#(human would be blasted out of the trees if a breeze on their planet hit em smh

[heylinfanclub]

I can put my NARSTY sketches on my personal blog. Only the best of the best to put on my art blog proper. Working on hand with optional opposable of one finger, proper opposability of the other (technically have super flexible wrists too)….. and hand prints for em. Trying to ride the line between ‘biological viability’ and ‘wish fulfillment for aliens’. Kinda like the handprint having a sort of heart shape innit,,,, cause Heart is a common shape in their leaves tooo,,,,

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

What if Fionn was the Grand Saber

the justice we deserve... I literally have no idea what that would look like in canon but boy oh boy do I have IDEAS and COOL IMAGERY that I want to see regarding this

(read more because it turned out longer than expected WHOOPS lol)

Picture the final stage of the Camelot Lostbelt - the reverse side of Avalon, if you will. A crumbling tower surrounded by black flowers, each one draining mana from the air. Sherlock Holmes is long gone. Da Vinci and the rest of their crew, from the Shadow Border to the Wandering Sea, is far, far, far away. Beryl’s Assassin Servant has killed King Arthur, preventing them from destroying Beryl with a blast from Rhongominyad. Beryl has possession of Excalibur, the Holy Sword of the Planet, and intends to destroy it - the last remnants of the guardians who once protected this cursed land - and unleash his Lostbelt until it covers the world. The Phantasmal Tree is in full bloom, raining stardust. There will be no more gods, or faeries, and Galahad’s protection is as far away as it ever was.

Ritsuka’s power is fading, too. When they first came to Chaldea, they were considered a biological phenomenon - a human with no magic circuits that somehow produced enough mana to power a small city - and they’ve only gotten stronger with time. But it’s not enough. Not against this endless sea of curses, not against the embodiment of wickedness itself.

One by one, the Servants who assisted the remnants of Chaldea begin to fade away. Cu Chulainn, Queen Medb, Fergus and even Scathatch, the True Scathatch of Pan-Human History, who has finally met her end against an opponent she did not train, who she did not even anticipate. It has been a long and bitter war. The knights of the Round Table - first Lancelot, then Tristan, and brave Gareth, and Gawain, and Mordred, though the Traitorous Prince manages to send one last blast of signature red lightning through the skies. It does not reach it’s target, and Mordred slumps before disappearing. Finally, there was Sir Bedivere, winking out like a comet passing over the horizon.

Even if this place hadn’t been so evil, even if Assassin wasn’t so challenging as an opponent, it wouldn’t have mattered. Ritsuka can no longer support the Servants, can no longer cause them to manifest. It is hard to tell if they are dying, or if the flowers have swallowed their very Spiritual Origins, feeding the Phantasmal Tree.

Paracelsus and Jekyll are barely hanging on, trying to keep Assassin busy behind Mash’s cracked and broken barrier. The mold of Camelot is going to fall, and when it does, they will die.

There is one Servant, though, who does not stop fighting even for an instant.

The arc of Moralltach burns through the air. When it comes into contact with the black flowers, the hiss and fade away, filling the air with a burning stench. Diarmuid is nearly as fast as Assassin, and it’s clear that the enemy Servant is getting frustrated.They cannot keep Paracelsus’s spells at bay while simultaneously blocking each of Diarmuid’s attacks forever. Indeed, the dual-classing Servant has proved their greatest weapon in this Lostbelt. Closely attuned to the ancient gods and fey of this world, able to destroy any magic and even cut the threads of fate with his weapons. He even resisted the nega-genesis. Provided that he didn’t get too close to the Phantasmal Tree, Diarmuid seemed able to keep fighting indefinitely. At least, that seemed to be his intent.

Assassin must have realized it, too - and must have realized that Beryl was too busy playing around with the seals of Excalibur to be of any help - and that was why they changed tactics.

Ritsuka saw it unfold in an instant, and opened their mouth to shout a warning.

Assassin changed course. They were not heading for Jekyll, whose work with Diarmuid had given him an extra combative advantage - or for Paracelsus, who was drawing his sword and taking aim.

Instead, they went for the cracks in the Mold Camelot.

They were going to kill Mash.

She could block the blade - and destroy her barrier, leaving them vulnerable to the nega-gensis.

Or she could take the hit, and pray that she was strong enough to stand after Assassin was finished with her.

Time moves very slowly - Ritsuka feels like they are moving through molasses - and then, something happens that they didn’t expect.

Gae Dearg reappears; his Spiritual Origin flickers and shifts, contracts in response to the sudden change - Diarmuid has aimed for a killing blow while Assassin’s back was turned to him.

The red spear sinks into Assassin’s stomach, and then, it disappears -

An illusion! Ritsuka forces their legs to work, and breaks into a run.

Assassin’s blade sinks into his back, sliding cleanly between powerful shoulder blades. 

At once, Gae Buidhe stabs outward, slicing a clean line down Assassin’s torso as they leap to get away from the weapon. There’s a spray of blood, and then a scream of delirious laughter, and then the enemy Servant is gone, back to their Master to get healing before they come back to finish the job.

But even though Diarmuid ua Duibhne sinks to his knees, blood streaming into the bed of black flowers beneath him, he does not immediately fade away.

Ritsuka feels a bubble of panic rise like a scream in their throat as they come up to Mash, who is in tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry -”

“No,” says Diarmuid, levelly, putting a hand to the exit wound in his chest. “I managed to get a fair number of strikes in. No matter what power source they are drawing from, it cannot last forever. Nothing can. I think we have some time now, anyway. You must hold the barrier, Mash. It’s important for what comes next.”

Mash nods, even as tears streak down her cheeks. “I will! I won’t let go no matter what!”

“Good. Master?”

He looks up, clear-eyed and expectant. Tears prickle in Ritsuka’s eyes.

“You should have given me more of a warning,” they say, choked. “I needed more time.”

Diarmuid smiles, almost sheepishly. “Well, if I’m right about this -” a wet cough; blood bubbles up from his lips and Ritsuka feels cracks spreading in their resolve. “- which I am, then it doesn’t matter what happens to me now. Everything will be fine.”

And even though everything is awful, he says this with such radiant confidence, that Ritsuka believes him.

Diarmuid holds out his hand, and Ritsuka hands him the hunting horn that they had collected from the Wild Hunt. Ritsuka comes close and helps Diarmuid stay upright, pressing their hand tight against the gaping wound, feeling the crackling energy within - Assassin’s poisonous mana - and with gritted teeth, begins running through a healing spell. Please, oh, please, let this work.

Diarmuid speaks in a language that Ritsuka does not know or recognize.

Then he lifts the horn to his lips, and -

All other sound disappears.

A single, clear note, pure as a hawk’s cry.

A breeze washes over them, and only then does Ritsuka realize how unbearably hot this flowerbed was - a greenhouse from hell - and even as the thought crosses their mind, the flowers wither and die. Mana is immediately restored to the area behind Mash’s shield, and immediately, the Earth begins to repair itself. Ritsuka feels it like a pulsing heartbeat, and thinks, Is this Avalon restoring itself? Or is it - the Counterforce?

No, that didn’t make sense. But - at the same time - they are summoning a guardian. The circumstances are extraordinary, and before it was cursed, this was indeed Avalon. So perhaps...

A hand comes down on Ritsuka’s shoulder, and they look up.

A familiar-looking man is standing there, even though there had been nothing here a second before, and there was no way for anyone to enter this place since Beryl had sealed the gateways. He is wearing a blue cape over simple, fur-lined armor. His hair is spun gold; he seems to be glowing faintly. He is at once divine, a giant, and perfectly normal, though he smells faintly of river-flowers and dark woods. His eyes are filled with fire, infinitely gentle and warm, and he carries a sword across his back that is not Excalibur - but -

“Please,” says Fionn MacCumhail. His voice is just as Ritsuka remembers, but at the same time, it seems to come from everywhere. It fills him with a sense of strength and peace, and Ritsuka thinks they might cry all over again, just from sheer relief. “May I?”

Stunned, Ritsuka steps back.

Diarmuid grumbles when Fionn takes a waterskin from his side and pours a measure into his hand.

“Took you long enough,” he says, as Fionn tips the water into his captain’s mouth.

At once, the wound on Diarmuid’s back closes, and Assassin’s poison disappears as if it had never existed. Ritsuka registers a surge of mana - that counts as a mana transfer? 

Diarmuid stands, and Fionn claps him on the shoulder.

“You’ve done well to protect these two,” says Fionn. “Now, please - I know it is difficult for you to avoid showing off - but please don’t get in my way.”

Diarmuid smiles thinly, amused. “No promises, my lord.”

“Dear shieldmaiden,” says Fionn, smiling down at Mash. “You have become an exemplary warrior! I see I was right to single you out back then! I have always had a keen eye for talent. Kindly lead the way for us?”

Mash stutters. “But the barrier -”

“It is no longer necessary. I am here now.”

He spoke simply, with no room for arguments. Ritsuka looks at Mash, whose mouth is stretched thing, whose lip is raw from biting into it.

“Mash, do as he says. We’ll take our cues from you -” Ritsuka pauses, blinking at Fionn, trying to get a better read on him and his new status. (A part of Ritsuka honestly hadn’t even believed Diarmuid when he proposed this plan - could summoning a Grand Servant truly be so simple as sounding a hunting horn?) “Saber.”

Fionn smiles. “Ah yes,” he says, with a chuckle, as if just remembering an obvious fact. “I still am a Servant, even like this.” He turns to Diarmuid, who is at attention. “Call for the others, will you? It is time for the Fianna to fulfill our responsibilities. Lady Mash, when I draw my sword - drop the barrier - we shall finish the battle now, without further delays.”

Diarmuid nods, and lifts the horn to his lips.

Fionn takes the sword from his back, and the battle begins again.

[kin-kendry]

Solace

CW: Violence/Murder

AO3

----------

“He’s safe now,” Aneela spoke as they took off through the woods again, leaving the cube behind them.

“Are you sure?” While Kendry trusted the other woman with her life, she didn’t want to underestimate the Lady.

“Well, the cube kept me safe when the Green was destroyed. There are only three people in the entire universe who can access them.”

“And what makes you think that Khlyen wouldn’t find out and lead her directly to him?”

“Papa wouldn’t do that… Not after everything. He kept Yala safe, after all,” Aneela didn’t sound so convinced herself, but she had to hold out hope.

They walked side by side through the trees in silence for hours. The crunch of fallen leaves and twigs, and the gentle breeze rustling the trees became white noise.

Delle Seyah felt like she could finally breathe again. Jaq was safe, and Aneela was back with her. She wasn't dead. While she didn't show it in front of Jaq, Kendry had been heartbroken when she found out that the Killjoys returned without Aneela.

Queens don't cry, remember? Jaq had parroted her words.

This one does, now. She’s a teeny bit broken.

She had cried, several times in fact, while Jaq had slept. Seyah Kendry crying after losing the one woman she loved, the only one she trusted in the universe? Illenore would be laughing in her grave… 

"Kendry?" Aneela's gentle voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Delle Seyah had stopped walking without realising, and a lone tear track marked her left cheek. She swallowed the lump in her throat and her eyes focused on the woman in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I… I just thought… Gods, I thought I lost you for good," Delle Seyah sighed, suddenly feeling physically and emotionally exhausted.

"I'm here, Kendry. You don't have to worry anymore. I won't ever leave you again, and I will protect you," Aneela said, holding her partner's hands in her own. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Kendry collapsed into Aneela's arms. There was an intense need to be held by her, to be as close as possible. It wasn't something she would have ever thought herself capable of feeling or craving. But here she was, eyes glassy and slumped in her beloved's arms. 

"Oh, Kendry. Let's set up camp. You need to rest."

Aneela sat Delle Seyah down on a fallen tree while she began clearing leaves and other forest debris. Not long after, a camp fire was crackling as the sun set and a bedroll was laid out.

"I missed you so much, you know?" Aneela finally spoke once she set herself down next to Kendry, sitting so that they were pressed against each other. 

Delle Seyah was feeling uncharacteristically clingy, so she rested her head against Aneela's shoulder. It made her feel a little better knowing that Aneela was thinking of her even during such a stressful, life threatening time. 

"All I could think about once the Green started crumbling was you and Jaq. For a while I didn't think I'd make it. But you both found me. Jaq, he… He looks so much like me when I was younger. I see Yala in him too. But his personality… He has the same conviction. The same hunger for answers, and a brilliant mind just like his mother."

"Unfortunately he's picked up a lot of the Jaqobis traits," Kendry let out a derisive laugh. 

"I'm sure we can fix that when all of this is over," Aneela smirked.

"When all of this is over I'd like to take you to my home on Qresh. Show you where I grew up. We could rule together, if you're okay with settling with control over the Quad rather than the entire universe."

"Hmm, that sounds like a very tempting offer. I'm not really interested in dominating the universe anymore. I've got more important things in my life now," Aneela tilted Kendry's chin up before pressing their lips together in a tender kiss. “It’ll be good to see my old home planet.”

The two women relaxed against each other, the tension and exhaustion of the past few days melting away. Aneela could help but laugh as she pulled away.

"I still find it so odd that you're human again."

"I can tell you now that it is the worst," Delle Seyah grumbled.

"I'll have to do some tests first, but if you like I could try to convert you again."

"Oh, please. Feeling things, being so vulnerable… It's humiliating."

"And yet, you've proven to be strong and capable even without Hullen blood."

"Yes, well, I suppose survival is what humans are best at, despite everything," Kendry sighed.

Their conversation came to a natural end, and they just sat in silence, watching the sun set until the only sources of light were the moon and their camp fire. They settled down on their bedroll, wrapped in each others arms. Delle Seyah felt safe for the first time since Aneela freed her from that contraption Gander kept her in. Their faces were only centimetres apart. Kendry smiled and cupped Aneela's jaw.

"I love you, Aneela."

"And I love you, Kendry. Now sleep. I know you're tired."

Delle Seyah couldn't have protested if she tried. Her eyes wouldn't stay open and her body was already preparing for sleep. She felt fingers card through her hair, and Aneela's nails massaging her scalp. It was so soothing.

"Good night, little bird," Aneela's voice sounded far away as sleep enveloped Kendry in darkness.

----------

Aneela couldn’t sleep. They were exposed where they set up camp, and she already had time to rest while in hiding. Feeling Kendry’s body rise and fall with her even breaths brought comfort to her. It was a cool, cloudy night and the wind had picked up a little. Their campfire was reduced to a low smolder, so the only source of light was the moonbeams peeking through the clouds. It was calm, and calm didn’t settle well with Aneela.

Had she been less vigilant, Aneela would have missed the almost imperceptible rustle of leaves on the forest floor. The footsteps came closer until they were looming over the two prone bodies. A hand reached out slowly, ready to peel the blanket off the two women. Aneela opened her eyes and gripped the outstretched wrist, snapping it back until she heard bones crack. The potential assailant howled in pain and stumbled back, cradling their hand. Aneela jumped up, jostling Kendry as she did so. Delle Seyah gasped as she sat up, her eyes trying to track whatever was going on. But it was so dark and she could barely make out the five silhouettes. 

Aneela heard the sound of a bullet flitting past her and whirled around to face the next threat. She charged towards assailant, taking one shot to her side before gripping the handgun and crumpling it in her hand. The clouds above shifted and moonlight shone down in streaks upon the camp. Aneela could see that the bandits were covered in pelts and bones, with human skulls worn as helmets. She grinned as the current woman she was focused on cowered at the display of inhuman power. One of the others took a shot at Aneela, blasting clean through her shoulder. The wound healed instantly.

Aneela grabbed the woman by the throat and whipped her around to use as a meat shield. Another shot was fired, piercing through the bandit’s stomach. She shoved the limp body towards the third bandit before turning on the first one she injured.

“Wh-What are you?” The man asked, backing himself up against a tree.

“I’m your worst nightmare. You and your friends thought you found an easy target. Well, you’ve made a very big mistake,” Aneela hissed, her eyes wide and wild.

Aneela ripped one of the pointed bones from the man’s clothing and stabbed him several times in the neck, relishing in the gurgling as he choked on his own blood. The two remaining bandits were already on the run. Aneela grabbed Kendry’s bow and two arrows. She fired both off quickly, each hitting their targets and incapacitating them. The bandits cowered as Aneela approached, their arms and legs too weak to carry them very far. She stomped on their calves and drew a knife from her belt, the polished metal glinting in the moonlight.

“P-Please… We won’t cause anymore trouble. Let us go,” One of them begged.

“I can’t let you do that,” Aneela’s voice was quiet. “I’ve had a trying few days, and I need to let off some steam.”

“Oh god, no! Please no!” The other bandit attempted to escape again, but Aneela was quick.

She kicked the bandit in the face and crushed his neck with her boot, watching as he struggled. The hands clawing at the leather of her boot grew weaker and weaker as the human suffocated, eyes rolling into the back of his head. The other bandit had curled up on the forest floor, weeping and clutching his calf.

“Only one left. Whatever shall I do with you?” Aneela mused aloud as she played with the knife in her hands. “I could spare you, but then you’d run off and tell the rest of your group what happened. I already killed your friends, so I may as well just finish off the job.”

“Aneela, enough,” Delle Seyah’s voice echoed out through the trees as she approached her love.

“Kendry! Have you finally come to join me?” Aneela’s face lit up as she turned to the other woman.

“No, you need to stop this right now,” Delle Seyah wasn’t playing around.

She stopped directly in front of Aneela, looking her up and down. Her pristine white clothes were splattered with blood, and there were a few drops across her face from when she stabbed one of the bandits. Kendry sighed and shook her head, taking the knife from her beloved’s hands.

“I don’t understand,” Aneela frowned. “They tried to attack us. I was protecting you.”

“I know, but being cooped up in a cube for days doesn’t mean you get to massacre everyone in sight,” Kendry said before walking over to the remaining bandit and offering her hand to the poor soul. “Get up. This is the only chance you’re getting.”

The bandit was beyond terrified but took the kind offer, letting Delle Seyah haul him up on to his good leg. As he opened his mouth to express his gratitude, Kendry gripped his head and bared his throat. She made quick work of the man, slitting his neck and dumping him back on the ground. Aneela’s expression morphed from annoyed to confused, and finally settled on a mix of delight and lust.

“But- Why?”

“I wasn’t going to let you have all the fun now, was I?” Kendry smirked as she leaned down to wipe the blood off the knife on the bandit’s pelt. “You didn’t seriously think I’d changed, did you?”

“Oh, Kendry…” Aneela laughed in relief while Kendry tucked the knife back into her belt.

“I enjoyed watching you take down those pathetic ants. You know I love it when you get mad,” Kendry’s voice lowered into a sultry whisper, closing the gap between them.

“I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been itching to hurt something,” Aneela’s hands clenched and unclenched as she took a couple of slow, calming breaths.

“I think I know of a better way to release some of that pent up energy, Aneela.”

Kendry lips grazed Aneela’s and her hands moved to her hips. The kiss was passionate and demanding, both women running on adrenaline from their recent activities. A heady concoction of murder and lust was something Aneela and Delle Seyah found themselves experiencing every now and again, and it made for fucking phenomenal sex. They drew back from the kiss, both breathing heavily and gazing into each others darkened eyes. Aneela caressed Delle Seyah’s jaw, her touch soft and light.

“Gods, I’ve missed you, Kendry.”

[chaostheoryy]

Hiding [Carol Danvers X Reader]

Prompt: A lovely anon requested a Carol X Fem!Skrull reader where “you admire her and the effort put in to help your people but you're also shy and when you get nervous you tend to transform out of habit”.

Word Count: 1,571

Rating: General

A/N: This is my first time writing for Carol so please be gentle! I’m definitely still working on getting her character down. And I apologize this thing turned out to be wayyyy more of a character backstory than anticipated. Let’s just call it a warm up for future Carol fics...

Hiding was the one thing you knew you were good at. After all, it was all you ever seemed to be able to do. 

Having the vicious, heartless Kree Empire chasing after your people day in and day out made it impossible for you to live a life of comfort and confidence. You’d spent years on the run, jumping from planet to planet and taking on the form of the native population. Every single time you moved to a new settlement, you prayed that it would be the last time you had to run. 

C-53 was the closest you had come to finding a home in a long time. You had taken the form of a young human female, a visage you were almost perfectly comfortable in. You and your family found a perfect little house on the outskirts of a small town in California where your neighbors paid no mind to you. It was there that you stayed for the better part of a year.

Then, against all odds, an undercover Kree scientist by the name of Mar-Vell presented your people with a new opportunity: if your people put their faith in her and accepted her help, she would develop a light speed engine capable of carrying Skrull survivors to safety beyond the reach of the twisted Kree race.

And so you put your trust in Mar-Vell and in turn, Mar-Vell put her heart and soul into helping your people.

Fearing detection by the Kree Starforce and Accusers, Mar-Vell moved your family and the other Skrulls hiding on C-53 to her laboratory. Nearly undetectable under cloaking technology, the lab floated peacefully in orbit around the planet.

Mar-Vell’s lab had little to offer comfort wise. There were hardly any beds for your family to sleep on and a limited supply of food to consume. Most people would have found the place dark and depressing but, to your family, it was the best place you could be.

But hope was nearly lost when Mar-Vell was killed.

The Kree Starforce had discovered Mar-Vell’s plans to use the energy core’s power to help your people and quickly realized there was no reason to keep their highly-valued operative alive. Yon-Rogg, the ruthless leader of Starforce hunted her down and blasted her plane out of the sky before murdering her and kidnapping the young pilot Mar-Vell had trusted to pilot the plane.

With Mar-Vell dead and project Pegasus written off as a science experiment gone wrong, you and your family were left to wait…

Six years after Mar-Vell’s death, the proximity detector on board the laboratory started to sound, signaling an approaching ship. Someone had uncloaked the lab and was going to board.

Fear consumed every one of you onboard. Mothers prepared to fight to protect their children and every young Skrull began trembling. There was no doubt that if the Kree were there for the energy core, there would be nothing to stop them from murdering every last survivor in the lab. And so, you did as you always had: you hid.

It wasn’t until the vaguely familiar rumble of Talos’ call echoed through the lab that everyone understood there was no fight to be had. No. This was a rescue.

You hesitantly followed your people out into the main chamber of the laboratory and found Talos standing at the center of the room. He was quickly introduced to his child before everyone’s attention fell on the blonde woman standing by Mar-Vell’s computer. She was wearing the Starforce crest but the colors of her uniform were not that of the Kree.

“It’s okay,” Talos assured everyone, “She’s a friend.”

The woman, Carol, took a step forward. Her stance was strong and confident but the guilt and vulnerability in her eyes made it very clear she was not there to help, not shed blood.

Before a plan could be made to use the Tesseract to flee from C-53, Starforce warriors, including Yon-Rogg broke into the ship. Unarmed and unwilling to fight, your people were surrounded and dragged to a holding cell while Yon-Rogg and his henchmen proceeded to interrogate Carol.

Stories had been told to your people about the Supreme Intelligence and its almost mystical tie to the Kree people. If a Kree’s conscience was placed under the control of the Supreme Intelligence, there was no way they could fight their way out of the subdued state. The only way to get out was by the Supreme Intelligence’s will.

You feared for Carol. Though you had only known her for mere moments, you believed in her. She wanted to fight for your people, wanted to defy Kree rule in order to bring the Skrull race peace. You prayed for her. Perhaps, by some miracle, there was a way for her to break free from the Supreme Intelligence…

And she did.

Enlightened with the truth behind her powers and the lies of Yon-Rogg and the Kree, Carol finally unleashed her true potential. While she singlehandedly fought off the forces of the Starforce warriors, Talos led you and your people to the ship in the hanger where Carol’s companions, Maria and Fury, helped pilot you out of the lab and toward C-53.

One of the Starforce members managed to catch up soon thereafter and forced Maria into an all-out dog fight in the rocky canyons below. The plane took several hits, but Maria managed to pull a trick move using a split in the canyon and blasted the Starforce warrior to bits.

Of course, celebration was not yet in order. Having fled from the lab with Carol in pursuit, Yon-Rogg tracked the plane down and began an assault. Maria was quick, but Yon-Rogg’s ship was quicker. Another hit to the wing and your people would plummet to their deaths.

However, before Yon-Rogg could take the plane down, a small projectile soared past the plane and knocked Yon-Rogg’s ship right out of the sky. Everyone on board the plane stared in bewilderment.

“What in the hell was that?” Fury murmured.

Sure enough, the streak of light everyone assumed was a missile actually turned out to be Carol. Not only had she learned to let go of her restraints to fight with photon blasts; she was now using those powers to fly.

You couldn’t help but smile. Was there anything the woman couldn’t do?

When all was said and done and Carol had sent Yon-Rogg back to Hala to warn the Kree of her impending vengeance, you and the rest of your people took shelter in Maria’s home. It was cozy —all of your beloved friends and family nestled into the small rooms of the wooden house— and, for the time being, it was safe. 

While Talos and his family shared dinner with Carol, Maria, and Fury, you wandered outside to enjoy a moment of peace. With the Starforce warriors defeated and the Accusers warded off by Carol’s immeasurable power, there was no sound outside but the distant chirping of crickets and the whistle of the wind blowing through the trees. It was, in every sense of the word, beautiful.

“Y’know, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

You nearly jumped. Spinning around, you were surprised to find Carol standing behind you with a gentle grin on her face.

“Oh.” You clutched at the fabric of your oversized cargo pants. “It’s okay. I just… I’m enjoying this.”

You turned away, hoping you could hide from her by isolating yourself. But Carol seemed to have other plans.

Taking a seat on the porch next to you, Carol let out a sigh. “There’s nothing like a gentle breeze on a clear night,” she said softly, “Maria and I used to spend hours and hours out here just listening to the leaves blow and watching the fireflies light up the sky like rogue stars.”

You glanced over at her. You had never seen someone so at peace.

“I’m sure back then you never thought you’d end up sitting next to a Skrull in the future.”

Carol let out a quick breath of laughter. “No, can’t say I ever did.”

You swallowed. “I can change. Into someone more…appealing,” you offered quietly, “If you want.”

She looked over at you. She was quiet for a moment. Then, having found whatever it was she was looking for, she sat up straight and reached out to grab your hand.

You nearly flinched at the sudden contact. Her grasp was firm but it certainly didn’t hurt. Her skin was remarkably warm and smooth: a feeling so wonderful you wanted to melt into it.

“Listen to me,” Carol said gently, “Never feel like you need to be somebody you’re not. Whether we’re here or somewhere way out there…” —she gestured to the night sky— “…if you’re around me, you never have to hide. From here on out, we get to be the people we want to be. We get to be ourselves.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Okay.”

Carol grinned again —that big, confident, and glamorous grin— and nodded. “Okay,” she echoed with satisfaction before leaning back in the wicker chair.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you. It was clear to you then that no matter where in the galaxy your people ended up, Carol was going to be there to make sure you were safe and, more importantly, that you could be yourselves.

No more hiding.

[tatttletale]

Something Entirely New

Five thousand, seven hundred and fifty years ago—that's 3737 BC, for humans—Earth was a flourishing planet, a viable new colony under Pink Diamond's rule; but resisting the productive regime was a small rebel group, no more than a dozen or so defective Gems.

        The rebellion was still in its early stages but regardless it was causing problems, and so Blue Diamond, in the other's aid, came to Earth to assist in the various courtly duties. One of these functions was a reading by one of her Sapphires, and hopefully the ending of the rebellion.

        Accompanying this aristocratic Gem was her Pearl and a guard of three Rubies. Standing sentry to Blue Diamond's palanquin were two Quartz soldiers, a Jasper and a defective Amethyst, created on that very colony.

        The Sapphire dismissed her Pearl and she stepped back, standing silently outside as the blue Gem went forward.

        The reading was quick and precise. The Sapphire told her Diamond exactly what she wanted to hear — that a small group of rebels, maybe five or six Gems, would attack the Sky Arena on which they stood, and a selection of loyal Gems would have their physical forms destroyed, but the rebels would be captured and the rebellion ended.

        The Amethyst guard, hearing this statement, found herself unsettled. Under Blue Diamonds' advisory rule, the rebels would surely be shattered. She didn't think Gems deserved to be murdered for something as simple as this—as standing up for and protecting their planet. She found it to be rather beautiful herself; she still had much to see, but it saddened her that the production of Gems would mean the destruction of the colony she was made on.

        When she looked up again, she noticed that the Sapphire had resigned herself to her post across the palanquin, Pearl standing sentry beside her. Amethyst found herself gazing at the Pearl. Her unfaceted Gem glinted in the sunlight, and when she blinked, Amethyst noticed her sky-blue eyes, lucid and wide. The Pearl must have felt her gaze because it was at that moment she turned her face and met her eyes; Amethyst coloured and looked down at her limb enhancers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her lips quirk up in a smile.

        The Court was silent, awaiting the foretold disruption. It was mere seconds from this interaction before a cry rang out.

        "Blue Diamond, leave this planet! This colony will not be completed!"

        One of the Rubies gasped. "It's the rebels!"

        "Who are you?" called another one.

        "Show yourselves!"

        Amethyst turned. Two Gems hovered near the pinnacle of a nearby spire—a Sapphire, and Rose Quartz, the leader of the rebellion.

        "We are the Crystal Gems!" the Sapphire cried. It was Rose Quartz who had spoken before—and now, she raised her shield above her head, and with a scuffle another half dozen Gems scattered from behind the pillar, wielding their weapons.

        With clumsy enhanced fingers, Amethyst summoned her lasso. In her periphery she could see the Rubies fusing, leaving the Pearl to usher her Sapphire away; but from the way she was moving, it seemed she might be blind. She stumbled daintily, holding her skirts with one hand and clutching tightly onto the Pearl's arm with the other.

        Before Amethyst could do much as raise her weapon, the rebels were swarming the arena, and the gems of Court members were tinkling to the ground. There was a pink flash above her head, and Amethyst spun around just in time to see Rose Quartz skilfully dismantle the Ruby fusion. The rebel Sapphire followed in her wake, gaze pointedly fixed on her stumbling former equal. With something like a snarl, she swept her hands outwards, and a sheet of smooth ice spread across the arena grounds. The ice shot straight towards the other Sapphire, and she slipped, fringe falling away from her face to reveal the gem where her eye should have been.

        Her Pearl froze, eyes trained on her fallen superior, before she glanced up and at the offending rebel. Her gem ignited and from it she pulled a pearlescent spear. Widening her stance, she stepped in front of the vulnerable Sapphire, wielding her weapon. Amethyst could see it was clear she had absolutely no previous experience in combat.

        With decision, she dashed forward, limb enhancers clunking loudly against stone. The offending Sapphire turned and unleashed another sheet of ice, sending her slipping and sliding straight past them all. Finally she lost her balance and slumped to the ground.

        From her sprawled position she could see that Rose Quartz had joined the Sapphire and, raising her infamous sword in favour of the powerful shield, she advanced towards the vulnerable pair. Frantically, Amethyst tried to scramble up, but she found her limb enhancers were just as useless as immobile chunks of metal.

        Now the Pearl was cowering, backing up against her Sapphire. With finality, Amethyst remotely deactivated her forearm enhancers and punched the catches on her knees, scrambling out of the useless prosthetics.

        Propelling herself as fast as she could go, she aimed for the Sapphire, but slipped on the ice and instead crashed into the Pearl. There was a brief moment of nothing, and everything, and then someone new opened her eyes.

        This new Gem glanced around herself, startled, and then down at four splayed, periwinkle palms. An amethyst glinted on her chest. On a whim, she raised a hand to her forehead, smoothing fingers over the inset pearl. The breeze ruffled her hair and a pale lock fell into her eyes.

        "What. . .?" she found herself saying. She didn't recognise her voice—which was the strangest thing—but she belonged to it. She gazed down at her feet, en pointe, clad in a calf-length boot, and a thigh-high stocking and matching slipper, respectively. "What is . . . this? Is it. . . me—?"

        She heard movement and murmuring voices, and then a gust of wind. When she looked up, she saw Rose Quartz and her Sapphire arcing away across the sky. Disorienting bootsteps echoed around her.

        Losing herself, she split apart, and Amethyst gazed up at the Pearl from her knees. Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving.

        "Amethyst."

        She whipped around. The serene, hooded figure inside the palanquin sat up straighter. "You interrupted Sapphire's course of fate. You fused with her Pearl."

        She felt herself go cold. "My— My Clarity, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

        "You are already defective," the Diamond hissed. "You may be a member of Pink Diamond's Court, but that does not mean that you may violate the rules. You interfered with Court proceedings, you removed your limb enhancers and you fused with my Sapphire's Pearl. How dare you fuse with a member of my Court?"

        "My Clarity, I—"

        "You will be broken for this."

        The Gems around her began to advance. Amethyst found she was frozen.

        She felt a hand on her arm and looked up. The aforementioned Pearl stood and, looking around in a flighty sort of way, she grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. She summoned her spear and held it unsteadily in her left hand, waving it at the advancing Gems.

         Her actions were enough to give a moment's pause—Pearls were not combat Gems, and the mere fact that she had summoned her weapon in the midst of a proceeding with no genuine means meant that clearly, she had defected as well. Who would defend an overcooked embarrassment?

        "And the Pearl too," came Blue Diamond's voice.

        The Pearl's grip grew tighter.

        "Run with me," she whispered.

        Amethyst stayed stock still, uncomprehending, until her companion swung her spear at a group of Gems and they were hit with a blast of bright light.

        The Pearl looked surprised but didn't hesitate. She darted forward and, with surprising strength, yanked Amethyst along with her. Everything dissolved into a blur of shouts and flashes—and then her feet left the ground.

        When she regained focus, they were hurtling, hand in hand, towards the earth below. When she looked up, she saw the Sky Arena shrinking above them.

        "Uhhhh," she yelled over the whistling wind. "How are we going to get down from here?"

        "Fall," the Pearl said simply.

        "Uh— right, haha, yeah, and what's your real plan?"

        When she locked eyes with her companion, she could see there was no humour in her eyes.

        In her sky-blue, lucid eyes.

✧✧✧

After poofing, Amethyst remained in her Gem for six long hours, fearing the revelation that her gem had been found. Finally, she reformed, and found lying next to her in the grass a smooth, white ellipsoid. Tentatively, she took it into her hands and stood, deciding to stumble off into the trees and find shelter.

        Forty minutes later she sat by a bundle of wet twigs, having given up on lighting them. She had heard once that Gems responded well to light and heat exposure—she couldn't remember where. But, as much as she tried, she couldn't seem to get the damn things to do more than smoke—so she had to wait, alone, wet from the rain outside.

        It seemed like years later when Pearl finally reformed—and when she did, she found herself alone by a blazing fire. Subconsciously, she leaned forward, bringing her gem closer to the flames.

        There was a crunching of twigs underfoot and Amethyst came into view, arms full of twigs and thicker branches. Upon seeing the reformed Gem, she dropped her load, surprised.

        Pearl gestured to the fire. "Thank you."

        Amethyst ducked beneath her hair to hide her eyes. "S'fine. It took me a week. Only just got it going." She bent and gathered a few of the dropped sticks. When she straightened again, balancing branches, her expression was serious. "What you did was really stupid."

        Pearl looked shocked for a second, and then laughed. "I suppose it was . . . outlandish."

        "Outlandish? We could've shattered!"

        "But we didn't," Pearl replied calmly, and leaned closer to the fire, holding out her hands to the comfortable heat. "And here we are, sheltered and safe."

        Amethyst was quiet for a moment. ". . . Thank you."

        "You're welcome."

        The curt reply tugged something inside her chest; something between annoyance and intrigue.

        "Sooo. . ." She set the wood down by the fire and sat down. "Do you—did you . . . get out much?"

        Pearl thought for a moment. "No. My Sapphire was made defective, so she can't see. She never left her chambers if she could help it—and, of course, she needed me around to help her."

        ". . . Do you think she'll be okay without you?"

        Pearl's answer was quick. "It doesn't take many resources to make a Pearl. She can just order another whenever she wants."

        "Is that. . . really how it works?" Amethyst felt reserved. "Higher Gems just. . . order Pearls? Like. . . like materials?"

        "Yes," Pearl replied. Her expression was distant. "That's the way it's always been. Pearls are products—accessories. We were never meant to have lives of our own."

        The cave fell silent, save for the gentle crackling of the fire.

        Crickets chirped outside—not that the pair knew anything about the local organic life.

        When Amethyst found the strength to lock eyes with her companion again, she spoke softly. "Well. . . you have the chance to live your own life now."

        Pearl stayed silent, and Amethyst felt her chest clench. "I mean. . . you are staying here, aren't you?"

        The sky-blue eyes flicked to her. "Are you?"

        She thought for a moment. ". . . Yeah. I can't go back now."

        "Then neither can I," the pale Gem replied simply.

        Amethyst frowned.

        "Is that all? Are you just. . . going to follow me around?" She felt fire in her chest. "Do you ever think for yourself?"

        Pearl blinked at her. "I was never allowed to."

        Immediately she felt her heart sink. "Oh, uh— I'm sorry."

        A few seconds ticked by.

        "But, what you did in the Sky Arena. . . no one told you to do that."

        Pearl immediately returned her gaze to the fire, her lips a tight line. Her expression darkened. "I've been defective for a long time, now. I know I shouldn't be acting like this. That's. . . That's why I did what I did. I'm fit to be shattered."

        Amethyst almost choked. "What? That's what you believe?"

        "It's what my Sapphire believed," she said. "The one before."

        Amethyst felt sick. "She taught you that?"

        "She—" her hand drifted to cover her mouth, and she shook her head.

        Amethyst noticed the hand was shaking.

        Timidly, she scooted around the fire and sat beside her, laying a hand over her pale fingers. ". . . And what about me?"

        The hand over Pearl's mouth was ripped away. "You? What do you mean?"

        "Well, it's kinda obvious. I'm overcooked." She splayed her stubby fingers and held her hand before her. "See?"

        Pale, dainty fingers enveloped her own and she looked up at the other Gem. Her blue eyes were thoughtful.

        "You're small, but you're just as powerful as a standard Quartz," she said. "You align perfectly with your purpose."

        Amethyst recoiled. "Is that all you care about? A Gem's purpose?"

        "We are only created to serve our purposes," Pearl replied.

        They stared at each other for a long time, neither one daring to speak. Finally Amethyst stood and retreated into the darkness at the back of the cave.

        It was hours later when the reproachful Pearl finally joined her.

✧✧✧

Opal stood on unsteady toes, gazing down at four dainty periwinkle hands.

        Silently, she reflected on their relationship—on herself. It had only been a week since Pearl's stumbling apology in the cave, and Amethyst's stemmed conversation, and from there the two Gems had found themselves growing closer each day.

        They usually spent their time exploring the new world around them—picking flowers, observing organics, watching the days and nights pass and above all stumbling along in this new experience together. The question of fusing again had been raised multiple times—mainly by Amethyst—and only recently had Pearl come to terms with the idea. And now, here she stood, a fusion, an amalgam of two polar entities.

        The first thing she noticed was how complicated it suddenly became to move. Her movements were directed by thoughts, and her thoughts were still whirling and divided.

        She took a few experimental steps, left foot wobbling unsteadily, and braced herself against a tree when she stumbled—with one hand. Removing that hand without flexing the others proved to be a challenge, though.

        And so she progressed, three steps forward, two steps back. Figuratively, of course. The fusion was in no shape to go back-pedalling around the lush biome.

        By the fiftieth step (five was a solid, reliable number), she found she could progress with certain balance and a straight back. Correct form is always important. Now that she had walking mastered, she stopped, searching for the next most suitable course of action.

        A sharp crack! behind her had Amethyst whirling, and Pearl's graceful ankles wobbled and gave out with the sudden movement. Opal fell back into a clump of bushes, and then found herself passing through them and rolling (in an incredibly undignified manner!) down the previously concealed slope. When her body came to a halt on flat ground, she cautiously pushed herself up, and came face-to-face (quite literally) with the comparatively short rebel Sapphire.

        The Quartz inside her noticed immediately that the renegade's gem was glowing, ready for combat.

        Opal launched herself back, flipping gracefully onto tiptoes and then promptly collapsing again to the grass.

        "Don't hurt her!" she cried, and then paused, puzzled. "Don't hurt. . . us? . . . me?"

        The Sapphire remained for the most part unfazed, though her mouth hung open a little in surprise. "The fusion. . ."

        "We didn't mean to fuse!" she argued. ". . . Before. But that. . . we did this time, but we— I'll stop, I'll. . ."

        "No no, please."

        The soothing voice cut her off mid-rant and the fusion lifted her head, finding two deep fuchsia eyes fixed on her.

        "I'm glad to see you again," said Rose Quartz.

        Opal inwardly cringed, but the calm voice had her lowering her defences. All those tales about the defective Quartz. . . they all portrayed her so violent, so cold. But this Gem. . . she was nothing like the image that had been painted of the rebellion's leader.

        "I don't . . . upset you?" the fusion asked doubtfully.

        Rose Quartz laughed. "Who cares about how I feel! How you feel is sure to be much more interesting."

        She found herself lost for words. No one had ever asked her—asked them—how they felt. One part of her suspected this might be some sort of rhetorical question, a joke; but the other part welcomed those genuine, interested eyes.

        "How I feel. . .?" she murmured. She gasped softly, feeling something like fear constrict in her chest, and clamped a hand over her mouth— but then she relaxed, soothed by the mellow conversation inside herself.

        "Well, I feel. . . lost, and confused. . . and afraid. . . but happy. I don't. . . how can I be so sure that this is what I want? A moment ago, I didn't know. . . Pearl. . . but now I want to. Now, I want to stay this way. How can I feel so content denying my purpose?"

        The tall pink Quartz laughed again, and her Sapphire smiled complacently along with her. "Welcome to Earth."

        How long had the rebellion been functioning for, again? Just how long had Rose Quartz been here?

        She seemed so confident in what she wanted, in what she thought was right—perhaps she had the answers Opal needed.

        The fusion scrambled to her feet. "Can you. . . Can you tell me, why did Pearl choose to defect for another Gem she didn't know? Why. . . How could Amethyst come to know. . . and feel about this, without ever having experienced it? What. . . What am I? Do I have a purpose?"

        Her voice was starting to take on a panicked tone and Rose hurriedly stepped in with a sharp order. "No more questions."

        Both of the components fell silent, complying with the command, blinking up at her owlishly. The Quartz's face softened.

        "Please, don't ever question this." And, unprincipled, she stepped forward and took two of Opal's hands in her own, and gazed up into her wide eyes. "You already are the answer."

        The forest seemed to fall still. The fusion's gaze dropped from the shorter Gem's open face to her hands held in creamy fingers, and she contemplated.

        Me? Us? The answer?

        What does she mean?

        How can a cross-Gem fusion, noncompliant of moral directives, be the solution to such a complicated web of interrelated events?

        She lifted her eyes to rest on the renegade Sapphire standing reservedly a few paces away.

        She smiled, gave a knowing nod and lifted her hands to form a shape.

        A shape with two rounded sides and a downward point.

        A heart.

PROMPT: "can u also do opal's first time being fused? i really liked the recent chapter." — for HT Guest on FanFiction! Hope you enjoyed! :)

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Halfworld Reckoning 89 Ch 8

“Life finds a way.”-Micheal Criton

Groot ran, pushing the pains back to the recesses of his mind. The flashing lights, the stench of spilled chemicals unknown and screams of the strange people in the masks. The whirr of the drones, his bark split and cracked with each bullet. Beside him Gamora grunted on the upswing of her sword, striking a lab coated alien up the chest. He dodged as Drax wrestled with another one, crashing to the ground.

“This way!” Lylla cried, sliding under a fallen gurney. Groot’s eyes struggled to follow in the ever-changing lights.

“I am Groot,” he told Rocket. Rocket who was still Rocket. He had to be…but those eyes, when he bit Groot…those eyes were black, soulless. Groot shivered and held him tighter with determination. They turned the corner, Quill exchanged rounds with ten armored aliens, each armed in turn.

“Give us the rodent!” A female voice shouted, lunging forward. Groot struck out a vine and hit her in the side. Wincing, as she hit the floor. It was a crime to harm another living being according to the wisdom of the Groots. But since befriending Rocket, nay even before that, Groot had more or less come to terms with straying from the rulebook of his people. Lylla scurried down the corridor, halting at the broken smashed doors of the experimentation lab where they had first found Rocket.

“In here,” she beckoned, turning and leaping on the face of another scientists. Groot watched her bury her small claws into his face and cringed, vines caressing Rocket’s fur out of his own anxiety as the man screamed and tried to pry Lylla off.

“Groot!” Quill cried, gesturing to where the human was tugging at Lylla, beating his fists into her back as she remained latched to him. Groot’s feet were planted as firmly as they could be in the ground that was not soil. “Groot!” In his arms Rocket stirred, eyes large with fear, legs kicking. Drax rushed past, clobbering the man whom Lylla was scratching and together the Destroyer and Otter subdued him.

“You are a good fighter for such a small creature. I did not expect you to be so good in combat.” Lylla smiled despite her bruises as she ushered them into the room.

“It’s what I was born to do.” Rocket frantically clawed at Groot’s branches.

“I am Groot!” Groot tried to calm him, the raccoon did not heed. Instead Groot sprung vines involuntarily as Rocket hissed and snarled, mouth foaming. He jumped before the Flora colossus could catch him and clung to the white round light’s above.

“What do we do?” Quill shouted, trying to shut the door against the blasts of the drones.

“Hold him down!” Lylla demanded, Rocket snarled, ears pinned back against his head.

“Damnit,” Gamora cursed, throwing her own weight against the door beside Quill. The blasts echoed with shouts from the humans. Groot turned watching in eye bulging fear as the two furry animals scratched at each other. The otter winced as the raccoon scratched across her chest, drawing a line of red. She rolled, grabbing for a needle and twisted, jamming it into Rocket’s shoulder.

“I am Groot!” Groot ran over to Rocket who bared his teeth and stumbled, clattering to the metal table.

“I had to!” Lylla panted. Even sedated, Groot watched the uneven breathing of his best friends scratched up side. Groot watched in panic as the otter strapped Rocket down. “Hand me that knife,” Groot’s large eyes flashed to the long thin object lying on the floor. Red splashed across it.

“I am Groot?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Lylla admitted, “but if we’re going to even have a chance at getting him back I need you to trust me.”

“Groot you better…” Quill poked his gun through the slit in the door and fired. “go quickly!” The Flora colossus gazed at the otter, reaching out and slowly touched a hand to her chest. She watched, breathing heavy and fast as if anticipating an attack. Groot looked in to her, seeing her pain…more similar to Rocket’s then even his own. Groot’s gaze wavered only when Rocket jolted on the table, his heart wrenching in two at his friend’s muffled hiss of pain.

“Quickly!” Lylla pleaded. Groot took a breath, gripping the knife and handing it to her. He hoped beyond all hope that he was doing the right thing. That Rocket could forgive him. Lylla took it from Groot and he turned away as she positioned it at the base of Rocket’s skull.

“There is too many of them!” Drax shouted as another blast poked a hole through the already banged up doors. All Groots perceived and experienced time differently than most mammalien based creatures; for him, Lylla’s deft work took an eternity. But after the initial cut, he turned back to watch. He needed to bear witness to that which pained his best friend the most. The cables, panels, gears and gadgets that made up the inside of Rocket’s body caused his soulmate agony, physically, mentally, emotionally every second of his existence and if Rocket could carry that pain with him then Groot knew the least he could do was see him through. Lylla connected wires, cut and examined, re-cut. All the while playing metal with muscle, pinning organic tissue to metal.

“Ahh!” Groot whirled around, Gamora held her side, still trying desperately to keep the door closed.

“You alright?” Quill shouted. The assassin grunted and pushed her back against the doors, sending the metal screeching. “Just…one…last connection…” Lylla meticulously fused the last two wires in Rocket’s back implant together and stitched him closed, skull and all.

“I am Groot?”

“If what you asked was ‘did it work’ then I’m not sure…” Groot felt his heart sink. There wasn’t time for ambiguity. “I followed all the correct steps from watching it….” She mused. “But…there was always that one factor the scientists could never replicate…a spark was needed. Not a mechanical spark, something unexplainable.” She pondered, “actual free will…the could create soliders and weapons that obeyed, sure. But Rocket and I…the others like us, we were created but the sentience itself was something they were never able to forge. It just happened. They called it the spark of life. They were trying to replicate it…but it only ever occurred randomly. For every creature like me and Rocket here, hundreds of others were killed or defected because the scientists couldn’t make them truly, truly, alive.” She turned to Groot.

“A soul. A soul can’t be made in a lab…I’ve put him back together but without his real sentience he’ll…. he’ll just be a monster.”

“I told you!” Drax shouted over the alarms, “we should honor his memory by roasting him over a great fire in a ceremonial feast!”

“We are not…” Quill fired through the doors again, narrowly missing a blast from one of the scientists on the other side, “eating Rocket!”

“What is the alternative?” The destroyer thrust his fist through the opening in the door and Groot recognized the familiar grunt and fall of the victim. “He would not want us to keep him as a pet!” As much as Groot was disgusted by the idea, he had to admit Drax had a point. The last thing Rocket would want would be to be kept as a pet. But what if….Groot looked down at his own chest. The spores. The lessons of his people vibrated through his vines, even here so far away from everything that was good and green. He gently reached out, placing his hand on Rocket’s chest, closing his eyes.

“What are you…?” Lylla watched in amazement as a glowing yellow light shown from under Groot’s palm. He consentraited. The power of the Groots was the power of life and growth. Back on Planet X it was told that they were sentinels of all natural things of the forest. Wood gods. In his youth, Groot had healed a squirrel that had succumb to a strange sickness, but bringing Rocket’s soul back….? He could only hope. Something hot flashed across the flora colossus’s bark. He winced, but remained fixed on Rocket.

“Groot hurry!” Gamora shouted. The alarms sounded off, red and white flashes. Groot closed his eyes. Feeling down, beneath the metal flooring, under the concrete until at last his roots felt earth. The energy ran upward, from the earth to his roots, through his heart.

“Groot!” Quill called, his dry voice cracking. “It’s now or never we need to GO!” With a final effort, Lylla watched the glowing yellow light grow larger and larger until it illuminated the strange tree creature and the raccoon. She waited, holding her breath.

“I am Groot!!!” Groot roared, the light raged, he grabbed Rocket. Lylla, Drax, Gamora and Quill braced themselves, only letting go of the doors and their weapons to shield themselves from the blinding light. It faded slowly and Groot did not even notice the fresh breeze of cool air. He did not hear the crinkling of debris or hear the absence of gunshots. He only looked at Rocket, revealing him from his protectively hold. His friend’s nose twitched.

“I am Groot…?” If he had a stomach it would be rolling in anxiety. Did it work? Could he try again? Exhaustion dripped from every vine. He reached a singe finger out, touching Rocket’s face gingerly. In amazement, Groot watched his friend’s eyes open a sliver, those familiar red orbs clouded but there. Rocket sniffed again, tail flipping.

“W…what…t..the flark….?”

“I am Groot!” Relief washed over him as he hugged his friend close. Rocket went stiff at first, but as the flora colossus spent his last effort growing a sprig of pink flowers, the raccoonoid gave in.

“Those kurtuckan scientists…” Rocket muttered, “I fought them…scratch their eyes out but…they strapped me down and….”

“I am Groot,” Groot pat him on the back and Rocket stepped back, eyes wondering.

“Woah…” the Flora colossus followed his gaze, gasped as he looked over the ruined lab. Around them rubble strewn as far as they could see. The Milano, and the trees and vegetation of the outside world shown on the horizon

“Rocket!” Gamora and the rest of the gang rushed over.

“We thought we lost you!” Quill said, sheathing his gun.

“Indeed! You were truly an animal,” Drax put in, beaming. “I wanted to give you the great honor of roasting you but they would not let me. I am glad that you are once again your true self.”

“Gee, thanks.” Rocket smirked.

“Your girl friend helped us a great deal.” Drax gestured to Lylla.

“What girl friend? I don’t have a…” Groot watched Rocket behold the otter creature. She herself looked as shocked as any of them.

“Lylla!” Rocket gaped, trying to think of what to say. Groot watched him settle for his usual brash: “…told you we’d escape together this time.” She rolled her eyes but grinned and without warning Rocket hugged her tightly. “I’m so sorry….but we’re…we’re free now. This time for good.” She allowed his embrace for a moment more before letting go.

“Should we uhh…go?” Peter suggested. “Before there are any other damn drones or mad scientists or anything else weird and freaky comes to get us?”

Groot nodded.

“Lylla,” Rocket smiled, “come with us!”

“I am Groot!” Groot agreed, from what he’d seen of the little otter, she was extremely capable, tenacious and even kind.

“A…are you sure?” Lylla wondered, looking between them all. Groot watched Quill nod.

“If your half the genius Rocket is, we’d be glad to have you.” Rocket chuckled,

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Lylla joked. “First few weeks in the lab he didn’t even know how to get his food dispenser to work. I had to talk him through it at least ten times.”

“You did not! It was nine times, and that kurtukan thing was complicated!” Groot laughed, and his grin widened as Rocket scurried up to his shoulders as they made their way to the ship, Peter and Gamora already hitting it off with Lylla.

“I am Groot?” Groot asked before they followed the others on to the ship.

“Yeah I’m alright,” Rocket sighed. “Thanks to you big guy. Don’t know what you did but I feel better than I have in a while. Groot grew a single pink flower from his palm, handing it to his friend. Rocket took it, for once.

“Thanks bud.”

“I am Groot.”

[anonymousylame-blog]

A Story I Never Finished

The ship ripped into the unknown planet’s atmosphere, the outside of it burst in to blue flames. I try to control the ship but it’s falling to fast and it’s overheating. “This is it, I failed” a panicked thought fills my mind. NO! I have come too far to fail now, I grab the steering gear and pull it with my strong arm while pressing all the flashing buttons to my left. “Come on!!!!” I scream, tears of rage and fear fill my eyes. “Please, I’m the last hope.” I whisper. Then a jolt knocks me out of my chair, the breaks have diploid! Fate is on my side, thank you.

The ship is flying as smooth as it can, there is too much damage to keep going for too long. I look for a good place to land. The landscape below is filled with large pink crystal like trees, and there are large vibrant green hills in the distance. I need to find an open field or something to land on, those hills will have to do. I start to slowly push down on the steering gear, I’ll try to land as carefully as I can. The ship hit the ground hard. The impact sent me sailing across the ship, I hit my head on an overhang then pass out.

                                                                               .          .        .

A flash of bright white light fills my vision. I hear voices breaking through the ringing in my ears. My eyes can’t focus but I can see something tearing through the ship. I need to get out, I panic. There is something crushing my chest, I’m pretty sure it’s my bookshelf. I try to wiggle out from it but I can't. The thing that is in the ship with me starts to get closer. A blast of pure adrenaline courses through me, I shove the shelf off of me and sprint for the door to the second complex of the ship. I hear footsteps behind me becoming louder, it’s after me. I see a gaping hole in the side of the complex wall, I jump through it and enter the outdoor abyss. It doesn’t occur to me that this is a foreign planet, and I am the first human to step on it, and this is the first planet I’ve ever walked on. I look around trying to find a place to hide, I see the pink forest from earlier and I sprint towards it. I don’t look back, I don’t know what else to do. all I know is I have to survive.

I think I lost whatever that was. I find a tree that is quite like a weeping willow, but the leafs are like small pink gems that sound like wind chimes in the breeze. I pull back the pink vines and take refuge in its gazebo. I sit down and try to get a grasp on the situation. from my understanding this world isn’t so different to the one my kind is from. the atmosphere is the same, the days are a little longer as well as the years, the climate is about the same, and from my understanding about 78% of this world is fresh drinking water. My conclusion is the only threat I have would be if the inhabitants look bizarre and i can't blend in or if they find me and take me apart to research me. I have all the knowledge on my species and world on my ship, maybe if i could just give them that and they let me live here in peace. I need to get out of my thoughts for a moment. I look around and observe the ground beneath me, this is the first time i have ever felt soil, grass, roots, and a planet itself. I need to take this in. I pull some grass from the ground on my left, and I analyze it. it is a vibrant green, it has a sweet smell, its is thin, and soft. it looks like it would glow in the dark. I test my theory and cup my hands around it. A green light shines, I was correct.

[takethatdarwin]

AS BEFORE SO AGAIN

The old astronomy professor peered through her reflecting telescope up at the early morning sky. The reds and purples of dawn were just beginning to creep over the horizon, but the rest of the sky was still speckled with stars. She still had another half-hour or so before the brilliance of the rising sun obliterated every other celestial body from the dome of the heavens. "Celestial bodies in the dome of the heavens," she thought. "That's a good one. Sounds kind of Biblical. I'll have to write that down." She made a note of it in her tattered binder. Her assistant – Greg, or possibly Gary; grad students were basically interchangeable – a gangly twenty-something burdened with a hiking backpack and acne scars, stumbled through the brush and up the mountainside behind her. He handed her a canteen, which she accepted with a rare nod of appreciation. He preened. All around them a forest of green pines marched down into the valley and into the shadow of the mountain. This clearing was a beautiful place from which to witness the end of the world. The professor took a swig from the canteen and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “You know,” she said, “old Professor Hartz from the paleontology department said this day was coming. They called him mad. And he was. Tended to wear his underwear on the outside of his pants before they forced him into retirement. But he was right, you know. He was right.” Greg or Gary nodded solemnly. “It's amazing, really,” she continued. “For two hundred million years they ruled the planet, filling almost every ecological niche imaginable. Huge predators, tiny scavengers, great stonking herbivores as big as a football pitch. So long as they existed mammals didn't stand a chance. And then it happened. Chunk of rock and ice three times the size of Manhattan slammed into the Gulf of Mexico. Burned the world, then froze it when the dust it kicked up blocked out the sun.” She leaned down and took another look through the telescope's eyepiece. “In retrospect, it was only a matter of time,” she said thoughtfully. She handed the canteen back to Greg or Gary. “We didn't have a bad run,” he said. “Mammals, I mean.” The old professor shrugged. Crickets chirped in the brush. A breeze carried with it the scent of pine and wildflowers. The world felt very peaceful. It had no idea what was about to happen to it. Greg or Gary folded up his limbs and squinted into the telescope. It was trained on a specific sector of the brightening sky, a spot his professor had first noticed months ago. She'd decided not to publish her findings. It would only have caused panic, and it wouldn't have done any good anyway. Nothing would've. The Object – she hadn't bothered to name it, but “the Object” seemed sufficient – had reached the outer edges of the Earth's atmosphere. It was surrounded by a nimbus of fire. In another minute or two it'd be visible to the naked eye. “Scotch me,” said the professor. Greg or Gary reached into his pack and pulled out a bottle half-full of amber liquid. The professor held out a tin cup, which Greg or Gary wordlessly filled. The professor stared off into the middle distance and sipped her scotch. “It'll break up before impact,” she said. “Not that that'll save us. It'll just hit the planet like a shotgun blast.” Greg or Gary took a pull of scotch straight from the bottle. Presently the old professor looked upward, shielding her eyes against the rising sun. The Object was visible, a pinprick of light in the sky. It didn't look malevolent. This was no hell-sent apocalypse. It was just the end. She nudged the grad student in the ribs and pointed toward it. “Not long now,” she said. Sure enough, the pinprick of light gradually broadened into a white spot, then grew to a fireball the size of a marble as it approached. Then, with a thunderous crack that echoed through the morning sky, it split into a thousand thousand brilliant gleaming specks. “As before, so again,” said the professor to no one in particular. She shook her head. The cloud of flaming debris spread, each bit, followed by a wispy streak of smoke, growing fast. The sun crested over the mountains on the horizon, just in time to witness the first impact. A stegosaurus screamed through the atmosphere and slammed into a nearby mountain, causing a cascade of boulders to tumble down the cliff face and knocking Greg or Gary over in a tangle of gangly limbs. A brachiosaurus crashed into the valley, wiping out a line of pine trees as it rolled end-over-end. This time the telescope toppled over, cracking its lens against the rocky earth. A series of small, feathered, flaming theropods splattered against the ground nearby, scattering gravel and bits of flesh. The old professor looked at the smoking remains dispassionately. “To Professor Hartz,” she said, holding up her tin cup of scotch in a mock toast. “He would've loved to have seen this.” The impacts were coming fast now, once every second or two. The earth trembled almost nonstop under the barrage. Down in the forest below, a forest now scarred and smoldering from a hundred reptile impacts, a juvenile tyrannosaurus with singed feathers miraculously scrambled to its feet and roared with prehistoric defiance – the first dinosaur roar heard by human ears. Disappointingly, its defiance sounded like a shrill squawk, but it carried. The squawk was answered by another elsewhere in the valley. And another, from over the mountains. Then a fourth, and a fifth. Greg or Gary stood up and brushed the dust from his cargo shorts. A badly burned pteranodon with a broken wing watched him from a dozen yards away. He eyed it warily and deeply regretted dropping the bottle of scotch. Sunlight spilled into the valley. Among the splintered and smoking trees a half-dozen sauropods raised battered heads on slender, serpentine necks and blinked in the dawn. A slightly less injured pteranodon wheeled unsteadily above them. “As before, so again,” the professor repeated. “The dinosaurs have come back.” Greg or Gary nodded. “By the way,” she said, “is your name Greg or Gary?” “It's Mark, actually,” said Mark. “Ah,” said the professor. “It probably doesn't matter anymore,” said Mark. “Yeah,” the professor agreed, gazing down into the valley where a new age of reptiles was rising. “It probably doesn't.” FIN

[bumpposting]

Carson Friday August 27th, 2260 3:27 AM Standard Martian Time      Somewhere along the martian ridges that overlooked the city of Colona, a lone scout car made it’s way through the forested roads. The night was illuminated by thousands of orbital rounds hurling towards the already burning metropolis below. The roads that cut through the mountains were empty save for the piles of wrecked steel with markings of the United Nations - the remains of a defeated army. The lone scout car passed these piles of junk that were hastily moved into the ditches along the sides of the roads in order to clear the road for passing confederate assault guns that were taking their positions in the hills above the city. The scout car came to a clearing where one such battery of guns was deployed. The scout car rolled off the road and onto the the grassy hill that sloped downwards and towards a patch woods. Beyond this patch of woods were the outlying suburbs of the besieged city where the vanguard of confederate troops captured the day before. The scout car came to a stop at a position that put the entire metropolis in view.      Field Marshal Carson got out from the scout car and walked to the clearing where one of the batteries were. They were silenced, waiting for more ammunition. He did not worry, though, because he knew there were thousands of batteries, just like this one, placed on the hills above Colona picking up the slack. He continued moving, until he reached a lush tree. From there he peered outward, overlooking the city, observing the fire that many of the batteries were putting down. He took off his chest rig, sidearm belt, and the top layer of his mop suit so he could feel the cool breeze blowing in from the north. It felt rather refreshing against his face although the smell was ghastly. Missile propellant, gunpowder, even the faint smell of burning flesh. He felt the rising tide of nausea within his stomach. You never really get the smell of burning flesh out of your nose, he thought.      Carson then looked up at the assault frigates hovering above the hills, moving into position to direct their fire into the UNE forces trapped in the metropolis below. At the sight of an orbital round striking a skyscraper Carson began to plead aloud for the madness to end. “Withdraw, goddammit, withdraw” He said aloud. In his thoughts he pleaded that the UNE would leave, we roughed em up enough. He pleaded that they would count their losses and go home. He pleaded that he wouldn’t have to glass the city. It was their planet now and that would be the end of it, the confederates would have their independence.      At that moment, a second scout car pulled up next his. Out came General Burns, the head of Carson’s infantry; Carson’s right hand man. Burns saluted Carson and then took out a cigar, lit it, and then leaned against the tree taking in the sight. For a second, the salty smell of fresh tobacco filled the air around the two men. It provided a reprieve from the smell of the harsh reality of war, almost like a daydream that provides a distraction from reality, but then another gust of wind came from the north and once again the smells of death and destruction filled the air. Burns broke the silence between him and Carson. “We sure whipped em today, eh, Bob”.     “The damn fools had to stay, put up resistance” Carson said with a sense of sharp anger. “I mean I suppose they have the right to put up a fight, after all it was their territory. But now we have the high ground and control the planet, so please just withdraw. Don’t let your ignorance be the end of you”. The skyscraper that suffered a direct hit from an orbital round just moments before began to sag, a sure sign that it’s support columns were failing.      After a few moments of silence, Burns continued to gaze towards the inferno below and seemed to have gone through an epiphone. He began to speak after another orbital round just grazed the damaged skyscraper. “I suppose the first hint comes when you are in orbit” he paused and then continued after a blast erupted from the streets below. “You are looking at the continent you just glassed and the defense platform that’s split in half with humans being sucked out into space. Then you go planetside, get shot at, feel the anticipation of being killed, and seeing what a 105 artillery round does to a living breathing person like you and me. That’s when you realize what they meant. All those stories that men who have been in the shit have been telling you for years, the same message in all of ‘em, that war is the epitome of hell. Right then you get the message. You really gotta see it to believe it. It’s like that saying in the bible, fuckin come and see”. Shortly after Burns finished, the damaged skyscraper finally gave out and collapsed. A whirlwind of dust and smoke arose in it’s place.      At that very moment, Carson began to think of Buford. Carson remembered the days of his service with Buford, the days where they were both stationed on the borderlands on Ganymede where they felt they were really making a difference for the betterment of the people there. On Ganymede it was their duty to protect the innocent settlers from the outlaws and the crime syndicates. In those days, it was clear cut, a defined good and evil. These days, it was much more complex.      “Buford’s probably down there, James, following his orders as a good soldier should.” Carson said.      “Yeah, we probably know a lot of men down there, Bob. It’s easy to remember that we were once friends with those men but not anymore. If those men believe that their duty is to defend the tyranny that the institutions of Earth have placed over us, let them and then it is our duty to defeat them.” Burns turned and looked into the sad eyes of Carson. “Do your duty, Robert. Your home, your family, Mars...we count on you to see your convictions through”.      Meanwhile, on the streets of Colona enduring the bombardment, Gen. George Buford looked at the heavy face of the courier with complete despair. At a loss of words. The message: situation desperate at off world site, no help to send. on your own.      An emphasis on own, Buford thought. He looked at the period as if it were a death sentence. Buford was standing before the culmination of a military embarrassment. The confederate army swept like a mythological wind from the martian north through the continent of Tharsis at a pace no armed force has moved at in 300 years. Every UNE counter offensive would be swallowed up and crushed within days. At D’youville on the Martian plains, General Jackson’s 3rd Corps was guarding the 1st Martian Army’s eastern flank when elements of General Carson’s 5th corps, specifically Gen. Burn’s 6th Infantry Division, caught Jackson with his pants down. With just a division, Burns enveloped the entire 3rd corps and within hours the line was collapsing, fleeing in a mad panic towards Colona. The UNE had been whipped.      Alas, here is Buford standing on a bombed out street in Colona, with literally just a brigade of combat ready soldiers. A wash of walking wounded and contractors that were left behind were now all that stood in the way of the advancing confederates and the helpless evacuation at Ashbury beach. Buford looked up toward the heavens where a UNE assault carrier was in the process of disintegrating. Burning ships colored the sky red as they fell into the sea. Dante in the Inferno. Buford loaded a round into his magnum and looked out toward the beach where the young martian sea met a steel wall of discarded equipment.      He made his way through the droves of walking wounded that wandered Ashbury beach in a daze. The beach was a drunken orgy of desperation. Men played among the material waste like children on a playground, some stood in a daze laughing at the madness around them, many just sat in the open hoping the confederate strafing runs would grant them deliverance. On the boardwalk overlooking the beach, a mixed group of soldiers, contractors, and civilians were simply singing. It was a requiem that echoed through the ruined streets of Colona….The beauty of thy peace.  It was a scene of pure lunacy.      Carson was on the brink of tears but he knew if Burns saw him break down his effectiveness as a commander would have been compromised. He closed his eyes and silently pleaded with God that he didn’t have to glass the city. He pleaded that he wouldn’t be the one that would kill his friends. But then he composed himself. He took another look at the burning city below him. It was at that moment where he accepted the inevitable truth. The Armies of The United Nations of Earth were a stubborn bunch. Carson knew that they would not withdraw and after a barrage of orbital shells, Carson issued the orders to begin moving into the city.      Both men looked out across the vast burning metropolis, counted troop movements and listened to the whirl of 105′s screaming to their targets overhead. Carson thought it could have been good time to recite some Roman general who marched upon his own capital city but decided against it, figuring that Burns would have none of it. The two men, instead, stood stoically and silently, both acknowledging that there was business to be attended to.

[andrewtkline-blog]

Heroi(c)n

There I sat on an old wooden bench near the intersection in the middle of summertime, watching people in the park enjoying themselves. The long, cold winter was still a fresh memory in everyone’s mind. Everyone at the park seemed to be making a real concerted effort, working hard to make up for the lost time that the winter’s annual theft of months brings. The sun cast its cliché sovereign radiance down on the screaming children around the jungle gym, amongst the shirtless teens playing basketball on the half-court nearby. The grass in the large, well-groomed field transpired in effervescent shade of emerald. It was an almost perfect day. For them, at least. There I sat, a world unto myself, the torturous pangs of withdrawal well upon me, searing my subtle-body in the concentrated discomfort that is its trademark. The goosebumps rising from the jumping flesh on my forearms looked like a tiny forest of malicious little trees. The soft summer breeze that meandered across the grass made me shiver in spite of the warmth of this July afternoon. Just another day in my never-ending pursuit of chemical peace of mind. This was a typical scene lifted from my day-to-day life as a heroin addict. I waited impatiently for The Man to come with the renaissance. Mopping sweat off my furrowed brow with a cold, clammy hand, I checked my watch as I had a thousand times already, each with what seemed to be the same result. I had only been here for 12 minutes. Each second felt like an hour, each minute a lifetime. The word ‘discomfort’ is laughable, a ridiculously understated commentary on the utter misery I had somehow managed to put myself in this way. The feeling I felt was incredibly horrific. It was the ultimate exile of the very notion of comfort from my entire body. I couldn’t even remember what “comfort” felt like; I lived in a world of despair. My brain was on overdrive. The thin veils that kept me safely distanced from the experience of reality were crashing down hard. I felt the tremors in my hand, in my chest, in my entire body as the hit the ground. The impact echoed through my ribcage into my soul, ripping away whatever reticulation of delusion I had managed to weave before now. Reality struck home like a shotgun blast to the ass. I was fucked. Fucked for life. I felt the crawling, aching need for the dope in my bones, my body rollicking in desperate shocks of my systematic breakdown. Every cell in my body screamed out. The seconds ticked by. The pain was reaching a fever pitch; I wanted to cry out but knew that I shouldn’t. And then, in a moment of ineffable elation, there He was.. My heart leaped in a sick somersault of joy, then crashed right down with the thought of what this really all is. It was so fucking simple for The Man: just a short and slow drive up the street to meet his fiend, take his money, give him his poison, and drive off into the Midwest sunset. And I fucking hate him for it. Because for me it was so much more. For me it was the culmination of hours of a life, the end to a grand saga of human suffering and the triumphant will of the human spirit. Well, the junkie spirit. That junkie spirit, so hopeful, so incorrigible. Well, hey, I thought, at least I could take something “positive” out if all this: I never gave up. It’s true, I am one determined fucking individual when it comes to my dope. I walked as quickly as my state would allow towards the nearby sandwich shop up the street, trying to avoid any unwanted attention. Cops made a habit of coursing through the streets of this neighborhood like some kind of infectious microbe in the city’s bloodstream. Or was it I who was the infection, and the cops the lymphocytes cruising in to devour me whole, to rid the body of this scourge I am? I am never really sure. Either way, the threat of being busted for possession was a constant worry, looming just over the horizon of my awareness. So I approached the sandwich shop unassumingly, as sneaky as possible with all the junkie finesse I could muster in my panicked state of withdrawal. I opened the back door with the fake electronic ‘ding!’ the door made automatically, alerting any apathetic employees of someone’s arrival (or departure?) in the back hall. I was out of sight, and therefore, I assumed, out of my mind… I silently slipped so smoothly into the surprisingly well-maintained and suspiciously clean men’s room without anyone the wiser. This was, of course, all simply to maintain my functioning as a human creature on this planet. It was no longer to get high, as most respectable citizens probably would assume. No, that opioid bliss had long since left me a short and sweet goodbye letter it had taken me seven years to read. My dyslexic prayers to the god of all junkies were just never answered, and I was left to find out the hard way what it’s really like to maintain this existence, hacked out of the reality that crashed and burned along the trackmarks that run up my arms. It was at this point that a strange fatigue would wash over me. It’s partly that feeling you get when you’ve nearly completed something or you’ve almost reached your destination after a long, arduous journey. You know that all this time, all this effort, all this pain will shortly all pay off. There is anticipation of relief, reward, success. Relief, yes. Reward, I suppose. But there will be no success for me here today. Some may call this self-indulgence. Others may call it self-medication. Still others might call it self-deprecation. But that’s not what this all had been. Because the other side of this feeling was the unbridled sense of “this is it”. This is all there is. This is the alpha and the omega of my existence. This is a stupid dream concocted in a future memory spelled out in the silent frequency of heroin, always calling my name and I can’t stand to hear it any longer. It’s the feeling of giving up, of lying down in the dust and dying. It’s the feeling of looking down from the edge of the bridge and thinking that it would be so goddamn easy to just take that leap of fear and faith into the fathomless void. This was the result of a long process, one that began years ago in that moment, that singular moment, sitting in my bedroom in my twelfth year, when I realized that I am to be terminally unhappy, This was the result of years of seeing nothing but pain in the world around me, and in the deepest crevices of my own soul. There is only one real name for what this whole thing had been: suicide. A long, slow, excruciating suicide. There would be no success for me here. Not today. Not ever. Before I stuck the needle in my arm, before I got up off the toilet seat where I fixed, before I went out the door and on about the meaningless nonsense that was my life, I took a moment to ponder the ironies of this life. What does it mean? What does it all mean that in my pursuit of pleasure I should find only pain? For peace that I should find only unrest? For bodily comfort that I should find only disease? For happiness that I should find only despair? And for more to my life that I should find only my death? I smiled my sad smile and chuckled softly to myself at my misery. After all, it was all my own damn fault, wasn’t it? I pushed the plunger down. I pulled the needle out of my arm. I let the tourniquet slide off loosely. And I leaned back to enjoy the fruits of my labors.