shoulder and it took every ounce of strength within him not to fall to his knees.  

What did you do? She asked.

“I wiped her memory of the battle,” He admitted, voice raspy and choked. “She won’t remember what happened to her parents or anything else she saw. I don’t know if that was right. I don’t know if it was okay for me to alter someone’s mind without permission. But no child should ever have to see those things. No one should have to live through that.” Makkari squeezed his shoulder and led him back to the much shorter line of marching forces.  

Heavy losses and an immense number of injuries requiring aid made their progress extremely slow. The fires behind them quietly sunk lower and lower as its borders began to fizzle out, ever-shrinking. They reached the town of Autumna and Thena bid the citizens evacuate further North or West by morning. The army began pitching their tent quarters and setting up bunks as well as tending the countless wounded. The prospects were grim.

“Druig,” Andgeir’s voice found his ears yet again. What was his sudden obsession? Thought Druig. Months of hating his guts and suddenly the conversations were endless and unavoidable.

“What?” He asked with less venom than usual. He was too tired for more anger today.

“I’m making you my second in command.” Andgeir stated. Druig was certain he’d heard wrong.

“You what?”

“You’re our most powerful mage and quite possibly the smartest among them. I need you to head out the research. We need to know what the hell those things were and what kills them. And I need to know if your Cerebremency works on them.”  

For the first time in his life, Druig was speechless.

“Okay,” He managed, and Andgeir gave him a sharp nod before breezing away, long robes sweeping the floor.

Druig found Makkari behind the local tavern where she was supposed to be unloading supplies but was instead paralyzed, head bent low where she sat on a barrel she was meant to be relocating.

“Copper for your thoughts?” He asked and signed when he had cautiously come into her view.

She looked up at him, and her eyes were different. All the life and bliss and wonder he had known them to hold was gone in an instant. Tears bubbled up and spilled over her long lashes.

I killed people today, she signed shakily. There were so many of them, and they were willing to hurt anyone. This morning we were joking about where our honeymoon would be and ways to piss off my parents. But the truth is, we’re not going to live that long are we?  

“Makkari,” he tried to cut in.

We’re going to die out here in one of these fields and our blood will stain the grass and Domo will still fall. It’s all going to be for nothing, she despaired.

“No,” Druig whispered, gently stroking her hair. “We’ll find a way to stop this. You and me will survive, it’s what we do.” He assured her.  

Makkari moved from the barrel and dropped to her knees in his arms. She sobbed for a long time as he held her and pushed back the weight of his own thoughts for her sake. He held himself together as he consoled her until long after the black of night had settled in. Their bid their farewells and retired to the tents of their respective regiments, and both knew they wouldn’t sleep well apart.

Makkari bunched up her covers and cried some more until at last, the memories faded into sleep.

Druig twisted restlessly with the fear that the enemy might attack in the night and no one would remember to wake Makkari, who wouldn’t wake to the sounds. Finally, he settled for tiptoeing across the tightrope of their bond and nestling into her mind. He hoped she wouldn’t mind the intrusion into her dreams, but it afforded him that comfort that if anything occurred, he could pulse alertness into her brain and allow her to wake up in time to fight. His concerns were assuaged instantly when he wandered in, her conscious wrapping around him like a tight hug. He knew he was welcome here, and despite their distance, this connection they had built made them feel close. It was a comforting thought, that no matter where they each were in the world, they could always come home to each other like this. There would be no such thing as separation between them, it was concept alien to their unique love, a pain that affected only outsiders.

With this relieving revelation, he burrowed deep into her troubled psyche for memories of peace and calm and held her there, respited.

#marvel #The Eternals #drukarri #drukkari #dark mage druig #knight makkari

[wanderinginksplot]

Warriors in Red Armor

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Chapter Three

Warning: This chapter features a highly sanitized and idealized version of a protest. A protest that would take place in a galaxy far, far away with a functional government and officers held to an incredibly high standard. In short, this is not meant to be a reflection in any way, shape, or form of any of the protests that have taken place over the last few years, especially in regards to racial prejudice in the United States. If you think this could be a trigger for you, please skip this chapter and send me a message! I would be thrilled to summarize the chapter's contents for you.

---

Fox I

"These men fight and die for the sake of a Republic that cares nothing for them!"

Fox winced, dialing down the volume on the channel that connected the audio intake to the interior of his helmet. Whoever had given that woman a device to amplify her voice had never been forced to listen to how loud she was all on her own.

"They were bred to fight in wars they did not create, used to protect a society from which they do not benefit, and given no chance to choose a different life!"

A different life. Fox didn't even know what he would do if he wasn't a soldier. Not that it had ever mattered. The woman had gotten that right, at least: the troopers had been bred for ultimate reflexes and battle efficiency. Using them in any other capacity would be a waste.

"They have no rights, receive no recognition, and barely earn a paycheck!"

"Hey, Commander," a trooper's voice said in his ear. Fox's HUD identified the speaker as Jek.

"What is it, Jek?" Fox asked, on instant alert and scanning the crowd with increased fervor.

"Do you think we could get a pay raise out of this?"

Fox bit back an irritated sigh. It wasn't Jek's fault that he had never experienced a riot. He didn't know the devastating speed at which crowds could turn, that you couldn't take your eyes off them for a moment. He didn't know how dangerous people like Nora Czajak could be.

"Keep your focus, trooper," he admonished. "If this crowd gets out of control, you won't deserve a pay raise anyway."

"Yes, sir," Jek agreed, sounding disappointed.

"We must stand for sake of these men who are forbidden to stand," Czajak was lecturing. "We must speak for them, because their voices have been ignored. Come, my fellow Coruscanti citizens! Lend your legs, lend your voice, lend your time! Help us show the Galactic Senate that we will not rest until these men have received all they deserve!"

"Someone must have kriffed up hard if listening to this is what we deserve," Rhys complained through the inter-HUD comm system.

It was only the second complaint, but that was two too many in Fox's opinion. With a short motion of his eyes, Fox had activated the communications system that connected all trooper helmets. It allowed him to make a sweeping announcement.

"Stay on alert, men," Fox ordered. "They have permission to march for another twenty minutes before we can break this whole thing up. Keep your seals tight."

But it was not to be. Groups of civilians thronged to the demonstration, convinced by Czajak's passionate speech to join the Clone Rights cause. At the exact time Clone Rights was to end their march, the Coruscant Guard stepped up to urge civilians off the street. It didn't matter - Czajak took up her amplifier once more.

"See, citizens? Do you see how the troopers are forced to work counter to their own interests?" Czajak demanded. "We march on their behalf, but their commanding officers order them to silence our voices! They have no choice but to obey."

The murmur of agreement passing through the crowd put tension thrumming through Fox's shoulders. If this demonstration was going to get ugly, it would be now.

"No thinking, feeling being should have their choices removed!" Czajak cried through the amplifier. "No being should be forced to fight for those who would keep him enslaved!"

If given the chance, Fox could have guessed the first act of violence down to the second it happened.

By the time the cry of, "Don't push me!" rang through the crowd, he was well on his way to Czajak.

Before she could lift her amplifier again - to do what, he didn't stop to ask - Fox had taken it from her hand. "Sorry ma'am. I'm placing you in custody."

"Under what charges?" she asked, fixing him with an impish grin that made no sense under the circumstances.

Fox's own reaction made even less sense: the sight of that little mischievous smile set his blood boiling. He had experienced far more disrespect from civilians in the past. There was no reason she should have any effect on him at all.

Still, he had to take a deep breath before he could answer her. "Violating the terms of a special demonstration permit, inciting a riot, disturbing the peace… should I go on?"

"Why not?" Czajak asked. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

Fox shook his head and held up a pair of regulation magnetic binders. "Are you planning to resist arrest?"

She didn't answer him immediately, instead staring into the darkness of his visor in a way that made Fox feel painfully exposed. Czajak was calm and steady while he - Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard - was off-balance. Somehow, she had gotten him at a disadvantage. Discomfited at the idea, Fox shook the cuffs at her in a rude gesture. "Well?"

"Hold on, I'm trying to decide if resisting arrest would be working for or against my cause," she pondered, still wearing a hint of her ridiculous grin. At last, she sighed and presented her wrists. "I'll go with you."

If Fox put the binders on her wrists a bit more aggressively than necessary, no one dared to ask him why.

Somehow, he ended up being the one to transport Czajak back to the Coruscant Guard precinct - mostly because the other men were busy escorting rioters to the precinct or being looked over by Ink, the Guard's medic.

After he had gotten Czajak in his transport, Fox slid into the front seat and began preparing to pilot it. She watched with interest while he removed his helmet, but it was illegal to drive with one on, so he persevered. Besides, there would be nothing of interest for her under his helmet. Fox kept his appearance strictly within grooming guidelines. His hair was regulation, his face was clean-shaven, and his tattoos were neatly hidden beneath his body glove.

He had glanced at her in the rear-facing mirror of his transport and resolved not to do so again. Still, his determination not to speak to her lasted until she spoke exactly once.

"So you don't see your required enforcement of my demonstration as a conflict of interest?" she asked conversationally despite having stared at him in silence for the first few minutes of their trip. "You don't think it's a violation of your rights? Not that you get many of those…"

"I have rights," Fox ground out before he could stop himself. "You and your group don't help any of us. You just make our lives more difficult."

"But imagine if you weren't being forced into life as a soldier," Czajak pressed. "You and your brothers could do anything you choose to do, live in the way that best pleases you."

"And we would choose to fight and die for the Republic," Fox answered stoically.

Czajak didn't answer immediately. Fox glanced into the mirror to find her staring at him in unsettled silence. When she finally found her voice, she said, "Surely you can't be so arrogant to think that all your brothers feel the same way."

"We're clones. We look the same, act the same, fight the same, and think the same," he said with a conviction he didn't feel. "Being soldiers is what we're good at, what we were made to do. It's in our genes."

Even in his peripheral vision, he could see her perk up slightly at that. "Your genes? Your genes were donated by a man who was a bounty hunter - one of the best the galaxy has ever seen. If every person sharing your genetic profile was made to be a soldier, how did he end up as a bounty hunter?"

It was a good point, Fox resentfully admitted to himself. Czajak was excellent at debate and he found himself drawn into the argument.

"Lack of opportunity," he said, mostly to give himself time to think.

"So, if given the opportunity, you believe Jango Fett would have left a successful bounty-hunting career to be a soldier fighting for the Republic?" She shook her head. "That seems unlikely, to say the least. He was a man who valued freedom and choice."

"Jango Fett was a traitor to the Republic," Fox argued. "He died at the hands of a Jedi because he was in league with the Separatists."

"Are you a traitor to the Republic?" Czajak asked, voice gentle despite the horrendous accusation she was tossing in his direction.

"Of course not!"

"Then genes don't determine personality, preferences, or choices. Your brothers may not all like the life of a soldier, regardless of how you enjoy it." With that, Czajak settled back against the seat and stared peacefully out of the transparisteel window, as if she hadn't turned Fox's idea of the world on its head.

---

Hound III

Public relations assignments were a nightmare for most troopers. Being forced to parade in front of civilians was hard enough, but the GAR wanted their troopers to do the impossible. They had to toe the line between being friendly and non-intimidating, but still remind citizens that the troopers were more than enough to defend the Triple Zero against threats.

Hound was one of the rare troopers who didn't mind PR duty - actually, he enjoyed it. Not only did it play into his love of crowds and people, but he got to spend some time showing off his best friend.

"Now, Grizzer, can you show these good people some tricks?" Hound asked, giving the massiff a subtle signal to go into alert mode.

"Sit." Grizzer sat. "Smile." Grizzer bared his fearsome teeth. "Speak." Grizzer let out a loud, yelping bark. "Good boy!"

Grizzer could not sit still as the crowd applauded his good work. The muscular massiff's body quivered as Grizzer did his best to wag his whole being in excitement.

Non-threatening image: check, Hound thought with some amusement. The sea of younglings surrounding them had wriggled closer to the pair. Okay, so they were here for Grizzer, but Hound received some reflected fame because he got to be friends with the massiff.

"Do any of you have questions for me?" Hound asked, when he saw that their time was almost over.

A young Rodian boy raised his hand and immediately told Hound, "My mama said that massiffs eat bad children who don't listen to their parents. Does Grizzer eat bad children?"

Hound chuckled a bit. This was a common question at PR events. At first, he hadn't been sure how to answer the question, not wanting to accidentally encourage children to disobey their parents. He had ended up taking the problem to his fellow Coruscant Guardsmen and they had come up with a good solution.

Hound leaned down as if he were telling the younglings a secret and all of them wiggled closer as well. Meeting the wide, galaxy-mirroring eyes of the Rodian boy, Hound said, "Grizzer doesn't really like to eat children, but that's a secret. Don't tell your parents! Do you know what he does like to eat?"

The suggestions were wild and varied, but Hound grinned wider. "All of those are right! Grizzer will eat just about anything, even if it isn't good for him. The other night, he stole my dinner…"

And, with that, they had reached the 'Grizzer stealing food' part of the event. It was always an audience favorite, especially with younglings. Hound had vague thoughts about writing a series for young audiences about the massiff's antics. However, he was broken from his reverie by Fang, another ARF trooper, pointing at his chrono.

"That's it for today, everyone! Grizzer and I have to go back to work now."

The children - and some of the adults - made sounds of disappointment while Grizzer whined and gave Hound his most pleading expression.

"Sorry, buddy," Hound apologized to Grizzer. "You know we can't stay here all day."

"Talking to the massiff again, Hound?" Fang asked with a laugh as he approached the pair.

"That's how you become the best," Hound said, shrugging in false modesty.

He was proud of his reputation as the best ARF trooper in the GAR. It had been in every performance review he had gotten in the past few years: If there is a question about massiffs or their training, it goes immediately to Sergeant Hound. He was widely considered the ultimate authority on the subject of massiffs. Even some of the nat-born officers came to ask his advice.

In fact, Fang was at the PR event to shadow Hound. Coruscant wasn't as dangerous as some other assignments, but there was still risk in the job. There was a chance that Hound would meet an unpleasant end any day. It was best to have another qualified ARF ready to take over his work if that happened.

Grizzer, who had been idly watching the crowd with the uncaring nature that only an off-duty massiff should display, brought himself to attention. Early in their partnership, Hound had learned that the massiff had an uncanny knack for spotting trouble. Grizzer's instincts were almost never wrong.

Sure enough, a human woman stumbled out of the crowd when Hound glanced over. The two made eye contact for a moment before her gaze snapped to Grizzer, standing with one leg propped on Hound's foot. Immediate terror crossed her face and she tried to scurry back into the crowd, but she ran into a passing Devaronian. She bounced backward, falling hard on the duracrete ground with a noise that didn't sound entirely like flesh hitting a solid surface.

"Miss?" Hound asked, starting forward with a worried Grizzer hot on his heels. "Are you okay?"

The woman turned to face them, swiping frantically at the blood seeping from a cut above her eyebrow, but her attention was locked on Grizzer. "Get away from me!"

"Please calm down, ma'am, Grizzer isn't going to hurt-"

"Get away!" With that shout, one of the woman's arms lit in crackling blue electricity. Webs of light traced up and down across nodes nested in the wires of an arm he could now see was mostly cybernetic.

Hound towed Grizzer back and away from the woman even as he stared at the display. The hissing buzz of the electricity was as fascinating as it was intimidating, but Hound knew without reading the alerts on his HUD that they were illegal cybernetical alterations. Illegal alterations that she had just activated - accidental or not - in the middle of a group of civilians.

There was no way around it: he was going to have to bring her into the precinct.

"Fang," he ordered, holding Grizzer's lead out to the other ARF. Grizzer was smart and well-trained enough to go to Fang without the lead, but Hound didn't think the woman would be calmed by seeing a massiff moving around uncontrolled by a handler.

Fang, stars bless him, jogged across the small distance. He took the lead and hauled Grizzer away in seconds, ordering fascinated onlookers to go about their business all the while.

Hound's attention was fixed too closely on the woman to worry about things like civilians in the area. Her close-shaved head let him see the fire in her eyes, brighter and more violent than the sparks dripping from her cybernetic arm. If she was going to attack him or the crowd, he would need all the warning he could get. Stopping her in time to keep people from getting hurt would be tricky.

Slowly, he extended a hand, palm-out. "Easy," he breathed, humming a bit when she stared at him without moving. "The massiff is gone and no one wants to hurt you. Everything is okay."

Hound wasn't aware that he was nodding gently until she mirrored the motion, her head bobbing up and down in tense jerks. The rise and fall of her chest was still too rapid for comfort. Hound took a deep breath, exaggerating the sound for her.

"Deep breaths, deep breaths," he told her. "Everything is fine. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just- just keep it away from me," she said, voice a bit hoarse.

"Grizzer is over there and he's going to stay over there," Hound said firmly. "What else?"

She stared at him, her eyes intense and frank. "Let me go home."

Hound shook his head. "We both know I can't do that. Those are illegal alterations on your cybernetic, and you used them in a very public place. I need to take you to the station and file a report."

It was a bold thing to say, especially with the shivering light from her electricity-wreathed arm bouncing around the area, but she only sighed and flexed her fingers. The electricity died with the movement.

"I'll come with you," she stipulated, "but I won't ride with the massiff."

"I understand," Hound agreed, accepting her offer with ease. "Fang?"

"Sir?"

"Can you bring Grizzer back to the precinct?"

Fang took a moment to answer, and Hound glanced back to find the ARF staring at him in shock. "You want me to take Grizzer?"

"Yes, trooper," Hound said, an edge of exasperation entering his voice.

He felt a little bad making the request in the first place. Hound always took Grizzer with him, always. But Fang was a good soldier and a good brother, and he had a solid working relationship with Grizzer. Hound trusted Fang to get the massiff back to the precinct safely, even if he was a little guilty at leaving Grizzer behind.

Sorry, buddy, he mentally apologized to Grizzer. The massiff shook his head, tongue lolling out as if to say it was fine. Hound grinned. He had long thought that Grizzer was a little psychic.

"I'll get him there, sir," Fang agreed immediately, adding a sharp salute. Hound nodded solemnly at him and watched as the ARF and the massiff headed for Fang's cruiser.

When they were gone, Hound stood and extended a hand down to the woman, but she ignored it and stood on her own. When she was upright, she extended her wrists toward him for restraints. Hound pushed them down and gently guided her toward his own cruiser.

"You aren't going to put binders on me?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I wasn't planning on it," Hound said honestly. "Why, are you going to make trouble?"

"I wasn't planning on it," she said with a hint of mockery in her voice. "But for someone who is arresting me for illegal cybernetic enhancements, you don't seem worried I'm going to use them on you."

"If you want binders, we can do binders," Hound said with a long-suffering attitude. "It'll be a lot more trouble on my side, though. Do you really want to make extra work for me?"

"I would never want to inconvenience someone who's arresting me," she responded, expression as dry as her tone.

"Good! No binders, then," Hound decided, steering her into the backseat of his cruiser.

They didn't say another word to each other on the way to the precinct.

---

A/N - I just realized that the chapter cut comes before Hound learns that it's Ransom he's arresting. It's an awkward splice, but that's what happens when you write a story all at once and try to cut it into chapters of similar length afterward!

I'm sorry for the late update, but between the Chauvin sentencing and the death of Ma'Khia Bryant in the last week, I couldn't even think about posting on my usual day without feeling guilty and uncomfortable. I hope the protest described here wasn't too offensive to anyone, but I wanted to get this chapter posted!

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #coruscant guard #commander fox #sergeant hound #commander thorn #commander thire #tcw #clone troopers deserve better #more to come

[randomnameless]

Re-reading RD’s script :

In an alternate route, when people are salty because a certain person allowed a nascent country to exist + a common redshit theory about the First king of Faerghus :

Karl V : “…We are the victors. It was Adrestian blood and sweat that defeated Nemesis! And what do we have to show for it? We do not rule Fodlan. Our towns have been destroyed. We need coin to ease our suffering. Who’s to blame?”

Young Man: “The Archbishop!”

Karl V : “We’ve been violated! Faerghus robbed us of families, friends, and homes! We cannot reconcile with monsters! And now, our hated enemy is rebuilding to threaten us again. Will we stand by and accept this?”

Young Man: “No! We will not!”

Karl V : “To arms, I say! We are not afraid! We shall fight for the prosperity of our fatherland, as did Great Emperor Wilhelm!”

Thus the Southern Church was kicked out of Adrestia.

The Crossover that will never happen :

A lord :

Using civilians and provoking them to fight a [civil] war, that act will cause Fodlan to be left with a long-lasting scar.

Someone :

It may be hard to believe, but this is the way that leads to the fewest casualties in the end. Don't you see?

A lord :

Didn’t you say before that you caused a war in order to protect Fodlan ? Then let me ask you, what is Fodlan? Isn’t it civilians who make a country? Think about it. Throughtout this conflict, do you realise how many lives you’ve simply thrown away?!

Someone :

The longer we took to revolt, the more victims this crooked world would have claimed.  I weighed the victims of war against the victims of the world as it is now, and I chose the former. I believe that I have chosen the best path, the only path. (...)  Maybe it is self-righteousness, but it doesn't matter. Someone has to take action and put a stop to this world's endless, blood-stained history!

A lord :

You’re wrong. (...) You care nothing for the weak, so you are unfit to become the sole ruler of Fodlan. You cloak your desire to rule with pretty speeches, but it is petty avarice nonetheless!

Then people will argue that “someone” wants to change the world on behalf of the weak, so she cares about them unlike what the lord says, but “the lord” cannot understand why someone pretending to care about her people sends them to war and thinks she’s the only one able to change their fate.

(if this doesn’t convince you to vote for Brave Elincia, I don’t know what else will)

#FE nonsense #After Lissa and Mila it's Elincia's turn to tear the newest red emperor apart #she'd have immediately called her on her BS during teh parley #Adrestian nationalism at its finest : Willy defeated Nemesis not Seiros #at times you can even make a point that some ardent redshiters are adrestian nationalists #'rhea created faerghus to weaken Adrestia' #yes and she has scales never forget it

[science-fiction-is-real]

STOP TRYING TO GET ME TO VOTE FOR BIDEN.

Okay.  Look.  If you plan to vote for Biden, I won’t stop you.  And I understand.

But I would like to make a few points as to why I personally will NOT be voting for Biden.

We do actually have other options.  Biden is evil, not just “less than perfect,” but actually evil.  Donald Trump is not the cause of our problems, and this becomes especially clear when you look at the behavior of past Democratic presidents and when you apply a little Marxist theory regarding the State. Also A Biden victory is in itself a form of harm, not harm reduction.

1) WE DO ACTUALLY HAVE OTHER OPTIONS BESIDES VOTING FOR BIDEN.

First of all, the fact that you can even mention 3rd and sometimes even 4th and 5th party candidates indicates that: Yes, we LITERALLY DO have other options.  Are they LIKELY to win? 

No.  But only because people don’t vote for them. We are not trapped in a two party system, though we may be trapped psychologically.  It IS actually possible to create new political parties, and for existing small parties to grow into large parties.  This is a long-term goal, and probably not something that will happen by November.  But the first step is to realize that the democratic party are not our friends.

Second, and most important, voting is a tiny plastic water gun in the vast nuclear arsenal we have at our disposal when it comes to political activity.  Historically speaking, even the most nasty and reactionary asshole presidents suddenly start acting REAAAAAL progressive when they are faced with mass populist movements causing civil unrest.  This also applies to senators, congresspersons, and members of the court.  Remember Richard Nixon passing landmark Women’s Rights legislation?  In fact, the level of political activity of the masses is 8 millions times more important than who is in the Whitehouse.

Where we should really be focusing our efforts is in organizing and movement building.  Protest. Go on strike.  Propagandize.  Obstruct.  Disrupt.  And most importantly:

JOIN AN ORG! Join an org.  Join an org. Join an ORG!  Join labor unions.  Join political parties.  Join non-profits.  Becoming a dues-paying member of a Socialist organization is worth a thousand votes.  You will meet experienced comrades who know the ins and outs of political activism, who will show you the ropes, and will put you to work doing something productive.

Join the Democratic Socialists of America.  Join the Industrial Workers of the World. I’m a member of a political party called the Socialist Alternative.

2) BIDEN ISN’T “LESS THAN PERFECT.”  HE IS A MUSTACHE TWIRLING SUPERVILLAIN.

Biden is not a Liberal.  He’s a center-right conservative.  He embraces Neoliberal policies that leave working class people to die in poverty and debt.  He has made no serious attempts to cater toward Bernie’s base.  He is unspeakably Racist, and actually wrote the bill that created Mass Incarceration as we currently know it.

As part of the Obama Administration he was complicit in all of Obama’s abominable atrocities.  From the drone strike program which killed countless civilians, to the escalation of a draconian surveillance state, to the mass deportation of 3 million immigrants.  Obama created the structures that Trump is currently using to terrorize immigrants, minorities, and protestors.  And he created them for the very purpose Trump is using them for.  Biden was there every step along the way.  Biden has espoused violent rhetoric about doing violence against protesters, arresting people with certain political beliefs, and condoning police brutality.

Biden is better MAAAAYYBE better only on 2 issues.  Abortion rights and LBGT rights.  And while those issues are important.  I highly doubt he will make any progress on those issues.

Biden has said over and over again that he would pander to the republicans and compromise with them every chance he gets.  He certainly has stated callous disregard for the lives of working class people.  And we can only assume that he will betray women’s rights and LBGT rights the moment he finds it politically convenient.

And don’t give me crap about RBG.  Biden will not replace Ruth Bader Ginsburg with another liberal.  He will replace her with a centrist, or do what Obama did and let the Republicans pick the replacement for him.   And also the supreme court is a tyrannical, undemocratic institution anyway and should probably just be abolished full-stop.

Joe Biden’s rhetoric isn’t even less fascistic than Trump's either.  He says his racist, sexist, anti-working-class sentiment out loud.

And with his billionaire and corporate backers, he certainly can’t be trusted to act on climate change.

He will not respond positively to the pandemic either.  He has expressed out loud no plan of how HE would handle the pandemic, and if his democratic colleagues in congress give us a clue… well, the Dems have been incredibly stingy with their money, refusing funds for relief for the working class.  They have not put up a serious fight for any measures to actually stop the Virus’s spread.

If he’s the “Lesser of Two Evils.”  He is just evil.  

3) IT DOESN’T ACTUALLY MATTER WHO THE PRESIDENT IS.

Trump is not actually the cause of our problems.  He isn’t.  Donald Trump is a fat asshole with a desk job.  Donald Trump did not invent racism.  He did not invent sexism or xenophobia or hatred against the LBGT+ community.  If Donald Trump died tomorrow, the forces of reaction would carry on their merry way.  Donald Trump is in office because he is willing to carry out policies that are favorable to the ruling class.  And the moment he stopped doing that, he would be quickly disposed of, either by impeachment or by a military coup.

And in fact, the violence we are seeing from the Trump administration comes from the way the government itself is constructed.  Not from some diseased ideology unique to the American Right Wing.

So let’s think about this a little more carefully.  Why do we have a government in the first place?  You know, a government, the “state,”  the law itself?  It’s not to negotiate peace between different conflicting segments of society, because they are obviously very bad at that.  It’s not to ensure the public good and protect the rights of the citizens.  Because the government doesn’t really do that either.

And this isn’t just a problem when Republicans are in power.  See my previous examples of Obama’s unspeakable atrocities.  

The reason we have a government is to enforce and maintain class based society.  The State is nothing more than Armed bodies of men who exist for the purpose of allowing one class to suppress another class.  The government’s job is to suppress uprisings, control the working class, assume risk on behalf of the capitalist class, and to fight wars on behalf of the capitalist class.  That’s why the Feds are kidnapping protestors.  That’s why immigrants are being put in cages.  That’s why the police harass and intimidate Black people.  To maintain and enforce the power structure.

All of these bad things happened when Obama was president.  And All of these bad things will continue to happen if Biden is elected. This violence we’re seeing isn’t the result of Trump.  You can’t even call this violence Fascism, because this is NORMAL. Fascism is a specific political phenomena that occurs under very specific circumstances . This violence is literally just the government doing its job.  It’s worse now because the economy is going through a rough patch, which isn’t the government’s fault, it’s just because Capitalism is unstable.

The Right and Left Parties represent different segments of the ruling class, and the election process is about the ruling class negotiating differences among itself.  The democratic party does not represent the interest of regular people like You and me, and you DO NOT OWE THEM YOUR VOTE.

2) VOTING FOR BIDEN ISN’T HARM REDUCTION.  IT IS ITSELF A HARM.

A Biden Victory could have several negative consequences.

The democratic party will continue its decades-long drift toward the right.  The democratic leadership will see once and for all that they can get away with running any evil sleazy candidate they want who will serve the interest of their corporate benefactors, and that the public will remain loyal as long as they coat their sleeziness with “Woke” rhetoric.  If the Democrats learn that you will vote for them no matter what they do, then your vote loses all of its power.

It could trigger violent backlash from Trump’s far-right base.

It gives legitimacy to an ultimately UNdemocratic system which is breaking at the seams.

It could pacify a lot of the militant, but less educated segments of the working class who have swallowed the rhetoric that Biden is their ally.  They will disperse from the streets, meanwhile Biden is free to continue the violent, racist, war-hawkish, neoliberal agenda that Trump, Obama, and Bush did before him.

CONCLUSION

Joe Biden is not our friend.  The Democratic Party are not our friends.  Trump is awful, and he sucks.  If we DON’T vote for Biden, Trump may very well win the Presidential Race.  But considering that Biden himself is very evil, and that Trump is not the true cause of the violence and hatred we see coming from our government, the stakes in this race are a lot lower than you have been led to believe.

A protest vote could send a strong message to the Ruling Class that we are not satisfied with racist, violent, neoliberal leadership, and that we want real change.  

Also, we actually are NOT stuck in a two party system.  There is a growing movement within the United States to create and grow a worker’s party that represents truly progressive ideas, one where regular people hold party leadership directly accountable, and the party is forced to serve our interests instead of those of the ruling class.  The first step in building such a party is to let the Democrats go, and stop placing our hopes in people who do not care about us.

But the most important thing to remember:

The ballot box is not the end-all and be-all of political activity.  The ruling class has created this little ceremony of “voting,” inviting us working class folks to come and play their little game of “pick the dictator,” and giving us the illusion that this makes a real difference.  But we have no way of holding politicians in office accountable when they break their campaign promises, and we are only allowed to vote for options the ruling class allows us to see on the ballots. 

We DO have power to change the system, but we have to do it outside the ruling-class’s terms.  We have to be organized and active and militant enough that the ruling class believes we pose an actual threat to their authority.

We have to do the type of things we currently see American’s doing in the streets right now.  Causing a major disruption, threatening the capitalists’ profits, and threatening the politicians’ sense of authority and control.

But we have to remain organized and militant even after the current wave of protests dies down.  And we do that by building left wing institutional power -- by JOINING ORGS.

JOIN A GOD DAMN ORG YOU COWARDS.

#Joe Biden #Democrats #republicans #donald trump #2020 election #politics #U.S. politics #american politics #socialism

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Witness : 20

Compromised

moodboard created by @chuuulip

Character(s): dark!Bucky, later dark!Steve, too

Masterlist

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. Some violence as well at the beginning. It goes without (and with) that this is 18+. In this chapter there’s not much but a set-up for the next. We'll go over warnings then.

Summary: The reader is invited out for some after-work drinks.

Notes: Okay! Sorry about being a bit late today but as promised here is another part! Hopefully, everyone saw yesterday's and is all caught up, if not you can always go back and catch up! And wowee, we're already on part 20! Thank you all so much and please leave a comment if you read :) !

The rest of the week saw Bucky at your apartment nightly. You weren’t sure what was going on but you didn’t dare to ask. If you did as he wished, he was pleased, even close to amiable. You found that if you behaved, he did what he wanted and left you with a few hours to yourself. You treasured that alone time and it was worth the momentary distraction. When he was done and you were alone, you felt empty; a mixture of physical longing and feeling of exploitation. The satisfaction never lasted beyond the act itself; after you couldn’t help but deflate, stewing in resent for him and disappointment in yourself.

Friday used to be a day of celebration for you. Those times seemed a distant past. You would hang with Allie or go home and order take out and watch something on Netflix. Now, you were too enamoured in anticipation and dread to focus on that. What use was it when it could easily be interrupted? It was worse when you were ready for a quiet night in only for the your solace to be shattered. Even so, you stared at the clock and waited for your cue to leave. Another hour...it felt like forever. What exactly were you so eager for? Based on the the last few days, you were to expect another visit from Bucky. You flipped back to Pepper’s emails which included forwards of every email sent to Tony. You guessed he had left so much on her plate that she needed to spread some onto yours. What were temps for but grunt work? That’s all you ever did. Down on your knees for Bucky every night, as good as bending over backwards for Pepper. You really were taking it in both ends. Your mind strayed again and you found yourself fixated on daydreams of a metal arm flexing around you, familiar grunts in your ear, an almost comforting sensation flowing from your core. You snapped up and touched your forehead in shame. No...he could have your body, but your mind was still yours. That small part of you was still there; you weren’t truly his, you were merely biding your time, but for what?

“Y/N,” A voice drew your head up and you masked your dilemma with a smile. Steve approached, Bucky not far behind. Not good. “You alright?”

“Fine,” You lied, “I was just working. It’s a bit repetitive so I was resting my eyes.”

“I imagine it’s very exciting,” His hands were on your desk as he leaned on it, biceps peeking out from beneath the sleeves of his tee. He was dressed more casual than usual and you couldn’t help but notice the lines above the vee of his shirt. For once, you were the one distracted. “Me and Buck were just about to grab some drinks, you wanna join?”

You glanced behind him and Bucky nodded, a smirk plain enough. You suspected this wasn’t entirely Steve’s idea and that stoked your anxiety. What was he playing at? You scrunched your lips and looked to the monitor. “I’m here until 6 today,” You said, hoping it was enough of an excuse, “I really can’t just leave.”

“No worries, we’re just headed down the street to Luis’,” His eyes strayed to your chest, admiring the top of your cleavage just visible above the frill. “We’ll have a drink and you can join us for the second round.”

“I don’t--”

“Come on, Y/N,” Bucky stepped forward, just opposite Steve and you felt like a cornered deer. “It’s Friday. You should get out, have some fun. I mean, me and Steve, we get our kicks out in the field but you just sit here all day and...type. One drink won’t hurt, will it?”

You looked between the super soldiers. This was not an invitation, this was an order. Steve was so hopeful, his eagerness underlined with his more sinister intentions. And Bucky was determined. You couldn’t say no unless you were prepared for the consequences and you suspected those were worse than whatever it is he had planned. Besides, he never asked, he told. “Sure, why not?” You tried to sound normal but you couldn’t help the jagged response. “I’ll just finish up here and head down when I’m done.”

Bucky winked and turned to Steve who grinned back at him. There was collusion in their eyes but it could very well just be the recognition of two adversaries. “Alright, see ya soon,” Bucky chimed, “We’ll keep a tab open.”

You mumbled a goodbye and watched them approach the elevator, pulling on their jackets as they disappeared behind the metal doors. You sighed and brushed back your hair as you leaned against your chair. What the fuck? You were prepared for Bucky but not both of them. Surely it was just another scheme to watch you squirm, you told yourself. You’d end up going home alone, if only to have Bucky follow, but Steve was just another pawn. Wasn’t he?

You did all you could to delay your departure for the day but you knew if you kept them waiting, Bucky would make you pay for it. That had to be the reason you were growing so anxious. It was fear, not excitement. Right? Right? Oh, fuck, you were going crazy. You left your jacket open as you walked the chill New York sidewalk, heels clicking as you hurried along. As you stopped before Luis’ shining red lights, your legs wobbled and you felt a peculiar pluck deep down. No, just one drink. Nothing more.

You stepped inside, wary of the other men along the bar who watched your entrance. This wasn’t exactly a joint you frequented. In fact you had avoided it for the shabbiness of its facade and the fact that you rarely saw any female denizens going in or out. It was a greasy corner in the heart of downtown with more than its share of regulars and unshaven drunks. This was like that tavern in London where that guy had shoved his hand up your skirt on that summer trip with Allie. Fond memories, indeed.

You spotted the two men in a booth near the back of the bar. You sidestepped a few reaching hands on your way to them and felt almost thankful when you came upon their table. “Hey,” You said quietly, looking around yourself to make sure no groping hands hovered behind you.

“Ah, just in time,” Steve stood and waved his hand to the curved bench around the table, “We saved you a spot.” You stared at the seat he offered, closed in between the two of them. Reluctantly you accepted it, sidling awkwardly around the table and to the space on the cushion. Steve sat and blocked you in, motioning to the waiter who sported a long grey ponytail and a greasy leather vest. “We’ll have a second round and whatever the lady wants.”

“Water is fine,” You smiled sheepishly.

“Whiskey for her,” Bucky corrected, “May as well unwind, Y/N.”

You resisted sending him a glare and just nodded, the waiter moving sluggishly to fulfill the order. You were starting to sweat already, trapped in the body heat of the men book-ending you in the booth. “Take off your jacket,” Steve said, “Stay a while, won’t you?”

You gave a weak laugh and peeled of your coat, Bucky swiftly moving it to lay atop his and Steve’s on the end of the bench on his other side. “So how was work?” Bucky prodded, leaning on his arm as if genuinely interested.

“It was work, I guess,” You could feel tendrils along your neck, the blush burning your flesh. “You two having fun without me?”

“No, but I’m sure we’ll have more now that you’re here,” Bucky smirked and your eyes nearly popped out of your head. You felt like the entire bar could hear the conversation and it was as clear to them as it was to you that this wasn’t just an after work get together.  Your whiskey arrived and you reached for it in your desperation. You hadn’t wanted to compromise your senses but the tension was overwhelming and your nerves were wild. You had to keep yourself from draining the glass entirely, lowering your glass and exhaling shakily. Steve and Bucky were watching you closely.

“Well, you must be thirsty,” Steve mused, stretching his arm across the bench behind you as he sipped from his beer.

“Working for Stark will do that to ya,” Bucky kidded, “How are you liking it?”

“It’s fine,” You shrugged, resisting the urge to finish your whiskey. This all seemed to casual. A farce.

“Come on, it must be exciting. All the people you get to meet, aside from the heroes like us you see almost every day,” Steve teased, “I mean, me and Buck are nice enough, but the others, they’re a bit--”

“Pompous,” Bucky added smugly.

Boy, they were really quite the team. Two murderers who fancied themselves crusaders. Sure, they used to fight the bad guys but now they were the bad guys. Ever since the Sekovia Accords had been overturned and Stark Industries had become entirely privatised. For every genuine criminal they were sent after, they killed a dozen civilians on behalf of the same brand of thugs. I guess money made morality an afterthought.

“Yeah,” You forced out and gulped back the rest of your drink. “It’s definitely the most famous company I’ve worked for but there aren’t many bigger than Stark himself.” Bucky squinted at you, catching the subtle jab. He wouldn’t forget that.

“Well, me and Steve were just talking about something that happened with Stark today.” Bucky began, “We were testing new armour, it’s good stuff; lightweight but it does the job well. Or at least we thought…”

You listened to Bucky and Steve as they told of the fiasco, soon trading war stories back and forth with little interjection from you. When the waiter returned, Bucky ordered you a double, then another upon his next check in. You were downing them out of nervousness, the burn of alcohol growing less as you tried to sink into the bench. You were giggling at Steve’s recount of Bucky getting his arm stuck in a wheel well when suddenly the attention turned to you. You suddenly remembered where you were and who you were with.

“Another?” Bucky asked as you found yourself sipping from an empty glass again.

“N-no,” Your words were almost slurred but you kept it together. “I think maybe I should have that water now.”

“Oh, Y/N, it’s fine to just kick back once in a while,” Steve’s arm was once more behind you, “We don’t mind.”

“Really, I like this side of you,” Bucky added, “Giggly and laid back. But I do wish you would speak up more.”

“How rude of us?” Steve announced with exaggeration, “We’ve been here talking all about ourselves. I mean, come on, we didn’t invite you hear just to sit and listen to two old men banter.”

“Surely not,” Bucky’s metal finger tapped on his glass. You stared at the half-finished beer and tilted your head. You couldn’t recall either of them ordering past their second round and yet your glass had been refilled on a loop. The suspicion quickly faded into the tipsy haze behind your eyes. “Actually, we were hoping to learn more about you.”

“Such a quiet little thing,” Steve’s voice was dusky as he leaned in, your head swiveling between them as they spoke. You were starting to get dizzy.

“I’ll start,” Bucky nearly sang, “Well, I mean there’s really only one question that I have.”

“Can I please get a water?” You asked, a hiccup rising in your throat.

“Here,” Steve pushed over his beer, “Have a sip of this.”

You hiccuped again and accepted, wanting to rid yourself of the bubbles more than anything. As you drank daintily from the pint, you realized both men were staring at you expectantly. “Anyways, what I was going to ask is…” He raised a brow, pausing dramatically before continuing, “Do you want to fuck Steve?”

You choked and the foam splashed in your face, causing you to slam the glass on the table. You were certain your drunken mind was betraying you, but the two men assured you otherwise. Their thighs were suddenly flush against yours, you felt as if you were crushed between them. Steve’s hand played with your hair and Bucky’s hand rested on your thigh. “Wh-what?” You tried to resist them but their touch felt so nice. “I…”

“Be a good girl and answer the question,” Bucky warned. You realized that this was a conspiracy. Maybe Steve didn’t know that Bucky had been fucking you for weeks but he certainly knew that he had some sort of hold over you. You suspected their conversations about you had gone well beyond the single kiss you had shared more than a week ago.

Your mouth opened and closed, you gulped and steadied your breath. You bit you lip before running your tongue across it as you steeled yourself. “Yes,” You whispered, trembling at the confession. Surprising even yourself.

“Hmm?” Bucky feigned deafness, “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” You said more firmly, almost growling at him. Your drunkenness was not enough to mute your anger as the humiliation washed over you.

“Well that can be arranged,” Bucky smirked as Steve’s hand ran the length of your arm, “Right, Steve?”

You heard a dark chuckle in your ear and Steve’s lips graze your cheek, his chest pressed against you. “It can,” He confirmed, “What do you say we go back to mine for a night cap?”

You stared at Bucky, Steve’s hand slipping down and cupping the top of your ass. “I think she’d love that,” Bucky smiled, turned to grab your jacket and handed it to you. “Well,” He stood and Steve removed his hand as he mirrored his movements, “Shall we?” Bucky offered his hand, staring you down until you took it and stood, letting him guide you out from behind the booth. He let you go, walking behind you as you followed Steve, who dropped some bills on the counter along the way. The other patrons watched your exit and you were certain they knew everything. Hell, it must have been plain enough as you couldn’t wipe the dazed look from your face.

You stepped out on the street, Bucky came up beside you and wrapped his arm around you. He bent to whisper in your ear as Steve led the way, “Good girl,” He cooed, “You remember your rules.”

tags: @petit-funsize @alexakeyloveloki @ladyofmyst @kellyn1604

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky #dark bucky barnes #dark!fic #series #witness #darkverse #au fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #marvel

[nobodyfamousposts]

Missing Interlude - Plagg

So remember when I said that the Missing Interlude was just a one time thing?

Yeah...my muse disagreed.

Contrary to popular opinion, Plagg was not simply the lazy and foolish kwami that most people believed him to be. Sure, part of that may be his fault, as he wasn’t about to go out of his way to correct people’s assumptions about him if he didn’t need to. After all, if people think he’s lackadaisical and silly, they tend to not expect much from him, which worked doubly in his favor in either convincing people to leave him alone or allow him the element of surprise if they wouldn’t. After all, most people generally didn’t worry whether he was plotting to kill them if they thought he was simply sleeping most of the time.

Plagg…admittedly hadn’t had many good wielders in the past. Fu referred to them as owners, but the very thought of the title grated at him something fierce. By their very nature, cats weren’t ‘owned’. They would stay with people. Go to those who fed them or treated them well. But they claimed their humans, not the other way around.

Even if that weren’t the case, most of his wielders had been…not the best of people. He joked about Hawk Moth and didn’t take his akumas seriously because honestly, how could he? It was ultimately the equivalent of a child playing with toys in comparison to some of the things he had been forced to do. He pitied Nooroo for his current unfortunate situation, certainly. The butterfly kwami was gentle by nature and while he wouldn’t wish such misuse on any of his brethren, Nooroo was especially sensitive. But it still said something that he found himself envying him more.

Cartoonish characters who made people burst into song or controlled birds were always preferable over serial killers, war mongers, and so-called ‘visionaries’ that saw fit to topple an entire nation to rebuild it to fit their ideals.

Atlantis was a joke. The Leaning Tower was an accident. The dinosaurs…well, those jerks actually had it coming. But still, each incident was almost minimal compared to the acts caused by some of the people he had been unfortunate enough to be discovered by over the millennia. It was part of why he played up his destructive and cat-like tendencies for the monks when he’d finally been retrieved, if only in hopes that they’d seal him up so he’d be left alone for a few centuries and just not have to deal with any of it.

There was a part of him that questioned Fu’s wisdom in sending him of all the kwamis out to face Hawk Moth. Especially when his power was one of the two that the villain was specifically after.

Ladybug made sense. Tikki was practically built for purifying, healing people, and undoing damage. Like a cosmic reset-button that allowed the akuma battles to be a temporary disruption of the norm rather than a literal matter of life and death. And sure, Tikki was always willing to be useful.

But Plagg had wanted to sleep. He had wanted to be left alone. He wanted to NOT be reminded of things he really REALLY wanted to forget. And he couldn’t even have that.

Cheese was a nice distraction from these darker thoughts—as well as part of the reason he demanded it so often since he knew he had a chosen who could manage it. Yet strangely enough, his chosen had also started to become a good distraction in his own way. An annoying one at times, sure. But a good one. It was why he even put up with listening to the kid waxing poetic about Ladybug. That plus the realization that the Ladybug he was crazy about was actually his little girlfriend who was secretly just as crazy about him?

Gold. Pure gold. It was like a movie that practically wrote itself!

At this point, he was honestly just waiting for the day the two finally had the big reveal for themselves just so he could imprint their expressions in his mind for the next century. Maybe even millennium. His only wish was that he would have a camera when it happened that he could show the rest of the kwamis.

Plus he knew Tikki would love it, even if she would lecture him for it.

Still…

Adrien was a good kid. He regretted not being able to trust him fully because he was at least somewhat certain that the boy wouldn’t follow in those ever darkened footsteps of his predecessors, but…

He sighed internally.

Plagg liked Adrien, he really did. But Adrien was young and immature in a lot of ways. Sure, he was a hero now. But would he stay that way? The future was always left to be determined. There had been a lot of Black Cats before Adrien Agreste. Too many that had gotten his hopes up only to let him down in the end.

Maybe that was why he worried so much for his current holder. The way that Adrien opened up to him so quickly and easily was less a testament of their bond and more indicative of his desperation just to have someone he could talk to.

Plagg couldn’t help but pity the kid. It was also why he didn’t try to fight the way the kid started to grow on him, either. Even despite the puns. And the lovesickness. And his at times stupidly over the top gestures and complete disregard for his own well being that Plagg was going to break him out of mark his words!

Adrien still had a lot of growing to do, and for all that Plagg let his impulses get the better of him, he was also surprisingly patient—in this case patient enough to help Adrien grow and give any sort of nudge the boy may need to do so. Because he knew the boy had potential.

The problem was the numerous stumbling blocks that were getting in the way.

There was his father—and stars, how Plagg despised that man. Always watching but never there. The undeserving focus of a completely one-sided relationship. If Adrien’s passivity and other “quirks” were signs, the fact that the nightmare Sandboy conjured for Adrien was a cage was practically glowing neon.

There were also the other girls who kept clinging to him, giving his boy the impression that he was not allowed to have personal boundaries. That not making other people upset mattered more than making himself heard when they did something to make him uncomfortable.

There was the overfilled schedule that stole away the precious little time Adrien would have to find himself and just enjoy life before it was over all too quickly. Humans were such short-lived creatures, after all…

There were the regular akuma battles. And Hawk Moth. The constant danger they and Paris as a whole were constantly in.

And then there was this latest upset…Marinette’s “disappearance”.

It was…strange. He honestly didn’t know what to think.

Plagg had known that Marinette was Ladybug since Dark Owl. He’d gotten a good long laugh out of it, too. Later. Much later. Couldn’t let Adrien in on the joke too soon, after all.

Watching those two dance around each other became a whole new form of entertainment that it took everything he had at times to not burst out into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

It also had the other side effect of making him want to bang his head against a wall most days because his current wielder was so oblivious it was downright painful at times. It hurt when he watched the kid be so blind to how much she adored him. And then there were the instances where she all but TOLD him—gaah! He was starting to understand why humans loved romantic tripe so much. It wasn’t the ooey-gooey kiss-fests, it was the anticipation of when the people involved would finally get their heads straight so they could bonk lips the right way.

And wasn’t it just hilarious that both his kid and Tikki’s were pretty much their own rivals? Even their own worst enemies in keeping them from getting together? Well, hilarious and frustrating. It really depended on the day and the antics involved.

Of course, the other problem was that the antics involved had started to be other people.

Chloe was one thing. Adrien wasn’t interested but they were at least friends. Whatever feelings of affection she had could be tapered off and tempered with time. She would likely even try to support Adrien more if she knew. And the girl had…at least somewhat started to grow up. Ladybug was a surprisingly big help with that, given how much her civilian self was often on the receiving end of the other girl’s cruelty.

Kagami was…interesting. But really little better in the long run. Less antagonistic, sure. Not nearly as harsh or cruel. But she was just as aggressive and controlling, from her demands for a duel with Adrien and insistence on winning when they first met to talking over Adrien at the ice rink. He would grant that she at least respected him and didn’t infringe on his personal space, but she still saw his passivity for what it was and took it upon herself to step in on his behalf—or what she thought was his behalf at any rate. Adrien already had enough of that in his life. What he needed wasn’t someone to make his decisions for him, it was someone who would encourage him to make his own.

That was why he had been rooting for Marinette. Even if she hadn’t turned out to be Tikki’s newest bug, she would be good for him. She had dreams about him, certainly, but any of her plans seemed to at least involve taking his kid’s feelings into account. Whatever lengths she went to in order to get his attention were less about pushing him to go her way and more about just trying to push for a chance to go the same way together. It was endearing. A little cringy at times, but overall endearing. And it had seemed they were finally making progress after the Heroes Day incident. 

But then there was Lila…

Oh, he had a few choice words for Adrien after the whole Volpina incident. Blindly following the new hero over his own partner? Overlooking how downright impractical it was for her to take out a meteor that literally NOBODY saw coming before it reached the earth and was closing in on the city? Ignoring his partner’s very valid suspicions and writing her off as jealous for not wanting to trust a supposed ‘hero’ they only just met? FLIRTING WITH HER?!

Ladybug’s behavior towards Lila may have been harsh, but Adrien damn well KNEW better than to immediately take her word at face value. He’s been around socialites and the power-hungry ‘elite’ for Tikki’s sake! Best friends with Ladybug? Fox Miraculous? Descendant of the Fox user? Adrien actually KNEW Ladybug and about the Miraculous! How was he actually BUYING any of that? How did he not clue in that Lila was the reason his book was missing? And the way he looked so disappointed when Ladybug revealed the truth—to the point of being more upset with Ladybug for outing the girl rather than the girl for lying in the first place?

This kid was too kind and trusting for his own good. And it was probably going to be the death of Plagg just from the sheer stress of it all. Honestly, he could feel his fur thinning out because of it.

It seemed like it was a short lived problem since the girl left soon after. But then she came back. And worse than ever, being akumatized at least twice more since then. One of which involved putting Adrien in an enchanted sleep that Plagg only just got to avoid kissing him out of. The other which involved witnessing Adrien…disappearing in a way that Plagg was still having to try very VERY hard not to think about at risk of revisiting other less than pleasant memories thankyouverymuch!

It made one thing clear: Lila wasn’t just a pest. She was a threat. One he really wanted to see gone.

So it was really no surprise that Plagg wasn’t happy about his kid choosing the ‘moral high road’ in this situation, since the poor idiot didn’t understand what the high road was even supposed to be. It was so easy for him to say, especially since Adrien wasn’t the one really being affected by the lies.

No, it was clearly Marinette being affected, and she was also the one Lila seemed to have it out for since she, at least, was willing to call the other girl out on her lies. Adrien thought that staying quiet and keeping his head down was the best option because for him, that’s how any conflict was resolved. It was a bad habit that Plagg had been hoping to break him out of, but that progress was slow going. His passivity was too strong and only bolstered by his relentless optimism and belief in others as well as the way that others would tend to push him down.

Plagg sighed. The kid just didn’t get it. This class of serial liar and manipulator couldn’t be dealt with by letting her continue unopposed.

So he understood at least why the Ladybug girl had been so upset. And he even sympathized with her, he truly did. But she was the sort of person to meet a challenge head on, and if an attempt failed, she simply looked for another way to deal with it. She didn’t bow her head. She didn’t turn tail and run away. And though there was conflict and it was having an effect on her, things were hardly so bad as to warrant an extreme reaction.

Like say, having her civilian self “disappear”.

If he hadn’t known she was Ladybug, he would be confused. But with that knowledge of her identity…he was only more confused. He didn’t understand why she was pretending to be missing.

Had something happened?

Was she in danger?

Did someone discover her identity?

Sure, maybe being Ladybug full time might be more productive, but given how protective she was over her civilian life, he couldn’t see her simply giving it up if she didn’t have to.

He didn’t buy for a minute that she would simply pull a vanishing act for the hell of it, even if her classmates were being mind-numbingly stupid. He knew he’d said before that these people were blind, but to just automatically accept all those tales was sheer lunacy! They certainly deserved some sort of reprimand, but not by making them think their friend might be dead! And even if they did, she would never do it to them.

The girl took her role as Ladybug seriously. Other than a few missteps, she treated the title with all the caution and importance that it warranted. He’d met her in person as himself, and even had the chance to work with her. He could understand why Tikki felt it justifiable to reveal Fu to her. And as much as he wanted to think well of his kid, he couldn’t deny that of the two of them, she was the better suited for handling the secret and bearing the responsibility that came with it.

So what happened?

When he first discovered she was still out and about as Ladybug after hearing that initial report, he wanted to forcefully end the transformation and confront her outright. He even considered slipping away when Adrien was busy and tracking her down to get some answers. Because Plagg may be patient, but he really needed an explanation for this.

He stopped, feeling that tingling energy of a Cataclysm waiting to happen and realizing that he was getting worked up again. He took a breath and forced himself to calm.

Observe first, Plagg reminded himself. Stalk your target. Watch. Wait. Gather information before making a move. Something had to have happened to warrant such a drastic change. He needed to find out what was going on.

And if she was doing this for giggles?

They would be having words.

#ml au #ml fic #missing #plagg #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lila sucks #plagg has issues #this is not helping #missing au

[thequantumqueer]

hi sorry 2 bother u but would u mind explaining a bit more about how ppl in the military are victims? ofc no pressure only if u wanna I'm just curious to learn wht u mean

yeah definitely!

so it starts with predatory recruitment. military recruiters visit high schools and sometimes even middle schools to normalize the idea that joining the military is no different from going to college. almost none of those kids can actually join, but they try to sell them on it anyway with talk of how cool it’ll be and what a badass it’ll turn you into, and stuff like that. the army even has even put out three T-rated video games about army life since 2007, the most recent in 2015.

it gets even more intense in high school, when they start contacting kids directly. when you take the SAT and ACT, your information automatically gets sent to recruiters and they start sending you recruitment literature that blends in really well with the letters you’re getting from colleges suggesting you apply.

then, once people are old enough to actually join up, the recruitment pitch shifts to more tangible offers with little to no intention of ever following through. one of the biggest selling points is the G.I. Bill, but it comes with a whole host of terms and conditions that no one ever mentions, which often results in the benefits being mostly (or even completely) unusable for a lot of people, with just under half of servicemembers ending up using any of it at all.

they also recruit heavily based on the idea that your time in the military will translate into work experience and make it easier to find a job when you get out, but most military equivalents to civilian jobs deal with highly specialized equipment that makes the experience irrelevant, and you don’t get any certifications or equivalencies.

another big draw is Tricare, which is, quite simply, the best insurance in the world. What they don’t tell you is that your dependents get a shitty knockoff, and you also get kicked over to that shitty knockoff as soon as they determine that whatever’s wrong means you won’t be returning to active duty. they want to protect their investment as long as it can fight for them, but beyond that, you can go fuck yourself. and that’s to say nothing of the nightmare that is the VA, which is infamous for multiple-month wait times for even basic care, which is very often poor quality when you eventually do get it.

once you’ve actually joined, a few things happen that the recruiter never mentioned. first and foremost, you’ve entered into a contract with the united states government, which means that any breach of that contract is a federal felony. in other words, everything in this post from here on out is 100% completely and totally unavoidable without utterly fucking up your life.

the second is that you are now subject to two entire sets of laws that, most likely, you had no idea existed until just now. lots of those laws are standard federal law that only applies to military personnel (title 10, mostly), but the rest are called the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ). a lot of the ucmj is pretty straightforward stuff that you’d expect, like “it’s a crime to disobey orders” (Article 92) and the like, but there’s a ton of general conduct laws as well. for example Article 88 - Contempt Toward Officials, which says:

Any commissioned officer who uses contemptuous words against the President, the Vice President, Congress, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of a military department, the Secretary of Transportation, or the Governor or legislature of any State, Territory, Commonwealth, or possession in which he is on duty or present shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.

in other words, if you’re an officer it is literally a crime to criticize the government, even in private and even if you’re not in uniform. more generally, though, all military personnel have their political activity severely restricted by a combination of articles 10, 2, and 18 of us code, DOD directives, and military regulations. from this article, here’s a list of some things that you’re not allowed to do if you’re in the military:

Participate in partisan political fundraising activities, rallies, conventions (including making speeches in the course thereof), management of campaigns, or debates, either on one’s own behalf or on that of another, without respect to uniform or inference or appearance of official sponsorship, approval, or endorsement. Participation includes more than mere attendance as a spectator.

Use official authority or influence to interfere with an election, affect the course or outcome of an election, solicit votes for a particular candidate or issue, or require or solicit political contributions from others.

Allow or cause to be published partisan political articles, letters, or endorsements signed or written by the member that solicits votes for or against a partisan political party, candidate, or cause. However, letters to the editor are allowed.

Serve in any official capacity with or be listed as a sponsor of a partisan political club.

Speak before a partisan political gathering, including any gathering that promotes a partisan political party, candidate, or cause.

Participate in any radio, television, or other program or group discussion as an advocate for or against a partisan political party, candidate, or cause.

Conduct a political opinion survey under the auspices of a partisan political club or group or distribute partisan political literature.

Perform clerical or other duties for a partisan political committee or candidate during a campaign, on an election day, or after an election day during the process of closing out a campaign.

Solicit or otherwise engage in fundraising activities in Federal offices or facilities, including military reservations, for any political cause or candidate.

March or ride in a partisan political parade.

Display a large political sign, banner, or poster (as distinguished from a bumper sticker) on a private vehicle.

Display a partisan political sign, poster, banner, or similar device visible to the public at one’s residence on a military installation, even if that residence is part of a privatized housing development.

Participate in any organized effort to provide voters with transportation to the polls if the effort is organized by or associated with a partisan political party, cause, or candidate.

Sell tickets for or otherwise actively promote partisan political dinners and similar fundraising events.

Attend partisan political events as an official representative of the Armed Forces, except as a member of a joint Armed Forces color guard at the opening ceremonies of the national conventions of the Republican, Democratic, or other political parties recognized by the Federal Elections Committee or as otherwise authorized by the Secretary concerned.

Make a campaign contribution to, or receive or solicit (on one’s own behalf) a campaign contribution from, any other member of the Armed Forces on active duty.

Any activity that may be reasonably viewed as directly or indirectly associating the Department of Defense or the Department of Homeland Security (in the case of the Coast Guard) or any component of these Departments with a partisan political activity or is otherwise contrary to the spirit and intention of this Directive shall be avoided.

most of that list comes from DoD Directive 1344.10 (full text here) and while there’s plenty of stuff you can do, politically, but almost all of it requires you to be either anonymous or passive about it. so now it’s illegal for you to do anything substantial toward changing policy in any way, and possibly also to even so much as complain about the president or call congress incompetent.

so now that you’ve been properly restricted (and remember, the only way out of this without a felony is with a DD214 (discharge paperwork)) you’re put to work. on the surface, it seems like any other job, but there’s subtle differences. for one thing, literally every person who’s gotten more raises than you is your boss and you have to do whatever they tell you unless it conflicts with what someone who’s gotten even more raises than them already told you to do.

your orders can also be literally anything that’s not illegal. if your boss at starbucks tells you to always stand on one foot while you work the register, you might do it for like an hour or two, but then you’d stop bothering and if your boss got upset about it then that would be unreasonable. if your CO tells you to always say the pledge of allegiance in Farsi, then it’s your responsibility to learn how to say it in Farsi and always do so until that CO or someone above them give you permission to say it in english again, and if you don’t, that’s a crime.

what that means is that if you get assigned to recruitment duty, you can and will be ordered to look and sound excited about being in the military as you tell 13 year olds they should join up after high school, and you will legally have to do it.

and all of this is without even mentioning the missions. combat, and the act of killing another human being, are traumatizing even in the most ideal of situations. if someone breaks into your home to attack you and you push them back and something heavy falls on them and kills them, that’s still a traumatic experience for you. even legitimate wars for good reasons against enemies that really do need to be stopped are horrifying experiences for everyone involved.

but when the war is bullshit and most of the casualties are civilians and you know all this and aren’t even allowed to say anything about it, let alone do anything about it? that combines with combat to royally fuck a person up.

this is the part where everyone who’s read this far gets ready to jump down my throat about how the people being bombed are the real victims and not the people dropping the bombs, so let me remind you that this anon was in response to a post i made that started with the words “The US Military is […] evil” and that im not in any way trying to say that the troops get the worst of it, just that they are being used and abused by the system.

because remember, those troops have been groomed to be recruited since they were five years old and asked their parents why they got veterans day off from kindergarten, and have been pursued more and more actively all the way up through high school. the military lured them in, is chewing them up, and will spit them out when it’s done with them without giving one single fuck about them.

and no matter how you cut it, that describes a victim.

#the us military is my culture of origin #military personnel and military brats are my people in a way that no one else is #and for better or for worse nothing can ever change that. not even my realization that #fuck the military tbh #wild doge appeared. much wow

[maulusque]

here’s an idea

some of the jedi actually have their shit together re: the morality of a slave army.

Namely Aayla Secura and Plo Koon. From the start of the war, they both voiced opposition to taking part, specifically citing the clones’ situation. The Council convinced them to take part as generals anyway, on the basis that at least they could do some good for the clones as generals, whereas if they sat out and let another take their place, they wouldn’t be able to do anything. They feel like hypocrites, like slave owners, but they both vow to do everything in their power to see the clones freed. After the war. And the war just keeps, happening, you know? It seems like there’s always somewhere where they and their troops are needed, innocent civilians to save, and they can prioritize civilian lives over the clones’ lives, right? I mean, at least the clones are trained for this. They both care as much as they can for the men they have, but they still lead them to battle, lead them to their deaths, requisition more troops from Kamino with the same forms they requisition more blasters with.

 Eventually, as the war drags on and on and on, and their best intentions for the clones are stymied by exhaustion, death, and bureaucracy, both Plo and Aayla realize, independently, that they need to take drastic action if they want to be able to consider themselves Jedi, or even good people. Because they haven’t done right by the clones. Whatever their intentions, they have been complicit in slavery, in child abuse, in murder and torture. Making the clones wait until the end of the war for their freedom is cruel and inhumane, and unless they prioritize freedom and justice for their men now, then they are no better than the slave lords of the outer rim, who sit in their massive palaces with fortunes built on slavery. So, they reach out. They talk to their Commanders. Bly and Wolffe put them in touch with Cody, and with each other. Cody and the other Commanders have been talking, in secret. They, too, have realized that the war isn’t going to end anytime soon, and even if it does, what happens to them? 

Cody is reluctant to trust Aayla and Plo, but Bly and Wolffe vouch for them. He asks them, if you are truly willing to help us, you have to realize that this might mean quitting the Jedi Order. This might mean turning against your fellow Jedi. Are you willing to do that? Are you willing to, say, kill Mace Windu, or Depa Billaba, or Ahsoka Tano, if it means our freedom? Aayla and Plo say yes, they are. And they are. This had been one of the toughest choices they’ve had to make in their lives, when it should have been one of the easiest. They are Jedi, and they will fight against injustice and slavery wherever it may be, no matter who is perpetrating it. 

So Cody sets them to work. Aayla reaches out to her old master, Quinlan Vos. In this universe, instead of being a racist dickhead, his anti-clone sentiment is born from the fact that he utterly disagrees with the idea of Jedi waging war, and has transformed that into resenting the clones. He’s spent the entire war being literally as far away from it as possible, ignoring the Council as much as he can. Eventually, though, he undergoes a mr. darcy-like transformation, realizes what an asshole he’s been, and when Aayla comes knocking, he’s already been smuggling troopers slated for decomissioning to safe planets.

Plo Koon reaches out to Ahsoka. In the time since she’s left the order, she’s done a lot of growing up. Outside of the stress of constant war, and the influence of the Council and Anakin, she’s done a lot of thinking and also undergone Character Growth, realizing how unfair the clones’ situation is, and how she contributed to it, how she ignored the power differential between them. She jumps at the chance to help. (it does take her a bit to get used to the idea that she’s not a leader here, not a commander- she’s a useful agent, and her input is appreciated, but she and the Jedi with her are not in charge). Ahsoka approaches Rex, he tells her what happened to Fives. Ahsoka does some digging, and uncovers the chips. She takes the info straight to Rex, who, with the other Commanders and the medics, coordinate a massive, secret de-chipping operation under the guise of every trooper needing a vaccine to combat some new disease making the rounds.

Once Cody and the others are fairly sure that the majority of the army has been dechipped, the Commanders make their move, and the entire GAR goes on strike. Every Commander has passed down orders to their captains, and the captains have passed it down to their men, so everyone is briefed on what to do and how to behave. Any troops currently engaged in battle abandon whatever objective they had, fighting only to their extraction point. GAR ships abandon contested space, re-centering around Republic planets and bases. Troopers are ordered to only perform the duties necessary to keep the ships running and keep everyone alive. Food, sanitation, medical, and defense if they are attacked. Many battalions are essentially dead in space, or on whatever planet they were on, because their Jedi leaders won’t relinquish the bridges of their ships, but their troops refuse to fight. So Aayla, Plo, and the other allied Jedi are able to take their troops to these stranded groups, giving them supplies, taking the wounded, helping them defend against separatist forces if they need it.

Cody and the other Commanders have put together a document, and they send two copies. One to the Senate, and one to the Jedi Council. It is a list of grievances, followed by a list of demands.

Needless to say, the Jedi Council are forced into a negotiation pretty damn quick. The Commanders insist that a representative of the Senate, someone with the authority to speak for them, be present too. The clones refuse to send their representatives to Coruscant, because they don’t trust the Jedi Council or the Senate not to execute them. Anakin Skywalker volunteers his ship as a neutral place- sure, the 501st is on strike, but it’s a Jedi ship, so both parties should feel about as equally uncomfortable.

At the negotiations, representing the Clone Troopers: Commander Cody, Commander Wolffe, Commander Bly, and Captain Rex. Plo Koon, Aayla Secura, Quinlan Vos, and Ahsoka Tano are there to, mostly to say what the clones say, but louder and with a Jedi voice, so the council might actually listen. Present on behalf of the Jedi: Yoda, Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and, ironically enough, Plo Koon, who volunteered when Yoda asked for Council members willing to participate in the negotiations. Present on behalf of the Senate: Senator Bail Organa, Senator Halle Burtoni of Kamino, and Chancellor Palpatine. Anakin is there, too, of course. It’s his ship, after all. Cody starts off by re-listing their grievances, the crimes committed against the Clone Troopers (he’s left the chips off the list- they’re still not 100% sure who’s behind it and don’t want to endanger the troops still chipped). Yoda and Mace try to interrupt him many times, but Cody just keeps talking over them, and Plo Koon keeps going “no let him finish this sounds interesting”. 

When Cody finishes, Halle Burtoni erupts into a rant about “traitors” and “defective products”. Senator Organa thinks Cody has a point. A good one. A lot of good ones, actually. Palpatine is quiet, silently calculating how he can turn this to his advantage. Yoda spouts off with a bunch of Jedi platitudes about perspective, the greater good, blah blah blah. Cody just looks at him and says “sir, you’re full of shit.” Before anyone can get on his case for it, Rex stands and starts reading off their demands. Obi-Wan keeps interrupting, with things like “surely, we can negotiate” or “I agree that you and your men have a right to these things, but in war, certain sacrifices must be made” and “can’t this wait until after we defeat the separatists?” Rex tells him to shut the hell up and listen for once in his goddamn life (quote). Obi-Wan turns to Anakin and says “Anakin, I thought you taught your men more respect than that!” but Anakin says “Actually, Master, I agree with Rex.” Before THAT can blow up, Yoda tries to calm things down with “discuss your requests, we must” but Wolffe’s like “Not requests. Demands. We are not here to negotiate, we are here to tell you what you must do if you want to keep your army.” There’s arguing. There’s yelling. Aayla makes an impassioned speech about freedom. Anakin and Ahsoka have a quick hushed aside, in which it takes Anakin about 30 seconds to decide he’s quitting the Order, too. Yoda and Mace ask Plo to back them up, but he just points at Wolffe and goes “my son”. Cody, Rex, Bly, and Wolffe are doing an excellent job of looking like the only professionals in the room. 

Eventually, Bail Organa asks everyone to calm down. “Commanders, I hear your grievances, and I understand that you have been treated wrongly. I propose that I introduce a bill in the Senate, to legally grant your demands-by the way, can I have a copy of that list?- We might have to do some arm-twisting to get the votes, but if you and your brothers hold steadfast in your strike, I’m sure it won’t take too long for the Senators to come around- especially those whose planets are close to Separatist activity.” Yoda mumbles something about needing to meditate before taking any action. Bail turns to Palpatine, who hasn’t said a word so far. “What do you think, Chancellor? Such a bill would move through the Senate much faster with your backing.” 

Palpatine has been watching the proceedings, and thinking. This could totally work out for him. Anakin and Obi-Wan are on opposite sides of this debate, and he didn’t even have to do anything to drive this wedge between them. Anakin is primed to declare against the Jedi Order. If he plays his ace card soon, the Clone Troopers massacre the Jedi, and, combined with their current strike, is more than enough justification for him to declare them all defective traitors and have them all killed via the chips, leaving Anakin with no one and nothing. Then, it’s a simple matter of unleashing him on the Separatists, having him commit more and more atrocities in the name of victory... unless, of course, Anakin decides to help the clones and participate in Order 66 himself, in which case, his job is done! And he might not even need to kill Padme to do it! At least, not until after the children are born and he can assess whether he wants one of them as an apprentice instead of their father. So Palpatine stands, walks over to Cody, and says, “Commander Cody, the time has come. Execute Order 66.”

And Cody says “Fuck you, Chancellor.” and punches him in the face. In the ensuing shitstorm, a lot of stuff is revealed. Palpatine is a sith lord- the angry Force lightning kind of made it obvious. Anakin has good reflexes, jumping in front of the lightning and absorbing the blast to protect Cody (he’s the most powerful Force-sensitive in a thousand years at least, he’ll be fine). Rex has good aim and good priorities- his pistols are drawn and Palpatine has two smoking holes where his eyes were before Anakin has finished screaming and collapsing dramatically. “Oh my fucking god,” Mace Windu says, realizing that they’ve been living in the pocket of a Sith Lord for a good decade and that he is an idiot. Wolffe is trying to get past Plo Koon, who jumped in front of him the moment Cody punched Palpatine. Aayla and Bly both tried to jump in front of each other (Bly won, because Aayla may be a Jedi but she’s shorter than he is), and Ahsoka, who didn’t get the chance to jump in front of anybody, just goes “yikes”. Obi-Wan, who is currently evaluating all of his life choices and also just how well he really knows his Commander, goes “agreed”. 

Anyway Bail gets the bill passed and is elected chancellor, and immediately enters into negotiations with the Separatists (dooku mysteriously vanished, high-tailing it out of there when his master died, and suddenly the separatist forces are much less blood-thirsty and sentient-rights violating when he’s not leading them). Yoda retires to a swamp planet, Mace decides to de-centralize the Jedi Order, re-write a lot of rules and Jedi philosophy, and moves to a new Temple being built on Hoth or something.

The clones are freed, given citizenship, backpay, and reparations, funded mostly by the Senate taxing the shit out of the Banking Clans and the Trade Federation. They objected strenuously, but couldn’t really do much about it with an entire clone army breathing down their necks. There’s a big search for a home for the clones, and a planet that will agree to host them. This is when the clan leaders of the Mandalorian Houses come forward- not the New Mandalorians, but the Mandalorians of the traditional, warrior culture, kicked out of Mandalore by the new government, living as a diaspora all over the galaxy. They say they will claim the Clones as theirs, accept them as their own clan. Their motives are manifold- one, the Clones were trained by Mandalorians, including Jango Fett, and clone culture borrows a lot from the Mandalorians. Secondly, it’ll really piss off Satine Kryze’s government, Thirdly, the promises made to the clones in Organa’s bill could be leveraged into a win-win for the Mandalorian Clans and the Clones. The Clones get their citizenship, and the Mandalorian Clans get recognized as an independent political entity, separate from New Mandalore, and as such, not subject to their laws, and entitled to a Senator of their own, as well as protection and recognition for their citizens spread throughout the Galaxy. 

Additionally, many planets offer citizenship programs to the clones, especially those whose populations had been decimated by the war. Governments are desperate for able-bodied people to come in and fill in the economic gap left by the war to stave off economic collapse. The Senate further creates programs to make it easier for clones to gain citizenship on planets that might not be so eager for them to live there, and for clones who are disabled and unable to work. So many clones end up with dual citizenship- Mandalorian Clans, and their home planet of choice.

Many choose to stay in the army- it’s familiar, it’s easier than trying to find a job and pay rent (especially when you’ve never heard of a job, salary, or rent growing up), it’s where their brothers are, and hey, they’re getting paid now. Anakin talks to Rex, and together, they take the 501st to the Outer Rim and wreck shit on the Hutts and their slave empire. After fulfilling his childhood dream of liberating Tattooine, Anakin retires to raise his children with his wife. Wolffe spends a few years traveling the galaxy alone, seeing new places and meeting new people. Eventually he returns to Coruscant, and when he leaves, a newly retired Plo Koon goes with him, and together they see as much of the galaxy as they can. Cody and Rex spend a while helping to settle their vod’e, taking the cadets and babies from Kamino and setting up home bases all over the galaxy, where they are raised by their older brothers. Cody discovers that he loves teaching. Rex finds out that he really likes kids. Eventually, Cody and Rex retire, but they still spend a lot of time with the clone children, and with their brothers. Ahsoka drops by every once in a while. Bail spends his career rooting out corruption and establishing requirements that Republic planets must elect their senators by popular vote. Everyone is reasonably content, oh and also Fives didn’t really die, he was wearing a blaster-proof vest and went into hiding, he rescued Echo and they both live the rest of their lives happily together.

#Clone Wars #SW TCW #cody #rex #aayla secura #plo koon #jedi not being stupid

[literallyanyfxndom]

makings of a great ruler [arthur pendragon]

WARNINGS: mild violence, implications of death

SUMMARY: all you want for Camelot and your nation, Auroria, is peace, but how can you do that when your father refuses to negotiate?

requested

“Sire, I understand that Arthur Pendragon is not a friend of Auroria, but he might not be an enemy either. I urge you to look at him as a potential asset towards bettering our Kingdom!” One of your fathers adviser’s pleaded. It was the same one that always wanted peace, Cenric, and the one who always went ignored by the other war mongers. 

Another cleared his throat. “Sire, I speak on behalf of the people, they do not want you to give up this fight.” From behind the large chair that your father was seated in, you tried to hold back the scoff that came from your mouth. Not a single civilian in Auroria wished to be at war this long. When it had started with your grandfather, it had been justified, but with a new generation there should have been a clean slate, however, your father refused to concede.

The king glanced back at you, with a gruff sound that told you to keep your mouth shut, and you obeyed, folding in your hands in your lap while they continued to talk about possible routes to take in order to finally dethrone Arthur Pendragon. You squirmed in your seat the entire time, hoping that soon you could get out of the agonizing conference. 

You sat through half an hour more before you had to get up, since you couldn’t stop squirming in your seat. Not one of the men looked up from their place at the table upon your departure, and you slipped out into the castle halls easily.

Outside of the councilmen’s hall, you could speak your mind, let your opinion be known. Most everyone in the castle knew that you wanted negotiations with Camelot to take place, but your father would never allow it. But of course, there were always ways to get around your father.

Arthur Pendragon was seated at the head of the table looking over at you. About an hour ago, you had showed up at the gates of Camelot, requesting to see Arthur Pendragon on urgent business, now that you were in front of him, you had no idea what to say. What was there to say? Your fathers had continued an unnecessary war, something that should’ve stopped but so far was seeing no end. 

You looked up at him from where your gaze was fixated on your hands, which were folded in your lap. The ladies of the court were surprised to see you, and hardly believed that you were a princess, what from your riding leathers and long rough cloak. Arthur was looking at you that way now, obviously trying to hide the expression on his face as he searched you over. “Why did you come here?”

“I-” You trailed off, put on the spot suddenly. You had expected this and planned what to say, but now that it came to it, it was like you couldn’t talk. “I want to negotiate peace terms with Camelot on behalf of Auroria. I know that my father has showed no interest in this, but I promise you, the people are tired, war is depleting them. I need to help them in whatever way I can, and it is obvious to me that my father only has interest in continuing my grandfather’s fight.”

Gwen was sitting beside him, and at this she put a hand over his. “Arthur, maybe you should consider. Camelot may weaken over time.” You knew what that meant: it already was weakening, but she couldn’t say that, couldn’t make Camelot look weak in front of a potential enemy. 

“I’ll give you a document outlining peace terms that are negotiable, you could bring it to your father, and we’ll go for there. We can’t make anything final until the ruler of Auroria agrees to meet with me.” You nodded, your head bowing to stare at your lap. At the sight of your discontentment with the mention of your father, Arthur reached over and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly so you would look up at him. “Risking yourself for your people and your kingdom is very honorable, and the beginnings of a great ruler. You have done the right thing.” He stood and Gwen pushed back her chair with him, both getting up to leave the hall. Before they exited, he turned and addressed you again. “I’ll send one of my Knights down to entertain you. Would you lie it if I had the kitchen set up a little picnic? You could go by the riverside and have lunch?”

You grinned and nodded. “I would love that.” With a bow from you, Arthur left to make preparations.

Half an hour later, Gwaine sat on the shore with you, you both had a vine of grapes you were picking off of. He was making small talk, dancing around asking about your life in Auroria. “You have to tell me about yourself.” You urged him, hoping he would give you something to talk about. 

“No, princess, you must tell me about yourself.” A devilish grin was plastered on his face and you laughed, shaking your head.

“I promise, my life is not that interesting.”

“Nonsense, tell me about your father.” He took a grape from the vine and popped it in his mouth, waiting for you to start talking, to be less elusive.

Your smile faded and you stared nervously at the ground beneath you. “Well, there isn’t much to tell.” You trailed off and then finally spit it out. “He’s awful. A truly wicked man. Just a few years ago, our kingdom went on a witch hunt, which is rather ironic, considering the true evil resides on the throne of Auroria.” Now, you stared out at the water, trying to avoid his gaze. “But, you know, he wasn’t always like this. He only started being the way he is when my mother passed a few years ago.”

He was hesitant to ask the question, but eventually he gave up on being discreet. “How did she pass if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She passed while giving birth to my brother. He’s an angel. Our father favors him. He thinks it’s my fault that she died, because I begged for them to have another baby, and they weren’t planning on having another child, but I wanted a new family member so badly, and so they gave me just that.”

Gwaine put his hand over yours on the ground, his fingers scooping your hand up to comfort you. “Its not your fault. You didn’t make them have the baby. Don’t believe him, okay?”

“Sometimes it’s hard not to, but thank you, Gwaine.”

Arthur handed you the letter for you father with his family seal on it and smiled. “You better head out, before it gets too dark. Let me have someone escort you, please.”

“No, no I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Arthur. I made it here by myself, I can make it back.” You put a hand on his arm. “Thank you, for everything. I hope that we can achieve peace together.” He put his hand over yours.

“If not in his reign, in your reign.” You kissed his cheek lightly and said your goodbye to Gwaine, climbing onto your horse as the gates opened to emit you to the chilly night air on your ride back to Auroria. When you were no longer in ear shot, Arthur motioned for guards to bring up another horse. “Gwaine, follow her to Camelot’s border, bandits have been unruly as of late.” Gwaine climbed on the horse. “Be careful, Gwaine.” 

You raced down main roads, the moonlight shining down on your skin, your cloak billowing behind you as your horse raced on. When you were close enough to Auroria, you slowed and turned onto the dirt paths that trailed through the woods which would lead you to the back entrance of Auroria. Every now and then, you got the feeling someone was following you, and occasionally you looked back, but mostly tried not to think about. You had protection, no matter if the dagger would do minimal damage in the end anyways. 

You practically lost yourself in the riding, it could’ve lulled you to sleep had you not been so determined to stay awake, stay coherent and get home. Ahead of you, you could see a figure in the path, dark and large in stature, a barrel chest and a thick cloak. You slowed and placed your hand on the dagger on your hip, the hilt cool against your sweating palm as you neared whoever it was. The dark concealed them well, taking over their face so it was completely black. “Excuse me, sir, but I have to get past you.”

“No you don’t.” When you heard the voice, your blood ran cold in your veins. It was him, your father, he had found out. “Auroria does not welcome you back into it’s palace, Y/N.” You pulled your horse to a stop, and somewhere in the near distance, you heard someone coming, but you ignored that so you could pay attention to your father. 

“Father, I have good news! I went to Camelot, they gave me a list of negotiable peace terms. All you have to do is-”

“I don’t care what I have to do, because that is not going to happen. I’m not negotiating with that scum.”

“He isn’t scum! Father, the people don’t want war. The warriors don’t want to fight anymore. The only one who still supports this petty battle is you! You let other men fight for you while you hide behind Castle walls.” You were terrified, and you tried to stop talking, but it just came out like wildfire. There was nothing you could do to stop it. There were footsteps again, and still you ignored them. “You get better men to do your bidding. You get better men to do everything for you while you do nothing. Why do you refuse to see that this battle is pointless? Why do you ignore the multitudes of dead men who show up at your doorstep? They were your responsibility as their King, and you forced them to die needlessly. You failed them.” 

Slap.

The sting on your cheek was pounding in your head, spreading through your body. You fell to the forest floor and held your red flesh, glaring up at your father. “You only beat me because I’m telling the truth.” 

Slap.

“Shut up! Shut your filthy mouth! You failed your people, you failed me, and you failed your mother. If I ever see your face in my castle again, I promise you, it will be the last thing you do on this Earth.” With that, he turned on his heel and his cloak swept out behind him, leaving you alone in the dark woods, tears slipping from your eyes. 

You could feel someone behind you, but you couldn’t pay attention to it, didn’t want to. Your fate was sealed, until your father died, you were alone and even when he was gone, would the people accept you? A hand on your shoulder startled you, and then Gwaine was there, sitting on the ground and pulling you closer to hug you while you sobbed. He ran his hands through your hair and kissed the top of your head in an effort to soothe you, and after a few minutes, it worked, your sobs turned to sniffles. “Gwaine?”

“Yeah?”

“What am I going to do? I can’t go home. There isn’t anywhere for me to go.”

He sighed and pulled back to look at your face, wiping the tears from your face with the pads of his thumbs. “There is one place.”

Arthur Pendragon was seated at the head of the table looking over at you. His smile was warm and welcoming, fully accepting and understanding of your situation. “You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. I’m sorry we couldn’t figure something out for your people.”

You thanked him. “They know I have their best interest in mind. Hopefully, they support me when my time comes.”

“Well, you have the makings of a great ruler.”

#arthur pendragon imagine #merlin imagine #knights of the round table #gwaine imagine #arthur pendragon #bradley james #bradley james imagine

[givemesnekboiasap]

Behind the Scene of Mt Hiei

Year, 1571, months before the event......

“...Onii-sama, you cannot go to his aid, especially since the announcement of your death. Let Fate decides on his survival...”

“......as much as it goes against my grain, I will listen to you.....Yuki, you know what to do...”

“I’ll send the Mitsumono and keep updates on their whereabouts, my lord. You need to focus on your health first, let Aoi-chan and myself act in your stead...”

............

......

...

“My lord! The Mitsumono have send news! The Oda army is heading for Mt Hiei...”

“Isn’t where the warrior monks of Enryaku-ji have established their fortress?”

“...the devil have decided to eradicate the monks once and for all, but my concern are the civilians who will be caught in the chaos...”

“Chances are the town of Sakamoto, located at the base of the mountain will be destroyed to ensure all escape routes are blocked. This will cause the villagers to panic and head up the mountain. The monks will have to take the defensive stand instead of an all-out assault on the Oda. Fire will be the fastest and most direct approach to wipe everyone out...”

“...Kenshin nii-sama...... send me to Sakamoto...”

“NO! You cannot go!” “NO! I wouldn’t let you!”

“But I’m the only person that can move about without raising any suspicion. Yukimura-san, who’s heading the army?”

“I heard it’s Akechi...which is as bad as having Oda himself leading the campaign...”

“...So, he entrusts the destruction of Enryakuji to the viper...that can be a good thing or a worse scenario... especially with rumors saying that there’s amorosity brewing between them...”

“I can handle him...please, let me go...before it's too late...”

“......Alright...” “Kenshin!” “Wait! Before you go flying out of the estate, you must make a blood oath to come back, alive. Or Shingen will pay the price of your carelessness...”

“......” “How DARE you threaten my lord?!”

“...Bwahahahahah......” “...Fine, I promise. Cross my heart, or may lightning strike upon me...”

“Aoi!” “Don’t worry, Yukimura. See, even Onii-sama is smiling...I’ll see everyone in a months time...”

Year 1571, September, Sakamoto Town

“......it is as stated in the report, the people here had no idea the horror that’s approaching them......”

Mitsuhide, sitting upon his stead, watches the bustling of the town below as his men are busy with the setting up of camp. Soon the rest of the troops, bearing matchlocks will arrive and once the scouts return, he’ll start the invasion at dusk. Usually, it is not recommended as this will result in the men accidentally striking their allies, but this is not a battlefield, this is an all-out massacre. Using the villagers as distraction, the monks will have to split their forces to protect the innocents and fight against 30,000 armed men of the Oda forces.

“...I’m hesitating on behalf of my lord, despite knowing sacrifices must be made to ensure the monks will not rise to oppose the Oda army again... Is there an alternative method to avoid unnecessary bloodshed...”

“My lord! Important message from our scouts, there is a lone rider coming towards us!”

“...Erh? ...there can only be one person who will dare ride into Oda camp...my camp...Let the person in, and bring the rider to me, unharmed.”

“Sir?” “Do as I tell you, do not worry...but inform the rest of the troops to prepare for a change of plans.”

“Understood, Sir!”

......

“Mitsuhide, thank you for allowing me to see you...” Aoi approaches the lone man clad in sky blue and white light armor, on top of her horse.

“Save the pleasantries for later. I believe your presence before me means you know of Oda’s plan to crush the monks once and for all. Well, do you have another plan other than using the civilians as cannon fodder, Aoi-san?”

“Yes, I do, and the beginning of my plan is already proceeding...look, the farmers are heading out to their fields. It's harvest time after all, everyone needs to be out to help gather up the rice stalks...”

“...and I see children coming out with their mothers to help as well...” Eyes widening, he smirks and gets one of his retainers to send a portion of the troops down to the field, armed with light weapons.

“And look over there, the market is preparing a harvest festival, the merchants are all busy setting up their stalls. They have received permission from the temple to have a celebration for a bountiful harvest...”

“...Excellent, that means everyone will be out of their houses...” With a wave of his hand, Mitsuhide signals another of his retainers to divide a portion of the troops out, disguised as travelling merchants to join in the festive. From their vantage point, they can see the Oda troops slowly replacing the villagers with themselves. Now they need is for the sun to set. Mitsuhide dismiss his men, and once he’s sure they are alone, he asks her an unsuspecting question.

“How is the Tiger holding up?” Aoi blinks at his question, and shook her head. “Bedrest, but going stronger by the day...at least for now...”

“...Ahh, and the dragon allows his precious little hime to leave his side? Has he grown feeble in the head as well as spirit?”

Aoi glares at him, before sighing, “Not the least, both my brothers know that come hell or high water, I will rush here to minimize the slaying of innocent lives. How are you holding up?”

Mitsuhide gives her his signature ambiguous smile, “I’ll doing as fine as I can be...however, a piece of advice. Do not interfere with the campaign at Hongan-ji. My liege, will not be as forgiving as me, as to allow a potential spy waltzes into camp...Promise me.”

Aoi is startled by the harsh tone of her frenemy. Looking up into his eyes, she realizes that he’s been keeping a tight leash on his temper. Her arrival must have cause him additional undue worry; she already notices his slight frown upon her arrival beside him.

“...Are you going to stay to the bitter end?...No, of course you’re staying. You cannot help yourself, being a healer, right?”

“What are you going to do with the villagers?”

Mitsuhide shrugs, “Not my problem, it’s your idea to have the Oda troops to impersonate as civilians. With the darkness of night and the smoke produce by the fire, the monks will not be able to distinguish my men from the villagers. Since you’ve shared the knowledge of lightweight armour with me, it will protects the men’s lives despite its fragile appearance.”

“You tested it? Already? When?

“...It’s a secret... let’s just say, it is one of those few things that surprises me and leave it as that.”

Aoi suspects that Mitsuhide dons the prototype she creates. Without her expressing it explicitly, he knew that she made that for him and she is glad it serves its purpose; to protect this man until...

“Honno-ji...” “Hmm?”

Aoi waves her hand, her mind suddenly starts to ache. Mitsuhide, notices her pallor, moves closer and hoist her onto his horse. She stiffen her body at the sudden contact of his cool body, but after several insisting tugs, Aoi sighs in reply, and rests her body against his as they wait.

............

......

...

Dawn, the aftermath of Enryakuji

Mitsuhide watches as the land before him is engulf by a sea of flames. In his arms, Aoi remain silent, sharing the same view as him. The arm he wraps around her waist is dampen by her tears, he holds her closer into his embrace. Mitsuhide is not sure who is comforting who; her presence with an alternate plan or him with his arm, holding her steady as they listen to the reports his scouts send back. Despite everything, there are some who refuse to listen, causing them to act exactly what the God of War predicts.

“It’s much lesser, comparing to what it could have been, Aoi. Take that as a form of consolation...”

Aoi nods, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands. Earlier, Mitsuhide refuses to let her get off the horse to help the wounded. According to his words, ‘The lesser my men notices you, the better. Who knows which of them will sing like the cuckoo bird once we return to Gifu.’

“I have send word to an Uesugi affiliated province to let your brothers know of the situation, but I deliberately left out the surviving villagers. Let them think your plan failed...no, quiet and listen. I’ll assist one of my trusted retainers to allocate them to different Oda conquered lands. They cannot be placed together in one location. I’m sure you understand why.”

Aoi huffs out in frustration, inwardly smiling. Despite his aloof words of not helping her relocate the villagers, she knows he’ll do exactly what she hoped after she outlines the plan, though with minor adjustments to the finer details.

Looking at his profile, she should not have shared her origin to him, at least what little she remembers when she arrives here two years ago. They are playing a dangerous game, tampering history while trying to avoid the butterfly effect. She hasn’t mentioned about the possibility of someone accidently stumping into the wormhole from her period, or the potential of a wormhole in this period that will take her to who knows where. She did vaguely remember someone shouting for her to wait as she was being thrown into this timeline .

Wiggling, she signals to him to let her go. Mitsuhide deposits her back onto her horse, and watches her straightening her clothes. Aoi gives a slight shiver as the lingering warmth of his embrace are being swiftly absorbed by the cool morning air.

“...Well, I guess this is goodbye...”

Mitsuhide keeps his silence as Aoi solumnely nods her head and back off before the rest of the troops return from a successful battle. His fists clenched, Mitsuhide sucks in a deep breath of the cold air. Now is not the time to falter, not when close to half of the country is under the Oda flag. She mentions the name of the temple that his lord recently renovated as a retreat in Kyoto.

“...Hmm, I wonder...I guess we’ll have to see if there is anything significant about it. Right, Aoi-chan...”

#ikesen fanfic #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #original character #finally a name for my oc

[labourpress]

Emily Thornberry speech to Labour Party Conference

Emily Thornberry MP, Shadow Foreign Secretary, speaking at the Labour Party Conference in Brighton today, said:

  ***CHECK AGAINST DELIVERY***

    Chair, Conference - It’s a pleasure to be back here in Brighton and Hove.

  A city which we can say - once again - has no Tory MPs. And it’s a pleasure to be taking part in a debate where our delegates have such a strong voice,

  And we should all thank Kate Osamor and Nia Griffith who have allowed me to speak on their behalf today so our delegates could have more time. And let me say as well - it’s an honour to be on this stage with our leader, my friend, this country’s next Prime Minister - Jeremy Corbyn.

  You know, some people might remember a certain viral video from election night of a bit of high-fiving gone wrong. But that’s not how I’ll remember that evening. I’ll just remember seeing a friend of mine who had defied all the pundits, all the doubters

and all the expectations. Someone who had proved during the election, who has proved throughout his leadership, who has proved all his life, that nothing is stronger, nothing on earth than a person of principle.

  And it is that strength and those principles, those unshakeable values that are going to take Jeremy into Downing Street and put Labour back into power. After all, it was on this very stage two years ago that Jeremy declared his mission:

  “To put Labour values -- the people’s values -- back - into - politics.”

  And he has achieved that. But thanks to Jeremy’s inspirational leadership, thanks to the brilliant efforts of everyone in this room, we can now set our sights even higher.

It is time to put Labour values, the people’s values back into Government.

Because if June’s election taught us one thing, it’s that if we stand behind Jeremy’s principled leadership, if we stand united as a Party, and if we stand on a radical manifesto, there is absolutely no seat that we can’t win.  And no Tory that we can’t bin.

  So next time, we've got to take the fight into their backyard. Let's go round the coast to Hastings. And end the ambitions of Amber Rudd. Let's go to Chingford. And send Iain Duncan Smith to the Job Centre. Then let's go to Uxbridge. And make sure Boris Johnson never, ever gets into No.10.

  But Conference, please let’s just take a second to sympathise with poor old Boris. Oh come on, just a second. He’s not been happy lately. Apparently he's sick of being blamed for the way Brexit is going and all the broken promises of the Leave campaign.

  I'm sorry, Conference? I'm sorry? Who does he think made all those promises? Who does he think was in charge  of the Leave Campaign?

  I know Boris doesn’t like paternity tests, but we might need one for Brexit. We need to get him in a studio with Jeremy Kyle.

  “Yes, I'm sorry, Mr Johnson…

“We've got the results back…

“It looks like this one is yours…

“It must have been that wild night out you had with Michael Gove.

“I've calculated your maintenance payments…

“That’ll be 350 million a week.”

  But Conference, what a contrast. Here on this stage, you’ve got Labour’s Brexit team - myself, Keir and Barry working every day in harness with Jeremy, John and Diane. All pulling in the same direction.  All focused on the same three priorities. The three priorities we’ve had since Day One after the Referendum - Jobs, Jobs and Jobs.

  While next week in Manchester, we’re going to see six Tory rats, fighting in a sack, not worried about protecting the jobs of the British people. Just every one of them looking out for their own.

  Last Friday, Theresa May said we need to be “creative and imaginative” to get a good outcome from Brexit. Well I’ve got a creative idea for her step aside, end your shambles of a Government, and let the grown-ups on this stage take charge.

  And talking of grown-ups I’m proud to be here representing our great Shadow Foreign Office team: Liz McInnes; Fabian Hamilton; Khalid Mahmood; Helen Goodman and Ray Collins. And I’m proud as well to be speaking on behalf of my friends, Kate Osamor and Nia Griffith. Kate, our Shadow Secretary of State For International Development, facing a world in now constant humanitarian crisis,

not least as a result of climate change.

  As Kate would say, in that world, we’ve got a decision to make. Either tackle head on the root causes of these crises or spend more and more every year dealing with the consequences.  And, under a Labour government. That is a decision we will not duck.

  And Nia, our Shadow Defence Secretary, who has shown that Britain under Labour

will be a strong leader within NATO, committed to spend 2 per cent of our national income on defence. And committed to ensure that those who put their lives on the line for this country the real-terms pay rises and the decent living conditions that their service and their sacrifice deserves.

  In dark, dangerous times for our world Britain must be equally strong and equally committed to defence, development and diplomacy. That is what we offer on this stage. And that is what Labour in government will guarantee. 

  But Conference, make no mistake. These are indeed dark and dangerous times for the world. And too many times, the problems we face come down to people abusing their power and ignoring the rules and values that should govern our world.

  From Venezuela to The Philippines we see the rule of law ignored and originally democratic governments turning into increasingly autocratic regimes. From Myanmar to Yemen we see human rights ignored and flagrant attacks against ordinary civilians qll too often using British-made weapons.

  From Kashmir to Israel and Palestine we see efforts at diplomacy ignored and actions taken on both sides which will make peace harder to achieve.

  From Syria to Sudan, we see the Geneva Conventions ignored and despots committing war crimes with total freedom and impunity. 

  All across Europe we see the basic rules of humanity and the basic lessons of history ignored as cowardly terrorists stalk our city streets and vicious extremist parties rise in the polls.

  And of course, in North Korea  we see the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty ignored with all the terrifying consequences the world is now facing today.

  Taken altogether what we are seeing today is the biggest challenge to the world order since the 1930s and the collapse of the League of Nations.  And if you believe as I do in what Jeremy has called…“A world based on rules and laws” then this is the time, more than ever, when we need our leaders to stand up for that world order. To stand up for human rights and international treaties. And to insist on working through the United Nations for peace.

  But instead, Conference we now have a President of the United States who believes that none of these rules and laws apply to him.

  - Imposing a travel ban on Muslims;

  - Equivocating over illegal settlements;

  - Reneging on the Paris climate treaty;

  - Imperilling the nuclear deal with Iran;

  - And threatening to “totally destroy” North Korea. A country of 20 million men and women. And 5 million children.

This is not what we need from the leader of the free world.

  To be honest, Conference it’s more like what we would expect from a rogue dictator. And what makes it even worse is to see this Tory government and this Tory Prime Minister pathetically going along with it all walking hand-in-hand with Trump at the White House, supine, sycophantic and spineless.

  And why? All in the vain hope that Trump will ride to the rescue after Brexit with some fantasy free trade deal. Because, for this Tory government that’s what their foreign policy has come down to no values or ethics, no rules or principles just a simple case of what works best for the bottom line. How else do they explain why - last week - Theresa May was in New York, finally announcing the suspension of cooperation with the military in Myanmar because of their actions in Rakhine.

  While on the very same day, Michael Fallon was in Jeddah, signing a deal to increase our cooperation with the military in Saudi Arabia wantonly ignoring their actions in Yemen. It is rank hypocrisy. But it also illustrates a basic fact that the world we want to see – a world governed by ethics and values, a world based on rules and laws will never truly exist as long as governments and world leaders get to decide for themselves when it suits them to play by the rules and when the rules can be safely ignored.

  The world we want will never exist when governments like Theresa May’s think it’s perfectly OK to loudly condemn those they regard as enemies but then fall utterly silent when it is their friends in Bahrain rounding up, torturing and executing civilian protestors or their friends in Saudi Arabia dropping cluster bombs on innocent children in Yemen.

  In fact, if they were just silent that would be an improvement. Instead, we have to listen to Michael Fallon saying that the thousands of children killed and injured by air strikes in Yemen are just a consequence of Saudi Arabia “defending itself”…

…“Defending itself”.

  But Conference, it does not have to be this way. Labour can and will do things differently when we are back in power.

And there is one concrete step we can commit to today.

For too long successive governments in this country have taken decisions on granting arms export licences behind closed doors and shrouded in secrecy.

  Just two months ago we had the ludicrous situation where the campaigners trying to stop arms sales to Saudi Arabia for use in Yemen had their Judicial Review rejected on the basis of government evidence presented in closed court a secret court so they were not even allowed to hear the evidence let alone challenge it.

  The fact is that arms export decisions made by Tory Ministers are entirely subjective assessments taken without proper Parliamentary scrutiny without listening to independent, expert advice, but listening far too much to lobbyists for the arms trade and repressive foreign regimes.  A process that leads to nonsensical double-standards, where the Government can decide too late that selling arms to Myanmar is wrong but immediately increase its sales to Saudi. It is an arms control regime that was already outdated. but which the Tories have systematically abused, undermined and left fatally discredited.

  And as the four shadow ministers responsible, Barry, Nia, Kate and I have agreed that it must change. So just as the new Labour Governments elected in 1997 and 2001 Immediately reformed the way decisions were made on monetary policy and competition policy, the next Labour Government will immediately reform the way decisions are made on the export of arms.

  A wholesale reform of the legal and regulatory framework fully implementing the International Arms Trade Treaty with clear rules, tests and criteria for decision-making, based on independent, expert advice and the objective assessment of evidence. A new system, that will prevent the misuse or abuse of licences and adhere to the principles of transparency, true Parliamentary accountability and freedom from undue influence.

  Because Conference, it is not enough for us just to be better than the Tories, we must set an entirely new standard for Britain and a shining example to the world.

And if that sounds like setting our ambitions high, well you’re damn right it is and we should not apologise for that.

  You know, I heard Chuka say yesterday:

“Overpromising and under-delivering…

“…Is one of the reasons…

“…there was such fury with the Blair government.”

  And when it comes to foreign policy, I totally agree with that statement. But the way we avoid that mistake next time round isn’t to water down the promises we make, it’s to keep the promises we make and make sure we deliver them.

We will be a Government that will never put the interest of the rich and powerful above human Rights, The Rule of Law, and the lives of innocent children in Yemen…

A Government that will never put our principles up for auction.

And if we are going to be the kind of government we could be, we do not just need what Robin Cook called for, twenty years ago, when he set out his Mission Statement for the Foreign Office.

  We do not just need an “ethical dimension” to our foreign policy, we need to go much further than that.

  We need what Martin Luther King called for 50 years ago, when he set out his case against the Vietnam War.

  - We need “a revolution of values”.

  - “A genuine revolution of values”.

  - “A radical revolution of values”.

  Because if our mission back when Jeremy was elected, was to put Labour values back into politics and our mission today is to put those values back into Government, then our mission for the years to come must be equally ambitious and equally radical. It must be to put Labour values at the heart of the world order, to be a beacon in every corner of the globe for the values we believe in here at home.

  We have the leader in Jeremy to do it. We have the team on this stage to do it. We have the members in this hall, and all across the country, who will hold us to it.

  So let us make that our mission. And this time -- this time -- let us make it our record.

[kathyprior4200]

OC Saiyan Broccolia

Art by Retro Ranter

Age 737, Earth

  The young infant Saiyan slowly opened her eyes. The round white metal space pod she was in appeared to have stopped moving. She stretched her little muscles and moved her brown furry tail slightly. Regarding how long she had been asleep, she did not know. Just then, the screen in front of her lit up, showing a holographic image of a white full moon. The infant stared, mesmerized by it.

A computerized voice commanded: “Wake up, Broccolia. Destroy all life forms.”

Then, all at once, her body began to stretch and change. Her small white baby teeth elongated into sharp fangs. Her body began to grow painfully, until she was forced to break out of the space pod with a mighty thrust. What remained of the pod lay in pieces on the green grass.

Through her haze of discomfort, she wondered what exactly that green stuff was.

But soon, those thoughts of curiosity faded, and were replaced with a primal rage, that flooded through her veins. Brown fur grew and spread all over her body. Her face grew furry, her nose turned into a large snout and her former black beady eyes glowed red. Soon, she was taller than all the trees around her. Her thick brown tail swished back and forth in anticipation, like she was getting ready for war.

The sun overheard was somewhat blinding, but it made a good substitute for a white orb.

The Saiyan infant was no longer there…

Broccolia was now a Great Ape.

 She opened her gaping mouth and let out a fierce roar. The force ripped the trees from their roots, sending them flying into the air. With a stomp of her feet, crack spread rapidly across the ground. Discovering what else she could do, she formed a blast from her mouth like a fire-breathing dragon and launched it into the air. The beam of energy soared in a wide arch and made impact with a small village below. Broccolia’s large Ape ears could pick up the explosions and the screams of Earthlings running for their lives. Feeling confident, Broccolia beat her furry brown chest and stomped forward.

After the village huts were demolished and unlucky civilians got crushed underneath her feet, Broccolia made her way to the outskirts of a city. One white round building was in the way, so she punched through the roof, sending shards of glass to the ground below. Suddenly, she heard the pops and blasts of gunfire not too far away. She turned around and saw a group of soldiers standing in formation below her, firing their rifles.

“Keep at it!” yelled a voice from below, coming from the commander. “Stay in position!”

A nearby green tank fired at Broccolia’s leg, making her stumble back a bit. There was even a tiger soldier piloting a military helicopter.

“Weapons engaged,” spoke a goat soldier in a black walkie-talkie. “Target locked.”

“Fire at will,” came the voice from the other end.

The guns shot blasts from the side of the flying vehicle and smoke got in her face.

Annoyed, Broccolia swiped her furry hand at the helicopter.

“Watch out!” called the tiger man pilot, but the contact had been made.

“Mayday! We’re going down!” shouted the goat soldier. The helicopter flew into a building and exploded. Debris rained down onto the ground, pushing back the soldiers on the ground.

Broccolia blinked several times and stared at them. The men looked like puny toys waiting to be crushed.

“Retreat!” yelled the commander, as the soldiers fired their guns one last time and ran for their lives. Broccolia unleashed another blue blast from her mouth, this one sending the soldiers flying and creating a long line of broken asphalt for several blocks.

Down below, the civilian watched in horror at the oncoming Great Ape before them.

“King Kong is that you?” asked a little boy holding his mother’s hand.

“I think it’s Godzilla,” mentioned another man.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look friendly!”

Broccolia grinned and then roared.

“Everybody run!”

The Earthlings scattered in different directions as Broccolia launched more energy blasts in every direction from her mouth. The sky, which used to be blue and white with clouds, was soon turning gray and hazy from the smoke that rose from ruined structures.

  A figure of an individual hummed a happy tune as he watered the plants in an outdoor planter. Butterflies of many colors fluttered by, some landing on the flowers, others flying off. A nearby basin of water suddenly glowed and hummed with a red aura. The figure walked over and peered down. Wide eyes against black space stared as Broccolia’s snarling face appeared in a basin of glowing water. “What is this?” he asked in apparent shock.

The eyes belonged to a being with a black face, pointed ears and a mouth with no teeth. He wore a white turban on his head with a blue gem in the center. He was short and plump, wearing white pants, orange shoes, orange slash over his waist and marron sleeveless jacket. Small gold hoop earrings hung from his ears. The individual was Mr. Popo, caretaker and gardener of the sacred Lookout.

In a frantic jog, Mr. Popo rushed up a flight of marble stairs and reached a set of blue doors trimmed with gold borders. Catching his breath, he knocked on the door with his right fist.

From inside, an elder Namekian, Kami, was sitting in a meditative stance on a Persian rug.

“Kami-sama,” Mr. Popo called as he knocked again.

With a deep sigh, Kami opened his eyes, recognizing his servant’s voice. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s an emergency,” Mr. Popo urged.

“Come in.”

Mr. Popo took off his shoes, entered the chamber, and lowered his head respectfully once he reached the Namekian. Kami stood up, and picked up his brown pointed walking stick in his left hand, using it for support. His face was dark green, his ears pointed. He wore a white robe with a blue collar around his neck. A red Japanese kanji symbol adorned the front of his robe, the symbol meaning “God.” Kami’s dark blue shoes were in a shoe holder outside the door.

 “The Mystic Basin in the garden showed a ferocious creature that looked like an Ape. It’s on a rampage as we speak.”

The Mystic Basin was filled with a special kind of sacred water, which could warn the Lookout residents of any catastrophic events on Earth. Until now, it hadn’t been activated for many years.

Kami closed his eyes and sensed the strong level of power coming from the Great Ape.

“Its thoughts are only filled with primal rage,” Kami noted, opening his eyes.

“How are we going to defeat that monster?” asked Mr. Popo. “The Earth’s military cannot do it, and even the warrior humans won’t stand a chance.”

“I bet the Supreme Kais have other matters to attend to,” Kami replied. “They rarely show up to Earth. From what I can see, this large monster is not of Earth.”

“Kami-sama, couldn’t you go down and defeat it?”

“I am responsible for the safety of the Lookout. Like you, I am bond to it. However, you still have your flying carpet. Even if we could freely leave for a long time, we’d only be putting ourselves at risk.”

Kami pondered in thought. “There may be another way.”

“What is it?”

“There is a small clan of Namekians formerly of the previous Namekain clans from my home world. They left Namek when rumors of a climate change spread. They live secluded by cliffs and grassy plains to the west. They are generally peaceful, but they still know how to use their powers and fight.”

Kami stood up and walked over to his desk nearby. Taking out parchment and a feather pen, he wrote a message in the symbolic language of the Namekians. When he was done, he handed it to Mr. Popo.

“Take this to them. They will understand what to do next.”

Mr. Popo took the note and bowed slightly in thanks.

“Good luck,” said Kami. “Head back here once the message has been received.

Mr. Popo nodded and opened the double doors. He snapped his black fingers and a red carpet hovered in front of him. He hopped on it and soon took off into the air.

 Kami gently placed his fingers on a portrait of an elderly green Namek against a green background. Kami painted it himself after a dream came to him. The dark green face showed intellect and kindness. The name of Kami’s father “Katas” was written in the Namekian language in the upper right hand corner. The only thing Kami could remember was staring at his father’s sad determined face, before the space ship he was in, took off for Earth. If he had stayed on Namek, he would have perished with his father and the other Namekians due to the climate shift. But to this day, he could not remember his original name.

  Mr. Popo soon reached the area where the small group of Namekians lived. They lived in several round white structures, though there were a few huts around as well. One was watering a small field of dark blue plants shaped like roses. Another was carrying water in a bucket and filling up a well. Mr. Popo could sense the energy of a variety of Namekian types: warriors, healers, and members descended from the Dragon Clan.

 The leader peered out from inside of the huts and walked toward Mr. Popo. Another Namekian got into a fighting stance.

“What is your purpose here?” he asked in Namekian.

Mr. Popo stared blankly and nervous. He pulled out the note and handed it to the leader. He read the note as the other Namekians gathered around. He spoke in Namekian to the other individual: “It’s from Kami-sama from the Lookout. A Great Ape monster is going berserk in the city. It could wipe out the entire population.”

“He says that it’s up to all of us to defeat it.”

A thin healer Namekian walked over to Mr. Popo and spoke in Namekian.

Mr. Popo scratched his head. “Do you speak Japanese or English?”

The Namekian nodded and glanced at the leader. Reading his mind, the leader stepped forward. The other few Namekians gathered around.

After a brief discussion with the leader in Namekian, the healer turned to Mr. Popo. He translated: “On behalf of Kami, Kuji says he will lead his group to the city. They will fight to their fullest and in return, Kuji will get to train with Kami.”

“Sure, it’s a deal,” said Mr. Popo. They shook hands. Mr. Popo sighed at the thought of Kami teaching Kuji how to regenerate his own body parts. There were several times when Kuji had grown his arm too long or too short. Another time during training, he accidentally blasted himself in the face after Kami vanished from the spot he was attacking. Still, he displayed good leadership and survival skills, which were enough to keep the few members of the Namekian Earthlings in check.

“I am Kuji from the Dragon Clan,” said the leader Namekian. He wore a red robe over his shoulders with an orange slash across his chest. His face was bright green. “My translator here is Nantai, the best healer in this group.” The thinner Nantai wore a white turban, a robe of indigo, had brown pants and across his waist was a blue slash. His face was a darker shade of green.

Several muscular Namekians arrived.

“Lug, Muri, and Asari,” Kuji mentioned. Lug was the most muscular warrior, with a yellow slash across his waist and large light green muscular arms. Muri was also strong in physique, wearing a slash of red and a robe of white. The last Namekian, Asari, wore a white hijab over her head. Her arms and body were also fit and her skin was a dark shade of green. Asari’s fingers were decorated with white spiral symbols similar to snail shells. She was the only other “female” Namekian out of all the other “males”, though she was still physically genderless like all Namekians.

 Mr. Popo led the way toward the city on his flying carpet, while the five other Namekians followed him in the air. Mr. Popo speed off back toward the Lookout as the Namekians reached the city. Sure enough, Broccolia was still on a rampage. With a nod from Kuji, the Namekians spread out.

When Broccolia spotted the Namekians charging from different directions, she let out a fierce roar. The force send some of the Namekians flying backwards, but others quickly recovered. Asari, Lug, and Muri landed several hard punches to Broccolia’s chest and face. Lug then swooped up and kicked Broccolia hard under her giant chin. With a growl of pain, she clasped her hands together to try and catch Lug, but he dodged her grasp. Muri launched ki blasts to her legs, but Broccolia kneed him hard in the face, sending him flying against a wall. Nantai flew over to his companion and healed him, hovering his hands over him. He had just helped Nantai up and barely jumped out of the way before Broccolia’s fist smashed the spot where they had been standing before.

Broccolia landed a hard hand chop to Muri’s arm, causing it to fall off. Though he yelled out in pain, he soon regenerated his loss limb with effort. His new arm emerged, wet with slime-like body fluid. Before he could focus on the fight again, Broccolia slapped him hard in the face several times, knocking him into a nearby bush.

From up in the air, Kuji led the next attack against the Great Ape.

“Energy Blast Cannon!” he called out. With his hand cupped, he moved it forward and a jet of spiraling yellow light shot from his palm. It hit Broccolia hard in the face with a blinding blast. Broccolia roared and stumbled backwards, this time landing on the ground with a crash. The city and ground briefly shook from the impact.

“Keep firing!” Kuji called, as all the Namekians gathered and shot their volleys of ki blasts for several moments.

All was soon silent after the Namekians had finished their attack. Thick black smoke obscured their viewpoint.

“I think we did it,” Kuji said.

“Yes!” Lug cheered.

The Namekians saw red angry eyes through the smoke. Kuji gasped, “What?!”  Before the smoke could clear, Broccolia blasted them back hard with a beam from her mouth. The Namekian warriors yelped in surprise as they were flung back. They landed hard on their backs against the asphalt street.

The Namekians groaned in pain.

“That Ape just keeps coming,” gasped Nantai. “We’re outmatched by a ton.”

“Even fighting at full power isn’t enough,” stated Muri.

“Let’s keep trying,” Lug suggested, slowly sitting up. “Is there another way?”

Kuji thought and then his eyes widened. “Maybe there is…”

All the Namekians turned to him.

“…but it will be risky.”

“How so?” asked Asari.

“Surely there’s no other way to make ourselves stronger?” asked Nantai.

“Not “ourselves,” exactly,” Kuji replied.  “Not if we were one person.”

Several Namekians gasped.

“The Five-Way fusion,” exclaimed Nantai.

“No one’s performed that technique in centuries,” said Lug. “Not since one of our elders used it back on Namek to defeat a powerful enemy.”

“If we do that, then none of the rest of us will come back,” said Muri.

“Not exactly,” said Kuji. “The Dragon Balls can be used to defuse a Namekian. Or, if powerful enough, a Namekian can purge out another part of himself, splitting between good and evil, perhaps. Just look at Kami, who used to be merged with his evil self, Piccolo.”

“He told you that?” asked Asari, curious.

“Mr. Popo did long ago.”

“Are you sure this is the best way to go?” asked Muri.

“It may be our only hope,” Kuji sighed with sadness.

Their conversation was interrupted by the stomping of giant feet. Broccolia had found them.

“This time is now,” Kuji said. “Just know that all of us will be part of the new Namekian warrior, in body, mind, and spirit. But a heavy burden will be placed on their shoulders. Who will be the candidate?”

Lug, usually strong and confident gulped and backed away. “Not ready for responsibility.

“I’d love all that power,” Muri whispered, hunger in his voice. Kuji glared at him.

“I heal, not fight,” said Nantai, shaking his head. “Not up for it. Kuji should do it.”

“Though I’m the leader, I still have yet to prefect my skills,” Kuji replied.

Then after a tense silence…

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone turned to Asari, who stood straight with purpose in her eyes. Her white hijab fluttered in the wind. Kuji looked at her with pride in his eyes. “From all our years of living and training, I figured you’d be the one.”

“Not fair,” Muri grumbled.

Broccolia charged toward the Namekians at full speed.

“Hurry,” urged Kuji.

At the same time, Kuji, Muri, Lug, and Nantai, surrounded Asari and placed their hands on her shoulders and back. With his other hand, Kuji summoned a mystical ball of light, similar to a Dragon Ball. The air rippled and an aura of light shone around Asari. An image of Porunga appeared in green energy.

Kuji chanted a ritual in the Namekian language. “By the power of Porunga, and the elders of the past, I, Kuji of the Dragon Clan, hereby transfer my energy and soul, to this warrior…”

The other Namekians stated their names and repeated the words. Asari rose into the air.

Stomp, stomp, ROAR!

“Everyone…get ready…” called Kuji.

STOMP. STOMP. Broccolia demolished a building with her fists, the Namekians in her sights.

The Namekians took deep breaths and five voices rang out:

“FU…”

Broccolia formed a blast.

“…SION…”

The blast grew bigger and bigger.

“…HA!”

The blast escaped Broccolia’s mouth and hit the space in front of her straight on. The energy beam tore through the city, and caused further destruction for miles. A bomb sized explosion erupted in the distance.

Broccolia grinned and beat her chest, letting out a roar of triumph. The bodies of civilians littered the ground below her.

 Then…

 Something rose up in the distance. Broccolia peered over to see the figure. The figure moved closer until Broccolia could see.

It was Asari. Her skin was now a medium shade of green, slightly wrinkled. She wore a red slash and a white robe with a symbol on it besides her usual hijab. The Kunji symbol read “mentor” on the front.

At the speed of light, Asari appeared in front of Broccolia and launched a ki blast straight in her face. The blinded beast bellowed. Broccolia launched her fists at Asari, who dodged each and every one.

Asari swerved around her in the air and noticed something she hadn’t before…a long furry brown tail. She and the others had tried every other spot…but this was new.

Seizing her opportunity, Asari dove down and with a slash of energy from her hands, sliced the furry appendage clean off.

Asari covered her pointed ears as Broccolia roared in extreme pain. Asari flew upwards and watched. To her surprise, the Ape didn’t fall flat, dead. Instead, the beast shrunk before her very eyes, the fur and fangs receding.

“What the…?” she breathed. Asari landed on the ground to see a Saiyan infant, her hair long and dark purple, her pale body now vulnerable. The Namekian raised her arm to deal the final blow, but then paused as she stared into Broccolia’s beady black eyes. They held hidden innocence there.

The feelings of rage in the newborn Saiyan quickly subsided to exhaustion. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a tall green figure standing over her.

  Broccolia had several dreams that night. She dreamed of spending with her parents back on Planet Vegeta, just learning how to fly properly as an infant. Being fed little pieces of meat and baby food by her father, being held by her mother.

Her parents hugging her, telling her she was to be sent to conquer a low value planet due to her low level of power and so called “abnormal” appearance. Her father shaking his head in disappointment, as though expecting a child with greater power level to help support their family. Her mother blinking tears from her eyes, knowing she would never see her child again. Both of them wishing her luck.

A menacing figure with horns in a space pod, in the dark red light of an explosion. Watching her home world explode within her pod. Briefly seeing other “abnormal” looking Saiyans in pods traveling to the same destination before succumbing to deep sleep…

 Slowly opening her eyes, Broccolia found herself inside some kind of hut. She appeared to be lying in a bed.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Broccolia rubbed her eyes and saw the same green Namekian she saw earlier.

Lifting herself from the bed, she rushed to attack, but a firm green hand held her little fists. Broccolia wailed at the top of her lungs, but the baby’s thrashing did not faze the Namekian.

“Easy there, little one. I’m not going to hurt you, but I will use force if necessary.”

Broccolia kept squirming but the Namekian wouldn’t budge.

“Enough is enough.”

She dropped the infant on the bed, sighed deeply and walked toward the open entrance.

Asari soon came back with a cup of water. Broccolia looked at it curiously and then lapped it with her tongue. Relishing the cool wet feeling on her tongue, the Saiyan gulped the rest of it down. Asari had to smile.

Four drinks of water, and two diaper changes later, Broccolia started crying once again. Nothing could calm her, not even an old Namekian lullaby Asari remembered being sung to her.

“I’ve done everything,” she said to Broccolia. “I don’t know what you want or where you even came from.”

When Broccolia began to chew on everything she came across, Asari almost had it. The conflicting personalities of her former group raved nonstop in her mind. It was one of the drawbacks of the multiple individual fusion.

“You should have followed your gut and gotten rid of that monster once and for all,” Muri’s voice criticized her in her mind.

“If she can discipline the baby as she grows up, then perhaps it could be beneficial to this planet,” countered Nantai.

“Beneficial?!” cried Lug. “That thing nearly destroyed us!”

“That baby may be an alien, but she is still a living thing,” said Nantai. “Killing her in her innocent form would be against our ethics.”

Muri’s voice tinged with anger. “So you’re saying we should let that thing run loose and take the risk of our race being wiped out further?!”

“Not in the slightest,” Nantai replied. “We should always give other beings a chance to prove themselves. Just look how strong she is. Eliminating her would be a wasted opportunity.”

“You’re a wasted opportunity,” scoffed Muri.

“I need to focus!” Asari seethed, her voice overriding the other voices in her head.

One last Namekian spoke. “Indeed. It is up to Asari to decide what’s best,” Kuji finished.

Her head went silent and Asari sighed in relief.

 Soon, the Namekian noticed Broccolia’s mouth watering, her skin getting paler and thinner each day. Asari could sense the baby was getting weaker each day. What was so different about her?

 Then, it came to her. She obviously needed food! It was clear Broccolia was not a Namekian…she needed to eat constantly, perhaps even more than a regular human infant. Asari scooped up the infant and carried her outside. They wondered for a while until reaching another garden. It was past the garden with the aesthetic blue plants. Here, real food was grown by a few Earthling farmers who were friendly with the Namekians.

Broccolia’s eyes grew wide as saucers as she spotted carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, and other grown food in front of her.

After a friendly exchange with the Earthling farmer, a fat man with a cowboy hat and black hair, Broccolia got to enjoy the vegetables…perhaps a little too much.

When a fourth of the crops had been eaten, the farmer didn’t hesitate to aim his shotgun at the flying infant.

“Monkey baby!” Asari called, not having a name for the Saiyan yet. “Come back here at once. Dinner’s over.”

But the Saiyan would not listen. She let out giggles and babbles as she dodged Asari’s grabs and ki attacks.

“You need to keep that thing under control!” warned the farmer to Asari. “I might be done having business with you.”

“It was Kuji’s idea, not mine,” said Asari.

“Grr, that’s it!” shouted the farmer. He fired his gun at Broccolia, but the bullets bounced off her harmlessly.

“What is that thing?!” he shouted, before fleeing the scene.

Asari finally grabbed hold of Broccolia, knocking her out with a karate chop to the neck. She carried her pack to the hut. Once they got back, Broccolia was awake. She didn’t cry though. In fact, she nestled calmly in the Namekian’s arms.

“Maybe I can get through with this after all,” Asari thought.

  As Broccolia grew up, she learned how to hunt for herself, how to fly and use her powers, and how to defend herself. She also was able to talk. At one point, she remembered what her name was after eating some delicious cooked broccoli.

“Broccolia! I think that’s my name!” she exclaimed to Asari as they sat outside. She was eating vegetables, while Asari contently drank water.

“I do wish calling you Lyra at times,” Asari muttered to herself.

“Not my name!” said Broccolia with a laugh.

Asari took a good look at the young warrior, in her blue robe and loose battle pants. (She had refused to wear a hijab.)

“You’re a Saiyan, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I knew there was something special about me! How did you know?”

“I was talking to Kami-sama the other day and then I decided to ask several Earthlings. They explained that Saiyans were powerful warriors from another world. As for me, my people, the Namekians, are also from another world, but yet here we both are, living on Earth. It sure is amazing how so many diverse cultures have decided to settle on this one planet.”

DBZ/DBS Namekian List

Good Namekians

 Dende (child from Moori’s village, later appointed Guardian of Earth)

Esca (child in Moori’s village)

Cargo (child in Moori’s village)

Grand Elder Guru

Kami (Nameless Namekian)

Katas (Parent of the Nameless Namekian)

Moori (elder of a village, later appointed Grand Elder)

Nail (son and bodyguard of Guru until fused with Piccolo.)

Piccolo

Tanissh (elder of a village)

Tsuburi (elder of a village)

Tsuno (elder of a village)

104 other children of Guru

  Evil Namekians

 King Piccolo

Lord Slug

Naraku

Bibra (Dark Namekian Elder)

Gamelan (dark general)

Tanta (dark boss)

Vic (dark elder)

 (15 sons of King Piccolo)

Banjo

Bell

Conga

Cymbal

Drum

Harp

Mandolin

Maraca

Marimba

Organ

Piano

Tambourine

Ukelele

Viola

 Other Namekians

Saonel (Universe 6)

Pilina (Universe 6)

Namekian Savior (fusion of Namekian warriors)

Galactic Patrol Namekian

Imai

Mefla

Kagyu

Ukatz

Umiu

Ghiro

Shale

Escart

Lugo

Toomlin

Moolin

Jijee

Mekuji

Mai Mai

Bongo

Ryuto

Scarl

Datsum

Eemai

Uzma

Toronbon

Snei

Cital

Fargo

  Grand total: 62 mentioned plus 104 = 166 + Namekians

#MeloverseZ KathyPrior42 Namekians Fanfiction

[huntingparis]

Blog post 4

This article compares US media strategy to media created by ISIS that is designed as a military strategy. The article begins with describing a video from ISIS that is seemingly a “major shoot,” meaning it is well-produced, and one that seems to mimic contemporary Hollywood films. “With their tracks and zooms, their whizzing motion graphics, their slow-mo gunfire and rhythmic edits. It is terror spoken in the language of western pop culture. It is both alien and harrowingly familiar.” The article specifically compared it to Hunger Games. While Isis’ media strategy comes from organisations like al-Qaida and the Taliban that were first to produce beheading videos for shock-value attention, ISIS has production talent that it uses in ways unprecedented by terrorist groups. Described as “propaganda tools,” ISIS even lures fighters to create the videos by making it feel like a video game in real life. And just as Hollywood has faced, the violence depicted must be upped in order to for them avoid becoming too routine and desensitised. This is important to ISIS in order to avoid losing their place in the news and to recruit young fighters. Roger Stahl from the University of Georgia explains that the videos are necessary for ISIS to “paint itself as a continual target of the west’s enmity.” He then further explains how ISIS borrows film techniques and narrative methods pioneered in cinema. He talks specifically of what Hollywood calls ‘high concept’ which is an immediately relatable storyline that makes an easy good headline. This, of course, is exactly ISIS’ tactic to stay relevant. Dr. Kyle Grayson from Newcastle University explains that ISIS stays up to date on production and cinema in order to achieve better production value for several reasons: the message becomes easier to deliver, because audiences are not having to decipher the means through which it is being delivered; the genre and its conventions are familiar; in a crowded mediascape, ISIS has to hold the attention of its desired audiences; and to avoid being ridiculed for low value. Ultimately, ISIS works to achieve well-made production in order to give off the strongest image globally that they are strong and dangerous.   The US Army also utilizes media to further its message. The article talks about America’s Army, a PC game that doubles as a military enlistment tool. In the game, one attends a virtual bootcamp before collaborating with other players on military operations. In 2005, 40% of new enlistees to the US armed forces claimed to have played the game. The US government has also long had a direct relationship with Hollywood, offering its vehicles and aircrafts in exchange for script sign-off; in fact, the Pentagon has an office called the entertainment liaison office. In fact, the director is credited in over 50 films. And, since 1945 when the US government became completely involved in representation of war in film, each of the four branches of the US military as well as the CIA, FBI and the Department of Homeland Security have similar offices that work with the entertainment industry. While the US government does not utilize media how ISIS does in the sense of enacting real life violence, it’s thought to be responsible for footage from the Afghanistan and Iraq invasions appearing online in which infrared footage of bodies running in fear “before dissipating in the tremor of a ghostly explosion” appears. Such footage was later used as a template for the video game Call of Duty: Modern Warfare. The depiction of combatant deaths is a legal grey area in international law, though the US footage does not necessarily show if the dead bodies are civilian or “bad guys.” The propaganda videos released by ISIS, however, are specifically designed to be explicitaly violent and perverted. Part of this reasoning is that, the article claims, the West seems to view violent acts it commits as more precise due to advanced technology and therefor more humane and permissible. Also, those killed are usually “bad guys” that the West needs to exterminate. ISIS’ media on the other hand is composed of acts like beheadings that are seen as savage and barbaric and murdering of innocents. Nevertheless, because persuasive media is an important military strategy today, the US media and film helped kill about 1.2 million civilians and create millions of refugees while ISIS has killed about 10,000 people by aid of their media designed to shock and recruit.

The next article discusses ISIS’ propaganda and how it has taken a turn to follow the style of the film Natural Born Killers and other genre films such as Saw in the effort to depict its recruits as heroes defeating horrors. In the case of The Flames of War, ISIS’ longest film yet at 55 minutes, it follows Hollywood’s lead less and appears more mythical like in Natural Born Killers in terms of effects. The overall editing makes it follow an older gore genre; specific aesthetics of violence to uphold the violence as good and mythical with close-up battle scenes and special-effects due to the quality of its staged action with carefully calculated camera angles and editing. Use of slow motion and image manipulation to glorify the Jihadist fighters and make their deaths aesthetically pleasing achieves this heroic image of the Jihadists. There is also an English-speaking narrator, making obvious the global reach ISIS is aiming to achieve with its use of film, and in such a slow-motion scene a hadith from Prophet Muhammad is overlayed in English: “Those who have taken their position on the battlefield, and do not turn their faces away until they are killed.” This reinforces the film’s message, hoping to inspire recruits. This greatly contrasts other typical ISIS footage as explained earlier, and is done so in order to not scare recruits off in terms of how they might die; by showing the deaths of jihadists as heroic and honourable, fighters should be less scared to die and therefore less hesitant to join ISIS. Dawn Perlmutter who is a semiotician describes ISIS’ fresh representation of violence in their propaganda as more and more designed for Western audiences and recruiting fighters from the West, “Their beheading videos are very different from ones ordinary IS members are posting online. The official ones are definitely focused on recruitment. The actual violence is not included in the videos—I think they wanted to have greater dissemination and, as best they can, circumvent social media bans. They are almost like scripted reality shows,” she explains. She further says that ISIS combines symbols from Islamic culture with propaganda: “Executing by beheading ritualistically justifies the violence,” she says. This is in order to frame beheadings as justifiable, judicial slaughter. These two articles very clearly emphasise the influence media has as a military strategy, particularly for ISIS. ISIS produces media with unprecedented shock value and heroism in order to persuade young fighters to join their terrorist efforts while sending a message of strength and danger to the West. ISIS uses cinematic methods pioneered in the West in order to achieve something akin to a Hollywood action movie in order to reap proper movielike effects so that its political influence and message may be that much stronger. This is ironic given ISIS is a group that opposes Western influence and globalization. On the other hand, it is less ironic that video games in the US that draw from real-life killings also influence people to join the army and its fighting cause; the US government and military has long used Western media to its effect. Hollywood films have long been watched over by the government to ensure a message affiliated with the US government’s agenda. Though ISIS creates media that is usually more gory and shocking, it upsets me that the US’ use of media for war is far more acceptable than ISIS’s use of media for war since it is based on the questionable principle that violence on behalf of the West is always less painful and always for a just cause.

[bountyofbeads]

Iran denies carrying out crippling attacks on Saudi oil facilities

By Kareem Fahim, Erin Cunningham and Steven Mufson | Published September 15 at 6:23 AM ET | Washington Post | Posted September 15, 2019 10:15 AM

ISTANBUL — Iran on Sunday rejected U.S. accusations it was responsible for devastating attacks on two oil installations in Saudi Arabia that struck at the heart of the kingdom’s oil industry and forced Aramco, the state oil company, to suspend its production output by half. 

A rebel group in Yemen, known as the Houthis, had claimed responsibility for Saturday’s attacks, saying that it had sent a fleet of attack drones toward the two oil facilities in eastern Saudi Arabia. Hours later, though, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, in a Twitter message, directly blamed Iran for what he said was “an unprecedented attack on the world’s energy supply” and said there was “no evidence the attacks came from Yemen” — leading to speculation they had been launched directly from Iran, or on Tehran’s behalf, by allies in Iraq.

Abbas Mousavi, an Iranian Foreign Ministry spokesman, called the allegations “pointless” while Mohammad Javad Zarif, the foreign minister, chastised Pompeo in a Twitter message on Sunday. “Having failed at ‘max pressure’, @SecPompeo’s turning to ‘max deceit’” — a reference to the Trump administration’s  imposition of sanctions and other pressure tactics aimed at ending what the United States calls Iran’s malign regional policies.

Iraq’s prime minister, Adel Abdul Mahdi, also denied speculation that the attack had been launched from his country and said in a statement his government would “deal firmly” with anyone trying to attack neighboring countries from Iraq.

The predawn blasts at the facilities of Saudi oil giant Aramco are the most serious attack on the kingdom’s oil infrastructure in decades — including the barrages of Scud missiles fired by Saddam Hussein’s forces during the 1991 Gulf War. A NASA satellite image showed what appeared to be a long streak of black smoke flowing to the southwest from the Aramco site.

An Aramco statement said production of 5.7 million barrels of crude was suspended by the attack from “projectiles.” That represents more than half of the kingdom’s output and about 6 percent of global oil supply — a shortfall that could send oil prices sharply higher.

The Aramco statement did not give any timetable on how long the production could be curtailed. In Washington, the Department of Energy said that the United States was prepared to tap U.S. emergency oil reserves if necessary to cover supply disruptions.

The blasts struck facilities in the districts of Khurais and Abqaiq, Saudi officials said. That is more than 500 miles from the Houthi-controlled zones in Yemen — raising critical questions about Saudi Arabia’s ability to defend its territory from the expanding range of Houthi missile and drone attacks.

The rebels’ claim of responsibility, if confirmed, would highlight their rapidly advancing military prowess. Saudi Arabia and the United States accuse Iran of providing the Houthis with military equipment and technical expertise, a charge Tehran has denied.

Houthi missiles have struck Saudi sites before, including its oil infrastructure. But the latest strike on Aramco was a symbolic blow against the historical hub of the kingdom’s oil riches, and the centerpiece of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s plans to remake the kingdom’s economy.

The company is preparing an initial public offering intended to raise billions for an economic reform program championed by the crown prince to move the country away from its dependence on oil revenue.

The attacks are likely to drive up global oil prices when trading resumes after the weekend and Saudi experts assess the damage. Benchmark Brent crude was just above $60 a barrel on Friday.

In a phone call with the crown prince on Saturday, President Trump “expressed his country’s readiness to cooperate with the kingdom in supporting its security and stability, stressing the negative impact of the recent terrorist attacks against Aramco facilities on the American economy, as well as the global economy,” according to a Saudi readout of the call.

The crown prince told Trump that Saudi Arabia is “willing and able to confront and deal with this terrorist aggression,” according to the statement.

The U.S. government believes 15 structures at Abqaiq were damaged on the west-northwest-facing sides — not the southern facades, as would be expected if the attack came from Yemen.

Khurais is one of Saudi Arabia’s largest oil fields and is believed to produce about 1.5 million barrels per day. Abqaiq is the site of the kingdom’s largest oil processing facility, operated by Aramco. It may be the world’s most important piece of oil infrastructure, built to process about 7 million barrels a day of oil so that it can be shipped out of the Persian Gulf to foreign markets.

Saudi Arabia produced 9.85 million barrels of oil a day in August, making up about 10 percent of the global supply.

Videos posted online showed gigantic fires sending up huge plumes of smoke. Large explosions and the sounds of gunfire could be heard in some of the videos.

A statement by the Saudi state news agency said that the attacks occurred about 4 a.m. and that Aramco teams had contained the fires. The statement did not say whether anyone was injured. 

Saudi Arabia said it was still trying to determine who had carried out the attack, despite the Houthi claim.

Col. Turki bin Saleh al-Malki, a spokesman for the Saudi-led military coalition fighting in Yemen, said in a statement that physical evidence was collected but that “investigations are ongoing to determine the parties responsible for planning and executing these terrorist attacks.”

For years, the Houthi rebels have framed their cross-border missile and drone attacks as retaliatory and aimed at ending the Saudi military intervention, including Saudi airstrikes that have killed thousands of civilians. 

The Houthi attacks, including on civilian airports and oil installations, have become more frequent in recent months, leading to Saudi accusations that Iran has prodded the rebels into opening a new military front during Tehran’s worsening confrontation with regional adversaries.

The Houthis have acknowledged their alliance with Iran but denied acting on Tehran’s orders. A Houthi military spokesman, quoted by the rebel al-Masirah news channel, said the group’s attacks on Saudi Arabia would expand and become “more painful as long as its aggression and siege continue.”

The civil conflict in Yemen began in 2014, after the Houthis seized control of Sanaa, the capital. An Arab military coalition, led by Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, intervened in the war early in 2015, with the aim of restoring the ousted Yemeni government. 

The conflict has given rise to one of the world’s worst humanitarian disasters and has killed close to 100,000 people, according to a recent estimate by a crisis-monitoring group. Diplomatic efforts, led by the United Nations, have repeatedly failed to halt the fighting. 

The Houthis have repeatedly tried to attack Saudi oil facilities, including last month, when a rebel drone attack on the Shaybah oil field, near Saudi Arabia’s border with the United Arab Emirates, caused a fire but did not result in injuries. 

The strike on Abqaiq, where crude oil is processed, targeted a “vital piece” of the Saudi oil production network while exposing gaps in the kingdom’s defensive capabilities, said Jean-Francois Seznec, a senior fellow at the Global Energy Center at the Atlantic Council.

The installation had been targeted before, unsuccessfully, including by al-Qaeda militants more than a decade ago and more recently by the Houthis. 

“Abqaiq cannot be attacked from the ground,” Seznec said. “From the air, it’s a little more difficult to defend.” 

Robert McNally, a former national security aide on energy matters for President George W. Bush, called Abqaiq “the crown jewel of the Saudi kingdom.”

“No single facility comes close to importance in terms of wealth creation from the kingdom,” said an email from McNally, president of the consulting firm the Rapidan Energy Group. “Even if damage is light, the fact that Iranian proxies have attacked the crown jewel of Saudi Arabia means the overall risk level is going up.”

McNally said the repair time — and the price fluctuations on the oil market — will depend on whether “unique, tailor-made” components and support systems were severely damaged. Such a scenario would mean months of work ahead and oil prices possibly spiking “toward $100 a barrel,” he added.

“Abqaiq not only controls 5 percent of oil global oil supply, but it handles nearly all of spare production capacity,” he wrote. 

But, he added, “If the damage is light, then crude prices may rise by only a few dollars per barrel initially.”

Even though the United States produces most of its own crude oil and imports much of the rest from Canada, a jump in world prices affects all producers and consumers and will still have some impact for Americans at the pump. 

Saudi Arabia can ease any shortage in oil markets for the time being by ramping up production of light, low-sulfur crude oil that requires less processing. And it can tap supplies of crude oil it keeps in storage.

But those inventories of crude oil have been dwindling, McNally said in a note to clients. Saudi Arabia has about 188 million barrels available, enough to cover Abqaiq’s estimated supply disruption of 5 million barrels a day for 37 days. 

The Rapidan Energy Group cited a 2011 report estimating that the state-owned oil company Aramco could quickly reduce a disruption to about 3.5 million barrels a day — still about 3.5 percent of the world’s daily oil consumption. The company has some spare stabilization facilities. 

“Until the attack, the oil market had been complacent about geopolitical risk and was even focusing on the possibility that President Trump could ease oil sanctions on Iran,” McNally wrote. “The question is how much of a premium will be added to the oil price.

Mufson reported from Washington. Carol Morello, Shane Harris, Jeanne Whalen and Brian Murphy in Washington contributed to this report.

#iran news #iran deal #iraq news #iran #iraq #middle east #middleeast #saudi arabia #saudiarabia #yemencrisis #yemen watch #yemen war #u.s. news #u.s. military #u.s. politics #trump administration #president donald trump #trumpism #trump news