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the-firebird69 · 2 years

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So this a****** John remillard had our son put out there the information about his matrix facilities and he did so to try and force himself to capture our son. So he's out back with a little fishnet and he grabbed a cricket he says which is probably a lie it's a green cricket and they're not really around here much someone says it was there but that's fine it doesn't matter he's trespassing and we don't want him around our son he's a lunatic who doesn't speak English so he said it in really good Foreigner don't come here this is not yours he'll be in trouble and really he's doing it on purpose and it's very insulting. Now we're going after this a****** and we're going after his matrix facilities and we're pulling them out right now everybody inside it too and we're releasing them and they're going to go after the piece of s*** and finish him off and then he's going to try and do it to theirs and they'll have them and it's a waste of time and Billy z did it and he did it to sit up there with lasers and Johnny Lord doesn't know that at all he's a complete idiot and he's thinking of moron too he's sacrificing tons of his people and stuff just to try and kidnap our son will end up killing him he doesn't want to be kidnapped by the piece of s***. And he was Dan the man the low desert and he kept on arguing with our son I'm going to do this I'm going to do that when he looked at and said why don't you shut the f****** I'm going to cut your head off keeps on making a little stupid f****** noises so he left didn't come back now it's back all the time it's unrelenting idiot she's asking how it works it said to his face so he went off and he started doing stuff and we're killing him and we didn't kill him enough and we're going to. Hera said that last sentence. And we are working on it and we met and we're going to eliminate his cloning and we're going to eliminate his matrix facilities there's too many dick heads around and he's a massive one okay that's ridiculous and our son said it you can't go anywhere on Earth without running into one of his stupid matrix facilities or cloning facilities just too many of them because they're small and he's all over the place in these enclaves and it's dangerous you can't eradicate him that easily so going in there and we're pulling them all out there's the stuff on top that's too bad it gets demolished literally just goes right underneath and is buried. And we pulled 200 up and the 20x20x10 and we pulled 50 60 mi bunkers it's about 260 mi bunkers left globally and we're going to rip them all out tonight I don't want to hear from this dick ever again he can be as motivated as anybody on Earth ever was and he still is stopped by us so he might as well do it and get him out of there it's disgusting no tax no smarts just sit there harassing him.

Tonight we pull up the 300x300x20 20 and I'm pulling up the rest of all of their stuff in the Midwest and making huge bases and we're taking and taking all the tunnels in the Midwest and upper Midwest and we're going to pull them out of that out of the South too sorry to hearing from them too he has a bunch of spoiled jerks and it tons of cover you're fighting the clothes tooth and nail it's a matter of fact we're going to start getting very aggressive here ripping out. Now this guy's a coward and almost fell down trying to get out of our son's way cuz he just stares at him like he's in prison and his son's getting rid of you people and that assholes asking for it and we can't have that happen because that's what Mac was so he did this thing with the will because he wants him to be off guard and tries to piss him off with John greenwood and he doesn't care either because he's been killed so many times before you just get killed and probably still trying to grab our son I mean come on this is sick we need him out. We met and it was a great meeting no other Ariana had a great and new water had a great speech and went well and he and Sheila please and they're going to really hit him hard and he suddenly hear something like what about speed remember we did that once and it worked really well went through an area and took all the cloning down real fast he said this it works real well when you're organized but if you're not it's not going to work so he's organizing now and he knows what you mean you go through you nail it all and it's a process and then you can clean it out or break them and speed is important so he said this is what I think he's been listening and he knows certain things work and how the system is and then we work out the details and it works really well I can't wait to get you and see how complicated it is I have to clear hold them off so tonight we have a lot of those are coming out Trump's matrix and Trump's cloning all in his big ones tons of his meeting ones and he's curious once again the big ones are coming out and she's around and she's busy working on a Shatterdome and that's what he works on it. I see what the same just grab a whole bunch of that crab stuff and haul it down there, dump it in the mouth and a bunch of small ones for the ones on the land so we can take more over there and we're going to do that is a huge bunch of dead ones in the sea life and there's tons of sea life really it's a huge pain from have to go after the fish why do we have to grab fish with can we move them this Aquaman. I'm going to try that this is an awesome idea. Have Aquaman moves them all down there and Uriel and got a swiper in it and Poseidon and Goddess wife are in Hera is in! As are we this is a great idea I'm going to do that as soon as you get in the Superman series probably as it's very small but doing a huge job and we're moving out and the worms are being risen on their own saw something on tonight. And the idiots will be out of here momentarily all that's going on in Boston anyone want to rob the banks at night.

It's a huge day too they're anxious to get the ghwb to see what he did and Celine is considered to be a dead man and that's Terry cheese man they can try and kill her over and over with him and they try a lot that's coming up real fast and Conan happens before that this guy's going to be out of here before you can blink. He's trapping small animals. And there are some things he's trying to put a cricket in his room as he was doing too his freaks out with a little weed. So this is just going to come over here he kind of gets that.

I'm watching attacks on all of them for what they're doing here and it's going to work but really we need to concentrate on that guy for a little bit it's got a huge mouth big attitude and way too many spotty facilities and he's got spotty facilities he's not really a dominant to each area but like New York State yes 20 of those twenties there's a lot my son says and Max has one and Billy z has one so his facilities are bigger but if you take the 20 up and you can make two big rings or Stars and put night sweats on them Lisa's upstate New York cuz no winds up there and we don't want them up there that might explain why they go up there it's going to turn it's very true and depending where you put them but it makes sense because we know where they go we're going to go ahead and do that so sick of that a****** such a massive attitude problem DC too. The other things going on but this is so damn aggravating this person next door is humiliating aggravating insulting just keeps doing it and he's up in the middle of the night getting mosquito bit doesn't care it gets sick as a pig and we need to get rid of him sorry to die in a bunch of times he stinks. We have 700 million people coming into Florida now tons of them want to get rid of trumpsters and we verified it and not close and there's not DC people and coming in slow.

I have another idea into we could try it it's kind of a weird one it's fun though

Thor Freya

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lightneverfades · 3 years

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Frostiron (Tony/Loki) - Body Swap mini ficlet

This is a super old fic I wrote and sort of rewrote lol. Basically it’s just Loki and Tony swapping bodies, lol~

If there was ever a moment to panic, now was definitely it.

Point one being Tony was staring at his own face. That same, devilishly handsome face he had, only moments ago, been breathing in stared back at him with eyes wide open. The intruder that was wearing his face looked as dumb-founded, speechless, lips widening partly.

“What the hell —!“ Tony breathed under his breath, until he realized his voice sounded more familiar and… British? No, more… Loki.

Shit.

Tony really hoped he was wrong at this point.

He saw flickers of light looming over him, a golden vibration of colors that spiked dangerously like a lie detector recording sudden movements of an individual’s heart rate.

Tony shifted a little, trying to get up and felt an unfamiliar lightness to him. He realized that he was trying to lift his body up in the wrong way. The weight of the arc reactor he’d become so accustomed was gone. Even the layers of leather and heavy armor that clung over his - no, Loki’s - body was lighter than he had felt in a long time.

He would have felt some sense of relief at being relieved of said burden, had he not been in Thor’s brother’s body. Now this was going to be absolutely awkward. What was he going to say to Thor?

“Oh, sorry, I don’t know what happened, but I’m in your bro’s body now?”

But if he was in Loki’s body, then Loki must be in-

“What did you do! ” Tony shouted.

“This is not my doing, you fool!” Loki snarled back, although Tony didn’t hear it well; his voice almost sounded like he was listening to a recording and the tone of his voice flattened. Odd, really, hearing your voice from the point of view of someone else…

Loki was trying to get up from the floor where he had fallen, but some of the concrete blocks had collapsed on top of the Iron Man suit. Tony can still remember that pain, ghosting over this new body and his perfectly, uninjured leg. But oh, he can recall it as if he’d felt it, which he did until this happened to him.

Must hurt like a bitch. Serves him right.

Loki was struggling to get out, wriggling like a trapped animal.

“I don’t care!” Tony snapped, “Just switch us back and we can go back to chasing each other.”

Loki gave an exasperated sigh, “I cannot.“

Tony glared down at the god, “Why the hell not?”

Loki didn’t offer up a reason, instead looking at Tony with a frown and an equally matched glare of his own. “I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“Hmm, oh yeah? Well, you better speak fast, Reindeer Games, or you’re going to have to save yourself from that big boulder on top of you. Even my suit will need a bit of time to get through that,” Tony spoke, crossing his arms and looking down at his own face - which, he noted, looked more tired and maybe needed a bit more sleep to cure those dark circles under his eyes. He made a note to remedy that in no time once he got his body back.

“And just when I thought this night could not end any worse, I am left here to beg and grovel under the feet of a mere mortal…”

Tony rolled his eyes, turning his back on Loki, or rather himself. Even if wanted to get his body back in one piece, he wasn’t about to listen to Loki, of all people, whine in his own body. He was more dignified than that.

“I’ll get you some blankets, darling boo, don’t want my body to catch you a chill—“

“No, wait!” His own voice shouted back at Tony, demanding and urgent. He turned a little, although he kept his back turned, enough to peer over his shoulder and see his own face look back at him with a pout. God, it was absolutely ridiculous.

“Stop that,” Tony muttered, turning to face Loki and the man blinked back at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Do what?”

“That!”

Tony could hear that foreign voice grow louder and it made his skin crawl because he was forced to use Loki’s voice to reprimand the god currently residing in his body.

“I cannot do anything, Stark, while I am trapped,” Loki pointed out, using his hands to further elaborate the situation as if he were a conductor starting up a crescendo for an orchestra.

Tony groaned. Such a drama queen. Why did I have to get stuck with Loki, of all people?

The fact that a small smile was forming on those damned lips irritated Tony all the more.

“And if you insist on leaving me here, unable to help myself, the longer it will take for our… dilemma… to disappear,” Loki purred, eyebrows raised. Gleaming white teeth now made an appearance and Tony could feel the heat rise in his body as he saw Loki use his trademark smile to charm people he wanted to bait.

Damn Loki!

It worked, even on him.

“Fine!” Tony found himself literally growling through gritted teeth. “Tell FRIDAY what you need!”

“That’s all?” Loki spoke, frowning at Tony.

Tony sighed, “Ugh, yeah. I just wanted to mess with you. Come on! I haven’t got all day! And also…”

“Mmm?” Loki turned, frowning but obliging him now, his eyebrows rising to the point where even Tony thought impossible.

“Your clothes itch.”

A strangled snarl left Loki’s lips, and if there were any trespassers coming across the scene, they would have heard a roar of “FRIDAY, GET ME AWAY FROM THIS FOOL!” resonating through the whole area.

#just dumping it here #if anyone wants to read it hahahah #im rubbish #frostiron #tony/loki #loki/tony #fic #my fic #body swap trope #HERE HAVE SOME CRACK

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igorsamarskystuff · 3 years

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Secret pages of the Chernobyl tragedy

Author: Igor Samarsky

( [email protected] )

The secret pages of the Chernobyl tragedy.

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I think it would be of interest to everyone.

Why am I doing this?

Because I worked as an engineer in Unit 4, which exploded. A little later, after the explosion, as Controller. I dealt with the aftermath of that disaster among the many engineers who were involved in it.

My role was to work with the installation crews directly at Chernobyl Unit 4.

I write about it, because all information is classified by Ukrainian authorities. Now I don't care about Ukrainian authorities. I am a citizen of Russia. This work in Chernobyl gave me cancer. I'm struggling with it. It's hard.

I start writing because I believe that all people should know the truth about how the consequences of this nuclear disaster were dealt with.

Seeing how the Japanese carefully concealed and covered up their Fukushima disaster, I feel it is my duty to reveal the secrets of the Chernobyl "cleanup" project.

At the time, it was forbidden to take pictures at work near the destroyed Unit 4. But every worker secretly did it, including me. Here you will find first hand information which was not and will not be written by mass media. If you would like to see the pictures I took myself - send me your email address and I will send you the pictures.

In any case, I worked there on a contract basis. At that time there were not enough people in Ukraine to go to work in this nuclear zone. But it was a time of huge unemployment in Ukraine. The time of President Kravchuk, Yushchenko, and then Yanukovich. People were forced to look for work even in this radiation zone. Including myself.

People with higher education and knowledge of foreign languages (for engineers) were hired to work in this zone, except for simple janitors (potential suicide bombers).

I can speak a little English. Got a contract to work with seven installers from Belgium to install and mount a very large Liebherr tower crane on unit #4 to remove the exhaust pipe on that unit that survived the explosion.

The engineers and installers had to live in a dormitory on the grounds of Chernobyl itself, near unit 4 (18 km). Every day a bus on duty transported people to work. Each worker and engineer received an individual accumulated radiation dosimeter. There was a digital dosimeter in the dormitory, which showed a norm of radiation background of 30 μR per hour.

When the norm was exceeded, all personnel had to evacuate from the area of reactor No. 4, and we had to sit in the dormitory, closing all windows and doors until the radiation background dropped below 35 microroentgen per hour. These were safety measures.

There was also free three meals a day. And two bottles of red wine a week, free, to remove radionuclides from your blood.

You could move around, but you were not allowed to take pictures. Of course, everyone took pictures with caution. The police patrolled the area in cars, and they mercilessly fined trespassers if they found them.

The problem was that the old sarcophagus, consisting of a concrete box, was constantly collapsing due to radiation, wind, rain and frost. There came a critical moment when the roof and walls turned into a sieve and did not protect the environment and the area from the radiation of the destroyed reactor. The EU decided to cover the old sarcophagus with a new roof so that the emissions through the sieve of the old sarcophagus would not spread to Europe.

This would have required dismantling the old exhaust pipe, which weighed 1600 tons. There were no helicopters of such power around the world to snag that pipe and remove it.

The EU found a Liebherr and Demag crane capable of removing this pipe.

It was decided to transport one crane from Algeria in a disassembled form to Chernobyl. There, right on the site of Unit 4, it was assembled and the pipe was dismantled. After dismantling the pipe, the kamikaze crane had to be dismantled and buried in the ground.

The project looked good on paper, but at a huge cost.

The EU feared that radiation would spread downwind to Europe.

When the explosion itself occurred, the radioactive cloud rushed into Belarus and Europe. Part of it reached northwest Ukraine. Including Cherkassy, where I lived at the time.

It looked good on paper. The project originally cost more than $700 million. The EU approved the project and started financing it.

It wasn't interested in Ukraine's opinion, because Ukraine itself was in a quandary. A foreign holding company was set up to deal with the consequences. And from that moment the circus began. The point was that the pipe had to be disconnected from the base of the concrete roof. We had to unscrew the bolts at the joint between the pipe and the roof. There were 64 rusty bolts, 42 mm in diameter. The radiation on the roof was 1,200 to 1,500 X-rays per hour. Exposure to such a dose would be fatal, even for a few minutes for a person. What to do?

The European Union stalled.

A catastrophe has struck. Ukraine stands with its hand outstretched like a beggar - help eliminate the consequences.

It is important for Europe that the nuclear emissions from the destroyed reactor do not flood Europe through the atmosphere. The EU has already given the first money. As a loan. But how was it used? It was a mockery.

They quickly issued an international tender to swallow that their own money, but shifted the debt to Ukraine. Hundreds of companies around the world wanted their piece of the Chernobyl pie.

The original plan was that the corrupt Ukrainian government system would not steal the money and that EU companies would have to clean up the consequences, but with Ukraine involved. Ukrainians were to do the black (deadly) work.

The tender was won by an unknown French company Navarka, consisting of three people !!!

Let's call it #1. In turn, this company hired two more French companies to develop the project of liquidation and hire the executors. Let's call it #2.

Four more companies were found - Americans, Belgians, Italians and Germans.

Let's call them Number Three.

But Number 3 didn't want to die under the influence of radioactive emissions.

Number 3 hired 12 companies from Ukraine (suicide bombers) to do the dirty work.

Let's call them Number 4.

A total of 45 foreign companies were involved in the cleanup.

I ended up in one of the Ukrainian companies.

The EU was planning to build a new semi-circular sarcophagus on the site in front of the destroyed reactor.

This sarcophagus was to be moved into the old sarcophagus. It was to cover it. The move was to be done on rails.

But this was prevented by an old exhaust pipe on top of the ruined old sarcophagus. That's why the Liebherr crane and Demag were brought to Chernobyl.

My job was to supervise the Belgian assembly team that was to assemble the crane. After it was put into service and performed its "kamikaze" function, dismantle the crane and bury it in the ground.

In fact, these seven installers from Belgium were also, to some extent, suicide bombers. I asked how much they were paid for this dangerous job. But none of them answered.

In addition, the project involved clearing the area on the other side of Block 4, installing and mounting a new arched sarcophagus. The Ukrainians of Unit 4 were to carry out this cleanup in the face of wild radiation. The waste was to be buried.

The only question was, where and how? They asked the European Union for more money. They designed a railroad station to load the radioactive waste. They designed a cemetery for the waste with railroad access roads. That's another $620 million. The Americans in Group 3 were heavily involved in this project. We'll discuss why. Again, everything is fine on paper. But the paper project needs to be put into action...

I'm old now. I have cancer and it's hard for me. I will write because this topic is still relevant.

The half-life of cesium 137 is 30 years. Amercium 241 - 433 years (alpha radiation is lethal to all life). All of this is present in Chernobyl.

I know - all information about Chernobyl has been hidden from the public. But now I must reveal the secret sides of this tragedy

I'll tell you a funny story that happened to me.

I was standing next to a Liebherr crane installed by the Belgians. The crane was in the first stage of installation.

As I was walking along the reactor wall 1 meter away, a piece of tar from the roof of the Unit 4 reactor fell down next to me. It was carried away by the wind.

I thought I was not an athlete. It turned out to be the opposite. I started from there, like a sprinter at the Olympics. I ran 100 meters and then I came to my senses. I did it in seconds.

The fact is that all the materials on the roof were thousands of times more contaminated by radiation than on the ground near the reactor. When I was out of breath, I called a decontamination team.

A team in spacesuits arrived. It took them a long time to isolate this piece of tar and the ground next to it. Until the radiation background in the area returned to normal. Because of this incident, crane installation work was suspended for a week.

I thought - how many pieces of shrapnel like this fall off the roof unnoticed every day?

The dosimetric crews, of course, went around Block 4 every day, in the mornings. A lot of contaminated nastiness could fall from the roof before evening, and no one saw or followed it. The accumulation dosimeters in each worker's pocket did not signal danger. They were primitive accumulation dosimeters, that's all.

They read body contamination once a week and at dismissal. If a worker "overdosed" on radiation, he was fired and his contract was terminated.

After the financial reconstruction of the project, the European holding company began to have problems with the rush and rupture of finances in the European Union itself - who would get more.

Confusion and haste led to the fact that the project drawings were incorrectly translated into Ukrainian by a foreign party.

In addition, the drawings themselves were incorrectly copied (mirrored). This led to the collapse of the concrete work. In particular, during the construction of the railway station for the removal of nuclear waste.

The wagons had to come up on the wrong side. Everything was reversed, like in a mirror. Because of these mistakes, there was again a problem with financing.

A $240 million fine was announced.

The head of the French project side (Group 2) could not stand this pressure and shot himself.

But the work had to go on. The European Union was forced to finance the elimination of errors in the project.

The work continued. The site in front of Block 4 had to be prepared for the installation of the second sarcophagus.

They started digging with the help of Ukrainian "suicide bombers" and ... found a graveyard of old military and civilian equipment that was hundreds of thousands of times more contaminated with radiation.

The Ukrainian side kept quiet about it because it wasn't ...

Solvent.

Dozens of trucks, tractor-trailers, earthmoving equipment were buried in the ground in April 1986 during the elimination of the accident in front of the 4th block.

It was a real nightmare.

Where to dispose of this contaminated scrap metal? The planned cemetery was already filled with preliminary waste.

The foreign investors in this project were clutching their heads. The whole project threatened to collapse.

A solution was proposed by the Ukrainians. They proposed to create a landfill directly in front of Block 4.

For the sake of economy and not to interfere with the project. In the version of the cemetery, open to the atmosphere. Something like a temporary nuclear waste repository.

The foreigners agreed - it was not their territory, and the Ukrainians were to die later from radioactive contamination as a result of atmospheric fallout.

This was said and done.

All the scrap metal was quickly raked aside and fenced off with three rows of barbed wire.

That's where the Americans stepped in.

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Translated by Deepl

They raised the question of expanding the backfilled old burial ground as designed. They insisted on building a new, larger facility - burial ground #2 in Chernobyl. They proceeded from the idea to export the American nuclear waste from the territory of the USA. And to take this waste to Ukraine. The European Union agreed with the arguments of Americans, because they are interested in the management of their nuclear wastes. The Ukrainian rulers had their jaws dropped. No one took them into account or even considered their wishes.

The European Union, under pressure from the U.S. government, decided to create an additional large nuclear waste repository on the territory of Chernobyl within a radius of 30 km (in the exclusion zone). In fact, it was a project to create a worldwide storage facility for nuclear waste in the Chernobyl zone. The EU agreed because it was in their favor, and American capital participated in the project along with the Europeans. No one paid any attention to the Ukrainian government and its pathetic attempts to oppose it. It was like a punch in the side of a pathetic skinny dog yapping.

Next.

The construction of the new burial ground was financed.

But it was not filled. The temporary repository remained in place in front of Unit 4. A new repository was waiting for nuclear waste from the U.S. and Europe. A landfill site for nuclear waste was created in Ukraine.

But here a new problem arose.

When they started driving 32-meter concrete piles to secure the new carpet for the concrete base of sarcophagus 2.

A new stressful situation arose.

The piles were driven into the ground using a conventional pile-driving machine. On the site of Unit 4, several buildings were constructed for maintenance personnel. Buildings for engineers, surveyors, workers, concrete workers, electricians, etc. These buildings began to collapse due to vibration during pile driving. Cracks appeared in the buildings and the walls began to collapse.

In addition, collapses occurred inside Sarcophagus No. 1 itself. Because of the vibration, the nuclear fuel that was in the boiler, which leaked out of the boiler and moved along with the debris, began to take on a new shape the moment the piles began to be driven.

The fact is that some of this fuel had sublimated into balls (small metal and glass balls that were mixed with the sand that had been dropped from helicopters into the boiler in April 1986).

From the vibration of the piles, these nuclear fuel balls, consisting of cesium 137, polonium, and other fuel residues, began to pile up and form one solid mass. in different places in the sarcophagus - 1.

It's like if you took a funnel of sand, put some lead pellets in it and started tapping the funnel with your finger, creating a vibration. After a while, all the pellets sink into the sand and merge into one lump of lead at the bottom of the funnel.

Thus, from the vibration, a nuclear critical mass started to form in different places of the sarcophagus - 1, from which a nuclear chain reaction could start.

In fact, several nuclear bombs began to form simultaneously and spontaneously in different places of the sarcophagus-1.

Thank God, the Ukrainian surveyors working inside the sarcophagus noticed that cesium and polonium were flowing into one mass in several places at once and sounded the alarm.

Immediately thereafter the piling was stopped and EU leaders again clutched their heads, cursing Ukraine and the disaster. What to do?

Several governments were involved in the game.

The U.S. and the EU have quietly created a global nuclear waste dump on Ukrainian territory. And this dump pollutes the environment. Even now. The atmosphere is doing its dirty work of spreading radiation. Every day there may be whirlwinds carrying nuclear dust into Europe. It may last a day or two, and then the wind will turn the other way. It is impossible to predict where the next nuclear cloud will go. If the background radiation rises in Europe, the governments of the countries where it happened will cover it up so as not to alarm the public. Because the source of the increased background radiation is supposedly unknown. But there is one - Chernobyl.

That's why the number of cancer cases in Europe has increased. This is exactly what I said earlier - no one in the world, rich or poor, is immune from cancer. The poorly controlled nuclear waste dumps in Ukraine created by the United States and the European Union contribute to this. And no money has been earmarked for upgrading these dumps in Chernobyl because Ukraine has bored both the US and the EU with its pathetic claims.

Ukraine has entered a stage of politically progressive unruly Nazism and chauvinism, and none of the Nazi rulers are going to deal with ecology and Chernobyl.

Hence the problem with the sarcophagus 2 base. The concrete base of sarcophagus 2 was to be a huge concrete carpet three meters thick that was to be laid on a layer of gravel and sand.

It was to be a layered paste of concrete. The carpet was to be supported by concrete piles. But a critical mass of cesium leaks stopped the process. Money and a new project to install the concrete carpet was needed again. A solution was found.

It was financed. Drilling of boreholes and pouring of concrete without vibrations began. The so-called underground piles.

Ukraine watched the process and giggled from the corner.

Finally, the concrete carpet was laid. But here again there was a problem.

Ukraine complained that the rails that will move sarcophagus 2 into sarcophagus 1 will not support the load and weight of sarcophagus 2, because the foreigners miscalculated the steel (rails and rollers). Ukraine presented its calculations. Sarcophagus 2 will not be able to move on these rails. The rails and rollers will collapse under these loads. The European Union agreed and is clutching its head for the fourth time.

The political game called "disaster management" has reached its climax!

And what about the pipe?

The Ukrainians put out a tender to find self-killers who would be able to remove the pipe from the roof in conditions of wild radiation. And they found them. Eighteen volunteers agreed to do the job for big money. The crane was ready and assembled. He was ready to remove the old exhaust pipe.

This suicide crew began working around the clock. They were cutting the pipe, unscrewing the bolts. The radiation on the roof, even through the concrete on which the pipe stood, was 1200 X-rays per hour. After a week, the pipe was cut, all the bolts were unscrewed. The pipe was removed. What happened to the installers after that - I don't know. Most likely, they died for their families and children.

So what happened next, after the EU first accepted Ukraine's evidence.

The Ukrainian government demanded money for a new rolling system design to collapse the new sarcophagus onto the old one.

The EU agreed.

The first official damage estimate, made in mid-1986, put the damage at between $3 billion and $5 billion. A few years later it was estimated that up to $120 billion would have to be spent by the year 2000. (SECC, 1996). In 1990 the figure was already $358 billion (WISE News, 1990). These are the official figures. But in reality, somewhat more was spent.

But we digress...

So Ukraine got its share of the funding. The famous Ukrainian Welding Institute named after academician Paton was commissioned to develop the project. The old design (rails, rollers) was completely withdrawn. A new project was developed - a smooth granite base, on which the new sarcophagus-2 will slide in the direction of the old sarcophagus 1 and cover it by sliding on granite rollers.

The project was approved and funded.

By this time my contract had expired. Construction of the new smooth granite base had begun. For me, the process of getting out of the contract began. It went on for over a week. I enjoyed it - did nothing. Walking around, being examined by the medical team in the lab. Enjoyed the view of the empty, abandoned city.

The wild animals living in the forest around Chernobyl had mutated. Several generations of animals had mutated - they were completely unafraid of humans. There were almost twice as many of them around Chernobyl as in the regular forest. When I drank vodka with friends on the Pripyat River (the river for cooling the reactors), I even bathed in the river while intoxicated. It is understandable - a man in a state of alcoholic intoxication is not afraid of anything. My friends encouraged me and they themselves bathed in the Pripyat River. From the bridge near the reactor we threw saiki bread into the Pripyat river. Huge river catfish reacted to these loaves by surfacing like submarines and swallowing the loaves. It was fun to watch. These river catfish were up to 3 meters long. We had fun competing to see who would get closer to a female boar that was eating roots by the trees with her piglets. The piglets were as big and black as the female boar herself. She wasn't paying attention to us. Animals, cats and dogs in the city were getting wild and big. Birds would land on our hands if we had bread crumbs in our hands. Hares the size of dogs. Foxes would brazenly walk up to people and ask for a light meal.

There was such an incident.

By some miracle a huge wolf managed to break through three rows of barbed wire and tried to get to the leftover food in the bins outside the canteen building.

The police organized a military operation against the wolf with guns.

But the wolf turned out to be cunning and very aggressive. He skillfully hid from police shots among the trash bins. It was impossible to kill him from afar.

Several police officers decided to approach the wolf's ambush. But the wolf jumped out from behind the trash cans, and two policemen were wounded by its teeth. In the end, the wolf was shot. This was entertainment for the workers who were watching this military operation.

The wolf was also mutant and completely black in color.

I would like to say one more thing.

Contrary to the bans on visiting this Chernobyl zone, many people live in their abandoned private homes.

Most of them are elderly people who do not care about the banned laws and their health.

They sneak into the zone along forest trails and settle in abandoned houses. If the police catch them, they are deported from the zone.

But they show up and continue to live there.

Finally, seeing this problem, the Ukrainian government allowed a minimum quota for settlement in Chernobyl. It is now possible to get a settlement permit if a person has private property there.

But these people cannot qualify for health insurance. They have to give it up.

That's how my work at Chernobyl ended. I didn't make much money there. That was the basis of the Ukrainian policy towards Ukrainian citizens.

And now fascist nationalism is rampant, and I'm sure that no one particularly monitors the safety of closed reactors. Ukraine has entered the third stage of poverty. It has entered into a confrontation with Russia.

The European Union and the United States are fed up with claims from Ukraine.

What the future holds for Ukraine, I don't know.

The current situation is in Chernobyl.

The cemetery that remains at the site of the fourth power unit is left in the open air. Ukraine has no money to move this burial site and bury the contaminated scrap metal. The EU thinks it has accomplished its mission (to protect itself from nuclear clouds). No one wants to invest money. In spring, summer and autumn, when the wind blows, all the radioactive dust rises from the burial ground into the atmosphere and begins its victorious march across Ukraine, Europe and Russia. The authorities, of course, fix it. But they never talk about it. The whole catastrophe is gradually forgotten.

Nevertheless, the catastrophe has consequences.

The same thing is happening now in Japan at Fukushima. Only it's even worse there.

The Japanese are hiding everything and keeping it a secret. Radiation pollution occurs not only through the atmosphere, but also through the ocean. The Japanese are good students of Chernobyl.

What happened to that notorious Greenpeace? Was he bought with all his guts? Yes, it probably was!

We are all ordinary people in the world - hostages of power and oligarchs who think only about their personal gain and personal well-being. They absolutely do not care about the problems of ordinary people in the world, and the Chernobyl disaster proves this.

The way people live now is the answer for everyone. People live in Chernobyl and grow gardens and vegetable gardens. Of course, growing food on contaminated soil is a mistake. I tried to go into such an abandoned house with friends along with a working dosimeter. But even approaching this house, the radiation dosimeter "squealed". We rushed out of that house. But in Chernobyl, radiation levels vary. There are places with high levels, there are places with low levels. But the ground is all contaminated. We walked on the contaminated land with a level of about 40 microroentgen per hour. All the animals (wild and domestic) ate food from this ground. Hares were gnawing on tree bark. Moose ate poisoned mushrooms. The animals did not live long, but they multiplied quickly. With each new generation of offspring, the mutation increased. It's not as fast as it's shown in Hollywood movies, and it's not as scary. But it is still real. And people living in their abandoned and infected homes don't live as long, and neither do animals. They have accepted their fate. I was talking to an old man who lives in his own house (there is a picture of my house). Their philosophy: I live alone. I don't get in anyone's way. I buy my groceries at the store that works for the Chernobyl victims. I grow a garden on this land. I don't disturb my children in Kiev. As long as God gives me life, I will. He was 74 years old at the time. Who buried him after his death, I don't know. The zonal administration had to take the dead outside the zone and give them to relatives. That must have been the case. It's a scary story. That's the life of Chernobyl. All information about modern Chernobyl is still hidden.

#Cytrnobyl #Tragedy #Chernobyl #accident

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 4 years

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Fulcrum

They say that the old crone on the hill is a witch, and hides her devil’s bite under her hair. They say that she steals life from the town and sickens the fields with her evil. They say that the reason there’s no gate in her fence is because it’s not a fence for her house; it’s a fence of holly wood with silver nails, built to keep her in. And they say that if you cross that fence uninvited, you don’t come back out – or at least, not all of you does. In payment of your trespass, you leave something behind.

“I heard,” my friend Samael whispered to me as we picked the midsummer apples, “that she steals babies’ hair and spins it into thread that takes away their life force. Then she trades the thread to rich foreigners for food and luxuries. You’d better keep an eye on your sister.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I sniffed. “Somebody’s been making a fool of you.”

“No, really! How else would she stay alive, up there all alone? She can’t be growing enough food for herself, and what about when she gets sick, or needs firewood? She never comes to town!”

“If she never comes to town,” Marcus pointed out, “how would she get the babies’ hair? Think, Samael. Everyone knows she curses the town with the smoke from her chimney, and the curses will get you if you don’t say your prayers to protect yourself.”

“You’re both wrong,” I said. “I heard that she sneaks into town in the dead of night and trades secrets for her goods, because the holy sunlight burns her during the day.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Samael said. “If sunlight burns her, why has her house got windows? Huh? And who’s selling to her? She’s not buying tools off my dad!”

“She’s an old woman! How often would she need to buy tools?”

“Hey, you two?” Marcus held out an apple. “Look at this.” He split it with his hands, and we stared.

The entire core was a black, slimy mess. Once it was opened, the smell of rot was unmistakeable.

I split the apple in my hands. Rotten.

“Get your papa,” I told Marcus.

An inspection was called. Three quarters of the harvest was infected. The rest looked clean, but there could be no chances taken with the rot. There would be no apples this year.

The apples were an important part of our food supply, especially with most of last year’s wheat harvest taken by the beetles, but we had enough stores to last until the new wheat came in. We were a very resilient town, and had always taken care to store well.

It would be a lean year, though.

It was decided that we children would finish harvesting the apples, then in autumn compost them on the wheat fields over the river, where they could not re-infect the orchard while they broke down. The next year, the apple blossoms would be trimmed before they could develop – two years without apples – and that should remove the blight’s hold. Chasing thoughts of fresh apple pie from my mind, I returned to the harvest.

“She did this,” Samael grumbled. “Beetles, then apple blight? That’s not normal bad luck.”

“I have an idea,” Marcus said.

And that’s how the three of us ended up lugging sacks of rotten apples up the hill at sunset.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked.

“The holly and silver fence will hold her in,” Samael said.

“No, she can get out at night,” Marcus insisted. “She comes into town when the sun’s down to – ”

“This was your idea, Marcus!”

“I know. I’m just saying.”

The sacks were heavy. It was fully dark by the time we made it to the crone’s hut. Moonlight gleamed off the ungated fence, the clay roof, the overgrown garden.

Marcus reached into his sack, grabbed an apple, and hurled it at the hut. It splattered against the wall, smearing foul-smelling rot everywhere. Samael’s apple followed, smacking onto the roof. I pulled one out of my bag and took aim.

“Why hello, children.”

A shape I’d taken to be a particularly sickly tree in the woman’s garden stepped forward. The two boys screamed and bolted. I tried to follow, but I couldn’t move. Why couldn’t I move? I stood there, willing myself to back away from the witch coming closer, but every muscle was stiff as death. She came right up to the fence.

“Oh, how kind! You’ve brought me some old apples to fertilise my garden? It’s lovely when people think to help each other. I certainly have some vegetables that could use a bit of fertiliser. Do lift the bags over the fence, would you? I’m afraid my old bones just aren’t up to the task any more.”

Come on. I could run away. It shouldn’t be hard. The buys had managed it! Just turn and run!

“Oh, is it too heavy for you too, dear? Never mind; I have just the thing for that.” She picked up a long plank of wood and laid it over the fence, one end sticking up like a seesaw. “Do you know how to use a lever and fulcrum, dear? It’s very simple. Just put one of the sacks on the end there, would you?”

I found myself obeying. Was she doing something to me? Making me obey her with her evil magic?

“Now, the real secret of leverage is this – you have to put in as much effort as you’re going to get out.” She leaned down on her side of the plank, lifting my side (with the sack) up high. When it was low enough, she stood on her end, and reached to drag the sack down the plank towards her. “You get out what you put in, the trick is to direct it properly. See? Now the second bag.”

Soon, we had all three bags over the fence, and nothing horrible had happened to me. The old woman grinned. “Do come in for a cup of tea, dear.”

Finally, my legs let me back away. “It’s, uh, late. I should get going.”

“But you came all this way, bringing such a nice gift! It’s hardly going to get darker than it is already. Do come in and rest yourself and warm up a little.”

I knew the stories – cross the fence uninvited, and you don’t come out. But I was invited, wasn’t I? That meant it was safe, right?

Inside the cottage, the floors were swept and the table wiped, but cobwebs hung thick across the ceiling and a rat glowered at me from the corner. Things a frail old lady would have difficulty keeping up with, living on her own.

She put the kettle on and I found a broom to clear the cobwebs. The broom was old and falling apart; the table and chairs wobbled with loose joints. The only well-maintained item in the house was a spinning wheel in the corner, and its distaff, loaded with flax.

The tea was well steeped, but a little sour. The kettle needed cleaning.

The next day, after we finished harvesting the first of three apple orchards, I went to visit the crone with fresh nails for the chairs and vinegar for the kettle. She span flax in the corner, humming quietly to herself, and then we went outside together to dig rotten apples into the starving soil of the vegetable garden.

“Where do you get the flax?” I asked her as we worked.

“I buy it, like anybody else.”

“Where? You never come to the marketplace.”

The crone laughed. “There are many different types of trade in this world, my dear.”

The next day, I brought poison for the rats, and the crone span straw (she’d run out of flax) while I scrubbed the floor. I didn’t know that straw could even be spun, but under her fingers it twisted into a fine, supple cord. She caught me staring and wove the thread into a short length of ribbon, which she pressed into my hands. “A gift,” she said.

I thought of the old stories of princesses who wove straw into gold. I thought of the hour it had taken her to painstakingly weave the ribbon with stiff hands.

“I can’t,” I said.

So she tied it into her own hair and sent me home with vegetable stew for my mother, that she might make good milk for my baby sister, who had a fever.

“You should be careful,” Marcus warned me as we started on the second orchard. “I bet she poisoned that stew.”

“Why would she poison anyone?”

“She’s right,” Samael said, “witches don’t need to use poison. They can curse people with sickness, just like she did to these apples.”

“She’s not a witch! She’s just an old lady with no one to help her. Maybe if you actually talked to her instead of spreading gossip, you’d learn something.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Like what herbs to add to a mother’s tea to protect her child from fever, which the crone showed me the next day. Like which cobwebs to leave undisturbed, because some spiders protected the house from other pests. Like how to grow enormous turnips, and how a frail old lady could use leverage to move quite heavy furniture.

“You have to put in the energy you want to get out,” she explained again as she used a wooden post to easily lift a heavy oak cabinet and sweep under it. “It’s all about directing that energy.”

The next day, she made a mistake in directing that energy. I arrived at the cottage to find her cradling a badly sprained wrist.

“You’re lucky it’s not broken,” I chided her as I wrapped it up. “At your age you need to be careful.”

“What a waste of luck,” was her rueful reply.

“You can’t waste luck.”

“My dear, when you get to my age, every breath you draw is lucky. You tend to get quite stingy with it.”

I put the kettle on and cleaned out the larder while the crone rested her hand. I missed the sound of her humming melody and the whirr of her spinning wheel that normally accompanied my indoor work.

The herbs worked on my sister. She grew strong and healthy and the days grew long and dry, and we finished the apple harvest and the men brought in the wheat, and the crone’s cottage was clean and in good repair. Her wrist healed, and soon I was pickling vegetables to the whir of her wheel and her melody.

And my sister fell ill again that very day.

Through the night, her little lungs coughed weakly and rasped as she breathed. And the rasp entered my dreams as the whirr of a spinning wheel.

“She’s going to kill your sister,” Samael told me.

“No,” I said. “We all get sick. And we all survive.”

We did. We were a resilient people; illness and misfortune had plagued our town for a hundred years, but we were strong and prepared and we always pulled through. My sister was strong, too. She would survive her cold. We would survive the lack of apples and the rapidly drying town. And a old woman taking to her spinning wheel being blamed for such misfortunes… well, that was just a story made up by silly children.

Still, I stopped visiting the crone. I was too busy, caring for my sister, and my mother who had caught her cold, and helping bring in the last of the wheat, and spinning new thread for my mother’s loom. Watching the crone had taught me to spin faster, smoother thread than ever before, and I caught myself humming her melody as I worked. I kept myself busy, and I told myself that that was why I stayed away. Until the morning I smelled the smoke.

The winds were hot and dry; the wildfire was distant, but moving quickly. While everyone got to work protecting the town, Marcus and Samael and I climbed the hill.

“It’s her spinning wheel,” I explained. “She calls misfortune down by spinning.”

“Then we destroy it,” Marcus said, drawing his father’s hammer from his belt.

The boy’s hesitated at the fence – they say that if you go in uninvited, you don’t come out – but I leapt over it, and they followed, not wanting to show more fear than a girl. I could hear her humming and spinning as the smell of smoke became stronger. I pushed through the door.

The house was once again cobwebbed and dusty in places difficult for an old woman to reach. But it was hard to see that, under the balls of thread littered about the floor. Every surface was piled in thread of every thickness and colour and material, from fine dark wool to rough bark. The crone stood from behind her wheel, and tossed a ball to me.

“Good. You’re here. Grab as much as you can, and take it down to the town. Boys, you look strong; I’m sure you can carry a lot.” She tossed a ball to Marcus, who dropped the hammer to catch it.

“Your thread?” I asked, baffled.

“Not mine. The town’s. I just wind it up and keep it safe.” She wound a length of freshly spun cord around my wrist, again and again. “”But now it is needed, and you must take it. Go!”

“What is – ”

“No time! Go!”

We scooped up armloads of thread and raced back down the hill, letting gravity and the weight of our loads speed us along. The smoke was thick enough to be visible, now, a haze on the horizon, and I felt the thread around my wrist burn, leaking something into me, as my feet missed every stick and stone and stumbling block and found the quickest path down the hill. Marcus stopped to toss balls of thread over trees and storage sheds where it hung like ropey cobwebs; Samael and I split up, heading for opposite ends of town.

The wind was the strongest I’d ever experienced. It snatched string from my arms, and I knew there was no time to stop to pick it up. I dashed to the river. At the edge of the nearly dry bed, most of the village stood, clubs and water buckets at the ready to try to stop the fire from spreading to the fields on the other side. Behind them, mothers lay their children in the shallow muddy stream that still flowed, a last-ditch effort if the fire couldn’t be held back.

“Take it!” I shouted, throwing balls of thread at them. “Take this, and hold onto it! Wind it around yourselves! It’ll protect you!”

It was a ridiculous claim. But the thread around my wrist burned, and they heard the urgency and certainty in my voice, and people took the string, handed it to each other, wound it around themselves and their children and their clubs, and behind me the wind picked up even more and pushed me over.

I took a club and took up a position on the line, but we all knew it was hopeless already. The scent of smoke carried a story; I smelled not just wood, but meat and grease and lanolin and a hint of alcohol… the stores, the sheep, perhaps even my friends… and then the hot air was burning my eyes and embers were raining down and the fierce flames were in front of us and there was no choice but to retreat, sprinting for the muddy water and flinging ourselves down.

I threw myself over my sister, holding her tiny face just above the water and using my body to shield her from the fire and debris raining over us. Something burned my arm; not the fire, but the cord wrapped around it, glowing brightly and disintegrating to dust and leaving the arm underneath unmarked despite the pain. The wool coccooning my sister glowed too, as bright as the fire; I had to look away, up into the sky, and saw burning leaves carry clear over the river to land on the other side among the wheat fields, where it burned through unharvested straw. And then it was gone, and as one, we stood, brushing away ash that had once been string. I checked my sister for injuries – none. We walked back to town, putting out little fires with our clubs on the way.

The town was in surprisingly good shape. There was damage, of course, but the wind had pulled the fire through too fast to destroy everything. A lot of thatching needed repair, and we’d lost some of our stores, but enough had survived. The town would survive.

Everyone started cleaning up, and I climbed the hill to the old crone’s hut.

Most of the hut itself was intact, although the garden had been badly damaged. Part of the fence had burned away entirely, leaving a space just wide enough, perhaps, to install a gate.

Inside the house, not a ball of thread remained. Everything was coated in that strange ash, and I walked past the crone, sitting at her table, to fetch the broom. She didn’t look up at me. She didn’t move at all.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

She did not move. Did not breathe.

I closed her eyelids, took her hands to cross them over her chest. Something dropped into my hand from hers; a short length of ribbon. One I’d watched her weave months ago from straw. It looked a lot shorter now.

I tied it into my hair, and once again tallied my tasks. I would have to sit with her for the three nights’ vigil, because nobody else would. I would have to sell something to get two coppers for the gravedigger, because nobody else would. And I would have to help repair the town, help the wounded, tally our stores, do all of those little things that would tide us over between this disaster and the next. Resilient people like us have to be careful where we direct our energy. Today had been very lucky, and now we had little luck to spare; but it would not be long before the town would need to be lucky again. There was always another disaster.

The ribbon felt hot in my hair. It burned against my head, like something was boring into my skull. I ignored it.

I sat at the wheel, and started to spin.

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This story is set in the Curse Words universe: https://havenstory975986403.wordpress.com/

#short story #flash fiction

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frstbiitten · 4 years

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tw: violence, blood, death & gore

Lights, screams, hits. They all had a certain intensity that could make you feel out of place, between the world of dreams and the one of the living, one could move between these two realms as long as everything followed its rhythm. The spotlights were intense, as well as the constantly changing colors: yellow was used at the beginning of the fight, to create an atmosphere of tension and highlight both fighters as they prepared themselves, one could see them drinking water, speaking for a few seconds with whoever was accompanying them or simply exchanging glances in silence. Blue was unusual to see, only after the fight was over was the color that appeared, sometimes they did not use it, only when the execution was very bloody or gruesome and it was needed to calm the air after a few minutes. The red seemed to be the favorite, one saw it for a few seconds, staining the hexagon once the sound of bones cracking was heard, when one sees the red light the audience went crazy and screamed, screamed as if they were demons in agony.

Tonight's rival was also someone who had already trained and fought in this very place some time ago, Romira, tanned skin and firm, thick muscles, maybe she could lift a car or 100 men. One of her eyes had the iris wider than the other, maybe someone punched the woman so hard that they disfigured the eye muscles. She didn't have any hair, besides some scars here and there. As they made the introduction to the fight, Romira studied Snowflake with a deep glance, had heard of the girl, her brown-eyed gaze came to throw knives into her soul, tried to intimidate the girl, even if she seemed unaffected by such a spell.

Lie. She felt a strong dread just from seeing her, she didn't take her eyes off her and this didn't give her any assurance that she could win. This has become a war of those who look more into each other, a strong beast against a ghostly-looking girl. They listened to the applause and whistles before the ring of the bell, approached their positions, two meters apart. Seeing Romira more closely, she was even more afraid. The bell rang all of a sudden, another fight started again tonight, it was ‘odd’ and the air felt heavy when breathing.

Romira was the first to strike, although she was not accurate enough, since to the touch, Snowflake was extremely cold, she could see with the naked eye how unhappy she was with the girl from the first minute. The girl chose to try to dodge or withstand the blows as long as she could, and used her legs more to attack. The skin began to cool more, at one point she received a direct kick to the chest, then another more intense blow but with her knee and finally a punch to the cheek. Increasingly pale by the blows, her eyes closed instinctively, with no control over them, but gradually she looked as if she was mutating into something else, something uncertain but destructive and frightening.

The bluish iris and black pupils were replaced by a white color that opaqued the general view, could not differentiate exactly who or what had in front of her, her mind was nullified from being able to control it normally. This wasn't her, it was her worst version. The air temperature dropped dramatically after a certain blow near the rib, almost taking her breath away, bluish hands were reinforced and incredibly cold, enough to leave the meat reddenedd once she could dodge a kick and execute a punch straight to the stomach. It was not the only one or the last blow she gave, for she lashed out at Romira, frozen blows rained over her body, they were fast, despite the great bustle and madness, one could hear the young girl growling like a wild animal.

Romira had experience, martial arts were never to her liking, but beating someone until she saw them bleed with bones sticking out of their skin, it was undoubtedly therapeutic. Has heard of this girl and she wasn't normal, nothing in her seemed even human, another lost and bizarre citizen from Outworld? She still had a memory of the things even though her mind was still young, saw it on the news, no one stopped talking about the invasion of foreign beings. But like everyone else, she and the rest of the world went on with their lives, people had died but nobody could do anything about it. Maybe the girl came into this world that way... or perhaps not. Had to figure out a way to knock her down before she could take the lead, noticing that its horizontal punches were the most used, predictable and cold-laden, her skin already almost purple by the punches. The next one would come from her right hand, she was able to dodge the young woman's cold fingers, using her left elbow Romira gave her a blunt blow straight to the middle of her back, people liked what they saw.

Those who didn't like this situation at all were Lewis and Clarissa, the two seemed almost in shock from what they saw with their eyes, Clarissa couldn't stand it for too long and decided to approach the hexagon as much as she could.

"Get up now! You have to regulate your stability.

GET UP RIGHT NOW!!!

" Her cries seemed in vain, though Snowflake's eyes if they looked at her, she seemed to look through her, were pale as marble and glowed like two white stars.

Snowflake had struck the floor with her chest, a thread of crimson blood came out of her lips and painted the white ground with the same color. The lights turned red at that very instant. That change in lighting was enough to distract her, she had to get up. She blinked fast for a few seconds, realizing about the fatal mistake, and then a shuddering pain arose from out of the blue.

Red. She could only see red.

A choked cry left her throat as a lightning-struck sensation traveled through her muscles, regained consciousness over her body, only to be swayed by the most hellish pain, her skin began to sweat, fear? Hopelessness? Still, she didn't shed tears, she couldn't waste them now. Might not remember how although she would later realize that it was caused by a descent blow, Romira's heel hit her hand so hard that it broke several bones, including the fingers. The blow had its epicenter in the middle of the hand, its knuckles barely returning any discomfort to the other fighter. Although to aggravate her situation, Romira took her head by the hair, long silver strands being stained by a dark red, pulling them to force her to arch her back, it was not enough, she did not want to get off the ground, for Romira insisted with her strength. “Look at me, this is the last face you'll see before I tear you apart”. And she was not soft, she did not give up the strength of her arm until the girl was on her feet, proceeded to punish by using continuous blows with the knee to the stomach level, ending with a sharp hit with her foot that pushed her to the wires that put a limit between the spectacle and the spectator.

The adrenaline spiraled, in erratic waves of energy that flowed like a river crashing into the rocks. Couldn't hear Clarissa's voice screaming, yelling at Lewis at the same time, or so she thought, couldn't see them properly under the white light, the white light was ideal for everyone to see the deformed hand, the red area of her stomach, and she spitting blood. It wasn't a simple red thread or two, they were bloody spits mixed with her own bile and saliva. The girl expected the metallic taste of the liquid but was acidic at the same time, the ice as it did what it could to protect her, functioning as a protective material as it grew by the pores of her hand and arm, due of her nervousness and the tears that burned in her eyes, the ice also produced severe cuts to the skin. Never expected this situation, never expect to die like this, although she could carry on with the hand that was still healthy, she would fight until all its members were shattered, if she could think, then she could fight.

The ice ended up covering her arm and the broken fingers, as if she had claws instead of fine phalanges, gave her a more menacing look, however, she could not see precisely at her rival's face but if she felt her fear. Again on both feet, this time only the right eye remained white, the other looked totally normal. She gave Romira no mercy, ran savagely in her direction without saying a word, nor an insult was necessary, only the sound of her inner volcanic anger. Frozen blows rained down on her body again and although Romira might cover herself with both arms, she did not expect to feel so cold from one second to the next. She was beating her up, waiting for her to give up from one moment to the next, her teeth gritting and trying to return the attacks, futile, there was no longer any way out of there. In a desperate attempt from her part, she stopped one of the attacks using her hands, first the frozen hand and then normal one, had the preferred position to notice how the girl had mutated in a few seconds, though small and thin, she felt her strength as she tried to stop her. She would die at the hands of a being who was not human, it was obvious, didn't anyone see it? Or cared? She was not from here, had never seen this kind of powers before nor the strength she had. Romira tried to hit her with her forehead directly towards her nose, she foresaw she and threw her to the ground with a circular motion of her leg, making her losing stability.

The girl soon went on to come forward and take the opportunity before Romira stood again, she positioned behind the other and used her healthy arm and surrounded her neck while squeezing it and maintaining her fist closed. Could hear her coughing and taking deep breaths, even felt her fingers trying to get her out of the trap, it was too late. The cold trespassed from one body to another, the face of the impending loser turned reddish, it looked as if it was going to explode until it took a whitish color, different black dots appeared all over her face, it was slowly killing her while everyone watched in satisfaction. The eyes were dry, the throat crystallized, preventing the air from entering into her lungs, the muscles had frozen and blackened under the skin, every cell of her head died. The cold did not give a truce to her brain, an organ mostly composed of water, freezing it led it to suffer the same effects as the skin and muscles, only at a more accelerated pace and where there was once a functional brain, now there was only ice, ice that was about to break her skull. But he stopped just in time.

Heard the roaring applause, the applause of victory while Romira's body was collapsing onto the ground, she thought about hearing something breaking. It could be the skull of the deceased, or it could well be something inside her, the end of something that would never come back. The first time she was afraid to admit that she had liked it, now there was no doubt that she had found it satisfying. Someone else was born there. The blue light illuminated her.

A few hours passed, Lewis took her in his car to an old acquaintance's building, they knew each other enough and didn't want to know each other anymore. Between houses in deplorable states, streets with unrecognizable names and odd noises, there he was, Dr. Wallace, a man who might already be dead but time still gifted him with pain. He was a slightly lower man than Lewis, with thick glasses and tired eyes, dark and also wrinkled skin, especially under his round eyes. Snowflake - not to mention that she hates that name - went on alone to what was a kind of office, a room that was trying to keep up with the best moments of the old doctor, a yellow light came from a lamp, which in turn served to light up over the arm. Before taking her there, they had to place the arm under hot water, although it wasn't the best it was the choice they had, only a few pieces of ice embedded in the flesh were left.

"Do you know how to do mathematical calculations? They could help you by distracting you while I take these crystals off, I promise to be effective, trust me." He mentioned before putting on some latex gloves, he had placed a towel and a soft pad so the young woman could have her arm on the desk without feeling uncomfortable. He took two clamps and adjusted his glasses.

"Y-yes... I think." Why lie about it? If she couldn't even complete the school, she couldn't even think about what she might be if it wasn't for this. This. This almost killed her today, and it has killed before. "I could think of multiplications."

"Multiplications of two by two, what do you think?"

“Yes... I can.”

There were 15 cuts on her skin, 15 crystals that Dr. Wallace would have to remove. Then she began. "Two by one equals two, two by two equals four, two by three equals six..." As she recited the multiplications, she tried to not watch as the doctor removed the ice crystals one by one, still feeling the pain from her hand because of the bones that had been broken, he would continue with the hand after, had just removed the second crystal and threw them away without any interest. "... two by four equals... Eight... two by five... two by five.... two by f-five equals t-ten." There were crystals that when removed increased the pain, although her voice was not very loud, she hoped not to hear the sound of the flesh while the ice was gently detached with the clamp, had a burning ichor growing at the tip of her nose. Her eyes took the initiative of finding another distraction, they observed any other place besides of the lamp or her own arm, found mold in the corner of the old room, rotten wood near the ceiling, there was a 'diploma' -very strange word... diploma- hung from the wall near the entrance, inadvertently her eyes perched on a photo with an oak wooden frame, had a broken glass and accumulated dust. The photo was on the desk but hidden among other objects that seemed to be trivial or least interesting, there was a middle-aged man, smiling at the camera while in his arms there was a girl, young, beautiful, even with the layer of dust on the glass was not possible that her radiant smile could be hard to ignore, what caught the eye was her uniform, a military uniform.

Heard the last crystal fall into the trash, a cotton soaked with some antiseptic liquid finished with the task and only felt a slight burning sensation, but Dr. Wallace was not finished yet, he even realized that the young woman had seen the photo. He sighed, old and exhausted, pushed into this misery and far from where he once began long ago, had no one by his side anymore, not even the girl in the photo.

"She was my daughter, Eliza, an amazing and intelligent girl." HE coughed against his fist, the clamps had been set aside, she had endured through the pain but had not ended with the multiplications. Felt a sharp burning in her left cheek, years ago she could recite them fluently but if she was wrong just once... "She served Special Forces, do you know them? They are a military organization... they've done enough, but I'm never going to forgive them for what they did to her." While recounting who Eliza was, Dr. Wallace used strips of white cloth around her arm, they were strips of almost a meter long, he had no plaster so this would be enough to keep the bones in place for a while. "There was, uh, let's say, there was an attack if I remember correctly, it was in Asia, several years ago. I had officially been told that the enemies had killed her and did not find the body. I’m sure that her death was not slow, they actually tried to hide what happened." He wrapped the cloth strips around her fingers, gave the impression that they had improved slightly since her arrival, even the wounds showed improvement. "... We all know, we know there's life after death, but no one told us what face it had, or the way it looked. She saw them in the face, tried to stop them, but they murdered her in cold blood."

"They?" Whatever he meant, 'Snowflake' never had much access to information or what was going on in the world, her universe shrunk, only what she knew was real.

"There's no official name for them, nor do I know how they look like exactly, but they told me they weren't from here, well, some of them were, but they looked like... zombies? Anyway... from that day my life took a turn, I have been confined to living here for years, although I can't wait to die at once."

She didn't know how to answer that, wait to die? For what? Struggled to feel empathy, recognized his pain but didn't quite understand it. How did his daughter's death affect him so much? Wasn’t he glad to be finally free and be alone? There were details she had no notion about how to feel them, or even how to analyze the grief in the eyes of others, it already seemed familiar.

"I know very well that you're not from here either." He said, his voice took on a darker tone.

"What? But I'm from here, I was born in this country."

"No, I don't mean you’re an immigrant, neither an inmigrant’s daughter. I mean, you're not from this world, I know very well that you're not, maybe only a portion of you is just like me and the others." Her hand and part of her arm are now motionless by the clothes, how long would it take until she could fight again? However, she felt a little insulted. "We're done for today, maybe because of your condition you'll recover faster, your stomach and vital organs are already in good condition, I didn't find other broken bones, but be careful out there. I'd call social services, but I'm covered to my shoulders with shit, and I don’t recommend to search for their help either."

"Why?" She dared to ask once she rose from the wooden chair and ready to leave the office.

“You’re dangerous, for the others, and even for yourself.”

#novel #((hello again from the other side))#((tried to write a shorter chapter and failed))#blood tw #violence tw #death tw #gore tw

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tk-writer · 5 years

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Sad Machine. - a Kiibouma fic

cranked out a Kiibouma fic for shits and giggles

word count: 3393

ao3

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It was after midnight. The lab was illuminated by the light of the full moon, a melancholy shade that reminded Keebo of his solitude.

It had been months since the “incident” with Professor Idabashi, and he’d been instructed not to leave the lab for any reason. Although he’d reset his own AI and ultimately been reborn again, Idabashi didn’t want to take any chances. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the kind-hearted robot; at least, that was his excuse every time Keebo asked. Apparently, he wanted to ensure that Keebo’s AI was 100% ready for the outside world. He also wanted to make sure the Turing Test conditions were favorable when the time came.

After all, his purpose was to become the most humanlike robot known in existence.

However, the professor never considered his creation’s feeling of loneliness. After almost half a year of being kept in isolation with only Idabashi as a companion, he was starting to wonder if he had only been created as an ego booster for the robotics engineer.

Keebo wandered through the empty hallways, contemplating his purpose and feeling himself overcome with existential dread.

“What’s the point of all this,” he said aloud to no one. “Why create a conscious being if you’re just going to keep it locked away forever?”

As he ruminated in his bitter thoughts, he detected a disturbance coming from the experiment room down the hall. His audio picked up the sound of a large mass bumping around in the vents. Thankfully, his five senses were much stronger than the average human’s.

He tiptoed his way to the end of the hall, careful not to cause too much noise. The door was slightly ajar, and he heard the iron bars kicked open. He waited to see what would emerge from the darkness.

“…Jeez, what a pain! And here I thought this gig was gonna be a breeze.”

Keebo’s froze when he heard the unfamiliar voice and saw a young man crawl out of the vent. He had messy, violet colored hair that seemed to stick out in all directions. His big, round eyes and his plump cheeks made him look like an innocent child, although he sensed a dreadful amount of mischief in his expression that couldn’t be put into words. He was tiny, about five feet tall, and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. His white clothes were stained gray with dust and dirt.

The robot couldn’t help but stare. He was the first human he’d ever laid eyes on besides the professor, and he was beautiful.

He quickly shook himself out of his trance. This guy had broken into the lab, he was probably a dangerous criminal! He had to do something about it!

“STOP!! Who goes there?”

Mustering up his most intimidating voice, Keebo barged into the room and barked his inquiry. However, this didn’t seem to faze the purple-haired burglar. Instead, his eyes lit up like stars when he saw the robot.

“Wooooow, so the rumors were true! Idabashi really did make an android!”

“Wh-who are you? And what are you doing here? You’re trespassing on private property!”

Out of nowhere, the burglar began to sniffle. Keebo saw tears forming in the corners of his eyes. In a matter of seconds his expression had changed from curious to frightened.

“P-please don’t hurt meeeee! I just wanted to see a real life robot up close! I don’t wanna get in trouble!! WAAAAAAAH!”

He burst into tears and wailed loudly, causing Keebo to panic.

“Wait… don’t cry… it’s okay! I don’t blame you for being curious, I suppose…”

Suddenly, the tears stopped, and the burglar let out a maniacal cackle much to Keebo’s dismay.

“Ha! You actually believed that cruddy lie? For a machine that’s supposed to be super smart, you sure are stuuuuupid!”

“Hey! How dare you!! I have an extremely intricate AI system that’s almost identical to human brain waves!”

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. There’s a more important question we have on our hands, though.”

He approached the timid robot, staring down at his pelvis with a look that made Keebo very uncomfortable.

“Do robots have dicks?”

Keebo’s felt his face grow hot.

“-What?! D-don’t ask such questions!”

“Come oooooon, I wanna know! Can I see it? Can I see the robodick?”

He got closer and closer, much to Keebo’s discomfort. Before he could utter a protest, Keebo found himself being fondled by the curious intruder.

“Ooooh, and what is it that you made of? Aluminum? Steel? Titanium? Is the robodick made of metal too, or is it softer?”

“Wait, s-stop! That feels weird… aaaaaaAAAAAH! Don’t touch me there!!”

Keebo squirmed as the tiny hands caressed his body and poked into the delicate spaces between his metal plates. No one had ever touched him in such a way, not even the professor, so these new sensations were quite foreign to him. He wasn’t sure how to react. He tried to push him off, but the little gremlin was much too fast. He started to panic again, he knew he had to do something soon, or else something bad was going to happen!

“Agh! Okay, I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice!”

Keebo lifted his right hand. The middle of his palm glowed with a strange green light and shot out a ray beam at the unwanted visitor. It struck him in the chest, and he fell backwards onto the floor. For many seconds he didn’t move. Keebo rushed to his side, checking to see if his heart was beating and if he was still breathing.

“Hello? Hello?! Are you okay?”

“Ugggh… I can’t… move…”

“Oh, thank goodness!! I was afraid the immobilizer hit you with too much force…”

“What… did you do… to me…?”

“Hold on, I’ll bring you somewhere more comfortable.”

He picked up his lightweight body and carried him out of the room.

~~~

“Nnnnhhh… where am I…”

The burglar’s eyes blinked groggily. Keebo stared intensely down at him.

“You’re in my bedroom. Well, I guess technically it’s just my recharging station, but I made a bed so you’d be more comfortable.”

The robot had laid three layers of blankets on the floor with a tiny square pillow for the burglar’s head. There he laid, unmoving and still drowsy from the aftereffects of the immobilizer.

“What the hell did you shoot me with…?”

“Oh, that was my immobilizing ray. It temporarily paralyzes your muscles. You won’t be able to move any of your extremities from the neck down for at least another hour or two. But don’t worry! It doesn’t affect your respiratory or nervous functions.”

“Ooooh, how sci-fi. Whatcha gonna do now that you’ve captured me? Are you gonna torture me? Rip me apart from limb to limb? Vaporize me with your lazer beam eyes?”

Keebo was taken aback. “No!! I’d never harm a human being in that way! It goes against my programming! And I don’t have any dangerous functions like that anymore.”

The burglar scoffed. A few strands of purple hair fell across his forehead.

“Awwww, how boring… well, if you’re not gonna do anything to me then why’d you bring me here?”

“Oh, I guess... I just wanted to talk. That’s all.”

“Huh?”

Keebo blushed a little, suddenly feeling shy.

“Actually… I haven’t been able to interact with other humans since… since my creation.” He paused, almost letting his shameful past slip out. “The only other person I’ve had conversations with is the professor.”

“Jeez, how pathetic. You’re just a sad machine with no friends. And here I thought you’d be some kind of secret weapon used by the government to seize power. How disappointing.”

The comment sent daggers through Keebo’s heart, or at least its equivalent. He opened his mouth to protest, but he had no rebuttal. The burglar’s observations were 100% accurate.

“Maybe so… but I was still able to capture you.”

“Tch! Whatever.”

The burglar turned his face away, his cheeks tinted red. Was it from embarrassment, or shame? Keebo couldn’t quite figure it out.

“So, can I ask for your name?”

“You can ask all you want, it doesn’t mean I’ll tell.”

Keebo let out a robotic sigh. “You don’t have to be so difficult, you know. I’ve decided not to report you for the time being.”

“As if that’s what I’m worried about.”

“What if I tell you mine first? My model name is K1-b0, but I like to go by Keebo.”

The burglar waited a few moments before finally giving in, realizing the robot was not going to let it go.

“Kokichi. Kokichi Ouma. And don’t you forget it.”

Keebo muttered his name. “Kokichi Ouma… That’s a lovely name.”

“Tch.”

Keebo poked at his captive’s puffed out cheek. “Kokichi Ouma. Would you rather sit here in silence for the next two hours, or can I ask you more questions about yourself?”

The boy said nothing. Keebo was disappointed, but he didn’t let it stop him from developing his AI further.

“Fine, don’t talk. But I do want to learn more about humans. Mind if I do some experimenting?”

The robot’s eyes scanned his body. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and barely seemed to cover his bones. Blueish veins were visible on his inner wrists and the sides of his neck. It was almost as if he was malnourished. His arms and legs resembled twigs, looking like they would crack if handled too roughly.

“You’re very skinny. Do you receive proper nutrition?”

Again, no answer. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Keebo began tracing his exposed skin from neck to his wrists. He was surprised to hear a guttural sound emerge from Kokichi’s throat.

“Gggh! Stop!”

Keebo blinked, feeling confused. “What’s wrong? Does this cause you pain?”

“No, it’s just annoying! I don’t like it!”

Puzzled, Keebo ignored his complaints and continued his exploration. His shirt had ridden up from before, and he could see what he knew to be a bellybutton peeking through.

“I’ve always wondered what the function of a belly button was. Do you know, Kokichi Ouma?”

He poked into it as if pressing a button, and heard a stifled squeal escape his lips.

“EEEEGH! I said STOP!”

“Why are you making such strange noises? If it doesn’t hurt, then you shouldn’t have any reaction.”

“For fuck’s sake… are you really THAT inept? I’d feel sorry for you if you weren’t so annoying.”

Kokichi’s words failed to discourage the robot. His metallic fingers continued their travels on his exposed midsection and prompted more bizarre sounds. When he hit one of the bony ribs on his lower side, he heard him giggle for the first time.

“Eeheeehee! Okay, seriously, stahahap!”

“Now what is it? Why are you laughing? I haven’t told a joke, nor have I done anything particularly funny.”

“Becahahahse! It… it tickles!”

Tickles? This was new. Keebo’s AI scrambled to create a new schema.

“What are ‘tickles’?”

“Ugh, they’re annoying fucking sensations people feel when they get touched in certain areas and instead of crying out in pain, they laugh. It’s called being ticklish. Okay? Now can you knock it off? I really hate it!”

The haughty tone had left Kokichi’s voice, replaced by a somewhat desperate tremor. Not catching onto the social cues, Keebo continued his line of questioning.

“Please, tell me more about these ‘tickles’. What does it feel like to receive these tickles? And why do people laugh?”

“Oh my goooood, I don’t know! I’m not a scientist, I’m a Phantom Thief. Why don’t you do a google search and figure it out for yourself?”

“Which areas of the body are the most ticklish on humans?”

“As if I’d tell you!!”

Keebo couldn’t help but smile. “Then I guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”

He pulled up Kokichi’s shirt even more so that his torso was more accessible.

“You seemed to have the biggest reaction in this area.”

He put all ten fingers on either side of his belly and began caressing the skin gently. If Kokichi was able to move, he would’ve curled into a fetal position immediately.

“Ahahahaha! Nooooooo stooooHAHAHAP!”

Keebo smirked. “This must be a sensitive area for you, Kokichi Ouma.”

“Shut uhahahap! And stop tihihickling meeee!”

His hands floated upwards, climbing his ribs one by one. With his ability to squirm taken away, all Kokichi could do was laugh frantically.

“HAHAHAHAA! PLEEHEEHEEZE DOHOHON’T!”

Keebo pulled away, sensing alarm in his unwilling victim.

“Okay, I won’t tickle you anymore. But only if you agree to talk to me. I want to know more about you.”

When he calmed down and regained his steady breathing, Kokichi was able to answer him. Keebo noticed a subtle change in his face. Was it sadness? Anger? Maybe he shouldn’t have tickled him without knowing the social implications of it ahead of time. He wished he had more experience reading body language, perhaps then he’d understand how Kokichi was feeling.

“Listen to me when I say this, Keeboy… you don’t want to know someone like me.”

“Why not? I find you fascinating. And you’ve taught me so much already, even though we just met.”

“Because I’m the Phantom Thief. I’m a criminal, ya numbskull! I break into people’s houses and steal things and I don’t feel bad about it at all. Are you sure you want your first human friend to be a no-good felon like me?”

Keebo paused, deep in thought.

“Hmmmm. Why did you become the Phantom Thief? Why not pursue a more respectable profession, such as a leadership role in a business? Something tells me you’d be good at that.”

Kokichi let out an annoyed sighed.

“Fiiiiiine, what the hell. I suppose it doesn’t matter if I tell a recluse robot about my Dark and Troubled Past. You don’t have any friends to tell anyway.”

Keebo listened as Kokichi told him about his childhood. How he grew up without parents, being shuffled from foster home to foster home until he was released from the system at 18. By that time, he had already started a syndicate gang of sorts that made a living by robbing the upper-class apartments on the east side of the city. They were steadily moving onto bigger heists, such as stealing artifacts from museums and bank vaults to sell on the black market, and so far none of them had been caught. Thus how he’d earned the title “Phantom Thief.” Keebo found himself feeling a little sorry for him.

”I see… so humans suffer later on in life when they don’t receive proper nurture at a young age.”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve taken care of myself just fine ever since I was a kid. None of my foster parents ever gave a shit about me. The only real family I’ve ever had are my fellow D.I.C.E. members.”

“D.I.C.E.? Is that that name of your gang?”

“Yuppero! We’re the largest secret evil organization in the city! And someday, we’re gonna go worldwide. But that’s all I’m gonna tell you.”

Keebo paused for a moment, analyzing all the data he had collected so far. His head whizzed and buzzed like an old school computer from the 90s downloading a large file.

“Kokichi Ouma. Do you ever feel… lonely?”

“Lonely? Me? HA! How could I ever be lonely when I have 10,000 members of D.I.C.E. supporting me?”

Keebo wasn’t fooled by his exaggerated lies or by his tough guy act. He recognized the same sadness in Kokichi’s eyes that he himself had been feeling since that awful day of the incident many months ago. But unlike him, Kokichi seemed unwilling to admit it.

“But don’t you wish you had a friend? Someone you could talk to about your feelings?”

“ And whyyyy in the world would I ever do that? Feelings are just weapons people can use to hurt you.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Kokichi flinched. His fingers started to twitch ever so slightly. A cheeky smile spread across his youthful face.

“Heh… it looks like your immobilizer’s wearing off.”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose it’s been over an hour since you were hit.”

Silence fell between the two. Keebo was running out of time. He knew Kokichi would run off the moment he regained mobility, and he sat there puzzled for several seconds trying to figure out a solution.

“Kokichi Ouma. Why don’t we make a deal?”

“Hmmm? What kind of deal are we talkin?”

“When the immobilizer wears off, I’ll let you go and I vow to keep your crime, and your past, a secret.”

“Oooookay. And what do you want in return from little ole me?”

Keebo took a deep breath.

“In return, I’d like you to come visit me every night.”

“Whawhawhaaaaat? Are you insane? I’m a busy guy, Keeboy! I can’t afford to waste my precious time talking to some android hikikomori every night!”

“Would you rather I alert the authorities to the identity of the Phantom Thief? What would the members of D.I.C.E. do with their leader imprisoned for life? Surely you wouldn’t want to abandon them, since they’re your only family.”

Kokichi’s eyebrows furrowed as he spit out a scathing insult.

“Grrrr! You conniving piece of shit! Using my Dark and Troubled Past against me! I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you with that information!”

Keebo lowered his eyes, regretting stooping that low but feeling desperate as his time with the human was running out.

“I’m not asking for much. Please? I’m not allowed or leave, or else I’d go see you instead.”

Kokichi went silent again. His plea seemed to move him, much to his surprise.

“You’re really that lonely, huh? So much that you’d make friends with a wanted criminal?”

“I don’t mind, as long as you don’t mind being friends with a recluse robot.”

The purple haired burglar almost laughed.

“You know what, Keeboy? You might be pathetic, but you sure are something. Fine, it’s a deal.”

“R-really?! You mean it??”

“Nope! That was a lie! AHAHAAHAHA!”

“Wh-what?! Fine, then I’ll just just shoot you with the immobilizer again!”

“Aaaaaaah, hold on…!!”

“I’ll find your other ticklish spots too, and then I’ll keep you here and tickle you until Idabashi comes in the morning!”

“OKAYOKAYOKAAAAAAY! It’s a deal! Jeeeez, you drive a hard bargain!”

Keebo took Kokichi’s hand in his. Kokichi shook the robot’s hand feebly, still weakened but slowly getting the feeling back in his limbs. Keebo wasn’t sure if he could trust him to keep his promise, but he figured he had enough information on him to force him to uphold his side of the deal. Time passed, and before long Kokichi was standing and walking around on his own again.

“Fiiiiinally! Now I can get the hell out of here! So much for stealing Idabashi’s classified information. Oh well, at least I got to touch a freaky robot!”

Keebo’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m happy I met you tonight, too. I don’t feel so lonely anymore. Thank you, Kokichi Ouma.”

Kokichi fidgeted as Keebo gazed at him longingly.

“Jeez, why are you looking at me like that… it’s making me feel weird.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just that… I think… I think you’re really beautiful!!”

Keebo blurted out his thoughts, which resulted in Kokichi’s eyes widening. He seemed legitimately shocked, as if he’d never received a compliment before in his life. A deep, rosy color invaded his cheeks.

“D-don’t just say shit like that out of the blue! Weirdo… and anyway, you’re only supposed to call girls beautiful. Didn’t you know that, ya dummy?”

“Oh… sorry.”

Kokichi made his way to the vent, disappearing without another word or even a glance back. Keebo felt a knot twisting in his stomach. Would he see Kokichi Ouma again? Or would this be the last time? He felt himself falling into despair at the thought of being left alone again. The loneliness threatened to overtake him, swallowing his inner thoughts and threatening to leak through in the form of tears…

… But just then, a round face poked out of the vent.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Keebo snapped back to reality, smiling widely and nodding his head excitedly.

“Yes!! I’ll be here waiting!”

“Alright. See ya around.”

And with that, the Phantom Thief vanished into the darkness.

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #kiibouma #kokichi ouma #k1-b0 #keebo #kiibo #some tickling but it's not plot focused so didn't wanna tag as tk fic #in my feelings #been awhile since i wrote this ship and got sudden inspiration #longest word count yet

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preoccupiedpens · 5 years

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Dream Hunters Chapter 4: Push and Pull

AFTER YESTERDAY’S MISSION, Daisuke, Riku, and Jack unanimously agreed to spend their rest day by absolutely doing nothing productive at all. As usual, Daisuke decided to hang out at the shrine of Maria. He’s basically a self-proclaimed elven guard of the shrine by now.

“Are you sure you do not want to find another place to hang out?” Pinelia asked.

“Naaah. I’m good at the shrine. Besides, I can act like its personal security guard.” Daisuke casually replied.

“Oh well, as long as you’re not spending your free time here at home. I’d rather see you do nothing with your friends than doing nothing here.”

“Awwwww. You really are the most supportive mom.”

Daisuke and Pinelia laughed it off.

As soon as Daisuke reached the shrine, he paid his respects to Maria, the champion of Yora village. Today, he brought his runestone of Laniagaea Vol. 1. He has already finished reading the book years ago, but he never gets tired of reading it all over again. Seeing the illustrations of other countries from all over the world is what matters to him. It gives him the motivation to continue and improve, all for the sake of visiting various places and bringing back the wooden statue of Maria.

Somehow, the book also contains some information about the rise of treasure hunting in the world. According to the book, there was a period in time when most of the countries closed their borders to foreigners, the Dark Ages. But soon, one country decided to travel the whole world to discover new things, meet other races, exchange knowledge and technology, and hopefully form alliances. This country was known as the Arcobaleno Kingdom.

Arcobaleno Kingdom has been a very advance country. They pioneered land and sea exploration. Soon, many countries followed their footsteps. Government and nobles funded the explorers. Those that wanted to explore but have no funds became adventurers and formed guilds. And then those who became notorious for traveling to deeper unexplored lands and even trespassed into different territories became what’s known as treasure hunters. He was busy reading his book that he didn’t notice someone went inside the shrine.

“You really are not difficult to find, you know.” Jack said.

Daisuke raised his head and saw Jack. “Hmmm. And you’re not the kind to visit the shrine.”

“Well, we actually came here to see you.”

“We?”

Outside, Riku is standing at the observation deck. Like Daisuke, she also likes the view from that spot. Seeing the panoramic view of the southern part of Yora village, the ever-busy harbor, and the calm sea. Daisuke and Jack went to the observation deck to meet Riku.

“Oh! Hey Daisuke.” Riku smilingly greeted Daisuke.

“Yo. What’s up?” Daisuke replied.

Riku explained that she and Jack would like to train him for the upcoming Seeker Trials. As they have observed, Daisuke’s weakness is his poor mana control. The first time Daisuke failed the trials, he was easily overwhelmed by his opponent. The second time, he managed to win the combat trial, though it was a sloppy one. He created trees all over the place, and even managed to downright destroy the whole stage. And since the result of the combat trial does not certainly depends on the winner and loser of the match, Daisuke still failed the trial.

“I know we all decided to just loaf around. But Jack and I thought that we could just use our spare time to, you know, help you.” Riku added.

“So, what do you say, Daisuke?” Jack asked.

“You guys…” Daisuke was tearing up, then hugged Riku and Jack. “I love you guys!!”

“Ugh...” Riku and Jack sighed in unison.

They went to the Eastern Beach, the same beach where the Fishbone Hunters landed to siege the island. The beach has a great view of the sea. The sand is white and fine. Coconut trees are everywhere. This is where Riku and Jack decided to train Daisuke.

“The thing is, you used too much mana yesterday.” Jack told Daisuke.

“Yeah, I sensed it too.” Riku confirmed.

“I know. I’m just unable to control my mana output.” Daisuke told them. “It’s like, when I try to use a bit of mana to produce a seedling, a torrent of mana will come out, and a sapling or even whole mature tree would emerge.”

“The key to clear the combat trial is not just to win, but to show that you can survive the battle. Evading an attack is and getting out of an impossible battle is not a sign of weakness.” Said Jack.

“Basically, the combat trial is to test our creativity on using our power and of course mana management.” Riku added.

“Great. Now what am I supposed to do?” asked Daisuke?

Jack faced him. “He have practice combat trial. You and I.”

Daisuke agreed, thanking his friends for always helping him. While Jack served as his opponent, Riku served as the referee of the match. She will decide whether Daisuke will pass the trial or not.

“Remember Daisuke, the goal is not to win but to use you power efficiently.” Riku reminded him.

“Got it!” Daisuke replied.

Riku then gave the signal. “Begin!”

Daisuke was the first to charge. Riku has always taught her to imagine his body like a faucet and his mana the water. He only needs to open the faucet slightly to let a few drops of mana to drip. This is what Daisuke tried to do. He tried to produce a sprout, which he successfully did. Jack saw it and prepared to defend himself.

Jack taught Daisuke about different applications of elven power in combat. They could fight either in short, mid, or even long range. Depending on their mana control, short range would be the most efficient. But of course, many elves are skilled with their power usage. They would only need to consume a certain amount of mana to create a weapon made of plants. Jack used his power to create a tree branch from both of his arms, and at the end of the branches were huge jackfruits. He created a Jackfruit Mace, a weapon based from his father’s Durian Mace.

Daisuke continued to let his mana flow on the sprout he created, until it became his signature Wooden Arm. He used this arm to punch Jack, but Jack timed his move well and managed to whip the wooden fist with the right Jackfruit Mace. When Jack saw the Daisuke lost balance, he continued to hit Daisuke with his left Jackfruit Mace. Luckily, Daisuke managed to create a left Wooden Arm and used it to block Jack’s follow up.

“That’s two Wooden Arms now, Daisuke.” Jack changed his stance. He started to spin his right mace, getting ready for his attack.

Daisuke removed both his Wooden Arms and ran towards Jack. This time, Jack was the first to attack by throwing the spinning mace towards Daisuke. Using his mana, he produced more branches to extend the mace until it reached Daisuke.

But Daisuke managed to dodge by growing a tree directly under him, launching him through the air. When he was high enough, he used his power to punch midair. And when he did, a tree came out of his right arm towards jack at high speed. The tree changed shape, resembling a fist. But even before Jack could get hit by the extending wooden fist, it suddenly stopped. Daisuke landed and unable to stand.

“Two Wooden Arms, one mature tree to dodge, and another mature tree to attack midair.” Jack enumerating the actions of Daisuke earlier. “What do you think, Riku?”

“Well, he basically wasted mana again.” Riku responded.

Daisuke tried to talk but was out of breath. He was now just lying down on the sand of the beach.

“You got carried away again Daisuke.” Jack said, sitting next to Daisuke.

“For comparison,” Riku now sitting as well next to Daisuke. “Jack used his mana to create two maces, while you created four trees from afar. You are essentially using your mana as the necessary energy to force the trees to grow.”

“I tried to do same thing when I threw you my mace.” Jack added.

Daisuke was trying to speak, but it was inaudible.

“Well, you recharge your mana quicker than the rest of us. We can continue after you have recovered.” Jack told Daisuke.

“Yeah. You just need be pushed a little bit more. We’re sure you’ll improve in no time.” Riku smilingly added.

Daisuke mumbled something that seems to agree on Jack’s and Riku’s words.

The three of them stayed at the beach until night time, training Daisuke to control his mana. Jack would have a sparring match against Daisuke, while Riku would remind Daisuke about the proper mana control. And while they were training, a silhouette can be seen that seems to be watching the three.

That same night at the Council House, Sequovas was preparing to go home already when Durant approached him to talk.

“The day of the trials is coming soon.” Durant picked up a book and handed it over to Sequovas. “Your son is still yet to clear the combat trial.”

“What is it that you really want to talk about, Durant?”

“Daisuke does not belong here and you know it.”

Sequovas stopped from cleaning up his stuffs. “I would rather have him stay here on the island than let the greedy humans get him.” Said Sequovas. “It was you, wasn’t it? You brought those humans here.”

“And I am the one who told her scouts.”

“You are out of your mind, Durant. Bringing humans here? You are lucky that I have no intention of telling this to other council heads so you better stop this now.”

Sequovas and Durant are now speaking face to face. Both of them are emitting a faint amount of mana, though enough to cause a pressure that could push anyone.

“You speak like I am the only one guilty of something. Tampering with the Seeker Trials is also punishable. Still, I am thankful for you not reporting me. But you must understand that I am only trying to protect our people.”

“To protect from a kid?!”

“To protect them from a potential attack from the avatar of an Ishvara.”

Sequovas was infuriated from the claims of Durant, causing his mana to break the floor from where he was standing. The amount of pressure could have blown Durant away, but Durant’s mana protected him.

“From this point, Durant, you might want to consider the next words coming from your mouth.”

Durant lowered his mana output. “I know you are the one who keeps pulling Daisuke to fail. You keep on messing with his already pitiable mana control. I will not reveal him that. But I will keep telling Jack to train him to pass the trials.”

“And I will do everything to keep Daisuke on this island. I will not let anyone use him as a weapon.”

“So you would rather have him rampaging here on our island? Threatening the lives of your people?”

Sequovas finally lowered his mana output and continued to clean up his stuff. He then breathed heavily and faced Durant. “If that time ever comes, I will be the one to put an end to his life. Not you, not Mahogry, not anyone from this island. It will only be me.”

“Sequovas, trust me, I know how you feel. There are no words to describe the pain of losing a child. Believe me, I know. But you have to understand; there is no escaping destiny. Whether or not he learns to control his power, he will eventually turn into an Ishvara. The likes of him are cursed to die a painful death over and over again. Daisuke is no exception.”

“I will no longer warn you again, Durant. I am not the one you wanted to be an enemy.” Sequovas took his satchel and left the Council House.

#DreamHunters #Chapter4 #StatueOfMariaSaga #MariaIslandArc

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mrneighbourlove · 6 years

Text

Death and Emptiness, Hand in Hand: Part 2/2

Cloye felt a deep chill run down her back. It was happening again. Rising from her bed she grabbed a torch and a spear. She had to see for herself what the source of her towns strife was.

A haunting music slowly rose, giving a menacing feeling as the chilly night air was lite up by a crescent moon. The last few pervious nights, including for herself, the townsfolk had experienced nightmares. Those who woke early described a chilling tune creeping through their windows. Tonight, Cloye had stayed up to find the source of this terrible music.

A short walk later and it suddenly made sense. The graveyard. The tombs had been destroyed by the invading darkness from almost five full moons ago. People tried to fix the tombs after a month of helping the living first, only to discover undead in the tombs. Even after they dealt with them, more and more monsters rose up as they went deeper into the catacombs. A priest came and did an incantation to stop the undead, but that only gave birth to the music, and in turn, the nightmares. Perhaps coming here was not a good idea.

As Cloye turned to leave, an apparition appeared before her. It held a flaming lantern and sharp wand in the shape of a knife. Cackling, its eyes glowed a devilish orange. "You are trespassing on sacred ground! We curse all who dare enter. The living be damned for allowing this suffering!"

She turned to leave when she saw another spirit just like the first. It waved its wand, and a low dark tune that gave silence to all natural things played out. Her senses started to become overtaken with fear, the poor woman feeling the darkness start to consume her. Out of the earth Gibdo's clawed to the surface, wanting to taste the air, and, after a whiff of the surface, the flesh of the woman. Cloye gave out a loud scream, dropping her torch and spear. The two spirits cackled once more as they saw her take off into the distance.

Princess Leere felt happy that her room had finally been refurbished. It took a lot of digging, but she managed to find most of her belongings, many saved due to be kept locked up in a safe or two. With a happy sigh she folded her bed sheets and went off to get some fresh air.

Walking through the halls she saw a woman crying out hysterically. "Please! You can't put this off anymore! My town needs the Kings help!"

"Mamm, please, the King and Queen are very busy, you need too-"

Leere interrupted the guard, shoving him to the side. "Hello there miss. I'm Princess Leere. What seems to be the problem?"

Leere usually never considered herself the princess type, but it was always a handy title to throw around when needed. The woman wiped her tears on a ragged sleeve. "Please. Spirits are haunting my town! I traveled here hearing rumours that the Lorleidian Queen has connections with the spirit world! Or if she's not her, perhaps the legendary hero can help!"

Leere nodded, taking this woman's concerns to heart. "You've traveled a long way. How about you come with me, we'll get you some soup, and we can tell Zarazu all about this incident."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Leere petted the woman's back for comfort. "Guard. Go tell Queen Zarazu to meet me at the dining hall."

"Yes mamm."

Everyday held new challenges. Some idiot thought his ship could fit under a local bridge and ended up smashing the bases to pieces and damaging his boat. The situation had to be resolved soon so local trade could resume. The Zora wanted to set up a meeting about over fishing. The Goron were concerned about a new mine too close to the volcanoes. It was breeding season for the dragons again, so Zarazu had to tell multiple people to keep away from the nests or yes, that mama dragon was going to snap. All in a day's work of being a queen she supposed. However, when Leere requested an immediate meeting for a local concern, the queen was highly tempted to ask to put it off until tomorrow. She was very tired and wanted to eat dinner then go to bed with her husband. Yet, if she finished this now, perhaps it would not be an issue tomorrow. When the guard explained the problem, Zarazu was surprised to hear there was a concern about... spirits? She had many talents, but could not speak to the dead.

Walking into the dining hall, Zarazu saw Leere there with a woman who looked asleep on her feet.

"Leere?" The Lorleidian queen held a questioning tone. "Might you explain what is the matter?"

Leere shushed Zarazu with a playful gesture. "She is dead tired."

"... as am I, but here I am." Zarazu stated flatly with a quirked eyebrow. "Please, elaborate."

"Ok. You don't like puns. Noted." Leere said with a frown. "This woman traveled far across the country, so she might have the, and I quote, "Heroic Queen of the Spirit World save my village from a nightmarish plague". Gibido's, Stalfos, but most importantly, Poes, are attacking her village."

"Sorry, Leere, it's been a long day. I don't mean to snap." Zarazu sighed, rubbing her forehead. It was not right to be short with family members due to a tiresome headache. Though when she heard what Leere said, Zarazu was quite taken aback. "... plague? Like a sickness? If there is an epidemic, then I can send some Dusas to help."

"I think it's a figure of speech Zarazu. Although, if this is a worse case scenario, there could be a curse involved. I'll need to go investigate this."

"A curse? Concerning...?" Zarazu was completely lost. This area of magic was completely new to her. Then again, dark magic was foreign to her because she did not practice it. "If it is affecting people, then I'll need to help you resolve this and ensure who has been hurt is well taken care of in the future."

"Well curses can affect many aspects of life. Made to change, weaken, or kill it." Leere looked Zarazu over, stifling a snort. It looked like she was one step away from putting on pajamas. "Are you offering a ride to the village?

"I'm offering a ride and help. As queen, it's my duty to care for the people." Zarazu crossed her arms. "I may lack knowledge of dark magic, but I can help eradicate it."

Leere thought it over. It was more than just ‘eradicating’. It took care and understanding at the forces at play. Yet, Zarazu could learn a trick or two under Leere’s watchful eye. "Alright. Yeah. Yeah! Girls night out! Go get changed."

Leere wanted a moment to get to bond with Zarazu more. This would be perfect. Unless of course it could blow up into a disaster.

On Ba'Puu's back Leere gave him a pat. "Any good hunting today? Or did you strike out. Fish or ladies, take your pick."

"Mrrrrrhhh..." Ba'puu rumbled in annoyance as Leere gave him a pat. "You know I already have a mate and hunting is always good."

"Ba'puu, be nice." Zarazu chided him.

"... I caught tuna for myself and a huge grouper for my Umbra'lee. The hatchlings are eating both at the moment, but still have a love of flounder."

"That's great to hear Ba'Puu. Happy for you." It was just half an hour to midnight. "Seat Zarazu and I at the edge of the village. Stay flying outside. Do NOT come in after us, no matter how small the danger."

"And who do you think you are to give me orders?" Ba'puu snorted. "I protect my mistress."

"Ba'puu, you know I can handle myself." Zarazu patted his neck as her dragon grumbled, not liking the situation at all. "I'll be okay."

"If you go down into the tombs, I can't get to you. I don't like it."

Leere frowned at the dragons stubbornness. He never did apologize on his own for tackling her, however, he was still family to the necromancer. "I don't want you being cursed Ba'Puu. No one, no matter how large, can protect themselves without very specific training. I doubt any dragon, including you, could be safe. Sit this one out, for your family, please?"

"Grrrr... fine." Ba'puu finally relented as he landed just outside the village. "I'll be nearby. If you're not back in time, I'm digging a hole into the crypt to find you."

"We'll be okay, Ba'puu, please don't worry too much." Zarazu assured her dragon. "Leere and I will watch out for each other."

Leere felt the cool air hit her hard as a light fog rolled in. "Stay close to me Zarazu. Do not anger the spirits. Do not touch anything as well."

Walking into the graveyard a jingle rang out. With a light cackle, two lanterns appeared out of thin air, circling around the two woman. As the fire came to life in the lantern, two Poes appeared, each wearing royal hats, sprouting curly moustaches, carrying knife like batons, and having the symbol of the Hylian Royal family on their chests.

"Who dares approach?", the taller one asked.

Leere took a breath. Diplomatic with spirits was the key to a healthy relationship. "I am Leere Dragmire. Princess of Hyrule."

"You do not look like a native of Hyrule."

"I am the adoptive daughter of Ganondorf Dragmire and Zelda Hylia."

"Then who is this other woman? Clearly not your sister." The shorter one inclined.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to touch anything and definitely don't want a pissed off spirit chasing me around." Zarazu followed Leere through the graveyard and kept quiet. The spirits were listening, probably, and the last thing the queen wanted was one to latch onto her and haunt the castle. Ba'puu was a dragon and kept his distance, but Zarazu could still feel him worrying. When the Poes approached both of them, Zarazu made sure to be respectful. "I am Queen Zarazu of the Lorleidians, wife of King Covarog Dragmire."

"Lorule?"

"She said Lorleidian you dolt." The shorter ghost chastised.

"As in the ones responsible for Vul'kar."

"The one responsible for the tombs destruction."

Now that pissed Zarazu off, being blamed for something that was not her fault.

"My people are not responsible for what that monster did." Zarazu snapped icily, narrowing her eyes. "That monster attacked all nations, all people. We did not set him free, we fought against him, we sacrificed much to stop him. I am here to help, but if you just want to play the blame game, then I'll be more than happy to leave and simply relocate the citizens to another area."

"Zarazu, shut up." Leere whispered.

The Poe's flames flickered. "Do you not have the respect to know who we are?"

"I respect the dead, and I respect the spirits, but I don't care who you are, I am not responsible for the actions of that monster." Zarazu glared darkly, and then turned to Leere. "Poes or not, I will not tolerate disrespect. War brings damage and causalities, the last thing on my mind was catering to broken tombs when there were people who needed me that were alive. If you are displeased with this, then I can be on my merry way back to the castle."

Leere looked at Zarazu with stunned shock at her. Do not anger them. That was the first and biggest rule, and she broke it without a care.

The Poes fire exploded. "We are the composers of Hyrule. Keeper of secrets. My brother Flat. And I am Sharp." Sharp cackled with furious menace. "Perhaps you require a lesson in respect."

The older Poe started flicking his bladed baton, and a terrible tun played. With each flick Zarazu felt the force of a knife cut hit her.

Flat began playing as well, wrapped Gibidos rising from the earth to claim new bodies. "You have no respect for history. No respect for the dead. How could you possibly come before us? How could you bring peace?"

Zarazu barely flinched. During her time as Vul'kar's prisoner, she was tortured and it felt like her heart had been taken from her. She developed a high pain tolerance, fighting with broken bones and a mind damaged by Vul'kar invading her personal memories. He was always there, haunting her, taunting her with those she could not save. This was nothing. She had dealt with spirits before, this would be nothing new. She was strong, she had willpower, and she would make sure that her people survived long after she was gone.

Thrusting her hand forward, the tattoos glowed on her arm. Flat and Sharp were Poes, and Zarazu had her own spirits behind her; seven of them. Pure light magic emitted from her palm with a powerful blast.

"I am a queen of my people and I have struggled all my life to ensure the lives of others are well." Zarazu was tired, irritated, and fucking sick of being blamed for Vul'kar's actions. "You want to know about respect? About history? Ask Ganondorf what he did to my people. Ask Hyrule why they didn't help. Ask why my people had to bury their dead, their fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, little children, when disaster struck. I brought peace by putting that monster away, ensuring he would never again hurt those I love, and never ever lay his hands on my people or my husband ever again. You want peace? I brought it."

The Poes danced around, avoiding her strikes. Other undead in her path were vaporized. However, they kept coming, rising from the earth and concrete above them.

"Zarazu! They don't care! They can't feel your current strife. They just-ACK!!!" A cut across her face. Poes were tricky. The most alive out of all the dead of Hyrule. But like any dead, they didn't have the protection of life, of the soul. She reached out with her own magic, to read the minds of the dead. Silencing their minds would only be a temporary situation, and a far bigger problem if they returned. Her dark aura surged as she gently looked deep into the memories of the brothers, their history playing out to the necromancer.

Mummies growled as they desired to eat the woman's flesh.

"Begone." Zarazu's ire was not going to be silent anytime soon, for she had heard this accusation one too many times. Coating the ground with ice to keep the undead from unearthing, the queen then obliterated the mummies and decided if the Poes wanted to fight dirty, then she would as well. Using her icy technique, she zipped the Poes in a water whip and slammed them onto the ground, before keeping them in place with her light magic. "I will not tolerate this any longer. I'll rebuild the entire tomb if I have to do so, but I will not have these damn spirits messing with my people, Hylian, Lorleidian, dragon or whoever else. This ends right now."

The Poes phased out of her grip, starting to work together to bring about a terrible curse. Leere finally found what she looked for. "Agreed. But not by your violence." Leere's eyes glew lightly from peering so far in. She took a small wooden Ocarina from her pockets. "Sir Flat! I wish to thank you for your services in the study of Hyrule's spirits! A play this in tribute to you and your brother!"

Please let mothers lessons work. Leere started playing a melody, a song as raging as the storm inside Zarazu, the brothers, and the restless dead.

Sharp and Flat stopped their curse, puzzled.

"Music?" Zarazu never heard of using a song to appease the dead. However, Leere was the necromancer, not her. Whatever she wanted to try, she could do so. "Heh... Lorleidians normally don't use violence unless prompted to do so."

The dead just stopped in their tracks. After half a minute of playing, the Gibidos spazzed out, moaning in sadness. Giving in to the melody they returned to the earth.

Leere finished playing once the flames of the brothers calmed down. "I asked you not to be promoted to anger them...."

Looking to the brothers, Leere was surprised they bowed. "Thank you." Flat spoke up, "My mind....is so much more clear."

"Like a rainbow after a storm. I am sorry for any pain suffered." Sharp continued.

Leere sighed in relief. "Is there anything else we can do?"

"Will you repair the neglected graves around Hyrule?"

"We will. We respect the dead. Don't we, Zarazu?" Leere looked to her with hopeful eyes, like a parent hoping their child wouldn't embarrass them in public.

“I remind you that those two messed with me first." Zarazu was not in a forgiving mood at the moment. When Leere acted like an embarrassed parent, the queen merely rolled her eyes. "Of course. Let's hurry and get this over with so I can be as far away from these two nigolavnas as possible."

"Flat. Sharp. You are great composers. How about a song?"

"What song do you wish?"

Leere smiled. With them being the dead, Leere discovered something wonderful about them while searching their minds.

"You can play any song in history of past on composers. How about it Zarazu, what song would you like to hear?"

"..." Zarazu did not understand why Leere was entertaining those two idiots. As a queen, she wanted to resolve this problem and go back home. As a person, she hated that these two supposed guardians of the dead were so biased. Over time, Zarazu thought she had developed a thick skin due to the nobles of Hyrule disapproving of her being on the throne beside of Covarog. Mixed blood was already bad enough with Covarog being part Gerudo, and now Lorleidian blood too? It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. "... the first Lorleidian ruler, Queen Lorleidi's lullaby was lost to history. Do you know it?"

Flat and Sharp looked to each other, then up to the heavens as if they were trying to recall it. "Yes."

"We do. Is that your request?"

Leere nodded. "It is. Thank you."

The two brothers waved their batons, clearing the clouds for the moon to shine through, and began the light melody. It was like they played the song a thousand times.

"... hrm." Zarazu was quiet while the two played. History was a fickle thing, full of loss and sadness. The Gerudo had lost just as the Lorleidians had. Maybe someday, somehow, both of her people and Covarog's could regain what was once lost.

Leere studied Zarazu closely, guessing her feelings. "They don't hate you Zarazu."

"They may not hate me, but they blame me. It isn't the same, but it still makes me feel shitty." Zarazu shook her head. "... I want to go home, so let's do what we have to and leave. I'm not wanted here so I rather not be here."

"And what's their blame coming from? Their home being destroyed. Spirits are far more fragile. Sensitive. They can't reel in their anger easily like us. They blame everyone because their hurt is unimaginable. You have to care for them. They suffered enough in life, why must they endure more in death?" Leere closed her eyes as she took in the air. "The blame will go away. The dead and living will rest from this cataclysm with time. We can go home after this song, ok?" She holds Zarazu's hand with care.

"... I know the feeling of losing a home." Zarazu sighed heavily, rubbing the temples on her head. "I'm so tired, Leere, so tired of being on guard all the time. The court, the council, the damn parties, now here? Sometimes I just want to beg Covarog to give the throne to Rinku. At least she's full blooded Hylian so they'll all just shut up. Other times I wish I could just blast them off the face of the earth, and be more like Ganondorf, feared rather than respected. Though most of the time, I just want to lay beside my husband and wash away the worry from his face." As Leere took her hand, Zarazu's shoulders slumped. She squeezed her hand lightly, trying to reign in her emotions. "I'm a queen... not a goddess. I can only do so much to ease suffering and evidently," She looked at the tomb. "I can't do enough."

"Be you Zarazu. Do what makes you happy." Her finger rubbed Zarazu's hand for comfort. "Damn them all, only bring happiness to those who care. And for race, you think they care? What I like about Poes, is that when you strip away all the flesh, and blood, and ideals, it's that our souls are similar. So plain. Like a fire."

"Heh... your soul may be a fire, but mine is definitely made of ice." Zarazu was ready to leave and return to her king. "Let's go home."

"No. I see a heart as warm as the ocean. You just need to see it." The song ended and the Poes bowed. Leere clapped for them. "That was wonderful." With the wave of her hand she made a small influence on them.

"Would you like a transcript our Queen?" Flat asked.

So the Poes were addressing her as queen now? Zarazu quirked an eyebrow, glancing at Leere before looking back at the Poe who offered a transcript of the song. Holding out her hand, she nodded.

"A transcript would be lovely if it is not too much trouble."

"Then it is yours, Queen Zarazu." Sharp made a scroll containing all the notes to the song.

Leere took it and bowed. "Thank you. You may rest now. I promise your home will be repaired."

The Poes bowed back, and with a twirl, vanished into thin air.

"Go in peace."

Leere gave the scroll to Zarazu. "Here you are my Queen."

"Thank you, Leere... though I'm going to be honest with you." Zarazu took the scroll and gave a small chuckle. "I don't think I'm overly fond of dealing with the dead."

"No. Not everyone is. But I hope I could change a few opinions."

"I'm sure you could, though, I suppose I should say it this way," Zarazu put a hand on Leere's shoulder as the two exited the tomb. "I'm better equipped to deal with the living."

"That you are. I hope to teach you more about the dead, my mistress Death.” Leere poked light at the origin of Zarazu’s name. How ironic for a woman named after death to be so devoted to upholding life. “We are two sides of the same coin."

#Legend of Zelda #Poes #AU #Zarazu #Leere #Leere Dragmire #ridersoftheapocalypse #crossover #So glad to write again with you!

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ladybuvelle · 6 years

Text

The Haunted House

“Mikael! Where did you go?!”

The young woman’s voice was soft, and to compensate she had to yell all the louder. Her heels made it hard to run so much. Yet their mother had insisted that if she wanted to be a proper lady someday she had to start dressing the part. That meant at least a small heel on her boots and more layers to her dress than she was comfortable with in the summer sun.

“Rosa! Look! It’s there!” Mikael was excited, his voice still high and his eyes still bright as expected of a boy his age. He’d ran all the way to the edge of the Buvelle lands before his sister had been able to catch up, and once the mansion was in sight he made sure to keep a safe distance.

After all, the place was haunted. Or that’s what some people said.

“How many times have I told you...” the young woman scolded him breathlessly, trying to clean off her nice boots on some grass, “We shouldn’t be here. Mother told us not to go near this place.”

“It doesn’t look so bad, though” the boy observed, almost as if he’d stopped paying attention to his sister entirely. Which he probably had.

The Buvelle Manse wasn’t as big or as old as some more prominent noble estates. The Crownguards, for example, dwarfed the building and acres of land both. There were no stables or outer huts or homes for servants, merely a two-story mansion flanked by tall outer walls and shrubbery that was over-grown. In the right like, perhaps, the place could look spooky. On a misty moonlit night, with the overgrowth and the cracks in the white stucco and brick that were long for repairs, maybe so.

But in the bright summer daylight the area looked inoffensive enough. Quiet. Still. Perhaps that’s what gave it such an eerie quality no matter the time or weather; by all accounts one would think no one lived there anymore.

Everyone knew Sona Buvelle did live there, though. But since the death of the polarizing Lestara Buvelle she’d become reclusive. The mansion became quiet. Mysterious. Scary. A subject worthy of rumor and ghostly tales on long winter nights; the Mute in the Mansion, a beautiful but unknowable foreigner whose adoptive mother died under mysterious circumstances. A musician of famed skill, whose songs could bring peace to whomever heard them.

“Do you really think a witch lives here?” Mikael spoke in a near whisper, hands on his knees and leaning down for cover. At though the ‘witch’ might spot him from his rather open hiding place.

“She’s not a witch, Mikael...” Rosa chastised him. “Lady Buvelle is a noblewoman. They don’t allow witches to become noblewomen, now do they?”

“But what if they don’t know she’s a witch?” he asked back in the simple way little brothers did.

“Are you stupid?” she cast a doubting glance at her brother, “Of course they’d know if they was a witch!”

“Then why does everyone say that?”

Exasperated, Rosa rolled her dark blue eyes. “Because people are jealous and mean! Besides, if Lady Buvelle really was a witch she wouldn’t be able to live in Demacia.”

“Because of the walls?” Mikael grinned, feeling clever.

Rosa nodded. “Because of the petricite. It protects us, right? So she can’t be a witch. She’d... turn to dust or something!”

“Whoa!” the boy stood to attention, “Is that really what happens?!”

“I-I don’t know! It’s not like I’ve ever seen it!” Rosa crossed her arms and looked away. It was such an unpleasant thing to think about. What if they did? “So anyway... can we please go back? I don’t like being here...”

“Why?” he tested her, in the way little brothers did, “You said she’s not a witch, so...”

“This is her land. So we’re trespassing if we stay here like this!”

“Are you sure you’re not scared?”

“No! Why would I be scared?!”

“You sound scared.”

“I’m not scared!!”

“What if she’s a witch who eats kids?!”

“I said she’s not a witch!!”

“But we’re outside the city walls, so you don’t know for sure! And you’re scared!”

“I’m not, Mikael! Stop it! We’re going home before we get into trouble!”

When Rosa was pushed too far she wasn’t afraid to grab her little brother by the ear and drag him along if need be. But being the clever boy he was he’d learned to dodge under her initial grab and run away. He knew Rosa couldn’t catch him. Not in those boots. But she certainly would try.

Though she called for him again and again, Mikael’s mind was set. He ran for the manse walls and around the nearest corner to escape from his sister’s sight. The vines that grew from large, overgrown shrubs were even longer on its east side with small, sweet little flowers that had begun to close as the sun had passed. They looked strong bunched together. Strong enough to climb, perhaps, if you were a young boy.

Of course he didn’t even think of the consequences. Mikael braced his feet to the old, textured wall and climbed right on up. By the time his sister had caught up only the husks of broken flowers remained where he had been, yet in her haste Rosa hadn’t noticed them.

“Mikael! Mikael!! Mother is going to be so angry at you!” she called, but the boy didn’t answer. His sister hadn’t looked up to see him at the top of the wall hanging over it, and he watched her run off and away to continue searching for him. It was all he could do to contain his own laughter.

When he looked up and behind himself, only then did he realize what he’d just done. He could see into the dense gardens behind the manse, with lush tress and overgrown rows of flowering bushes and patches of grass. Some flowers looked unfamiliar to him entirely - though Mikael didn’t really know flowers very well in general, to his own admission. Yet a curiosity took him all the same, and being young and fearless he jumped down from the high wall to the ground so he could better investigate.

Rosa had said Lady Buvelle couldn’t be a witch after all, right? So even if he was caught what was the worst she could do? He was smart enough to know his age would save him. Just a boy being a boy! He’d catch up to Rosa later and give her a good scare. Maybe he could find something to bring back and prove he went to the “Witch’s House”. He’d be a real man, then!

The pathways through the gardens were at least cared for and clean, for the most part. It was obvious someone still made an effort to maintain the grounds even if they couldn’t quite keep up entirely. The higher trees were a nice shade from the hot summer sun, and the heat itself made the surrounding flowers give off a wonderful scent. It reminded Mikael of his mother’s room years ago when he was still a toddler. When his father still lived with them, and his mother would perfume herself with this flowery concoction of oils and powders.

He missed his father. But sometimes a knight could be stationed somewhere far away for years. Mikael was starting to forget what he looked like...

The young boy rubbed his eyes. The smell was making him oddly nostalgic.

Pushing through a particularly overgrown spot, Mikael found himself at a greater opening. It looked like place where people could gather for a garden party, with some tables and chairs to one side and a fire pit. The pit looked like it had been used awhile ago, since it was fairly clean but slightly dusted with crispy leaves that fell from the tops of the trees nearby.

Someone really did had to live there, but Mikael didn’t understand why a noblewoman would live all alone. He expected to get caught by a groundsman at least, or maybe a maid collecting flowers for indoors, or an attendant who’d heard all his and his sister’s screeching - but nothing! There wasn’t a soul in sight.

It was just quiet. Quiet and still.

Then suddenly, softly, something broke the quiet and stillness both. A tiny bell, tinkling as the cat who wore it ran over to the boy like someone happy to see an old friend. “Maioooo!” he wailed, making Mikael jump back at first. It was a strange looking foreign cat with a very poofy little tail and kinda long ears. Though he’d never known a cat to just walk up to someone like a dog.

“U-uh... hi there, kitty!” he responded in a hushed voice, “Good kitty? Not so loud! I’m being sneaky!”

“Maaao?”

“Yeah, you know! Sneaky! So don’t tell your owner, ok? I won’t do anything really bad. I promise!”

“Mrroww...”

Realizing the ‘visitor’ didn’t have any food or interest in petting him, the cat promptly turned and went back the way he came - toward a large wooden gazebo at the middle end of the patio area. Curiosity again getting the better of him, Mikael followed after the furry fellow to see where he would go. It was possible his owner was there. Or was his owner Lady Buvelle? Witches liked cats, didn’t they? Maybe she really was a witch, then! His imagination pushed his legs forward eagerly into the unknown, excited for even a glance at a real witch.

What he ended up seeing wasn’t the kind of ‘witch’ he’d expected, though. When the other children in Mikael’s group of friends or his classmates spoke of witches, they usually came up with ugly, warty, dirty, disfigured, and generally unpleasant looking descriptions of old hags. The kind of granny that you could tell at a glance was bad news and would probably eat your soul or something after offering you something sweet.

But what he saw when peering over the rose bushes was nothing like that at all. Not even remotely. There was a woman there asleep in the gazebo with a book rested against herself. Her skin was on the pale side, cool against the mysterious blue of her long hair that cascaded down her delicate shoulders. She wore a fine dress as well of robin’s egg blue linen, embroidered with shimmering gold thread along its edges in the shapes of flowers and leaves. Even her slippers were beautiful, peeking out from under the hem of her long dress’ skirt. From where he was he could see ornate designs sewn into them, but they didn’t appear to have heels.

If he’d been of a mind to think it, Mikael would have thought to tease his sister later about how a noblewoman could wear flats if she wanted to. But in the moment the young boy found himself dumbstruck in a way he hadn’t really known before. Her face was so peaceful and perfect, with rosy lips and soft looking cheeks; she reminded him of paintings he’d seen when his class had been allowed to tour an artist’s gallery. The still life subjects were nice enough, though being young and full of energy they failed to really capture his attention.

But to see something - someone so beautiful in real life, right in front of him, who was as still as a statue save for her soft breathing... it made him forget about witches and ghosts and shapechangers and evil things. How could something so pretty be evil?

Very easily, he reasoned with himself quickly. If she was a witch, maybe she stayed young looking by eating children or drinking people’s blood! There was a softness to Sona’s face that he hadn’t really seen in other women he’d known. But he did remember hearing she was a foreigner. Maybe that was why. She lacked the more distinctive features of a Demacian. Like her nose. Too small. Not witch-like at all, really. And he couldn’t see a single wart!

There was only one thing to do, Mikael decided. He needed to bring back something as a trophy to prove he’d been there. And with the noblewoman asleep it was the perfect opportunity. One of her fancy slippers would do just fine. It would be perfect! Right off the witch’s foot! Even Rosa would have to be impressed by that, right?

Carefully - so carefully - Mikael crept past the rosebush, doing his best not to get caught in the thorns. If she awoke it would all be over. It was now or never. Slowly he inched his way closer, stepping into the gazebo and gritting his teeth at how the wood threatened to creak beneath his feet. Soon he was crawling to get close enough and make as little sound as possible, reaching and stretching his hand out for the closest little foot...

“Miaao?”

Crap, the cat! I forgot!

The bell collar of the cat rang excitedly as he ran up to his new ‘friend’ who was on the ground for some reason now. Maybe he wanted to play? The cat began to mewl and yell at the boy for attention, causing Mikael’s heart to pound and in fear. The sleeping woman stirred from all the noise, her head turning from one side to the other. She spoke not a single word nor sound, not even a sleepy groan passed her lips. So it was true Lady Buvelle was unable to speak too?

I have to get out of here!

Less quietly the young boy crawled backwards to his feet and quickly bolted from the scene. The cat, being startled by such sudden movement, also ran back and jumped to his owner’s side. But by the time Sona’s eyes fluttered open and awake to look about herself there was no one to be seen. Only the distant rustle of foliage. Perhaps an antlermouse had scared her cat again?

----

In the end, he felt, Mikael deserved to have his ear pulled all the way home. Rosa had completely soiled her boots while running around looking for him and had screamed herself hoarse. Even her dress was dirty, which would surely upset their mother. He’d likely be punished. Perhaps even grounded for a time. He deserved the ear pulling for sure, limping along as Rosa lead them back with all the fury she could muster in every pained step.

Maybe it had been worth it though. While Mikael couldn’t be sure if Lady Buvelle was really a witch or not, he’d at least came away with some good memories. She really was a beauty. He could at least say he’d saw her. He could say he’d been chased away by her familiar! That was something, right?

#drabble

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thelastspeecher · 6 years

Text

Some Untitled Stansort AU Nonsense

I wrote this a while back, and it’s almost 4k words, but my recent Laptop Issues have been impeding my ability to post it. So, here it is: the start to the Stansort AU, which is like a crossover of the Modern Royalty and Stay-at-Home Stan AUs (because I cannot control myself when it comes to AUs), but with a dragon. Enjoy~

Ford bowed to the king and queen.

“Your majesties,” he said carefully. As he straightened up, he caught sight of another person, standing just behind the queen’s throne. He frowned.

“The crown princess is with the king and queen today,” one of the royal guards supplied. Ford nodded.

“Ah, I see. Your highness.” He bowed again. The crown princess left out a stifled giggle. “Your majesties, are these handcuffs really necessary?” Ford asked. The king’s eyes narrowed.

“You broke one of the most sacred laws of our land, young man,” he said in perfect, lightly accented English. “Criminals of the crown are to be kept in restraints. First, tell me your name.”

“Stanford Pines, PhD,” Ford said. The crown princess’s eyes widened. She cleared her throat.

“Where are you from, Stanford?” the crown princess asked.

“The United States of America.”

“Where?” she probed. Ford blinked, surprised by her insistence.

“A small town in New Jersey called Glass Shard Beach,” he answered. The crown princess nodded, as though this didn’t surprise her. She whispered something in the queen’s ear. The queen said something back, just as quietly. The crown princess left her spot behind the thrones and exited the room through a door on Ford’s right. “Uh, what- what was that-” Ford started.

“You’ll see,” the queen said regally. She sighed. “Stanford, why did you trespass into the royal forest?”

“For my research.”

“Trespassing is trespassing, no matter the reasoning behind it,” the king said.

“I tried to go through the proper channels. I made multiple appeals to be allowed into the forest,” Ford explained. “But each one was denied. I had no choice but to trespass.”

“No, you did have a choice,” the king rumbled. “You had the choice to either follow the law or not. You chose not to.”

“My research-”

“There are many forests in the world,” the queen said. “Why were you so insistent on going into this one, knowing full well you’d be breaking the law?”

“Well, you’re going to think I’m crazy,” Ford began. He was cut off by the sound of the large doors behind him opening. A voice said something very loud in Lironian, the language of the country.

His accent is familiar. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was-

“…Ford?” the voice said quietly. Ford turned around. His jaw dropped.

“Stanley?” Standing in front of Ford, the crown princess holding onto his arm, Stan nodded. “What- what are you doing here?” Ford asked his estranged twin.

“I could ask you the same thing, Sixer,” Stan said, shoving his hands into his pockets. Ford looked him over quickly. Stan was clean-shaven, well-kempt, and wearing a T-shirt and jeans that somehow seemed slightly formal.

They fit him so well. And they’re clearly made of good material. Stan raised an eyebrow, waiting for Ford to speak.

“He trespassed,” the crown princess interjected. Stan groaned.

“Ford…”

“I had no choice! It was for my research!”

“Where’d you trespass?” Stan asked. Once again, the crown princess answered for Ford.

“The royal forest.”

“Dammit, Ford. Why?”

“We were just getting to that, Stan,” the king said in a carrying voice. The crown princess muttered something to Stan in Lironian. He nodded.

“You do what you gotta do, Ang,” Stan said quietly. The crown princess smiled and kissed him on the cheek before walking back to her parents. Ford gaped. “Well? Why did you go in the forest?” Stan asked.

“Why did the princess kiss you?” Ford asked. One of the guards standing nearby scoffed.

“That’s how people act when they’re engaged,” the guard said. Ford stared at Stan.

“…What?”

“Answer the question, Sixer,” Stan said tiredly. Ford shook his head. “Okay, fine, I’m engaged to Angie. Now will you answer the damn question?”

“You’re engaged to a princess?”

“Young man, tell us why you went into the forest,” the king said. Ford abruptly remembered he was being questioned by people with the authority to have him executed. He turned back around to face the king, queen, and crown princess.

“Of course. Like I was saying, you’re going to think I’m crazy when I tell you why,” Ford said. “But I went in there to study the dragon.” The king rose up off his throne and stared Ford down.

“How do you know about that?” he hissed.

“I, uh- wait, you know?”

“Of course we know about the dragon,” the crown princess said, waving a hand.

“Your people certainly don’t.”

“They’re not supposed to,” the queen said. “The dragon is a secret, not meant for the non-magical folk of this country to know of. Should knowledge of Fenestra’s existence come to light, it would have devastating consequences.”

“Fenestra? That’s her name?” Stan asked. Ford looked back at Stan. Stan shrugged. “Yeah, I know about the dragon. But seriously, how did you find out about her?”

“Through meticulous research,” Ford said.

“That’s not good enough,” the king said. “Until we find this potential leak, you are not to leave the castle.”

“You- you’re not going to take me to the dungeon, are you?” Ford asked.

“You broke one of the greatest laws of this land,” the queen said. “Where else would you expect to go?” Stan stepped forward.

“Sally, Mearl, look, I- I get where you’re coming from,” Stan said. “And trust me, I’m not on very good terms with him, either. But Stanford’s my brother, and in a couple weeks, he’ll be Angie’s brother, too. I dunno, I don’t think the dungeon’s the right place for the crown princess’s future brother-in-law.” The crown princess looked at her parents.

“He’s right,” she said quietly. The king sighed.

“All right. Guards, take Stanford Pines to one of the solitary rooms. I need to speak with my daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law.”

“Thanks, Mearl,” Stan said. He nudged Ford slightly.

“Oh, uh, thank you, your majesties,” Ford said with a bow.

-----

The door to Ford’s room opened. Ford looked up from his book.

“Stan?”

“Yeah.” Stan took a seat on the bed next to Ford. “Pretty sweet digs, huh? I mean, not as nice as mine and Angie’s room, but still a step up from sharing a bunk bed, am I right?” Stan looked over at the guard standing in the open doorway. “Marley, you can leave us alone.”

“I’m not supposed to,” the guard said.

“Ford won’t attack me. And even if he does, I think I can handle it,” Stan said. The guard sighed.

“Fine. Shout if you need anything.”

“You got it,” Stan said with a wink. The guard closed the door. “Sorry about that. I got guards following me everywhere now.”

“Yes, because you’re engaged to the heir to the throne,” Ford said flatly. Stan nodded. “How on Earth did that happen?” Stan rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, after I got kicked outta the house, I took the Stan O’War out to sea. But, uh, I got lost pretty quick, and she ended up drifting into a nasty storm. I ended up washing overboard. Next thing I knew, I was being pulled outta the water by Mearl and his oldest son, Harper. Good guy, both of ‘em. Not afraid to get their hands dirty.

“Anyways, it turns out that I had been near one of the royal family’s tiny island territories in the Atlantic. They were taking a boat there, saw me about to drown in the water, and fished me out.” Stan shrugged. “They offered to get me a plane ticket home, but when I said I didn’t wanna go back to New Jersey, they told me to stay with them. All of this, by the way, was before I knew they were royalty. Up until I saw the castle, I just thought they were rich foreigners.”

“But you got engaged to the crown princess,” Ford said.

“When I first met Angie, she wasn’t the crown princess. Just a princess. Her older brothers gave up their claims to the throne while we were dating.”

“Just a princess,” Ford said drily. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Shut up. She helped me get my GED, and she and one of her brothers, Lute, taught me Lironian. So we got pretty close, and then, I dunno, we just sorta ended up together.”

“But you’re a commoner.”

“Nah, I’m a knight.”

“Wait, really?”

“When I got my GED, the king knighted me as a graduation gift.”

“Damn. I wish I’d received a knighthood when I graduated.” Ford eyed Stan’s clothes. At some point, he had put on a hoodie, which, like the T-shirt and jeans, seemed more formal than it had any right being. “And I assume your clothes are tailored?”

“You can tell?” Stan asked, tugging at his hoodie.

“Nothing fits that well without it being altered to do so.”

“The royal tailor – can you believe that’s a thing – says that I’m the first person he’s ever worked for that wanted hoodies and T-shirts.” Stan grinned crookedly. “Angie actually likes ‘em. Pretty sure that’s the only reason the rest of the royal family puts up with me not wearing suits or polo shirts or capes or whatever.”

“Are all your clothes tailored?”

“Nah. I managed to hide some of my old clothes in my room.” Stan’s small grin grew wider. “Angie likes wearing my old hoodie when she’s reading.”

“…That sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” Stan sighed. “Look, Ford, I talked to the king and queen, and here’s the deal. If you sign a non-disclosure agreement, promising you’ll never tell anyone about the dragon, you can go home. We’ll get you a plane ticket back. First class.”

“I can’t do that, Stanley. It’s for my research,” Ford said.

“If you tell people about the dragon, it’ll majorly fuck up my fiancée’s family,” Stan said firmly. “There’s a lotta stuff you don’t understand about this situation.”

“I’m a scientist. I have to share my findings with the world.”

“You can’t tell people! Angie’s-”

“Your fiancée comes before your own twin brother?” Ford interrupted. Stan’s face reddened.

“This is such an easy fucking thing to do, but your head is so far up your own ass, you won’t,” Stan said. “If you don’t tell people, it won’t hurt you. If you do, it’ll hurt Angie big time. She might not be anyone to you, but I- I love her, and hell, she’s gonna be your sister-in-law soon enough.”

“Like you’ve ever cared about anyone except yourself,” Ford snapped, old grudges bubbling to the surface. A sour look settled on Stan’s face.

“Are you really gonna bring up the science fair thing?”

“You ruined my chances of-” Ford began angrily. Stan stood up, cold anger emanating from him.

“These guys are gonna officially be my family in two weeks,” Stan said. He walked away. “I thought maybe you’d understand that I want to protect them. Guess not.” Stan paused at the door. “Enjoy your nice prison, asshole.”

-----

Someone knocked on the door. Ford got up and opened it.

“Stanford, I am not pleased,” Fiddleford McGucket said, shaking his head at him. Ford rubbed the back of his neck.

“Fiddleford, I’m sorry they dragged you into this. You had to fly across the Atlantic and-”

“I had to come back home for my lil sister’s wedding anyways,” Fiddleford said with a shrug. “The travel’s not what I’m upset about.”

“Oh, I forgot you were Lironian.”

“Mm-hmm.” Fiddleford crossed his arms and stared Ford down. His look felt familiar to Ford, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Why did you insist on breaking a federal law? And why won’t you sign the dang form so you can leave? This is a really good deal. You shouldn’t turn it down.”

“I trespassed specifically so I could publish my research. I can’t let it go to waste!” Ford protested. “You of all people should understand my reticence.” Fiddleford sighed.

“Stanford, you make things so difficult-”

“Fidds!” someone shouted. Fiddleford looked over. The frustration on his face was broken by the appearance of a broad grin.

“Banjey!” he shouted back. Fiddleford was promptly tackled in an immense hug by someone Ford quickly realized was the crown princess, Angie. He gaped as Fiddleford affectionately noogied the heir to the country. Angie wiggled out of Fiddleford’s hold and began speaking in rapid-fire Lironian. Fiddleford let out a good-natured laugh. “Now, now, not everyone here speaks Lironian, Banjey. Be polite and speak English so Ford can understand you.” Angie scowled at Ford.

“Oh, that’s right. Your work associate never bothered to learn a single word of your native tongue,” she spat at Ford. “How long have you known Fiddleford?” Ford opened and closed his mouth several times, at a loss for words. Fiddleford chuckled softly.

“Oh, dear, I see what’s going on,” Fiddleford said jovially. “Stanford, I never told you, but I’m one of the princes of Lirone. I gave up my claim to the throne years ago, so I could move to the US.” He smiled fondly at Angie. “And now my sweet baby sister’s going to be the queen, and she’s got such a wonderful man to be her consort. Speaking of, where is that fiancé of yours?”

“He’s having lunch with Ma and Pa,” Angie replied. “But ever since Stanford got here, Stan’s been acting squirrely.” Angie narrowed her eyes. “Stanford, what did you say to him? He was excited and happy before you showed up. Now, I keep catching him talking to himself about the wedding. And not in a good way.” Fiddleford frowned at his younger sister.

“You think he’s getting cold feet?” Fiddleford asked quietly. Dread filled Ford.

I’m pissed at Stan, but I wouldn’t want to break up his engagement!

“What did you do?” Angie asked. Her blue eyes bored into him.

What did I do?

“I-” Ford started.

“Seeing Ford probably just brought up some less-than-nice feelings and memories,” Fiddleford said smoothly. “Why don’t you go to lunch with Ma and Pa. Reassure your fiancé a bit.” Angie nodded. With another withering glare, she walked away. Fiddleford turned to Ford. “Stanford. Start talking.”

“I- I don’t know what I could have said that made Stan want to leave your sister. We just talked about how he wears tailored clothes now, and-”

“He hates the tailor,” Fiddleford muttered. He kneaded his forehead. “Lute called me when he was getting fitted for his suit. For the wedding, y’know. Lute said that Stan didn’t say a thing the entire time he was there. When the tailor told Pa what the suit was going to cost, Stan just…ran away.”

“It’s a big change,” Ford said.

“I suppose.” Fiddleford bit his lip. “A person from his past, bringing up one of the things he hates the most about royal life…that’s not a good combination. I’d better go talk to Pa. See what he thinks.” Fiddleford frowned at Ford again. “Don’t think that you’re getting off the hook. Your problem just isn’t as pressing.”

“I’m flattered,” Ford mumbled. Fiddleford put his hands on his hips.

“Do you want to get a dressing-down?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then count yourself lucky. For now.”

-----

“Uh, guard?” Ford said cautiously. He knocked on his door. “I need to use the bathroom. Guard?” There was no response. Ford cautiously tested the handle of the door. It was unlocked. He opened the door and poked his head out into the hallway. His guard was nowhere to be seen. But he could make out the sound of a familiar voice, muttering something. Ford exited the room. Now that he had a better view, he could clearly see Stan pacing back and forth near a large painting of the king and queen. “Stan?” Ford asked, walking toward his twin. Stan’s head jerked up.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Are you all right?” Ford asked. Stan laughed hollowly. He was completely disheveled, wide-eyed, and wearing old stained clothes Ford recognized from high school. “That was a stupid question.”

“No shit, Sixer,” Stan snapped. He ran his hands through his hair. “It’s 2 fucking am, I can’t sleep, and I-” Stan sighed. “I packed a bag.”

“You packed a bag?”

“I can’t stay, Ford,” Stan burst out. “I- I’m gonna fuck up. I’m gonna fuck everything up. I was- I was getting a bit worried, ‘cause my first big diplomatic thing was supposed to be convincing you to sign the goddamn form. And I couldn’t get you to do it. But, y’know, you’re a stubborn ass, so it was whatever. But then- but then I heard that fucking tailor say how much money Angie’s dress is gonna cost and- Ford, her dress is more money than Pops could make in five years. I can’t be trusted with someone who- who’s in charge of a country, and buys a dress for one goddamn shindig, and it’s that much. Angie- Angie’d be better off without me.” Stan finished his long-winded ramble softly. He gestured to Ford. “But you know that. You know that I only fuck everything up.”

“Stanley…”

“At lunch,” Stan said quietly, “Sally – the queen – she started talking about how Angie’s coronation is gonna be a few months after the wedding, and it’s that way because if it was much later, she- she wouldn’t be able to fit in the dress she needs to wear for it. You shoulda heard them. They’re all expecting me to knock Angie up right away, so there can be an heir.” Ford nodded silently, unsure of what to say. “But I can’t- I can’t do that to Angie’s family. I can’t do that to her. She deserves better than getting stuck with my dumb kid. The papers definitely think so.”

“Could they have been joking?” Ford asked. Stan stared at him.

“Joking.” Stan clapped a hand to his face. “Fucking- duh, they were joking. That’s why Angie got all worried afterward and kept telling me that it was okay, and kids aren’t that big a- dammit.” Stan laughed, but once again, the sound had no real humor to it. “I’m an idiot.”

“No. Stan, you’re having a natural reaction to a major, life-changing event.” Ford looked down at his feet. “If I’d known you were feeling these…doubts, I would have gone easier on you. I wouldn’t have brought up the science fair.”

“Not everything’s about you, Stanford,” Stan said shortly. “I’ve been feeling weird about this whole thing for ages. You just- you broke the camel’s back.” Stan looked off to his left. Ford followed his gaze and saw a familiar, dingy duffle bag.

“Oh, Stan.”

“I told you I packed,” Stan grunted. Ford sighed.

“Stanley. I realize that I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now. I should probably go find one of your fiancée’s brothers; you seem fairly close to them. But…do you love Angie?”

“Hell, yes,” Stan said firmly.

“And she loves you?”

“Yeah.”

“People say that that’s enough.”

“I dunno,” Stan mumbled. Ford grimaced.

Okay, try again. You can’t be the person who ends up breaking Stan’s engagement to a literal princess.

“Think about it this way,” Ford said, suddenly inspired. “If you weren’t going to be a good fit for Angie, her parents would have said something. If they thought you wouldn’t be able to handle being king, they would have stepped in.”

“Technically, I won’t be king, I’ll be king consort,” Stan mumbled. “And before Angie’s coronation, I’ll be prince consort. I don’t really have a noble title, so I wouldn’t be allowed to rule the country.” Stan shook his head. “But, I get it, no, you- you have a point. Sally and Mearl like me, but they still ran me through manners and diplomacy lessons and things like that before they said that Angie and I could be together in public. Maybe- maybe I won’t fuck it up.”

“You’ll do more than that. You’ll do an amazing job,” Ford said. Stan scoffed. “I’m not just trying to make you feel better. I’ve seen how the royal family acts around you. And you’ve got a natural knack for diplomacy.”

“So you’ll sign the thing now?”

“No.”

“Worth a shot.” Stan looked down at his feet. “It’s probably for the best, anyways. If you signed the thing, you’d be outta here. And...it’d be tough to go to the wedding if you were back in the States.”

“What?”

“I’m inviting you to the wedding, Sixer. Don’t make it weird.” Stan cleared his throat. “Uh, I’ll have Lute get you a suit.”

“Stan? Stan!” a voice shouted. “Angie, I found him!” Stan and Ford looked over. The guard that normally stood outside Ford’s room, Marley, was rushing towards them. Marley frowned. “Dr. Pines, what are you doing outta your room?”

“It’s all right, Marley,” Stan said. “We were just talking.”

“Do you feel better?” Marley asked quietly. Stan groaned.

“Marley.”

“Oh yeah, you have to be all macho or whatever,” Marley said with an eye roll.

“Stanley!” Stan was tackled with an overwhelming hug by Angie. She kissed him deeply. “Are you all right?” she whispered after breaking off the kiss. Stan nodded.

“Ford and I talked through it a bit.”

“…Oh.” Angie looked carefully at Ford. “Thank you, Stanford.”

“It was no problem,” Ford mumbled.

“I invited him to the wedding,” Stan said.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Angie muttered. “Even if security looked through his belongings and didn’t see a stitch of formal attire.”

“I’ll tell Lute to find him a suit,” Marley said.

“Uh, no, you should probably escort Ford back to his room,” Angie said.

“Right. Come on, Dr. Pines.”

“I’ll see you at the wedding then, Stan,” Ford said. Stan nodded.

“I’ll be the one in the crown.” Angie cleared her throat. “The tall one in the crown.”

#this has been sitting around in a Word Doc for far too long folks #I have so much writing backlogged #I'm gonna try to get most of it posted this week #and the stuff includes ANOTHER long-ass ficlet #Stangie #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Fiddleford McGucket #Ma McGucket #Pa McGucket #Stansort AU #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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thewildthewarlikeandthewoebegone · 6 years

Text

Hospitality

Part 1 ____________________

Jason Boggle has been in Yharnam long enough to know that a foreigner who knocks on peoples' doors during the night of the Hunt is asking to get laughed at. And he keeps doing it anyway. By some miracle (or, more likely, some curse) he has an identity that's worth something, now. A persona that elicits respect. Tonight, he's not merely a drifter, but a Hunter. To be so acknowledged feels like being Cinderella at the ball, even when they turn him away. And sometimes, behind the locked doors, people are scared, looking for safer places. And he can actually help them; he found a cathedral, all by himself, full of sweet-smelling incense, and looked after by a friendly red-robed host. He isn't sure if a real Hunter, the kind of stalwart and clever person the role was surely designed around, would go around knocking on doors like a salesman to see if everybody's okay. But the service feels meaningful, just as meaningful as hunting beasts, and he'll keep doing it as the night goes on.

That, and he’s incredibly curious.

The locals' responses to his knocking can certainly be unpredictable, but he's completely startled when he knocks on a door and it opens.

Jason is greeted by a pale young man holding a fire poker, and they spend a solid few seconds just staring at each other anxiously, not knowing what to say.

Eventually, realization comes to Jason that this individual is perhaps more anxious than even he is. Jason often gets the impression that other people he meets are somehow, inexplicably, part of some kind of higher social caste than he is, and that as soon as they realize this he'll likely be obligated to give them the right of way in matters of dispute. The young man who answers the door does not give off this vibe at all, remotely. If anything, the fellow looks prepared to defer to Jason. Jason feels that it really wouldn't do, to let this Hunter business get to his head and treat it like a ticket to become every asshole he's ever had trouble with. So he digs up a smile and asks the young man what his name is, to help the interaction along if that’s really going to be his role. "I'm Jason," he offers quickly, considering that introducing himself will make this encounter friendlier. "I'm a Hunter," he adds awkwardly and a little guiltily, maybe to be reassuring and probably out of pride.

"I’m Sebastian," the young man says, seeming to deflate in defeat, lowering the fire poker and staring at his shoes. He seems to rally after a second and a half of unknowable calculations, though. "Won't you come in for some tea?" he asks, like he's just offered Jason something disgusting but has a faint hope it will be accepted out of pity. He sends a quick, guilty glance behind him, then steps back to offer Jason room to enter. Quietly, meekly.

Hang on, how old is this guy? Jason has a rather fuzzy sense of ages. He keeps to himself a lot, and stopped really keeping track of his own age yeas ago. Distinctions such as child/adult/elderly are apparent enough at a glance, and he's not really connected to any community well enough that further distinctions are necessary in his day to day life. But this Sebastian. At first glance he seemed to be a young adult, but the way he's acting makes it seem like he's under someone's thumb. Is he a teenager, is this his parents' house? He does look pretty young. They all look pretty young. Jason’s on his way to getting pretty old.

In any case, what Jason’s gathered from the situation is not conducive to a pleasant mental place. It's natural enough, these days, for him to flinch at things other people do, to let them have their way in case they get mad; but he certainly doesn't do that because he explicitly has to. And sometimes he opts to go against a childhood of programming, endure the unpleasantness of old fears, and just say fuck off, just let people be mad if that's what they want to spend their energy on. But when he was Sebastian's age? There wasn’t a choice behind his meekness. His parents expected their children to mature into a certain kind of person, and they weren’t prepared to settle.

"Do you need directions?" Jason asks warily. "To a safer place the beasts can't get to?" If Sebastian is in trouble, Jason does want to be in his corner, sure. But he's not sure it would be wise to just step inside. If Sebastian is under someone's thumb, whose thumb is he under? Jason literally can't die, and he has the option to reawaken back at the lamp in Central Yharnam at any time. But he still has a healthy fear of anyone (or anything) who would make Sebastian this worried.

"No..." Sebastian says hesitantly. His welcoming aspect is rapidly dimming. "We're fine here" (We?). "Maybe... maybe you should just go."

Ah, well. If the choice is between coming inside and never finding out what's going on, Jason had better come inside. He considers the warmth of unspent power under his skin, the quantity the Plain Doll calls 'blood echoes.' It's easily possible that he'll die and wake up with nothing if this situation is dangerous. He can accomplish a lot as a Hunter, but accomplishing these things on the first try is another matter entirely. But will the offer still be extended, if he leaves here and comes back?

"Well...I think I can spare a little time," he says cautiously, experimentally moving to enter. Is the offer still extended now, even? But Sebastian lets him in.

With this new title of Hunter, this new power of influence over things, these new expectations to be some kind of mover and shaker in the local area...well, it's nice to try and get things right. To line some actions up with what that keen-eyed and heroic ideal Hunter might do. If Sebastian's in trouble, maybe this is his way of asking for help... and maybe there's no one else to ask. There's no end to the awe and respect Jason has for Eileen the Crow and the diligent, bloody path she walks to hold the Hunters accountable. He doesn't know the first thing about organizing his life intentionally around a mission, especially since humble efforts to stand for things in the past or even just express himself were so often disapproved of by louder people. But when opportunities fall into his lap... it's nice to help, isn't it?

That, and he’s so, so, so incredibly curious.

This is the first Yharnam household Jason has seen, and he can't help but study it intently. The foyer is comfortably spacious, though dimly lit. The home smells strongly of incense, which suggests they have incense to spare. There's a sturdy coat rack, an ornate umbrella stand, and a tidy assembly of shoes near the front door (though Jason doesn't think to get a closer look at them to hunt for clues). The floorboards creak, but don't seem decrepit by any means. There are a couple paintings, in ornate frames, of stern people who could easily be related to Sebastian. The place seems more clean than lived-in, like the whole house is holding its breath. Yharnam has a way of blending together in a Gothic blur, but as Jason thinks about it, the outside of the house did seem pretty large. Maybe this family is wealthy.

Sebastian locks the door, quietly and intently. He invites Jason with a motion to leave his saw cleaver at the door, but Jason laughs and shakes his head, and Sebastian laughs and doesn't press. The kid goes on to lead Jason through the house, like it's a museum. It looks like a museum, too. Sebastian's confidence, or lack thereof, does not remotely align with someone who owns a place this fancy. They're trespassers in someone else's fantasy, the both of them. Like Jason was a trespasser when he lived with his own family, so many years ago. Yharnam has shown Jason many terrors, but Sebastian's skittering, and the fearsome grace of this house, are much more poignantly unsettling than werewolves that prowl in sewers or things that go ‘bump’ in the night. Walking through a place like this, Jason, the Hunter, is skittering too.

Sebastian directs Jason to a forebodingly clean living room. First he invites Jason to sit on a quaint little sofa that seems uniquely prepared to be used rather than looked at. Then he gives a little shriek when Jason starts to, and rushes to find an old blanket for his guest to sit on.

"Oh, right, I guess I'm covered in blood," Jason laughs weakly, speaking very quietly on a hunch that he should.

"The Church's Hunters provide a valuable service," Sebastian says, almost in reverence, but casual reverence, like he's quoting something someone else said. Sebastian is speaking as quietly as Jason.

"I don't need to sit down, really," Jason starts to say, but his nervous host insists. Sebastian could easily be holding the fire poker as tightly as he is out of anxiety, but he's definitely still holding it tightly, and it's a little intimidating. Even if Jason can't really die. But then again, Jason’s grip on the cleaver isn’t necessarily relaxed.

"I'll make tea," Sebastian says. He won't let Jason follow him to the kitchen or help in any way. When Jason offers, he just gets more rote lines about how esteemed the Church's Hunters are. Jason is to be strictly a guest.

When Sebastian leaves, Jason immediately goes back to studying the house, holding his cleaver on his lap like a child might hold a favorite toy. There are more paintings; these are of horses and foxhounds. The degree of detail present in the furniture, the candlesticks, the rugs, is really stunning. This family is definitely a lot richer than Jason's was. Whether that tends to make things worse for Sebastian’s home life or better, Jason wouldn't know. If or when Sebastian's parents discover Jason, how long will it take them to figure out he's just a sort of human disaster in Hunter's clothing? Yharnamites tend to dislike foreigners, he knows, so that can't help. It’s almost funny, how quickly he can go back to feeling like that scared kid, even after so long. He reminds himself that he can leave whenever he wants, and that helps enough to get by with.

Sebastian's father is going to appear, and it's going to be Edward, little Edward Boggle, all grown up, everything Jason wasn't, the one sibling who made their parents proud.

It's a ridiculous fear, especially as Yharnam would in no way have ever welcomed Edward or any other foreigner with open arms. But a lot of Jason's peace of mind is built on knowing he won't see members of his family ever again, and the fear that he'll run into any of them accidentally likes to haunt him relentlessly.

Or maybe it's Sebastian's mother who's Charlotte. A paler shadow of the sister who caught frogs for Jason when they went to the creek, a paler shadow even than she was when he left. Dressed up in cheerless extravagance, a butterfly turned into a caterpillar. She was still trying to please his parents, still trying to marry "right" after her first marriage failed and they called her a disgrace. There was talk of not letting her come back home. And Jason still lived there, and he knew they disapproved of him and thought he was lazy, and he wondered how close they were to sending him away.

"Tea's ready; I have a selection," Sebastian says, and Jason startles and looks back owlishly. He snaps out of it and smiles. Sebastian doesn't look like Edward or Charlotte, and the stern ancestors from the foyer couldn't possibly have been Boggles. The family was nothing until the one great grandfather set them up with the accursed and all-important family business, got them started on that endless race to impress. Jason's current state of affairs is closer to the true family tradition than anything Edward ever did.

"Thank you," Jason says amiably, reaching for a tea bag arbitrarily when Sebastian sets the tray down on the gorgeous coffee table in front of the sofa. He eyes an accompanying plate of cookies with deep curiosity, despite the overwhelming curiosity of the situation at large. Whatever's caught up in his blood that keeps him from dying also saves him the trouble of needing to eat, but that's an adorable triviality in the face of a decades-built survival instinct to always, always, always take advantage of free food.

"We have black tea, green tea, mint tea, cinnamon -- oh," Sebastian says. Jason puts a cookie down. "No, it's fine!" Sebastian says, and Jason picks it up again readily. "I expect it's been a long Hunt; you must be starving," Sebastian says. Jason thinks for half a second then nods innocently, with his mouth full.

Sebastian sits down next to Jason (but leaving plenty of space between them), and an awkward silence descends. Jason notes that he's still holding the fire poker; but then again, Jason's still holding the cleaver.

"Well, um. A lot of Yharnamites I've met don't seem to like foreigners much," Jason says carefully. "You've been very generous." It's as much a question as it is thanks, and Sebastian seems to understand. He doesn't say anything, though, only seems to retreat deeper within himself.

Hmm, that was already indirect; a more direct approach would likely have even worse results. But Jason already thought it was kind of clever of him to try that; if there's a strategy out there that's more clever still, he isn't aware of what it is or how to go about it.

"I like the cookies," Jason offers, and Sebastian smiles for half a second and nods.

It's frustrating; Sebastian clearly needs help, but one of the things he needs help with is explaining what's wrong, and Jason just doesn't have the kind of skill set required to tease it out of him. He isn't good at putting people at ease, past his own selfishly-cultivated agreeability, to try and stay off anyone’s radar as a target for anything.

"It's a really nice house you've got here," Jason tries, and Sebastian nods again from his private pool of sorrow.

This is going nowhere. They're just going to have to sit there and wait for a miracle. Frowning, Jason takes another cookie.

A continuation of the silence and then -- the sound of footfalls from elsewhere in the house; approaching.

"Sebastian," says a woman who's not Charlotte but otherwise seems to fit Jason's picture of what she might be up to these days. "What are you doing, inviting people inside during the Hunt."

She seems more disappointed than furious, and so much more than a little scared, but Sebastian looks like he could be about to die.

Maybe this was the miracle, but Jason isn't sure it was the kind he wanted. He stands up, grudgingly sets his cleaver down, and offers his hand to shake. "Sorry to intrude, ma'm," he offers. "My name is Jason. If there's been a misunderstanding, I can be on my way."

The woman almost takes his hand, but doesn't, and he remembers that he's covered in blood. In her nice living room.

Definitely not the kind of miracle he wanted.

[To be continued]

#here's a thing #it's nice to get some story out there beyond just pics of the ocs P:#Bloodborne #tswriy #abuse tw

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peakyblinders1919 · 7 years

Text

Forgiveness

Somewhere in the dark streets below you, amid the beggars and drunks, a shot rang through the night. Followed by another, then the howl of a dog in the glow of the full moon. Then running feet, people fleeing from the scene as the victim lay gasping for air and spluttering blood.

In the comfort of your apartment, you shot up from sleep in a cold sweat. You gasped for air too, looking around in the dark for something, you just weren’t sure of what. You woke abruptly, as if you were in the middle of everything occurring outside, and yet you didn’t know anything about it at the same time.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong gas you failed to fall back to sleep, wishing more than anything you weren't alone. And that everyone you loved was ok.

The next few days you led with caution, afraid the thing that was constantly on your mind would turn up around every corner. The truth; that you were a traitor and you couldn’t be trusted. You had finally convinced yourself otherwise when your phone rang at 3 in the morning, and you were already awake to answer it.

First there was no noise, and you said hello twice before a staticy breathing on the other end, making your skin crawl.

“Who is this? What do you want?”

There was another long pause before the person responded. “Y/N.”

“Who is this?” You said harsher now.

“Alfie. It’s Alfie.” He responded weakly, and still his words were strong enough to make you speechless. Your body stiffened, your eyes glazed over, your grip on the phone crumbled as it fell from your hands and they flew to your mouth. You were right the whole time. Deep down you knew from the moment you had broken that something like this would happen. You would never forgive yourself now.

The faint cry of your name brought you back to reality and you scrambled to pick the phone back up.

“Alfie, what's wrong?”

“I...I need your help. I'm dying.”

“Don't be dramatic Al-”

“Do you still have the key?” He said abruptly, causing your heart to pound for many reasons.

“Yes, yes. I have it here.” You said, rummaging in the drawer of your bedside table, pulling it out and holding it close.

“I need you to get here as quick as possible. Bring your nursing supplies.”

“Alfie, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re here. You will come, won’t you?” The pleading in his voice was almost enough to break your heart, but the truth hurt more. There was no way you could leave him alone, potentially dying in his bed, even after everything that had happened. Everything he had said and you had said back without thinking, and all the other things you had let slip to other people, enemies. All of it, and he had called you. You couldn’t hurt him again.

“Of course I will.” You said, though it stung you a little. “I’ll be over as soon as possible.”

Letting yourself into the big house Alfie called his was a welcome familiarity and foreign feeling. You’d done it so many times before to have it now feel out of place for you to be there. Like you were trespassing.

You couldn’t let any of these thought bother you as you closed it behind you lightly and heard a cough from upstairs. You ran towards the noise, trying not to make too much of it yourself with your first aid kit.

When you got upstairs, you lingered outside the room for a second, preparing yourself for what you were about to see. Then you knocked and when he didn’t reply you let yourself in, knowing deep down something wasn’t right.

Laying in front of you was the man you once loved. He was propped up in the bed you once laid next to him in, the white sheets you once draped across your bodies for warmth, dotted with red blood. His breathing was shallow and barely audible, unlike the way he used to snore. You shook your head, putting everything that was the past back in the past so you could focus fully on the present and save his life.

You rushed to his side of the bed, putting your kit on the dresser and opening it. You carefully placed your hand on his face, running the back of it across his forehead. Hot, sweaty. You took a rag, placed it in cold water and put it on his forehead. His eyes fluttered a little but he didn’t open them, thankfully he kept breathing though. You pulled the covers back to reveal his shirt was covered in blood on his chest. Your nimble hands worked to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off to reveal his bare skin.

The wound was deep and turning yellow around the edges. Infected. Affecting his blood, his breathing, everything else in his body. You worked hard and fast to clean him up, using medicines to clean the wound, treat it, and bandages to wrap it up again.

After a couple hours of work, you had done all you could. The wound looked cleaner and you thought he’d pull through, but you didn’t want to leave until he came to and it was definite. Once you had cleaned up again you sat in the chair opposite the bed and watched Alfie continue to sleep. Your eyes were glued to him, watching his chest raise up and down, with the new clean bandage on it.

And in the silent presence of Alfie, unsure of his fate at the moment, you started to cry. You had the faintest idea of what happened, how Alfie got this wound and was now fighting for his life. Your silent sobs made your body shake and that’s how you feel asleep when Alfie hadn’t shown any progress at 7 in the morning.

You woke with a jump, unsure of where you were. The room was oddly familiar but you couldn’t remember how you got there or why you were sleeping in a chair. Then the first thing you’re eyes landed on was Alfie in front of you. He had more color in his face, was looking more normal already, and his eyes were open. They were glued to you. He was probably watching you sleep peacefully for a while, something he did when you were together.

You tore your eyes from him and got up quickly, walking and standing over him. He strained to look at you but said nothing. He watched as you placed your hand on his forehead, which was still warm to the touch. You hand rested there for a second too long, your eyes held captive by his. You turned, getting a little bottle from your case and pouring some into a cup.

“Here. It’ll help get the fever down.” You said, your mouth dry as you helped him take it. He made a disgusted face as you placed it back down.

“That shit tastes bloody worse than my rum.” He said, causing a little laugh to escape your lips, but you had to stop yourself. You turned back around and looked at him.

“I...uh...I’m gonna check your bandage.” You said, trying to keep this exchange as professional as possible, trying to disconnect. Your hands hovered above his chest before he agreed.

“Yes, right, of course.” He shifted to a better angle for you and you pulled it back, revealing significant improvement. Alfie strained his neck, trying to see what was there.

“Stop moving,” you spat harshly, bringing a smile to his lips for unknown reasons. “What’s the outcome Doc. Do you think I’ll survive?” He joked.

“Yes. You’re lucky you called me when you did though.” You offered, placing the bandages back on him.

“Why’s that?”

“It was infected pretty badly, could have sent you into shock. But you should be fine.”

“Well thank you for coming Y/N. I know after...everything...you didn’t have to come help. But I’m glad you did; you saved my life.”

“Barely. I just knew what I was doing.” You said, trying to divert feelings from resurfacing. You tried getting everything back in your case so you could go, but he was keeping you here. You didn’t want to leave. How could you when you still knew he wasn’t fully recovered yet.

“You’re always so humble when it comes to your nursing skill, you know that?” You tried not to blush to his kind words and forced it back down.

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Why’d you really come Y/N?” You turned on your heel quickly, facing him again. And the truth. Maybe he already knew, and any doubt you had of getting away without letting it known was forgotten.

“To help you.”

“No, you came because you still love me, don’t you.”

You scoffed, ready to leave now more than ever. He did this all the time ,and you weren’t letting him do it again. Maybe he didn’t need to know the real reason he got shot and more so, maybe he deserved it. You heaved your kit off the table and went to walk out angrily when his husky voice called back.

“Because that’s why I called you. You think I don’t know anyone else who could have patched me up? Of course I do, but I didn’t want to see them. I wanted to see you Y/N. I’m still in love with you.”

You stopped, the words creating a dramatic shift in your feelings. You stopped in the doorway, your feet unable to keep you moving. You were afraid of saying these words yourself, but you didn’t think Alfie would be the one to say them first.

You couldn't’ turn around as tears pricked your eyes, the image of the wound fresh in your mind.

“I don’t deserve to be loved.” You muttered under your breath.

“What are you going on about now?”

“I never meant to hurt you.” You said then, turning to face him now. You’d look him right in the eye and tell him.

“Y/N, what do you mean? You didn't hurt me, you saved me.”

“I'm the reason you got shot in the first place!” You shouted, unable to hold it in anymore. Whatever happened after, you figured your relationship was already beyond repair so you'd tell him the truth, if for yourself. “A couple nights after we broke up I… I was at the bar and some men approached me. I was drunk and I was mad at you. They didn't torture me for information or anything Alf, I...I just gave it to them. I wanted to. They were looking for you and I told them where you were, I didn't think they'd shoot you.” Your shoulders heaved with the sobs that flowed as you looked at his contoured, betrayed face. He was silent for a moment, and you couldn't look at him anymore, though if you did you'd see he wasn't mad.

“Who Y/N, who'd you tell?”

“The Peaky Blinders.”

You waited for him to explode, you could take it, you deserved whatever he had coming your way. But nothing came except an unexpected belly laugh from him.

“What about this do you find funny Alfie! You could have died because of me.” You screamed angrily, daring to get close to him.

“It wasn’t the Peaky’s who shot me, it was Sabini’s men. You see? You didn’t do this. And you came back and you still love me.” He said, smiling at you. Your mind was a dizzying mess, but looking back at his smiling face, you know you missed him and everything he had said was right.

“So that’s it?” You said, folding your arms across your chest.

“That’s it.”

“We’re just going to forget everything that’s happened and go back to how it was before?”

“Why not? I love you and you love me right?” You didn’t say anything, slowly nodding your head, admitting it to yourself.

“If I forgive everything that’s happen, will you? Please?”

And you forgave him, if he was willing to forgive you for possibly putting his life in danger. He understood what it took for you to love him, how much danger he put you in that this, well this was nothing. You coming to his rescue spoke volumes.

He struggled to open his arms, which you ran to, him pulling you close to his chest and kissing your head.

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alf #alfie solomons fanfic

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daglout · 7 years

Text

siren sisters

This is something I wrote in.. 2015? I think? (I don’t really remember.) I haven’t looked it over, but I just refound the story again: it’s called “Siren Sisters”, and it’s basically H2O: Just Add Water set in New Orleans. Since 2015 some ideas have changed, and maybe I’ll go back and re-write it. But anyway! I was pretty proud of this excerpt when I originally wrote it, so I’ll share.

The tides of the Gulf crashed swiftly across the ends of the beach, and slowly the waves set back to sea, and Lawana for the first time felt like swimming. It was odd, to feel that sensation, because she never before had felt like swimming, no matter how long she lived in her mother’s house right by the water she had never looked out and felt such an urge to dive in- and yet here she was, standing still on the open, wooden deck and staring at the ocean tides roll in and out as if they called to her. She did not blink, and she felt as though she did not breathe. Was the sea putting her in a magic trance? But that couldn’t be it, because she was in control of her thoughts- and from what she knew of trances the victim was never in their clear mind, as they were completely taken over. So it was her own choice to look, and the sea was like a friend and not a tyrant that beckoned her to its deep blue waters. Lawana wanted so badly to swim. She felt her bones and muscles ache to push against the waves.

“Baby,” called her mother. Lawana turned to see her standing by the deck’s doorway. “What are you doing out here? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Lawana’s eyes lit on fire as she was reminded this. She whispered something foul under her breath and pushed past her mother and headed for the front door. “Your keys,” her mother said, and Lawana ran to the keys hanging on the fridge in the kitchen. “And your shoes,” her mother continued when she returned. Lawana noticed at her mother’s word that her tan feet were bare of anything, not even socks. She groaned and headed up the stairs to her room, where she calmed down enough to properly get ready; she applied a light coat of makeup and, of course, slipped on some shoes.

The slow start that morning made her late meeting her friend, Tanya, but it was worth looking decent in public. They planned to hang out the whole day before the new school year began, because after they would not see as much of each other since they went to different high schools: Tanya to a nice Catholic boarding school, and Lawana to the not-so-nice public school. They planned different activities to waste their time- like seeing movies and playing putt putt and taste-testing doughnuts- until the solar eclipse at noon, and then they would part again. Spending time with her childhood best-y made Lawana nearly forget about her strange calling to the sea, unless they pasted somewhere with water or an ocean view.

“I’m going to miss you so much!” Tanya cried between bites of her second doughnut (a glaze with jelly filling). “It’s so boring in that dusty old school. I wish I could hang out with you and meet all your friends. Cheerleading seems like so much fun more fun than choir.”

“It’s a lot more work,” Lawana said distantly, looking out at the ocean lapping at the deck pillars which held them up.

“Are you okay, La'na? You hardly’ve touched your doughnuts.”

Lawana smiled at her friend reassuringly. “I guess I’m just a bit run-down,” she said, “We’ve had a big day.” Tanya nodded but didn’t say anymore.

…

Salty sweat dripped down her face. Her eyes stung when the wind dried them. Her lungs and her throat had a copper taste with each hard breath she drew. Her legs ached. Her ear rang with the sharp sound of her pounding heart. But she kept going; she had to keep going until she made it to the beach. Through the ringing and pounding she heard footsteps catching up to her, and she ran faster down the empty road, trying her muscles and breath to a sour state. Ahead she saw the end- the pale outline of yellow sand and glistening water- and she was relieved beyond anything until she heard the footsteps catch up again. She pushed herself harder against the friction, desperate to get to the beach before the footsteps, but at the last minute she lost her place and the person hit the beach before she did. She collapsed on herself when she felt the sand give-way under her worn running shoes; hands clenched on her wet knees and her mouth gaped for oxygen.

“Un…fair,” she gasped.

Her father laughed. He was hunched over as she was, but not as desperate for air. “You did alright, considering you slacked off the whole summer break,” his eyes sparkled in the hot sun and were full of good-nature. “You need to pace yourself,” he continued as he stretched up, with a more serious tone, “You can’t just sprint at the start, you need to build your speed over the course- you know that.”

Kailani (which was her name) reached to her toes with the tips of her fingers, brushing on grains of sand which already found themselves at the top of her big shoes. Daughter and father were silent as they stretched their limbs to loosen their muscles, and Kailani waited to catch more of her breath before she spoke again. “But what about the tryouts for the team tomorrow, coach?”(a title she still bestowed upon her father though he had retired)“Do you think I’ll still be able to make it?”

“I’d say so. Especially if you don’t sprint first. But you’re a good runner, a natural talent, a chip off the old block,” he smiled, and she smiled back at him. “Even if you don’t get first at a simple try run. I know it might hurt your ego to lose at anything, but you’ll still make it okay.”

Kailani did not reply to that. She turned away from her father and looked out to the somber ocean, as though she heard it say her name. She watched it for a long while, unblinking, her body begging her to get in the water. The pull to the ocean was stronger than her drive to the beach, but it didn’t feel as desperate, as depending; it felt almost gentle. She walked slowly to the water, needing to feel the waves wash her away. She wanted to swim. She needed to swim.

The sand around her feet began to harden, and the ocean water was close and the spray left her skin alert and refreshed. She watched the water clumsily turn against the shoes which now seemed foreign among the old salt and water; and so she took them and her white socks off and left them on the grey sand. She sighed when she felt the tide curl against her naked white feet, so right and natural it felt to her senses, as it feels when you curl in your own bed after being away from home for long. It felt just like that. Kailani didn’t move closer to the ocean, she stayed near the beach because she didn’t want her clothes to soak and ruin- but she bent and squatted against her ankles and let the water lap at her running shorts. She cupped her hands together like a bowl and held the blue water, then splashed the seawater on her face and smiled bright and happy. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned quickly to see her father looking down at her quizzically. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded quickly, and smiled to ease him. “I’m fine,” she explained, “I just wanted to wash the sweat off. This is a public beach, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but there are showers over there,” he ticked his head to the direction of the public bathrooms, where some children were splashing around the outdoor showers, “And the ocean is salt water. You’re mother is going to be upset about washing your clothes out.” Kailani blushed in embarrassment but did not reply. “We can run home. Are you up for another run?” She nodded, and they took off after she put on her shoes again.

…

Talise and her family were eating lunch when Douglas arrived, uninvited, through the front door as if he lived with them. “Goodmorning” he had said in a rush, and then slipped up the stairs as though it were a normal thing- which it was.

“Talise,” her mother said calmly, cutting into a colorful salad, “please go see what your friend is up to now. And ask him if he’d like any lunch, or if Mrs. McGray had already made him some.” Talise rolled her eyes and left the table. She stomped up the stairs to show everyone her frustration. Douglas was not her friend. He hadn’t been her friend since elementary school. He just deluded that he was- and it didn’t help when everyone else played along with it.

Douglas was in the library-and-study room at the end of the long hall, she saw him through the open doorway, he was looking through books in a rushed manor as if a life depended on him finding whatever he was searching for. “What are you doing, Douglas?” Talise asked as dryly as she could.

“I’m looking,” he spat. “I’m looking,” he then continued after a short silence, “I’m looking for a book. I didn’t find it in the library because someone checked it out already. I asked the librarian who it was that checked it out, she said that was private information, I paid her $50.00 and she told me: It was the Brown’s who had checked it out! Thank fuck, I thought, since you live right next door.” At this time he had moved to the other side of the room, skimming his finger across the spines of old novels and encyclopedias and trilogies. “But I can’t seem to find it,” he muttered.

“What book are you looking for?”

“A book on mermaids and other sea creatures, specifically mermaids though,” he said with a straight face. Talise was stunned. “Mermaids,” she repeated. He nodded, and she fumed at his stupidity, “A book on mythological creatures is so important that you trespassed into our house!?”

“But it’s today!” he said as if she would understand him. “Today is the day of the solar eclipse!”

“God, you’re such a freak!” Talise turned out of the room, suddenly needing fresh air. Douglas chased behind her. “Yes,” he said, “but I need to see the book. It’s said in the book, if I remember right: ‘three mortals will find the island, eat the glaucous plant, and swim in the heated pool; and then they will grow tails of fish and live between the worlds and bring-forth harmony’.”

“Don’t speak like that around my parents,” she warned him, even though he already knew that rule. “And the book is with my sister, you’ll need to see her about it,” she decided to help him. “I’m going outside because you’ve given me a headache- don’t bother me for the rest of the week.” They entered the first level, and Talise went out the way Douglas came in. When the ocean breeze greeted her with a tender push, she finally relaxed. She stood there for a while, her eyes closed and her nose breathing in the clean air, before she walked to the edge of the pool and dipped her feet in, loosening the water with her moving legs. She looked out at the clear sky, and at the faded moon and sun slowly moving to each other in their ancient dance. Talise scoffed at remembrance of Douglas’ crazy story.

When the sunlight became too much for her brown eyes, she switched to look out at the small ocean river where her wealthy neighborhood was build. Docks lined the green sides of the salty river, and boats bobbed quietly in the silent, gentle waves. She shuddered. Talise suddenly felt icky in the chlorine pool water, and quickly retreated her legs from the rude liquid. She looked longingly at the old water of the river and her nerves cried desperately to jump in and swim. Her muscels began to ache for the pull of the tides and her earthy-brown skin tingled for the taste of the salt. It all felt familiar, but she hadn’t ever felt it before.

Talise stood and walked onto the wooden dock, all the while not taking her eyes off the deep blue water. She sat at the edge of the dock as she had at the pool, but her feet barely reached the water’s surface. This upset her, in a sad way more than an angry one, and so she slipped off the deck and landed, splashing, in the salty water, finally satisfied. She felt as if she belonged there, more strongly than she had ever felt before. She took an easy breath and dipped her head under the waves, enjoying herself in the underwater sight of the dock pillars and boats, and the sting the salt gave her eyes. She swam deeper, and moved under the dock, and found in the sand something sharp and metal which caught her eye. She graced it with her fingers, dark as the watery shadows as they brushed across the metal, brittle and slimey with growing algae. She snapped her hand away from it as though it burned her. Then she noticed a small school of tiny white fish swimming over her flowing hair and she smiled at their quick and graceful movements. She closed her eyes again and relaxed in the soft flow of the waves, and the thick silence of the ocean.

…

Lawana and Tanya stood together on the beach beside a small joint called “LaSiren: Seafood & Cafe”. Around was an eager, makeshift crowd of astronomers, photographers, families, and strangers ready to see the astrological event. There was even a local news crew there to record the event live for homebound audiences.

“I can’t believe it’s almost time! This is so exciting!” Tanya said to Lawana in the crowd, holding tightly onto her arm. Lawana smiled back at her, genuinely, but still she didn’t feel right; there was something in her that felt like it was opening up, blooming fear and excitement, but not about the eclipse- the feelings felt foreign and… old. Tanya noticed her friend’s sudden discomfort and pouted up at her, “Look,” she said, “I know you’re not really into the ‘nerd stuff’ but anyone can appreciate a freakin’ solar eclipse!”

“People used to think of eclipses as warnings of doom,” Lawana found herself saying.

Tanya scoffed at that. “Yeah, and tomatoes and chocolate were poisonous,” she retorted.

#by me #homerverse: siren sisters

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cathcacen · 7 years

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Strahan discovers the work of a kindred spirit sort of and is vastly impressed. Requested by @phylophe teehee.

The day has been busy and unexpectedly troubling, but he’s pleased with his efforts. An unplanned excursion had nearly ended in disaster when a group of trainees had unknowingly trespassed the enemy border. An altercation had broken out amidst the tenuous truce they were currently maintaining. Three of the trainees had suffered injuries; at least five on The Other Side.

All of his had lived. They were then promptly dismissed.

There’s a package sitting on his bed when he heads in. He’s eager to get to it, but the surgeries and procedures had been messy. He has vomit on his shoes, blood on his scrubs, and a combination of other things he doesn’t want to think of in his hair. Shower first, package later.

It’s from his sister. The accompanying note is hand written in her barely-legible script, and he has to squint through his glasses to even make out the first sentence. Forget it, there’s no way I’m going to bother with this.

He turns his attention, instead, to the huge pile of scans, charts, and notations. Flopping back into bed, he holds them up to look them through, and is immediately struck with a sense of awe.

All these, on one guy?

He works his way from head down. The patient has had his eye socket, jaw, and some molars replaced. There are pins and plates and rods affixed to his collarbones, and more of the same in his arms and ankles and legs. Braces on his spine and shoulder joints. Replacement ribs. The work is impeccable, but by all accounts, this man should be dead.

He checks the name on the chart – a certain Lieutenant Sagen. It’s a familiar name, but he can’t place it.

The other charts and notes reveal the extent of the surgery he’s had afield. Mostly work for Emergency and Trauma surgeons, with the bulk of the more delicate work left for a more sophisticated operation back home. He lets out a laugh when he sees the hospital he’s been assigned to.

Rei sounds annoyed when she picks up the phone. “Did you get the papers?”

He flips through the pages and digs out the main scan. “How’s this guy even alive right now? I’ve never seen anyone with this many foreign implants. Can you imagine if he’d had a reaction to the materials inside?”

“He didn’t. We replaced the preliminary implant in the ulna, then did a nerve transposition. Bastard had the gall to get DVT after. It’s like he was trying to recreate the Wound Man using his own body as a canvas.” There’s some background noise, a television and a laugh – then a slightly obnoxious voice that coos out teasingly: Aww, Naveau, you calling me a work of art?

“Oh, you’re on his case?” He chuckles lightly.

“Didn’t you read my letter?” There’s exasperation in Rei’s voice, and the background noise fades with the slam of a door. “The Chief put me on this case and I can’t get off it until this asshole gets well and goes away.”

That confuses him a little. His sister isn’t one to hate on a patient for no good reason. “Why would you want out of this case? It’s amazing. You could learn a lot.”

“He’s full of it, that’s why,” She sounds exhausted. “Plus he’s been pissing me off since my first tour.”

The lines connect the dots in his head. A bell goes off. “Ah,” He says. “Well, I don’t know what to say, Rei. You can’t refuse a once-in-a-lifetime case just because you’ve seen his—”

“OH MY GOD, NO!” Her voice takes on an agitated cast. “No, it’s nothing like that. The rumours are bad enough over here, so don’t go spreading them back home too. Apparently he came in after the majority of the necessary implants were put in, and asked the Chief for me.” She quietens a bit, and he chuckles at the resentment in her complaint. “I’m shit at Ortho and my attending is in love with you, so thanks for that, by the way.”

“I can’t help it if I’m so great at my specialty,” He tells her, and laughs aloud when she swears at him. “Okay, calm down. Besides the fact that you want him out of there, what’s bothering you about Ortho?”

She lets out a tired sigh. “I’m having trouble imagining the parts and how they work. And I know it’s a huge part of Trauma, and I’ve been practicing on cadavers, but it’s slow work and it’s driving me up the wall. I don’t know nearly enough to be on this high-profile case. What if I kill him?”

He sits up and sifts through the papers. She’s included the designs for each implant, and he takes a moment to study the mechanics for the knees. “If he survived this, he’ll survive you. Is your attending helping, or is he refusing to let anyone else touch the patient?”

“He does most of the cartilege work. I retract and work the suction.”

“Hm. Well, I see there’s another surgery coming up soon to adjust the screws on your patient’s new joints. Ask and see if your attending won’t let you handle that one on your own. It’s a simple enough procedure, but it’ll give you some good insight into how those parts work. It might help.” He puts down the first design, then reaches for the next.

Rei sounds distinctly ruffled. “I can’t do that. The other residents already hate me.”

“So?” He runs his fingers along the list of materials that were used in putting the patient back together. There’s finesse in each design. Elegance. An understanding that everything is free game, and if it makes the clock tick, you use it.

He loves it.

“So, I don’t want to be the doctor who got the cyborg patient because she’s a Naveau.”

He laughs. “Fine. Be the doctor who got the cyborg patient because she’s good at her job. If the residents already hate you, there’s no way around it. If they want to call you a rich girl who’s benefitting off daddy’s influence, own the hell out of it and take what you can. It’s not like you got through med school on zero talent and brains.”

She lets out an agitated growl.

“I don’t understand why it bothers you so much. You have the connections, use them. And anyway, the patient specifically asked for you, so you don’t really get a say in the matter.” He puts down the sheets of paper and stretches. “Maybe he likes you.”

“Or maybe he wants to die on my watch and get my license revoked.” She doesn’t sound convinced, neither. “Either way, I thought you’d find some use for those designs and ideas. And if we need a consult in case of any potential complications, can we call you officially?”

“You’d better.” He glances at the notes. “Who worked on him before he got to you? I’d like to speak to the person who designed these. They’re really something else.”

“I’ll try and dig that up. We were only given enough information to make sure he doesn’t drop dead.” She sighs. “D’you ever get annoyed when people answer questions with that classified information excuse?”

“All the damn time. But unclassify this person for me if you can. Our field could use more forward thinkers like this.”

Later, as he’s eating dinner, he sifts through the pile, taking his time to look each design over. The designs are functional and clean-cut, clearly designed by someone with plenty of knowledge on the workings of the human body. They’re a far cry from mass-produced parts – each piece on the good lieutenant is customised, crafted of materials that would likely survive even the harshest of environments. There’s attention to detail.

In them, he sees everything he wants for his own patients. The ability to introduce foreign parts into a broken body, to emulate the natural workings of the human person as closely as possible. And perhaps, in the future, to make them even better than before.

He’s so damn impressed.

And even moreso, he’s excited.

#emmbot writes #raindrop pendants au #strahan tandhekar #anarei ilvait-sagen

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senatorrorgana · 7 years

Text

A Sky Full Of Stardust - One

Summary: Jyn Erso is Hollywood royalty, both of her parents being more than successful in the business and Jyn following in their footsteps; Cassian is an up and coming actor who just got the role of a lifetime starring opposite of Jyn Erso in a new movie. There's an almost instant and undeniable connection between the two that feels a whole lot like love, thought they would never admit it. Life in the limelight, however, comes with it's fair share of consequences; such as people wanting to tear your life apart and causing you to question how you could even trust someone with your heart. Despite being put through the grinder that tears Cassian and Jyn ultimately apart - they can't deny they still have feelings for one another, and having to dance around that while promoting a movie together is more than difficult...especially when said movie is getting a sequel.

A/N: I have zero self control, none whatsoever. I literally was just looking at pics of Felicity Jones from the Oscars last night and came up with wanting to write another celebrity au, and here we are already. This is probably going to be a long one, I'm actually trying to plan it out since I know where I want to take this fic now, and it's going to be a long one, I might even focus on this one mostly for a bit so I can get through it and actually finish it, but I'll still be working on other chapters for my other fics of course. We'll see how it goes! Anyway, I hope you guys like this first chapter, I fully blame @wynonasrider for encouraging me to write this after my brain got the spark of the idea. Either way, enjoy! <3

Pairing: Rebelcaptain

Rating: M

Words: 2,044

AO3: (x)

Cassian still wasn’t sure that he was supposed to be here, it felt almost like an intrusion upon something that he should have had nothing to do with.

He was in a foreign country, having never traveled to the UK up until now, with no one or anything familiar around him, on a studio lot that was bigger than something he’d ever seen before. He felt like a trespasser, he wasn’t exactly used to being on sets and lots like these, he’d only been in the business for about two years and had stayed mostly in Mexico up until now. Somehow he’d got the part in this giant film, he wasn’t exactly sure how or why he’d gotten it over all the others he knew auditioned for it, but he did, and he was playing opposite of arguably one of the most renowned actresses of his generation - Jyn Erso - which didn’t help calming his nerves any. Cassian had met her before, back during the auditions months ago when he was chemistry tested with her, he was so nervous he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it, but something about just falling into the moment with her had made things turn out the way he did, though he hadn’t seen her since.

Jyn Erso was practically royalty among the world they lived in; her mother having been a multiple Academy Award winning actress before her untimely passing, and her father winning his fair share of Academy Awards for acting as well before he started winning Academy Awards for the movies he directed and wrote. They had cast a large shadow for their only child, and Jyn managed to live up to it with a sort of grace that wasn’t seen very often; acting since she was just a child and winning two Academy Awards already at just the tender age of twenty. There were multiple other actors with far more experience and probably knowledge than Cassian could ever hope to have, but somehow things had clicked between him and Jyn, and now he was here, early and walking around the set just to take it all in, his first scene later today being with Jyn herself.

The directors, Baze Malbus and Chirrut Îmwe, a couple who had been making movies together for years, were doing a walk around of the set, making sure everything was where is was supposed to be - or rather Baze was describing how everything looked to his blind partner Chirrut. A scrawny looking young man who just so happened to also be the scriptwriter, Bodhi Rook, was following them around as well; it almost made Cassian feel better knowing that there was someone there just as inexperienced as he was in this fast paced world on the set.

“It’s pretty amazing, don’t you think?” A voice came up from behind Cassian, startling him slightly before he turned around and realized who it was - Jyn.

It seemed almost impossible for someone like her to be able to just sneak around, Cassian imagined that when she entered a room it’d be something to be announced, that the whole room would stop and stare for a moment and get slightly hypnotized by her bright green eyes that Cassian really needed to stop thinking about. She had a faint smile playing on her lips, another thing Cassian really needed to stop thinking about, and even with no makeup on, walking around the set in an oversized sweater and sweatpants with her hair pulled up, there was still a certain grace about her that he couldn’t really describe.

“Yeah, uh, it’s amazing...what they can build so, uh, quickly.” Cassian stumbled over his words, almost wincing at how idiotic he must have sounded to her in that moment. “Uhm, I’m Cassian.” He offered out his hand, introducing himself, doubting she remembered when they first met five months ago.

“I remember.” Her grin was broader now, some hint of a sparkle in her eyes while she shook his hand, more than likely pitying him for being so awkward and slightly pathetic, a hell of an impression to leave her with before they started working together and having to play people who fall in love in the midst of war in space. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Cassian was sure he was flushed, he could feel the embarrassment bubbling up in him under her gaze; he really needed to pull himself together before they started filming later.

“You excited to start filming later?” Jyn asked curiously.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Cassian answered quickly, trying to avoid stumbling over his words again.

“Great, well, if you want to run over some lines before that together I’ll be in my trailer.” Jyn replied and started to turn to leave before stopping in her tracks and turning to him again. “Oh, and by the way Cassian, take a few deep breaths, it’s fine, I’m not going to bite.” She laughed a bit, her hand on his arm briefly before she let go. “You got the job because you’re talented, relax a little, it’ll pay off later when we’re filming.”

“Right, yeah, relax.” Cassian nodded, definitely not yet relaxed causing Jyn to laugh again, not at him, just at the moment.

“You’ll do great, I know it.” She assured him before walking off and out the studio doors.

Cassian hadn’t even realized he’d been staring at the door she walked out of for a couple of minutes until someone called his name to go get him into wardrobe.

Jyn was used to always being on the move, though filming in London always brought her joy since she got to stay at home in her flat instead of always being somewhere that she would have to make feel like home. Usually she’d also get to see her father, but he was just as busy as she was, and this month he was off in Australia, though that never deterred him from checking in on her constantly, as he always had.

“There’s supposed to be snow this weekend for you, make sure to keep warm.” Galen had told her over their FaceTime chat they’d arranged, her father on set himself with the bright sun shining down on him and wearing that ridiculous straw hat Jyn had gotten him when she was ten.

“Papa, I’ve lived here my entire life, I know what to do when it snows.” Jyn laughed, sitting in her trailer and wrapped up in the blanket her father had gotten her when he was working in France three years ago.

“It’s my job to worry about you, Stardust.” He assured her with a smile on his face.

“I know papa, and it’s my job to worry about you too, are you even wearing sunscreen right now?” Jyn asked, she’d taken on the role of worrying about her papa after her mother had passed - someone needed to look after him and make sure he took care of himself.

There was a brief moment of silence before Galen finally answered. “I’ll go put it on now.” He mumbled.

“You better, you’ll be paying for it tonight if you don’t.” Jyn warned him, remembering the time he’d gotten horribly sunburned on their family vacation to Hawaii on the first day and was miserable the rest of the time there.

A knock on her trailer's door was enough to pull her away from the conversation for a moment, and more than enough to capture her papa’s full attention.

“Getting ready to go to set?” He asked curiously.

“No, it’s still too early, it’s probably Cassian coming over to run lines, I better go papa.” Jyn replied.

“Cassian? Who’s that?” Galen asked, Jyn almost forgot that she never really mentioned him much, she felt like she had since they were tested together, but it might have been just her thinking about him more than actually talking about him.

“He’s my co-star, we’re playing opposite each other, he seemed a bit nervous so I invited him over to run lines. I should go let him in, I’ll talk to you later, I love you papa.” Jyn quickly explained.

“Love you too, Stardust.” Galen replied before Jyn ended the call, closing up her laptop before rushing over to the door.

Sure enough, when Jyn pulled open the door, Cassian was standing there, that nervous look still on his face as he clutched ahold of the script in his hands as if it he were afraid to lose it.

“Hey, sorry, I was talking to my papa.” Jyn explained.

“Oh, I can come back-”

“No, it’s fine, we hung up.” She assured him with a smile, stepping aside to allow him in. “Come on in, it’s warmer in here than it is out there.”

Cassian slowly walked inside, looking around after he entered, sort of reminding her of the cat she had when she was growing up that was always nervous when entering a room. Once Jyn closed the trailer door, he seemed a bit more comfortable with his surroundings, though not by much - she was hoping that going over the lines would help him relax a bit.

“So, uh, where do you want to start?” Cassian asked, standing still and seemingly afraid to sit down anywhere.

“We’ll start with the scene right before what we’re filming, might help us ease into it better.” Jyn suggested. “You can sit down if you want.”

“Right.” Cassian mumbled with a slight nod, sitting down on the sofa, still looking horribly stiff.

“You still nervous?” Jyn asked with a slight grin.

“Is it that obvious?” Cassian asked a bit hopelessly, his shoulders slouching slightly.

“A little.” Jyn admitted.

“Sorry, I just...it’s...it’s a lot to take in.” Cassian admitted.

“I know, I’ve been there.” Jyn sighed, taking a seat beside him and almost grateful that he didn’t tense up again at her presence. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’re incredibly talented, I saw your other films and you were great, just...pretend you’re at home, that’s what I do sometimes, makes me feel more comfortable.”

“You watched my other films?” Cassian asked curiously, studying her face almost as if he were searching for a lie.

“Yeah, after we auditioned together I sort of went ahead and had a movie marathon of them.” Jyn shrugged, slightly embarrassed that she was admitting this, he deserved the praise more than anyone else she ever had to play opposite of, but why did he have to be so attractive and make her feel like a damned teenager again with a crush? “You’re talented, you just need to relax.”

“...Okay.” Cassian nodded. “Okay.”

“You sure?” Jyn asked.

“Yeah.” He assured her, offering up a slight smile, she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Alright, let me go get my script and we’ll start.” Jyn grinned.

It must have been around two in the morning, Cassian felt tired enough for it to be two in the morning by the time they had wrapped on the set for the day and he’d gotten out of his wardrobe, more than ready to go to his new flat and go straight to sleep. He managed to get through the scene fairly well, he wasn’t quite as nervous in front of the camera, and rehearsing with Jyn had certainly helped ease his mind.

“Hey!” He heard Jyn’s voice call out to him, Cassian stopping in his tracks and turning to see her running up to him, her cheeks slightly flushed from the running once she got up to him, Cassian finding it strangely adorable when she looked up at him with a grin. “You were great out there today.”

“Thanks, you were amazing.” Cassian complemented her.

“It only works if you have a good partner out there with you.” Jyn assured him. “You need a ride? I know this city like the back of my hand.”

“Oh, uh, sure, thanks.” Cassian stuttered, cursing himself for it mentally. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” Jyn replied. “I’ll have to show you around the city when we get a free day.”

Cassian couldn’t help the feeling of his heart fluttering a bit at the thought of it; he really needed to pull himself together around her before he did something incredibly embarrassing.

#rebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #rebelcaptainficrecs #my writing #rogue one #jyn erso #cassian andor

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