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frogmanfae · 9 months

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Newsies as things that happened at band camp part 7

Jojo: Why do you have a tub of Vaseline?

Elmer: It's Buttons's I'm babysitting during the parade block

Jojo: ...what-

Elmer: Its name is Velociraptor

Crutchie: So remember that girl who told Jack he's her second choice?

Davey: Yeah?

Crutchie: Yeah he went after toxic girl and now he's sad

Davey: Damn it

Romeo: I was famous on wattpad for like 2 years and then they took all them down and I sent email after email to get them to put it back up to no avail! My books had like 100k reads!

Davey: *silently has 500k reads on his wattpad books and people are still reading them despite not updating anything in over a year because he transferred to ao3 and completely abandoned all of his wattpad book ideas*

Jack: *sticks his hand in Davey's drum while hes wearing it*

Davey: ...Thats violating-

Davey: *going through the band room like a tornado knocking shit down with his drums* First lesson of quadding, if you knock it down that's their problem

Albert: In sixth grade I wrote my narrative writing to be like a whole notebook thick and it was actually just a FNAF novel that turned out to be canonically accurate, for some fucking reason

Albert: *asks Spot to play something on his snare*

Spot: *plays it*

Albert: Okay that's like I thought

Spot: *keeps playing*

Albert: Okay you can stop

Spot: *keeps playing*

Albert: Please it's 8:30 am

Jojo: How is summer almost over

Specs: Shhh

Jojo: We don't even get 104 days of it. Where the fuck do Phineas and Ferb go?

Race: There's nothing fresh about those air fresheners on your drum they've been there since before freshman year

Spot: leave them alone! They're vintage!

Jack: Those saw the declaration of independence get signed

Race: He got them way over four score and seven years ago

Davey: That class roster is the nightmare blunt rotation if I've ever seen it

Jack: I'd smoke a joint with them. Would I be happy? Probably not. But I'd still do it

Race: This might be the ADHD or the potential autism but have you ever thought about how colors aren't real?

Albert: Please stop it is 8:45 am

Denton: If we had to do push ups every time we made a mistake we'd have a BUFF band... Love you guys

Sarah: At least you have a chair

Davey: I do not??

Sarah: You have a drum

Davey: Thats not a chair!

Sarah: Don't you sit on it?

Davey: ...Occasionally

Spot: We should just sit on our drums in protest

Davey: Yeah! Just like those... Um... The things...

Spot: ...Sit ins?

Davey: Yes! Those!! I'm on new medication I can't-

Jack: Got a secret

Jack: Can ya keep it

Jack: Takin this one to the grave

Jack: Better lock it

Jack: In your pocket

Crutchie: It's not even 9:45 in the goddamn morning shut the fuck up

Race and Elmer: *saying the lyrics of Posituvity from the Little Mermaid Broadway show like it's slam poetry*

Race: *at the football team* look they all got fat booties

Romeo: Girls if you don't have a date to homecoming, hit me up. Cuz I'm the bomb dot com

Buttons: *about a peanut m&m on the stairs* thats a hazard

Spot: I am going to stick my foot so far up all 3 of your asses-

Race: Ew you got the root beer popsicle?

Albert: What's wrong with root beer?

Buttons: It's root beer!

Race: It's inferior to frooty flavors!

Albert: Oh of course YOU would think that

Race: call me a fag why don't ya

Elmer: *licks popsicle* Ewww...

Buttons: Why'd you get root beer??

Elmer: *crying* I thought it was chocolate!

Jack: Oh so i was looking at pictures of my family and apparently my great grandfather, my dads grandfather on his dad's side, we WHITE. Like WHITE white. Like, blonde hair blue eyes, Hitler's wet dream-

Race: so what happened to you?

Jack: I'm thinkin he had an affair with your great grandma or somethin cuz he sure as hell ain't related to me

Albert: all the Reddit people went to tumblr

Jack: Whats tumblr?

Race: That one cite that banned porn and then everyone got mad and moved to twitter

Davey: And then everyone got mad at Twitter and moved back to tumblr

Spot: *angrily* I just got called a freshman

Race: Ha loser-

Spot: *punches him*

Albert, Race, Elmer, Spot, Sarah, Katherine, Jack, Davey, and Crutchie: *sitting in a circle around the stairs*

Buttons, trying to get up the stairs: what are you-

Albert and Race: *locking freshman in the practice rooms*

Elmer: *the freshman locked in the practice room*

Finch: *looks at Elmer through the window and just shakes his head and keeps walking*

Elmer: *presses his hand against the glass sadly*

Sarah: In the best possible way, your shirt is giving Monster High

Race: Coming from a queer woman, thats the best thing I could have heard, thank you

Denton: You're starting to sound like sick cats at measure 27 *Sick cat imitation*

Denton: Okay flutes and clarinets measure 34

Elmer and Specs: *whines of absolute suffering*

Denton: *clap clap clap clap* *pause* horns up! Sorry I was late, thats on me

Albert: He's finishing his donuts!

Denton: Hey! That is an orange peanut butter cracker!

Albert: Oh my b my b

Race: Do you have tape

Denton: ...Why?

Race: My trombone broke

Denton: how did your- *sighs* yeah. I have tape.

Finch: they're performing open valve surgery

Buttons: Oh my God is everything okay??

Finch: Trumpet valve, not heart valve.

Davey: *drops drumstick and stares at it defeatedly for 15 seconds before picking it up*

Katherine: That thing ran on miracles and duct tape

Jack: *starts playing Mary Had a Little Lamb on the quads (the beginning to a certain drum cadence)*

Spot: NO!

Davey: SHUT UP

Davey: SHUT THE FUCK UP

Albert: STOP

Race: The gray hairs come in and it's just game over

Spot: No random tapping, drums. NO RANDOM TAPPING, DRUMS!

Denton: ...do you want to play Jig II? It's your call, youre the one who has to play the solo in it

Davey: I don't really care

Denton: Alright let's play it then

Davey: UGHHHHH *sobbing*

Race: Popsicles are probably the #1 food to eat seductively

Romeo: Thats funny because I was reading a fic one time and the one guy was about to suck the other guys dick but he had never sucked dick before so he just looked at it and went "... Like a popsicle?"

Race: Why the fuck are you reading that kind of- aren't you asexual??

#newsies #newsies marching band au #band camp

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inkybinkyboink · 4 months

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urinetown stoner headcanons

it's less than a month to the show and im going fucking nuts. i drove two and a half hours today on a whim. to pick up a toilet seat that my parents didn't need anymore for props. headcanons below the cut >:)

bobby: like i said, he's definitely eaten half a pan of brownies thinking they were normal. he spent an hour trying to scrub a stain off of the side of the amenity until he was told it was spray paint. then he walked to hope's place and started crying about stray cats and how he wanted to adopt them all. he slept for thirteen hours and refuses to admit the incident ever happened.

penny: made the pan of brownies. she does edibles sometimes to destress and decompress and can you blame her? penny on weed becomes the most anarchic, careless person in the best way possible. go piss for free. she doesnt give two flying fucks. the world sucks. commit crimes. just do it. see you in urinetown. bobby once asked her if he could have a raise while she was baked and she said yes and regrets it every single day.

lockstock: listen, ok. i have my heart set on the idea that lockstock is fully aware that his career and position in society is ultimately more of a detriment than it is an aid. i think that knowing this bugs him (arguably). that being said, i think he does smoke, if not for pain management then to fucking forget about how awful everything is. i think the people he's killed weigh on his conscious and smoking a fat j turns that off for a little while. that man will lay on the couch with a bowl of pretzels and watch whatever's on tv until he falls asleep.

barrel: the opposite of lockstock. he's convinced he's helping and maintaining order in society. he likes abiding by the rules. so when he bums a cigarette off of lockstock and it turns out to be a blunt, he immediately gets so paranoid. lockstock has to calm him down because barrel is being SO loud and bro we are going to get caught. like 30 seconds after he calms down and eats something, he passes the fuck out on the couch bc its some strong ass ptsd indica. he very begrudgingly acknowledges that it did make him feel better and that he did sleep well. now, sometimes, after a bad day, him and lockstock share a joint.

cladwell: bro smoked so much pot before the stink years but then he rose to power and imposed laws that made it illegal and thinks he's The Shit for doing it. everyone's fucking pissed he did.

hope: little becky offered her a very special tasting gummy bear once and it was some mad sativa. hope did not shut up. for three hours. all she talked about was how she missed bobby. and how spaghetti was so good. then someone put on cartoons and she was absorbed like an ipad kid on an 8 hour flight.

fipp: would not do weed now but has done it in the past. nightmare blunt rotation. he just talks about politics. and not the good kind. it's terrifying. get that man away from me.

mcqueen: same as fipp but he gets like. scared. i think mcqueen knows deep down that what he's doing is wrong, but he constantly ignores it, so when he's high all that bubbles to the surface and he gets really wishy-washy about what he's saying. honestly i think it would be really funny to watch.

little becky two shoes: rolls the craziest blunts. the tesseract joint isn't beyond her skills. got pissed when she found out she was pregananate because she couldnt smoke weed anymore bc she wants her kid to be healthy. little becky knows where to get the good shit. she's dealing like fucking jesse pinkman from breaking bad.

hotblades harry: same boat as becky minus the pregnant part. they have competitions for who can roll the best joint like it's a cup stacking contest. people bet money. that man has smoked more weed than you ever will. his house is almost constantly hotboxed. hotblades harry more like hotboxed harry.

bonus:

old man strong has taken some mad edibles for hip pain.

little sally is a child so shes not on this list but i will be damned if she doesnt constantly bug lockstock about the funny cigarette she saw him smoke once

after urinetown they still use the secret hideout but it's just for smoke sessions. it's just a blunt rotation. it's comfy now, they made it comfy. they added lights.

#urinetown #tw weed #tw drugs #tig makes self indulgent posts

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jxdedfeelings · 4 years

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3 hypnosis w/ corrupted!marvin and chase😌

Eyes scrunch tighter. Form deeper creases as they crinkle. He just wants sleep. Why can’t he ever sleep? Chase kicks at his sheets in frustration. watches as they fold like the bags under his distant eyes. His comment; a long, heavy groan. It drags out as he tosses to the side, begins a tug-of-war between both legs. At least it hadn’t involved tears this time.

He remains there, staring off to the side with the blankest expression a person could ever house. A sore attempt tries to recall the nightmare he’d just endured, but just like every night, it slips through his fingers.

The mattress creaks as he spins again, twists with the sheets snaked around his legs. An exasperated sigh trickles past his parted lips, escaping in the form of warm wisps that carry throughout the desolate room. He’d meant to change beds by now, switch out for something smaller. It was sad to see someone rest with the size it was. So obviously crafted for two instead of one, but here was Chase, laid out, sprawled where a lover should’ve been.

Pathetic, really.

He grabs his pillow, slips it from under his aching head and buries himself under it with a swift smack. Another groan echoes out. More of a muffle in it’s suppressed state.

He prays his resonating defeat doesn’t stir the others.

But his prayer falls short for one individual.

Marvin doesn’t even make an effort to veil himself. He sees no need to. Even when Chase’s fogged blues land on his figure leaning against the doorframe, Marvin simply looks on. Wears an expression Chase can’t place a finger on.

Maybe it’s due to the fact he isn’t adorned with his signature accessory. There’s something strangely… unsettling about him when he’s without the mask. Something about that ethereal skin. Unblemished to a fault. As pure as the white snow.

Beauty that was unnerving.

Chase breaks the silence first, after Marvin’s prompt in the form of slanted, enigmatic eyes.

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

An internal curse belittles himself for the stammer. Even more so for the coarse texture, his voice grates away with.

“Long enough.” If there’s any sort of reaction to Chase’s weary state, it’s one that’s subtle and all too easy to miss for the one coiled in bed.

Marvin’s approaching anyway, gliding in graceful strides across the carpet. Regal in all mannerisms. Chase can’t even pick up on the sound of those steps towards him, can’t feel the vibrations. No wonder his presence had gone undetected.

Chase is blunt as he feels a dip to his side. “Could’ve knocked.” Marvin, in turn, draws a smile and crosses a leg; lists by Chase. “And miss seeing that surprise on your face? Not a chance.” Cotton drifts to the slick hairs where the magician brushes them aside with a lover’s caress. The sleight of his hand earns a relaxed hum. Elicits amusement.

Gloved digits dance to his side, slither and wind around his waist. Chase arches a brow, curious to his intentions but a finger dragging up his spine has a relieved sigh fluttering off his frown. It’s with a little pressure that has Chase turning and looping arms around the magician. “Tired, aren’t you?” Another slide against his back draws a confession of sleepless nights. Marvin smiles, scoops the male closer to rest his chin atop that tufts of brown.

Fingers trace small circles against the thin layer of cotton, just shy of the small of his back. Chase readjusts and Marvin looks on affectionately, soft when he sees the tilt and the blink of calming seas. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Ah, evasive as always. Marvin lets his hand follow the trail carved by his spine. “I had a nap earlier. Besides, knowing how restless you were would’ve kept me up.”

Chase scoffs. “Didn’t take you as one to watch people while they slept, Marv.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly asleep, were you?” He’s got him there, and Chase huffs as he pulls closer. Marvin responds with a light scratch against the nape of the neck. “But I can change that.” Of course, Marvin was aware of Chase’s hesitation with any form of magic. He was still growing accustomed to it despite knowing Marvin for several years. So when Chase shifts and mumbles with uncertainty, the feline guides his tender strokes to his head.

“Come now Chase, you know me. All I want is for you to rest. You’ve earned it, love.” Soft hums encircle Marvin as he lightly cards, not enough to force the blinds to roll down, but enough to have Chase half-lidded. “I dunno, Marv-” He’s cut off with another drag down his scalp. “Don’t you trust me?” He twists a curl around his index, once, twice then tugs at it lightly only for it to unfurl and bounce. “‘Course I do.”

“So, why not let me do this for you?” Chase teeters like a see-saw. Marvin can see it behind those ripples. Gorgeous blues that he could close with a flick of his wrist. Just a little more weight…

“Here,” Marvin raises his hand aloft, tears his other from Chase’s waist and slips the gloves off. They return without warning and Chase already melts at the new texture of contact. Delicate warmth that could mould any being. “is this better?” A nod has lips shape like crescent moons, beam with the same light as his angelic visage. “I only want to give you what you deserve, Chase.” Nails dip into the tender flesh, knead at his scalp and comb through his tousled locks. It’s almost enough to have the tired male purr. “Will you let me do this for you? Just this once.”

A beat of silence. A breath of succumbing. “Ok… just this once.” A grin spreads. “Just this once.” Marvin reassures.

Marvin isn’t expecting Chase to warm up to the idea instantly, the very fact he’s being flexible is rewarding in itself. “Close your eyes, love.” Encouragement comes with a caress to his cheek by his inviting palms, his gossamer-like digits. “There you go.” With a deliberate tone, Marvin brings forth his fingers to Chase’s temple, feather-light in his execution. It’s no the usual procession of pulling him into a trance, not when he’s already so tuckered and malleable.

With fingers aglow, they start to swirl azure and Chase begins to nod off; falling and falling with each rotation. Marvin opts for humming instead of utilising verbal phrases. Tumbles with a tune full of dulcet and lulling notes. A hypnotic lullaby, with his fingers serving as the metronome. Marvin’s indulging himself in the sight as Chase slips further and further, watches as the plasticine underneath his fingertips starts to mould.

The faintest trace of a smile conveys the sorcerer’s success. He’d promised slumber for the male, and Marvin had delivered. No nightmares nor interruptions would come to his sleeping volunteer. He was providing Chase with the well-earned sleep he’d been craving. All those nights of tossing and turning would now be replaced, renewed.

Marvin stares down, witnesses as the one in his possession falls deeper into his clutches. So peaceful. So serene. So beautiful. He’d love to preserve this image of Chase, to keep him in a state of endless relaxation. A picturesque replica from a fairy tale.

The only catch is there won’t be a prince sweeping in to rescue this damsel.

Not when a siren song and fingers tinged with violet are at play.

Tag List: @antis-gauge , @coffee-bean-boi , @miishae , @n-anon , @10th-no-name-person , @pumpkin-demon , @egopocalypse , @immabethehero

#jacksepticeye #jse #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #hypnosis #ahhh i need to write marvin more #antis-gauge #my writing

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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PARADOX PLANET (1 part) The arrival of men on the World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

GONE TO SEA

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Excerpt from a novel of Sea presently in progress

2579 words

writing begun 2005

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

1. Paradox Planet

This was going to be difficult, thought Captain Alain. In the wardroom of his ship, the ESA 14, he faced Mr. Torres, the leader of the colonial expedition. Mr. Torres was not a happy man.

“This is an outrage!” he said ferociously. “I can read clocks and calendars as well as any! We were to be awakened from Crossover Sleep on arrival at the system. It has been over a year, local time, since you got here.” He paused to breathe heavily, angrily and went on, “Now, only I have been awakened! What are you up to?”

Captain Alain Looked over at the gray painted metal bulkhead relieved only by pictures mounted to the wall. The duty crews painted them as a hobby to fill the long empty years of the passage. Even faster than light Crossover Drives had limits. Stars were still an unimaginably great distance apart, many of them were years apart. This expedition, two hundred and eighteen light-years distant from Earth, at just over twenty one years of flight time, was no exception. Unless some further distant worthwhile planet had been found in the passing years, this was the longest colonial run that the ESA had tried.

Captain Alain looked down at the pile of files, data disks and crystals in front of him and back to Mr. Torres. He decided to be blunt.

“You know that due to energy constraints, this had to be a one way trip for you and the other colonists. We were trying to find a way to save your expedition’s lives. We failed.”

That brought Mr. Torres up short. “Trying to save us? You failed?” His eyes went wide, “Did my people die?”

“No, they are all well and asleep. The problem is not on the ship. It is the target world. It is everything that the probe reported. We need to report back and have the probes reprogrammed. Nobody expected a world like Sea.”

“C?”, asked Mr. Torres, puzzled. “Is it because it’s the third world? Why call it C?”

“Sea, as in ocean,” said Captain Alain reaching into his pile of data and handing over a crystal. “Look for yourself.”

Mr. Torres activated the viewing controls and knit his brows in concentration as he examined the picture and data flowing beneath it. “Where are the land masses? On the other side? It says that I’ve rotated the view but it’s no different.”

“It did rotate, Mr. Torres. There is no land anywhere on Sea.” Captain Alain paused to collect his thoughts. “So far as we can tell, the last island sank for good between one and a half and two and a half million years ago.” He gestured at the image. “If you boost the magnification far enough you will find floating weed mats and shallow areas that you can use to follow the rotation of the globe.”

Mr. Torres looked again, at high magnification. The skilled ecologist in him rebelled at what he was seeing. “This is not possible. Without land masses to break up air flows by both barrier and convection effects the atmosphere should turn into high speed bands of wind.”

“My crew and I are well aware of the problem, Mr. Torres,” said Captain Alain with the air of one who wished that he had not found the answer to a puzzle. “The reason that the atmosphere does not band is every bit as bad as what you have just seen.”

Once again he removed an image crystal from his pile of data. “As you watch this, bear in mind that it is a direct recording of an actual event. You can change the time compression to suit your own taste. It won’t alter what you will see.” Wryly he added, “We have already said that it’s impossible. It will spare you the effort.”

In utter disbelief, Mister Torres stopped the crystal playback and restarted it several times. It showed the birth of a storm. A large rotating depression was forming at about sixty five degrees South Latitude. Sympathetically, Captain Alain said, “Go ahead and let it play. It only gets worse.”

The storm swept north along a large curve that appeared to be dictated by Coriolis force. The warmer seas of the tropics fueled the storm and it grew into a monster with a core of powerful storm cells over a thousand miles across. The vastly aberrant storm’s clouds did not limit themselves to the troposphere. They towered high into the stratosphere, where no sane cloud mass, let alone a whole cyclonic storm, belonged. The wind speeds achieved over three hundred and twenty kilometers per hour.

The counterclockwise rotation of the storm should have killed it when it crossed the equator to the Northern Hemisphere where the same Coriolis force would now try to make the storm rotate clockwise. Instead, the storm broke apart into individual thunderstorms that followed precise vectors across the equator and reassembled themselves into a giant clockwise rotating storm, all angular momentum preserved, and with no loss of wind speed.

It followed a Coriolis arc north and finally cold northern waters robbed its energy. It broke up into thunderstorms, squalls and fogs about sixty five degrees North Latitude.

Captain Alain said, “Hard to believe, isn’t it? We have observed eight of those aberrations of nature and they ALL do that. Because of the form of the path that they follow, we are calling them Coriolis Storms. It’s as though there were a guiding intelligence handling the storm. Lovely fantasy. It would take at least nine of the most powerful synchronous orbit Weather Sats with a fleet of Low Orbit backups to get even one of those storms across the equator. It would be touch and go, even with equipment like that. All that we have here are the three moons and the primary star. We just haven’t figured out the natural mechanism yet, that’s all.

“The worst part of this is that while the spacing and placement of the storms appears to be completely unpredictable, statistically every part of the planet will get hit at least once every five years by one of these monsters. The crew has a betting pool on where and when the next one will occur. The sample is still too small to be sure but it is beginning to appear that the storms are not completely random in their occurrence.”

Mister Torres surprised Captain Alain. He accepted the statements without comment and quietly sat, thinking. At last he spoke thoughtfully, “I’m not an engineer but perhaps we can deal with the storms by going under them. Build domes or habitats on the reefs maybe. The water is calm only a few feet below the waves.”

Captain Alain gave Mister Torres points for being quick on his mental feet. Gently, he said, “My crew and I ARE engineers. We did think of that. Unfortunately, it can’t be done. A dome is an engineering nightmare. The buoyancy is massive. The pressure gradient from top to bottom is all wrong. The air pressure inside the dome is controlled by the depth of the lowest part of it. That means that the dome will try to burst at the top because the water pressure is lowest there and the inside air is at the pressure of deepest part where the water pressure is highest. Small habitats would be possible except that we don’t have the materials to build that many of them and can’t get what we need from the environment.

“We brought equipment to mine on land or in space. We can fabricate almost any device except for a tiny problem. There’s no land to mine and the rest of the system is metal poor. This world does have quite a lot of high quality ores. Unfortunately they are under about fifty to over nine hundred meters of water. We can’t get at them. Captain Alain inhaled heavily and added, “We can’t even get useful silica sand on this planet. It’s in the same situation as the metal ores. The common coral sand is useless for glass making.

“What we can do is process the local coral and coral sands into a form of concrete. It is possible to get useful amounts of aluminum, magnesium and small amounts of titanium from the seawater. We can go to the three moons for silicates to make glasses. They even have small amounts of available iron and some other useful metals. The silicates make structural glass a real possibility. Fiberglass is also practical. Many of the local seaweeds will process to yield various useful plastic resins for both the fiberglass and to mold directly into useful objects.

“In this environment, only the titanium and structural glass are durable. Corrosion will destroy the other metals in short order. Concrete made from coral is subject to long term erosion by the water, not to mention the many animals and plants that will attack it. Even the fiberglass will have a limited life due to long term water absorption. Of course you can recycle the fiberglass materials.”

Now it was Mister Torres who spoke. “You know about the nutritional deficiency issues of this world, um … Sea? Good name, by the way.”

Captain Alain accepted the compliment with a nod and replied, “Yes. You will be short a pair of critical amino acids, a small raft of vitamins, and there’s a carbohydrate problem of some sort.”

It was Mister Torres who spread his hands now. “You are right. We brought the solutions to all of that along in the form of crop seeds and embryonic animals. We did not expect to have no place to raise them. Hydroponics could answer the plant problem, perhaps. The animals are a different matter altogether. They have to have a certain amount of space for proper development.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at a painting of Mt Fuji, back on Earth, “Could we bypass the growth of the animals and do a carniculture system? I ask because that is more an engineering problem.”

Captain Alain considered in his turn. Mister Torres let him think. A thousand lives hung in the balance. At last, Captain Alain said, “It could be done. It has been done before. There is a nutrient limitation. You have to be able to supply the culture tissues with the necessary amino acids. The whole animal would manufacture its own from the crops fed to it. The culture can’t do that. I think that with the available resources, you are stuck with raising the animals whole. I can ask. We didn’t think of that solution.” He dictated a note for his ship’s system engineers to look into it.

Suddenly Mister Torres exclaimed, “Those storms all follow the same pattern! That means that if we build a platform, we can design it to be strongest in a direction that will resist the storms best! What sort of tidal variation are we dealing with?”

Captain Alain thought a moment and consulted his data. His brows knit as he worked through the problem. “When the sun and the moons line up unfavorably, the sea level can drop until the shallows become shoal-water. At the other extreme, the water depth can go to twenty meters. A storm depression coupled with a low tide can actually bare the upper parts of the coral. That kills the coral and limits upward growth.”

Mister Torres shook his head. “Between storms, coral should grow on the skeletons of the dead coral and cause island building. Why doesn’t it?”

Captain Alain realized from the form of the question that Mister Torres was giving him credit for intelligence and was pleased. He answered, “There’s a common fish with a hard beak. It seems to think that the dead coral is a delicacy and mows the reef down as it grazes. It chews up the stone to get the dead organisms. That’s what makes the coral sand.”

Mister Torres nodded. “Like the parrot fish back home. Makes sense. The same fish attacks our concrete too?”

Captain Alain just nodded. Then he had a thought. Excitedly he said, “We could put titanium mesh in the outer layers of the concrete. That would keep the fish out of anything structural. Once the platform was built, you could process more concrete on your own. You could re-plaster the areas that the fish attack.”

He subsided, “You’d have all your eggs in one basket, though. The thing would have to be huge. We can only marshal the resources to build one.”

“It’s not really that important,” said Mister Torres softly. “There’s no possible way for us to survive until a ship can return with what we do need. Still, we have to have the platform for morale reasons. My people need hope. It’s all that we can really do for them.”

Captain Alain suggested, “We can request a recovery expedition as soon as we get back. It is ESA policy to have a colony ship ready for just such an emergency.”

Mister Torres shook his head negatively. “I fear that the war that was shaping up will be long over when you get back. I pray that you will be able to survive your return. I do not think that there is any possibility of our survival.”

Captain Alain looked compassionately at Mister Torres. He shook his head. “You’re right. The war will change everything back home. We received messages from Earth before we got The drive up to threshold energy. The shooting did start. We were ordered to return but disobeyed. I can only hope that some form of the ESA has survived.

“As for your platform, even with the Crossover Drive to push us faster than light, we can’t get back to you in time. No platform that we can build will survive long enough. It is going to get hit by at least five and probably more of those Coriolis Storms. One of them will sweep it away. Without its facilities, your people will die of malnutrition in fairly short order.”

Mister Torres looked back at Captain Alain and said bleakly, “I know that. What we are going to do is simple. We will lie to your crew and my colonists alike. We will fake evidence to show that the necessary nutrients can be found in the ecology. We just can’t localize them well enough from space. The search will keep hope in them to the last.”

Captain Alain closed his eyes in pain. This was indeed difficult. Why couldn’t Mister Torres be angry, rail at fate or just cry? This calm acceptance, this cold blooded planning to deceive a thousand doomed people was beyond him. He shook himself and said, “Very well, we will follow your lead. Two of my crew will have to be in the conspiracy. They are needed to create the false data.”

That simply, the decision was made. With massive labor, a platform was built with all of the best systems, electronic controls and computerized communications. It held laboratories, shops, apartments, docks for boats, recreational and farming spaces. All critical exposed areas, like the upper levels of the farms, could be closed over with locking domes in bad weather. On the platform, a space one kilometer by one and a half kilometers, several stories thick, a thousand people were left on a planet that could not support them. Only one of their number actually knew what had been done.

–The End–

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

#PARADOX PLANET #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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wakandanblogger · 5 years

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Catching His Eye pt.24

Chapter Warning(s): Conversation, language, angst, detailed violence.

Paring(s): HYBRID!Erik Killmonger X Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: It’s been a few days since Oya’s attack...

A/N: I know I said that I was going to end the series but I’ve been wanting to write. I am also aware that I have already started writing a little M’Baku x Reader x Erik thing but I’ve only been motivated to continue the Catching His Eye series. My indecisiveness gets on my nerves also but OH MY GOSH let's see how this goes!! xD ENJOY it’s a pretty long one!

(Gifs and artwork are not mine…)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Bonus Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 12.5 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

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Ndibona imimoya, I see spirits.

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Reader pov

There is a cool breeze against your face, the hum of your rotating fan beside your bed coaxed your eyes to open. You blink a few times, your vision taking it’s time to focus on your surroundings but you catch a glimpse of a bird sitting in the window across the room, singing away. You blink a few more times before rolling backward until you are stopped by Erik’s body but all you found was an empty bed.

You pout silently to yourself, a small bit of air exiting your nose, not yet used to waking up without your mate being by your side. The bird continued to sing as you swing your bare legs over the edge of the bed and begin to rub the sleep from your eyes while you tuck your loose tittie back into your tank-top. When you finally look around again you are in your room and you hear the slight thump of rap coming from the living room.

“Babe!” You whine out hoping that he hears you were awake, but there is no response, “baaaabe, c’meeere.”

No response, again. You groan and wiggle your feet in a mini form of a tantrum until they are on the floor, “I know this nigga can hear me,” you grumble. You hear a thump against the wall but you take it as him accidentally bumping into something like he normally did, due to his broad shoulders, at least that’s what he blames it on. The smell of food and a blunt entices you to give up hope of him coming back here to you, so you just decide to meet him in the living room. When you get to the door the bird stopped singing as you turn and open the nob.

The door creaks open and you look down the hallway with your mouth wide open in a yawn. You got a hint of a strong smell that made your left brow twitch but the other stronger smells of bacon, eggs, and pancakes coax you from your room and down the hall. Sometimes Erik would feel like cooking, surprising right, and make breakfast. Either that or the pussy you gave him was that bomb that he wanted to make your food?

“Mmmhmm,” You hum with a smirk deciding with the last possibility and recalling the events of last night As you pad down the hallway you call out to him once more, but still no answer. What the hell was this man doing and why wasn’t he answering you? You soon get your answer when you slowly turn the corner to see the back of a growling lioness tucked between the blood-covered coffee table and screen door. Her coat was a dirty brown with faint spot-like markings decorated down her back.

All hail the King!

Erik’s twitching bare feet slowly come into view but the further you walked you see his blood covered hand weakly hitting the back of the lioness’s head, only earning an annoyed twitch of the ear. The scene was horrific and it made you sick to your stomach. Her tail swayed from side-to-side as if she were a normal house cat, as she lightly turned her head so that she could see you from the corner of her eye.

Erik must be trying to call out for or make any sort of noise to alert you, you could hear the weak attempt at words but it was only met with the low growl from the lioness as she shifts her weight, her jaw tightening ever so slightly on top your mate's neck.

Weak whimpers mixed with gurgles of him choking on his own blood accompanied by the slight droplets that fell into an already formed pool reached your ears. Overwhelming fear holds you captive, all you can do is watch the lioness slowly stand and turn until the face of your dying lover came into view from between the couch and wall. The light that cast through the flustered blinds shown along Erik’s face and into his dimming eyes. It was almost a game, a disrespectful act even, broadcasting Erik’s fading light as you sat there frozen, watching him die.

Erik’s slight wheezing in tune with the droplets echoed sounded so loud, a small ring growing louder and louder until finally, it was the only thing you heard as you stared at his helpless form. His eyes were watered and blood rolled down in a perfectly straight lined flow from his lips.

All hail the King!

“All hail the King!”

Your eyes snap open and you take in a deep breath through your nose. The ringing continued in your ear reminded you of the blood dripping onto the floor of your apartment. You are sweating profusely and it takes some time to recognize where you are, Wakanda. Your heart's pounding with all of the adrenaline rush so you sit up and rest your face in your hands.

“What the fuck was that?” You say to yourself and the image of Erik’s bloody face and neck flashes once more, you get chills at the memory. You’ve had different nightmares about that bitch every time you closed your eyes, you could still smell and hear her. The look in her eyes was pure evil when she looked at you, it was like she couldn’t decide on which method she could use to torture you until Erik arrived at your rescue.

The cheering echoed and it catches your attention and you check to see what time it was. Your eyes rest on the clock on the bedside table and you frown at the led 10:47AM on the screen. The crowd's roar echos once more, they were loud and excited to be looking up to their promises, their new hopes, dreams, and the return of their Prince. It was a joyous occasion and an opportunity for a celebration including a showcase of the complete royal family, at least that’s what Erik explained to you last night in bed. Erik himself was barely present since the two of you returned to Wakanda. You kept having to remind yourself that he is a Prince and he has his own responsibilities while you were only here because of yet another sidalwa incident.

You wanted to go to support him, unfortunately, you were still kind of in pain from your deep injury at that time, but that was until you realized you were sitting up completely without any pain. You raise up the bottom of your shirt and your fingertips graze the gauze wrapped around your abdominal. You gently turn your legs so that they were dangling over the rug. Nothing, not a pinch or any sort of sign that the injury was ever there. You take in the deepest breath you can, still nothing, curiosity gets the better of you before you could even reconsider removing the gauze.

Hopping off the bed you stumble a little bit but once you find your bearings, you lift up the bottom of your shirt and you look at the little metal clip holding the gauze together. You pinch it off and it loosens everything and you slowly begin to unravel the material to see four large gashes branded onto your smooth skin. The scar tissue was raised a little and you a little nauseous at the feeling, a cryptic reminder of your attacker, your dream.

You look around the room wondering what you were supposed to be doing but you figured you could at least take a shower. This whole situation was tiring but you quickly forgive it when you turn your head to the amazing view just behind you. it was like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Last time you got a small view of the city but this was Erik’s room, more glamorous and overdone just because it could be. The huge window that let in a bunch of light and you didn’t mind because when you walked over to it, you saw beauty. You got teary-eyed at the view, the birds of the hills flying peacefully, large green trees, and it all belonged to the Udaku family.

Erik’s Pov

He looked unsatisfied with everything that was happening, almost as if he was bored with it all. Unlike the eldest who looked proud of this praise and felt the love with each word. “Cheer up… this is your homecoming after all hmm?” T'Challa grunts and nudges Erik only for him to roll his eyes.

“Bast bless the Prince!” The crowd roared again. They looked powerful and nicely decorated, to say the least.

“Praise the Ancestors! Praise the Ancestors!”

“Yeah well,” He says scanning his golden orbs over the ocean of Wakandans, “I got my mind on something else,” He says tensing his jaw trying to look like he belonged or wanted to be standing above those who saw him as nothing but a fuck-up, but T'Challa could see through it. A wave washes over him and he tenses, something was wrong and he wanted to get back to you, unaware of the nightmare you had just woken up from. This whole thing was stupid and pointless to him. All because the Mining Tribe’s representative ran her mouth an word of his return caught like wildfire.

When the showing was finished, the two of them turned and were nudging one another, all while Erik was pulling the jewelry off his head cursing and smiling towards his cousin’s teasing. The two stopped and their assists come and begin to remove the jewelry and gold from the royal men.

“You looked a little tense out there,” T'Challa grunts. Erik looks over at him and raises a brow at his words.

“Shit, ain't nobody tense,” He says rolling his neck after his neckwear is removed, “I just don’t like everybody staring at me,” a grunt leaves his chest and he fixes his own chain that belonged to his father. Erik’s mind was also on the feeling he got a little while ago.

“Can’t be, you use to love the attention little one,” T’Challa chuckles and drops a hand on Erik’s shoulder. Erik winces a little but in all honesty, he wasn’t quite ready to be back in the spotlight after what happened a with Oya just days ago. He didn’t know who to trust, so large crowds and attention aren’t really what he wants at the moment. He could still feel her touch and hear her voice saying his name. It angered him each time.

“Yeah well, I’ve matured,” Erik scoffs and brushes past a dumbfounded T’Challa

“It’s been a few days, Erik,” T’Challa states crossing his arms.

“Don’t come for me,” Erik turns with an irritated face.

“You are safe, N’Jadaka,” T’Challa starts and it catches his cousin off guard, “both of you are.”

“Long live the King! Long live the King!” The crowd yells once again before singing the Wakanda’s beautiful National Anthem.

The two of them turn to the balcony then back to one another. Erik then snickers and shakes his head, “They callin’ you bruh,” he smiles and makes his way to the double doors as T'Challa turns on his heels and heads back to the balcony.

Erik speedwalks down the halls, leaving his escorts struggling to keep up with his pace. As he got closer and closer to his wing of the palace, Erik could feel his back tingle and get warm. The feeling soothed but also excited him, he was getting closer to you. Erik’s heart began to pound as he got closer to his room, waves of happy and peaceful emotions washed over him and he began to jog down the hall until the palms of his hands were pushing the double doors in.

Your fragrance filled his senses and Daniel Caesar’s Who Hurt You? played from the speakers. His eyes scanned the room but he didn’t find you anywhere, the sounds of jogging feet caught his attention for only a moment before his need to find you overtook him.

“You’re dismissed,” Erik grunts once he walks into the room and pulls the doors shut as he disappears inside. There was something distinctive about your scent, something powerful and still so intoxicating, Erik couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

“Take that pussy, drop it in my laaaap...”

Erik’s ears perked at the sound of your voice mixed with the sound of running water.

“...I love it when you move like thaaaat...”

Erik proceeded to stalk until he was standing in the doorway of the bathroom gazing inside and through the steam at your figure swaying your hips to the sensuous rhythm of the song. Your hands rub over the lathered soap along your naked shoulders, you turn so that the water washes away the suds. You let out a sigh that echos just moments before you shut off the water and turn around only to jump at the sudden appearance of your mate.

“You aren't supposed to be walking around yet,” He cuts straight to the point and begins walking forward into the bathroom as you walk around the large glass wall with your towel concealing your naked body.

“I felt fine,” You say fixing the towel a little, “I wanted to take a shower,” you shrug coolly as you catwalk towards Erik and wrapping your arms around his neck. Erik can’t resist pulling your soft lips into his, they were his ultimate weakness. Both of you stand there in each other's embrace and he pulls his lips away with a loud smack. For the short time that you’ve been here, your mate hovered over you like a mother hen. Erik even had them move you to his room so he could hold you at night. He knew you would have a tough time dealing with the event of Oya because he was also having a tough time.

Erik’s hands rest on your cheeks, then he looks down at your side, you follow his gaze then back to his face. It wasn’t hard to see that Erik was clearly worried about you and that his mind was troubled, but how could you blame him. The image of your lifeless and bloody body was forever burned into his memory. You damn near came so close to death that it was going to be hard for Erik to trust you being alone, especially in his home country. Your relationship was frowned upon, and there are going to be many rude comments and stares that lie ahead in the future.

Erik’s shaking fingertips push past the towel and to your bare side, his fingertips gently rest upon the large scar tissue that now resided there. A forever reminder of the monster that did this to you. A wave of sadness gently comes over Erik who only stared down at your side. You tense a little and look up at him with those beautiful eyes, you’ve been crying.

“What are you crying for?” His voice was low as he playfully tugs your ear to the side and you couldn’t help but make a face of annoyance at him. He raises a brow in return.

“I had another dream,” You didn’t look at him and he wondered why but when you did look, your eyes weren’t on him, but his neck. Erik noticed this and wonders what happened with this one, but he wasn’t going to force you to tell him. To be quite honest, he didn’t want to know about her dream because he knew who it involved.

Erik pushes aside the towel gently until he had a full view, it fueled his anger and hatred against Oya, you take his cheeks into your gentle hands. The music became a distant hum to him, “I keep thinking about her,” you say.

“Where are Ashanti and Desmond?”

“Here,” He answered you almost immediately but he pauses. He thought about wanting to tell you, he thought about ways to tell you, he didn’t know how to explain the circumstances to you, more or less he didn’t want you to worry too much.

“Well can I go see them, I’m sure they are worried the same way I am about them,” You say.

“They aren’t here,” Erik says turning around and walking away from you towards the huge window. You stand there lost for a moment, what happened to his attitude, it’s like he’s a completely different person now. He seemed tired, dull, and easily annoyed. Erik didn’t sleep much since he’s been back and his duties were beginning to bring out a side that you haven’t seen.

“Well where are they?” You say finally following him.

“At the lab, you’re only here because of me, they are recovering,” Erik just stared at you with a tight jaw and you look up at him. Tears began to well in your eyes so Erik just pulls you into his chest. You turn your head so that both of you could look out into the free world.

“I hate her,” You whimper, “ I hate her so much Erik.”

“I know baby,” He grunts, “come on, I gotta take you to the great value version of Chadwick Boseman.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his joke and he looks down at you with a forced smile.

“Where are we going?” You smile turning away, “and why do you have SO many suits and clothes!?” you saw seeing all of the clothes in the see-through closet behind the bed.

Reader’s POV:

Why did he have so many clothes in his closet, it wasn’t like he was going to wear all of them. And don’t get started about the showcase of shoes Erik had, it looked like a high-end Footlocker, shoes stacked higher than you could reach.

“Because I can,” He grunts and you look over your shoulder seeing that he had his arms crossed and a brow raised, “come on, get dressed there is an all-white tank top and some jeans in there,” he instructs.

You rolled your eyes and walked to the closet, “so you picking out my outfits now?” You smirk looking over your shoulder to see that Erik was staring back out of the window. He didn’t answer you, so you hurried and did as you were told. But hands then stopped you by your waist. You can feel a nose on your neck and soft lips on your shoulder. Erik’s finger rubbed your soft skin and his breathing was steady. You lean your head against him and the two of you stand there in silence again, but this time, you were comforting him.

“Things are going to be different now,” He whispers into your ear. You raise a brow, “what do you mean?” You ask.

“There is a reason why the control of human consciousness is forbidden,” Was all Erik had to say before your memory goes back to the warehouse. That poor man, and Ashanti.

“What’s wrong with her?” You say and Erik sighs.

“It’s a lot to explain, but I just need you to trust me and get dressed, please.”

Catching His Eye’ Taglist:

@wakanda-inspired @chaneajoyyy @muse-of-mbaku @allinhishands @bidibidibombaclaat @disneysdarlingdiva @sarahboseman @zxddy-panther @heyauntieeee @korrababy @myboyfriendruinedmyusername @foureyedsiopao@suburbanblackhoe @iamrheaspeaks@localtrapgod @cancerianprincess @lildashofmelanin @autumn242 @someareblindtoitsbeauty @hidden-treasures21 @leahnicole1219 @someareblindtoitsbeauty @lionheartsthings@blkintrovert @shyblackgurl @blackpinup22 @allinhishands@simplyyamberr @hairhattedghooligan @misswakanda2018@thedelightfulone@theesotericqueen @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat@gingerylimonte @dessianna1@beautifulqueenflaws @greatpandagladiator-blog @fontvilla @kaykay0829 @someareblindtoitsbeauty @leahnicole1219 @alexundefined @vonsettae-blog-blog @chefjessypooh

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stillthewordgirl · 5 years

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LOT/CaptainCanary fic: (I Don’t Believe in) Destiny (ch. 8 of 11)

Leonard Snart is back, finally pulled from the timestream where he's spent the last four years. But he wasn't alone, and the repercussions of that will echo through the Legends, the Time Bureau, and beyond.

And maybe, just maybe, they'll bring everything around full circle.

Can also be read here at AO3 and here at FF.net.

Ch. Eight: A Tiny Moment of Truth

For a while, after she steps out of the portal back in her office, Ava considers not telling Druce what Sara had said to her about the Legends’ plans for the Vanishing Point.

She’s still not sure why Sara had told her, after all. Was it a trick? She can’t even consider that Sara would actually betray her team. That would never happen. But this Snart? Maybe…

She wants to believe that the crook is a passing fling--but she’d also recognized that fond look in Sara’s eyes. For all their differences and their agreement to split, she misses having that look focused on her.

And the hell of it is, Ava thinks, standing in her office and staring out the window, that Snart had looked at Sara the same way. And he’d removed himself from their conversation, when everything about his posture had said he didn’t want to. He sure as hell hadn’t done that for Ava’s sake, or because he’d been scared. He’d done it for Sara.

Does he really love her? Does she really love him?

The thought hurts.

Ava, you have a choice to make.

A choice not to tell Druce? But Sara wouldn’t have told her then. She must want Druce and Ava and the bureau agents to be there.

Why?

The next week is, quite frankly, one of the strangest of Leonard’s life.

For the most part, since his return, he’s been an outsider plopped into the middle of the current Legends’ lives and routine, with a number of people he knows almost nothing about and an unexpected role as the captain’s unexpected lover. But it hasn’t mattered so much, given how whirlwind it’s all been. He’s used to rolling with the punches.

But this week? This week lets him get a glimpse of what their lives have been like, the dynamic Sara and Mick and the others live with on a daily basis now.

They have a chore and dinner rotation now, and there’s a thriving market in trading duties going on. Those who can and like to cook can almost always find a way to get rid of most other chores, something Leonard—who'd been responsible for making sure that he, Lisa, and, often, Mick ate reasonably for much of their youth—appreciates. He cooks up an excellent (if he does say so himself) stir-fried chicken with rice his first night on dinner duty and lets the offers to trade roll in.

(Sara, who admits she can barely boil water without burning it, is rather smug—at least until she realizes Leonard has every intention of driving just as hard a bargain with her as with everyone else. And offering to trade certain favors doesn’t work, especially when Constantine happily and shamelessly offers to do the same—and Leonard makes a mostly joking show of considering it.)

Everyone, at this point, knows that Mick is a writer. Zari is the proud owner of the right to read any finished works first, but there’s generally a clamor to pass around manuscripts before he sends them out, something Leonard gets to witness the first night they’re parked there. Leonard’s a little regretful that that particular right is no longer his, but he’s so pleased to see Mick’s work getting appreciated that he just waits his chance to read with everyone else.

Constantine, apparently always fond of a challenge, has decided that seducing an android is next on his list. Gideon seems fairly amused by this. Although she never—to Leonard’s best guess—takes him up on his suggestions, she flirts back with increasing skill, something that amuses the other Legends a good deal.

Raymond and Nora are besotted with each other, but that doesn’t keep Nora from puncturing Ray’s ego and occasional tendency to lecture good-naturedly on his pet topics whenever she can. Leonard is rather delighted with this, really, and the two trade zingers at every opportunity.

Charlie, though she decries Leonard’s taste in music, decides he’s quite all right anyway after Mick regales her with stories of some of their escapades in both crime and prison. The shapeshifter, Leonard thinks, isn’t nearly so tough as she likes to appear, but well, neither are he and Mick at this point.

Heywood, who Leonard eventually concedes to call Nathaniel, still eyes Leonard warily, but they reach a truce over the ship’s historical library and, perhaps oddly, bad sci-fi movies.

And over it all is Sara, more a long-suffering big sister to most of them than a mom, for the most part, for all her jokes otherwise. She referees and praises, scolds and organizes, and Leonard’s pretty sure they’d all do anything for her.

He thinks he probably looks a bit besotted, too. He doesn’t care. They end every day tumbling into bed with each other, and the captain’s quarters are increasingly considered “theirs.”

In all, the Legends plan and train like a team. They tease like siblings. They live, and eat, and squabble like a family.

It’s like a good crew planning a heist; it’s like life at its best when he and Lisa and Mick were younger. And Leonard’s increasingly aware that he doesn’t want to lose this. He doesn’t care if he looks like he’s lost his touch, that it seems like he’s gone soft. The dreams and nightmares of the timestream have given him a new perspective on the life he could lead...and he wants it.

He’s fairly driven to succeed at the Vanishing Point anyway, but that’s even more of a push. He throws himself into his “lessons” with Nora and Constantine, for all that none of them are really sure what they’re doing.

“It’s like trying to teach someone to swim when they’re standing in the ocean waves and you’re a mile away,” the warlock admits morosely after one frustrating session midweek. He leans back a bit precipitously in the chair he’d claimed in the rec room where they’ve been meeting. “You have this odd energy about you, and you can feel it. But I really can’t quite see it, mate, and even I don’t dare quite tell you what to do with it. It’s erratic. You could send this whole ship back to the Stone Age without meaning to.”

Nora sighs, gathering her legs up underneath her as she sits on the sofa. “At least we know that you can feel it and grasp it now,” she tells Leonard. “But John’s right...”

“Of course I am, love.”

“...we don’t have any good way of testing it out.” She bites her lip. “I wonder if this would work better with the ship in the timestream.”

After a second, Constantine sits up, nearly losing his balance. “That’s brilliant. Gid...”

“I truly hate to nix that idea, Ms. Da...Nora.” Gideon’s been trying to remember to use first names at everyone’s request. “But I’m uncertain how the timestream would react to that. It might be a perfectly safe experiment. Or...” She pauses. “...it might cause turbulence. Time waves or a temporal storm. Or worse.”

“Not good, then, love?” Constantine sighs.

“Not good at all, John.”

After a long few minutes of thoughtful silence, though, there’s a noise at the door, and Gideon’s android avatar walks in. Constantine puts the front two legs of his chair on the floor with a whump.

“No worries, we weren’t going to try anything hasty,” he tells her. “Or could you just not go a few hours without seeing me?”

Nora rolls her eyes at Leonard, who smirks.

Gideon gives him a sweet smile. “I see you all the time, John,” she informs him in an equally sweet-as-sugar tone. “Ship, remember? Even when you...”

“Ah, you don’t have to divulge all the gory details, love.” He winks at Leonard. “Unless the others want to hear them, of course.”

“Well, I certainly don’t,” Nora cuts in tartly. “Hello, Gideon. Do you have a suggestion for us?”

“I do, actually.” The android puts a thin white candle in an old-fashioned candlestick down on the table. “Mr. Sn...Leonard. If you can feel the temporal energy about you now...do you think you could use just a tiny bit?”

Now, that’s interesting. “Maybe,” Leonard acknowledges, getting up and strolling over to the table. “What are you up to, Gideon?”

“I’m suggesting starting small scale.” She pulls a box of matches from the pocket of the dress she’s wearing—humanoid Gideon had been rather appalled how many of the patterns for female clothing in her databanks hadn’t had pockets. “Think of the timestream as a body of water, of sorts—a river with an enormous capacity, or a constantly moving ocean. It’s very powerful, and very deadly, and if you mess with it unprepared, you will drown.”

Leonard leans against the table, studying her. “Unless you’re a...Waverider,” he points out after a moment. “To continue your metaphor.”

Gideon dimples at him. “Indeed,” she agrees, carefully selecting a match. “However, a small cup of water is a different matter. It may hold enough to drown you, if used very carelessly, but it is considerably safer.” She strikes the match, then lights the candle as Nora drifts over to watch.

Leonard frowns at it, then lifts an eyebrow at her. “You want me to try to...be a cup of water.”

“No...” Constantine sounds intrigued. “She wants you to try to control the equivalent of one.” He gives Gideon an impressed look. “I am surrounded by brilliant women on this ship.” Then, unable to resist, he gives Leonard a wink too. “And men, of course, mate. Don’t be hurt.”

Leonard ignores him, watching the candle as wax starts to run down the sides. “ ‘Fraid I’m going to need a little more information.”

“Try controlling just a little temporal energy,” Gideon tells him, motioning to the candle. “And turn time, just around this candle, back just a few minutes. To before I lit it.”

Leonard blinks. “Just like that?”

Constantine gets to his feet. “Won’t that be a lot harder than doing something larger?” he asks. “Such fine detail work?”

“Just because you tend to be a blunt instrument, John, doesn’t mean that everybody else is.”

Leonard hears Nora’s giggle in response, but he’s focusing on the candle, intrigued.

Feeling the crackle of energy around him, ebb and flow, time itself, holding him steady in the nothing.

A presence? Not quite. But not quite...not.

Blue light, all around him.

He reaches out, with his mind like Nora had told him, and grasps...a handful. No more. Lets a little trickle out. And then he stares at the flame—flickering, restless, beautiful; Mick might have had a point all these years—and flings that mental hand out, toward it.

Something shifts. Nora gasps, and Leonard distantly hears Constantine curse. And the candle...the wax stops, then flows backward, gathering back up into a single pristine column, and the flame winks out.

And then things feel normal again.

Leonard lets out an unsteady breath, then looks around. Nora and Constantine are staring at him and both look shocked, even the unflappable warlock. Gideon is smiling.

“Yes,” she says with satisfaction. “Just like that.”

Mick used to hate remembering his time as Chronos. So much so that he'd pretend that he barely remembered it. Even to the point of appearing actively dim—even more than his usual act—to the others on board.

He does remember it, though, or at least a good bit of it. Sometimes the details are distant—Gideon had told him once that the human brain simply wasn’t meant to live through that kind of time—and he’s still capable of losing pieces, but he remembers.

(No one, not even Snart, realizes just how much Gideon had talked him through the time after he’d returned to the team. She understood like none of the others did—she’d been at the mercy of the Time Masters too, before Hunter “freed” her, in a way. That’d been when he’d first started thinking of her as another person, and not just a ship.)

It’s funny, but he doesn’t mind as much now when Blondie wants to pick his brain about what he knows, the things he’d learned through all that time, though some of it’s now foggy indeed. And it’s kind of worth it to watch the others’ faces.

He’s just done that, held forth on temporal theory for a good five minutes and watched Blondie, Haircut, and New Girl go from interested to impressed to just a little blank as he gets out of the realm of what they really know, even Haircut. He smirks a little, smugly, at them after, planning to wait a minute or two and then explain it.

But then everything gets interrupted when Spooky Girl and British both nearly run on to the bridge, both looking excited and maybe a little alarmed.

“You didn’t feel anything? Out here?” Spooky Girl asks urgently, looking at all of them. Mick shakes his head, glancing at the others, whose confusion over his speech are now fading into confusion about what’s going on. (Damn it.)

British laughs a little wildly. “Gideon,” he says breathlessly, turning to shake a finger at the android, who’s following them side by side with Snart, “you are brilliant. Stunningly so.”

Gideon smiles at him serenely. “Yes,” she says, “I know.”

Snart’s wearing an expression that doesn’t seem to know whether it wants to be satisfied or shaken. Mick studies him, concerned, and gets a half-shrug in return.

“What happened?” Blondie says urgently, looking from Gideon to Snart. “Do I have to start yelling to get someone to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Mr. Snart used a small portion of temporal energy to successfully walk back time by a few minutes,” Gideon announces to her. “Just in a very small portion of the ship, it’s true. But he did it.” She folds her arms. “Now, he just has to work his way up.”

That’s the cue for everyone to start talking at once. Mick himself lets out a long breath. He knows that he’d been starting to get worried that Snart wouldn’t be able to do what Mary Xavier had claimed he’d be able to do, but he hadn’t quite realized that everyone else on the ship had been just as worried. Including Snart, that usually arrogant and oh-so-proud SOB.

This isn’t much. It isn’t even close in scale, and they only have a few more days. But suddenly, Mick’s sure this will work. The Time Bastards won’t even know what hit them.

If anyone can do it, Snart can.

Druce is pleased by Ava’s news. So pleased that she immediately regrets telling him, even despite her conviction that Sara had wanted her to do so.

“He’ll be right where we need him to be, then,” the Time Masters says, satisfaction in his voice, as he paces Ava’s office. “They’re playing right into our hands.” He glances again at Ava. “If you’re sure of this, director, this is even better than delivering Mr. Snart into my hands here. You are sure of it?”

Ava stifles her urge to snap. She folds her arms and looks down her nose at him. “Very sure,” she responds, knowing her tone is clipped, an attempt to remind Druce that he’s still a prisoner. Technically. “Now, Master Druce, I believe it’s time for you to give me some information as well.” She powers on as Druce gives her an inquiring look. “Snart. He didn’t steal anything physical, did he? What does he have to do with the Oculus?”

Druce gives her a very patronizing smile, one that immediately raises her hackles, though Ava fights to conceal that reaction.

“Very good, my dear,” he says, facing her. “No, Mr. Snart…‘stole,’ shall we say…an enormous amount of temporal energy from the Oculus wellspring and the timestream. More than enough to, when regained, take us all back to the correct time, harness the supernova for the wellspring, and create the Vanishing Point as it should be.”

Ava keeps her expression steady as she continues to watch him. “And how, precisely, will you obtain that energy from him?”

Druce’s smile gets, if possible, even more condescending. “There’s a fine human tradition of power through sacrifice, you know,” he says. “That should work nicely.”

Ava only waits a beat, as if she’s not surprised—and on some level, she’s not, though she’s still struggling with it—before nodding curtly. “I’ll get a team together,” she says brusquely. “The best of the best.” The ones I trust most.

But Druce actually chuckles at her. “No need,” he says. “I already have a…team. Ten of your best agents. I’ve even already explained the whole thing to them.” He pauses. “Would you like to be the 11th, Director Sharpe? It seems you have earned it.”

Ava can only stare at him.

It’s one thing to know that Leonard should be able to do what Mary had said. It’s quite another thing to see him do it.

They can’t do too many test runs, especially not ones of great size—he’ll need the largest share of temporal energy for the Vanishing Point. But Gideon insists that smaller-scale tests should continue to allow Leonard to get a feel for the idea, and he’ll know what to do when the time comes.

And that’s why Sara’s standing in a field outside the ship with only a day to go, watching him undo any damage the other Legends have done.

He’d undone the blaze Mick had caused first, mainly because it’d threatened to spread. (Sara had laid the law down after that—nothing that could cause trouble if Leonard couldn’t fix it.) Then he’d righted the dead aspen Ray had knocked over and put all the leaves back on a living one when Zari had dislodged them with a ridiculously hard gust of wind.

Charlie, grinning, had shifted into a fox and trotted off into the undergrowth and emerged with feathers on her ruddy muzzle, licking her chops. Leonard had taken one look at her expectant look and said, flatly, “No.” Whatever unfortunate bird she’d consumed had gone un-resurrected.

That was just as well, Sara thinks uneasily. That was a particular can of worms she did not want them to open.

But now, Gideon had brought him one last challenge—a rock, a flat piece of limestone—with the flat fossilized impression of a leaf in it. She’d simply handed it to him with a smile.

A small thing, but potentially, Sara knows, very, very old. She watches, holding her breath, as Leonard studies it, closes his eyes…

And hands a green leaf, fresh as if it were newly plucked from a tree that surely no longer exists, back to Gideon.

Ray, watching, whoops and high-fives Nate, while Mick simply nods in satisfaction. The others celebrate more or less according to their personalities as Sara finally takes a breath, a long, slow one, and lets it out.

Leonard looks at her, an odd expression on his face—not the smile she’d almost expected, but then, she’s not smiling either. Despite the victory, despite the optimism. This is all too real, and it has the possibility of changing all too much.

Her own words, from years ago now, echo in her head.

For better or for worse.

#I don't believe in destiny #captain canary #legends of tomorrow #sara x leonard #LOT fic

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apprenticeraelynn · 5 years

Text

Here’s some Raelynn backstory that literally no one asked for. But also some slight hurt/comfort with Asra? TW for: blood, torture, mentions of bodily fluids, and just straight up angst

The dark of her dream was oppressive, dragging her down and holding her in a vice. Even when she tried to open her eyes in the dream, it was as if a cloth was folded over her eyes. Raelynn could not move, could not see, could barely breath in the fear that coursed through her.

The only senses she had available gave her frightening details. The first thing of notice was the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, followed by aches and sharp pains throughout her body. Somewhere, there was a steady drip. It was the only sound besides her frantic breathing that she tried to calm.

Instinctively, Raelynn knew this was not her accidentally spirit walking. If it had been a case of her accidentally leaving her body behind and inhabiting another’s, she would be able to slow the breathing and sense what happened outside of the body.

The only option besides spirit walking was that she was reliving a forgotten memory, one that had been burned up all those years ago when she had walked into the crematorium on the Lazaret and died. With what little she knew of that person…

Drip… drip...

Footsteps caused Raela’s heartbeat to quicken, harsh rasps of breath matched by sharp pain in her ribs with every breath.

“Tsk tsk,” the voice was light. “Another morning, another night your clan failed to rescue you. Are you quite sure the pain you endure day after day is worth your stubborn loyalty?” A scraping sound as a table was dragged closer. Raela knew it was a table, knew what sound would come next, yet still flinched at the slap of leather hitting the wooden table.

Drip… drip...

Raela’s hands clenched, Raelynn now feeling the restraints that tied her down. Her gut rolled, realizing what was happening to her. To herself. Oh gods she was remembering being tortured. She couldn’t hear any of her past thoughts, the only things left in her mind the wriggling mass of emotions she tried to pick apart. Fear and despair held her by the throat, the two emotions squeezing the air from her lungs. Anger and rage that only grew with every breath she forced into her lungs. No hope lived on in her, as if she had been bled dry of it. Which, if Raelynn was guessing correctly, may have been the case.

“Today is a special day, Raela. I’m sure you’ve lost count, but this is the thirtieth day you’ve been in my care! It really is a special occasion. Most of my… guests, let’s call them, only stay with me for a week at most. So, I’ve come up with some special treats for you to celebrate our one month anniversary.” There was a hand, covered in leather, caressing her stomach. Another hand cupped the back of her head, lifting it from the surface she laid down upon. “My leader has given me a few… probing questions for this round. He has grown tired of your resistance and my lack of results. We have a week to change your mind before he wants you terminated.”

Drip… drip…

“Before we begin, as always, if you pledge your life and loyalty to serving the Snake Clan, I will stop. Begging me for death will not, and I will only take pleasure out of such begging. You haven’t yet, but everyone has their point. Now…” Her head was dropped, the blunt pain causing her to lose focus.

“Where are they hiding your beautiful babies? You can’t hide them from us forever, and I am sure they miss their mother very much.” The voice was cloyingly sweet, trying to draw answers out like a leech draws blood.

Drip… drip....

Raela’s breath stuttered as a sharp slicing pain traced her hip, painting her skin wet in blood. She could feel her skin parting under the blade, muscles straining to keep from flinching. She would not yield.

Raelynn’s thoughts were scrambling, trying to separate herself from the past and a pain that was long gone. Still, she couldn’t help but whimper to herself, a small sound that didn’t exist in the past and only in this dream. She was trapped here, her mind forcing her to relive events she didn’t remember. All in complete darkness, the lack of warning and fear multiplying the pain she felt with each stroke of the blade.

Drip… drip…

Yet, even through the pain and terror, Raelynn could not help but freeze at the person’s words. Babies? As in, children? How old was she even at this time?

“And now for your special prize!” There was a smile in their voice, then another set of footsteps joined theirs. “Our rather incompetent mage will make sure to keep you alive throughout all of this, so please just sit back and enjoy the pain. Now, shall I start with your right or left hand?”

Raela’s answer was a wet laugh, the rage boiling over as she finally spoke for the first time, “When I escape, I will take my time burning you from the inside out. I will trap your spirit in your body, forcing you to endure the pain of having your insides slowly melt until you are a soup too foul for even the most starving bear. Your spirit cursed to wander until it slowly withers away into the nothingness of the in-between when the gods turn you away from their realms.”

Drip… drip...

“Huh.” The voice sounded amused, then there was a grunt. “I think we’ll start with the left femur, then.”

Raelynn finally snapped out of the dream when the hammer smashed down, the pain of the broken bone enough to wake her from the nightmare.

Throwing herself from the bed, Raelynn made it to the bathroom just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Shivers took over her body as she convulsed, trying to rid her mind of the pain that she just experienced. Sweat soaked her body from head to toe, the light nightgown sticking to her skin. Still, the feelings remained.

“Raelynn..?” Asra’s voice helped to bring her to the present, and suddenly he was there, a hand on her shoulder as another pulled hair away from her face.

She couldn’t look at him, horror and disgust and pity rolling around in her in a confusing heap. “I… remembered a part of my past.”

“How is your head?” He asked carefully, tilting her face up so he could check her for signs of backlash.

Pausing at that, Raelynn took a moment to take in the present, pulling herself out of the past. Her body was whole. Nothing and no one was restraining her. She was fine. She would be fine. “It hurts a little… but it might be from throwing up.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Asra’s concern lifted her heart, helping to ease some of the fear left over.

Still…

Pulling her hair from her face, Raelynn shook her head, “I need a moment to think it over… to make sure it wasn’t some horrible nightmare.” She said that, but frankly she didn’t even know where to begin.

Pain flashed across Asra’s face, causing a small prick of guilt in Raelynn’s subconscious for excluding him. “Was it… was I there?”

She shook her head again, and Asra seemed to deflate a little. “I think it was before my past self met you.” Raelynn paused, waiting to see if Asra said anything and sighing when he only waited for her to continue. “Let’s go back to bed. Shadows are not as scary in the morning.”

Asra seemed to swallow any words he had, fishing up a rather pathetic smile as he got to his feet and offered his hand, “I agree. Though will you be able to sleep?”

“No.” All she could give was honesty, to take his hand the shoulder he offered. “But being near you will help.”

The small smile on his face was closer to being more convincing as he pulled her to her feet. “Do you want me to stay up with you?”

Considering it for a moment, Raelynn stepped into the warmth his arms provided and rested her head against his shoulder. Sighed as his hand rubbed comforting circles across her back, calm and peace radiating from him as he tried to help her. Each rotation seemed to ease the strain in her mind, softening the blade’s dance she still felt on her skin. “Only if you can’t fall asleep. One of us needs to be able to handle the shop in the morning.”

“Damn the shop. You’re more important to me,” Asra mumbles into the top of her hair. There’s a possessiveness in his tone that rubs Raelynn in just the right way, her shoulders dropping. “I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore.”

“Promise?” Her voice is small, and she hates the sound of it.

“I promise.”

By morning, nothing had changed. Raelynn still didn’t know what to make of what her subconscious revealed. And it terrified her.

She was so preoccupied with trying to unravel what any of it meant that she didn’t even feel the pull on her soul until it snapped tight, calling her attention like a trumpet fanfare. Head snapping up from where she measured ground goblin snot (a rather unattractive and foul smelling flower), Raelynn looked to the door just as it opened, ushering in three people.

The first was so tall he had to duck to fit in the door, almost causing Raelynn to mistake him as Muriel. Their frames were the only thing in common, as the stranger pulled down his hood to reveal dark blond hair, staring right back at Raelynn with familiar green eyes. Too many emotions crossed the man’s face until it settled on something so tender it hurt. Her soul lurched, something inside resonating with a sense of rightness that astounded her.

Asra came around the corner then, stopping at the sight of the guests and looking between Raelynn and the man. He cleared his throat, “Anything we can do for you?”

The man spoke then, the words and language unfamiliar to her but still managed to land a blow at the hurt in them. He stepped forward, and suddenly Raelynn was able to see the other two teenagers peering from around the man.

They had to be twins, their looks too similar to warrant any other explanation. They, too, stared at her with wide green eyes from dark faces, though they were more closed off to her. Her soul ached when she looked at them, her heart suddenly hurting.

He spoke again, confused, before switching to a heavily accented Vesuvian. “Raelynn… do you not know me?”

That immediately bought the attention of Asra and Raelynn. Asra rushed to stand between her and the familiar stranger, “Do you know her?”

Raelynn shook her head, her brow furrowing in concentration, “I’m sorry… who are you?”

Grief aged the stranger, and he clutched at his heart as he continued to stare at her, eyes mapping her features. “I am Torin. Your brother.”

Asra managed to catch her as her knees gave out. “My brother?” Raelynn’s head spun, a headache brewing at any moment.

“Wait,” Asra held out a hand to stop Torin. “Please.”

“What’s wrong with her?” That was the voice of one of the twins, stepping around Torin to look at her. “Aren’t you Raelynn Galdrsdottir?”

“Stop.” Asra shot the teen a look, before softening and explaining. “She has amnesia. And every time she tries to remember something… it hurts her.”

“It’s okay, Asra.” Raelynn murmured, managing to stand on her own again. She started compartmentalizing, trying to stem the tide of rising thoughts and questions. “It doesn’t hurt like it used to.” Rubbing her temples, Raelynn forced herself to look at this Torin. She knew deep down that he was telling the truth, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “How can I know you are telling me the truth?”

Clenching his fists at his side, Torin dipped his head. Clearly he was not expecting an amnesiac. “You have a tattoo of a dragon devouring its own tail that runs down your arms and connects in the back. Under the head of the dragon are a series of runes in our ancient language. The top provides protection from magical possession. Then protection from magical attacks. Followed by runes meant to help draw strength from the earth. I tattooed them on you myself when we were fourteen.”

“Well that solves the mystery of what those tattoos are supposed to to.” Asra chuckled. “Not that they did much good before.”

Torin shrugged, “Such runes are meant to be renewed every ten years. It’s been twenty.”

They both started at that, Raelynn choking out, “I’m thirty-four?”

“Yes. We are thirty-four. We are twins, born to the Wolf Clan during the worst winter storm in ten years.” Torin smiled softly.

“Oh,” Raelynn said simply. Her eyes slid to the twins, who were watching with interest. “And who are you?”

“They,” Torin paused, suddenly looking unsure. He pulled them in front of him, resting large hands on their already tall shoulders. “Are your children.”

#fan apprentice #asra x apprentice #asra x mc #apprentice raelynn #raelynn #my fic #raela #im so sorry #but also not

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fernwehbookworm · 6 years

Text

Knight of Kandor- Chapter 4

In my room, I throw the bolt to lock the door.

"Fuck!" I throw myself on the bed.

When the throbbing subsides some I manage to stand again and remove the heavy plates of armor. I finally sit and look at my ankle, I cringe. Black and blue splotches already bloom all over it. It has swollen so much that I cannot even see my ankle bones. From under my bed, I pull a small chest and open it. The chest is filled with various cloth scrapes that I gather for my moon blood. I usually burn them while men slept during that week.

I grab one of the longer scraps with a tight weave. I use it to tightly wrap my ankle and keep it stable. The pressure relieves some of the pain. Exhaustion overwhelms me. I only take off my under tunic, leaving my chest wrapped, my arms too tired to work at un-weaving it. I doze lightly, the throbbing in my ankle keeping me from a deep sleep.

A scream tears through my room. I bolt upright, grab the sweat-stained tunic from the floor and throw it over my head. I pull my sword from the scabbard on the floor. Quickly I unlock my door and dash across the hall. I throw my should against the door as I burst into the room. Inside I cast about, looking for the cause of the scream. Lena sits up on the bed, breathing heavily, Jessica holds her hand while rubbing her back in a comforting way. I scan the darkness for anything out of place.

"It was just a nightmare." Lady Jessica whispers to Lena. I glance at them again and quickly turn back around as my cheeks grow hot. Queen-in-waiting Lena Luthor was completely naked.

"Excuse me, my lady. I... I was not aware..." I hear a sharp intake of breath and the rustling of the sheets. I carefully move to the door, keeping my back turned the whole way.

"Kal, thank you for coming," Lena says in a small voice. I nod, still not looking than see myself out to return to my own room.

I try to sleep but after tossing and turning I give up and begin my daily exercises. This morning I also had to report to the Queen in her personal chambers. It was short seeing as I had only been here a couple of days. I also had to relay to Sir James the events of the day before. The Queen sat silently through it all except to dismiss me. Her dark cold eyes always made me uncomfortable. I take a deep breath when I leave to try and shake the feeling of judgment.

"Have you found anyone to be on your personal guard?" Sir James asks as he catches up with me.

"Donovan. I Like him. He has an eagerness to prove himself. Other than that, no."

"Excellent choice. That boy of yours, John, He is doing well. Surpassing all the guard trainees his age. You trained him well."

"Thank you, Sir James. He had a lot of natural talent, to begin with."

"Pleas Kal, Just call me James. We should be friends because we will be seeing a lot of each other.

"Okay, James. Is there anyone you suggest for me to check into?"

"Hmmmm..... I'll make a list for you. I have to go to the practice yard. Have a good day Kal."

Good was not the term I would have used for my day. After meeting Lena at her room, she leads us to a study with a large ornate desk. Books line the walls, two large armchairs sit in front of an even larger window that floods the study with daylight.

Jessica moves immediately to the chairs and picks up some needlework that she had apparently left from a previous time. A large stack of parchments rest on the desk Lena sits behind. Not knowing exactly what to do I just stand at attention by the door. After a few minutes, Lena sighs deeply.

"Please Kal, I do not believe that a dagger-wielding beggar will burst through the door. Sit down. Read a book if you would like. These reports will take most of the day." I linger at the door until Lena gives me a hard look.

I nod and walk to the books and scan the titles. Despite my ability to write short letters and read commands I still struggle with most words. I see a book on strategy and pull it down then sit next to Lady Jessica. The hours stretch on as I struggle through the book. Most of the words are familiar but it is still slow going. Lena's quill scratches on parchment and Jessica's needle silently weaves through the cloth.

"Reading is not easy for you, is it Kal?" Lena's voice breaks the silence.

"No, my lady. Your brother had one of his pages teach me enough to write and read orders. Now master Winslow is teaching me."

"I keep forgetting that you were not born with such privileges. You handle yourself so well. Almost as if you were born for court.

"Thank you, my lady."

"Kal please, call me Lena in private. We are going to be spending a lot of time together and titles are tiring. Besides, you saw me half-naked last night." I know Lena is teasing but I feel my face flush none the less.

"Yes, my... Lena." She chuckles at my stumble.

We lapse back into a comfortable silence. Eventually, Lady Jessica sends for food. Several servants bring plates of steaming meat and soups. Slowly cooked vegetables and fresh fruit. There is a wedge of hard cheese and fresh bread with a pitcher of a sweet red wine. To my delight, a platter of sweets is brought up also. Jessica takes a little of everything.

"Help yourself Kal. I know you must be hungry." I grin but Lena does not even look up from her work. I pile a plate with food and set the book aside to concentrate on eating and give my brain a rest. I always had to eat a lot of food, I do not know why. That is why I had to learn to hunt and trap because army rations were never enough. I could out eat most of the biggest men in my company.

The sun moves across the sky and I pick at the remaining food. Lena, on the other hand, had hardly touched her plate of fruit and cheese and bread. She had a look of intense concentration as she methodically poured over the reports. At one point I started pacing to avoid losing my mind in the stillness. I glanced over at what Lena was doing and saw she had reports from all over Krypton. Grain invoices, mining reports, troop movements, death tolls. The variety and importance of each one were astounding. I sat again to avoid distracting Lena although I am not sure if she even noticed my restlessness.

Dozing lightly in my chair, I hear Lena's chair scrap backward on the stone floor. Servants had come long before to clear away the plates and platters. they also came and lit the chandelier of candles over our head as the sunset. It was nearing time for supper.

Lena called for her page who seemed to miraculously appear as if knowing she would need him. Which I guess he probably did.

"Take these reports to Queen Lillian," she commands.

The boy awkwardly lifts the large stack and hurries out of the room. He nearly spills the whole pile as he almost runs into James on the way out. James smiles and tousles the boy's hair before stepping out of the way.

"My Lady." James bows to Lena.

"Sir James. What brings you here?" she asks.

"I have come to relieve Sir Kal for the night. Also here is the list of names for you." The last part was directed at me. James hands me a rolled up scroll.

"Thank you, Sir James." I bow my head slightly at him then turn to face the women in the room.

"Good night, Lady Jessica. Good night Your Highness."

"Good night, Sir Kal," they say almost in unison.

As I walk I unroll the scroll. The list is sadly short. How could there be so few trustworthy men in the castle? As I scan the list I realize that most of the names are Donovan's friends. I get to the bottom and stop mid-stride. Jonathan Jones. Apparently, James thought that the boy was ready. He had already hinted several times that he thought John was good. Better than most.

I tuck the scroll away and continue to the guard dining for food. I easily locate the group of men I need. Quickly I grab a slice of bread and wedge of cheese and scarf them down. A small swig of wine from a pitcher to wash it all away. When I approach the men, their conversation falls silent.

"Follow me." Is all I say.

They do. Good, they are willing to follow orders. I lead them to the practice yard. I pick up two blunted swords from the rack of training equipment. I toss one to Donovan, who nimbly catches it from the air.

"I am going to spare with each of you in turn. Ready?" I nod to the young man. He seems unsure but his face grows serious. He raises his sword.

I press hard, trying to see where each man stands in their training. They were good for men who had never seen real combat. But they were too rigid, everything was precise and basic. I could easily flow through their stiff guards. When we were done each man was in various states of weariness. Some still short of breath. To me, however, the battles energized me after a day of nothingness.

"You, sir, are a force of nature." Donavon is still panting slightly.

"But what was all this for?"

I study each man closely. I liked the determination each had fought with. All fought clean and fair, the product of honest men.

"To test you." They look at me questioningly.

"And you all pass. Sir James wanted me to find men to guard the Queen-in-waiting. I choose you."

Grins spread on the men's faces. There are eight of them in all. I send two of them to ready to take over guarding Lena's hall, then talk to the rest.

"We will personally be responsible for protecting the Queen-in-waiting. Only you men will rotate through the guard. For her rooms, for whatever room, she enters, or for her alone. We will guard her every step. I will also teach you to fight like me, like men who have everything to lose. Donovan, Anthony, you will take over guarding the Queen-in-waiting rooms at midnight. Andrew and Conner at dawn. I will send a page with further instructions. Tomorrow right after supper you are to report here. That is when we will train. Dismissed." The men quickly leave the yard but I soon hear laughter from the men who were excited about a new duty in life.

In my own rooms, I use my new soaps to wash the sweat from my body. Then I begin to clean my armor, determined to take good care of the wonderful gift. My eyes grow heavy after two sleepless nights. I re-wrap my chest and dawn a nightshirt and loose cotton pants. I just finished tying them around my waist when someone knocks softly at the door. I am surprised when Lady Jessica's face greets me. She is in her nightdress, sleep glassing her eyes.

"My lady cannot sleep. Every time she tries she sees the man with the knife. My Lady wishes for you to stay in her chambers tonight to help put her mind at ease." I nod.

"Let me put on something more suitable. I will be right over." Jessica turns back to the still open door of Lena's chambers. I put on a comfortable tunic and my boots. I grab my sword and pull the baldric over my head.

When I enter the room, Lena stands staring into the dying flames of the fire. She wears a red nightdress with a matching shawl draped around her shoulders. She does not turn at my entrance so I place a hand on her shoulder.

"My Lady, please go to sleep. That man can no longer hurt you I will stay here all night. Tomorrow I start training your own personal guard of men I and Sir James trust."

"Lena." she sighs.

"Pardon?"

"Please call me Lena. I never get to hear my own name. It makes me feel like less of a person." She looks at me sadly.

"Lena. Sleep. Lady Jessica and I are both here." Lena nods her assent to my plea and climbs into the large bed with Jessica.

I settle into the overstuffed armchair by the fire, sword across my lap. I had already resigned my self to getting very little sleep tonight.

"Will you be here when I wake?"

"I am sorry my... Lena. I have lessons with Lady Catherine before dawn." She nods and lays down. I settle in for a long uncomfortable night.

My days began to blur together. Lessons before dawn, court in the morning, watching Lena and her ladies in the afternoon. After dinner each night I began training with the men. I had to teach them to be able to adapt to battles, not everyone fought with honor and that took a lot of time to break them of that notion. Nearly a fortnight passed before any real change occurred.

Lena's Ladies began preparing for the End of Summer Festival. A week-long celebration that celebrated the start of harvest. Most of the noble families would return to court with their households, most common folk would travel to Kandor from all over Krypton. Tournaments would be held and celebrations would last all night, every night. It would also celebrate the return of Prince Alexander. The army had managed to set up strong defensive lines along our border and Cadmium had drawn back to resupply for winter months. The Prince was using the lull in the fighting to return home.

The bustle of the castle begins to put me on edge. So many new people in and out of the castle. New faces crowd the halls and the old are never where I expect them after I had memorized their routines.

"You know, when you are nervous you fidget with your sword."

"Huh?"

We were in Lena's private study as she checked reports. I was pacing back and forth when Lena spoke and I stopped and turned to her.

"Also you get this cress between your eyes when you are worried. Right here." She points to her own forehead. I roll my eyes.

Still, the comment makes my heart start thudding in my chest. We spent so much time together that I had come to notice all her little habits. How she gets so concentrated that nothing else matters to her. How it breaks her heart to disappoint those she has to deny. She was filled with compassion behind an icy royal exterior. It seemed she had been watching me also.

"I have a right to worry Lena. This castle is full of strangers. All potentially here to kill you."

"Kal, I trust you, and the men you trained. You need to trust them too. Now come here and read this to me."

Lena kept insisting on making me read despite Winn's teaching. Winn had grown on me during our time together. His positivity was endless. He loved the books he cared for and he was a genius at breaking and making the coded messages for the army. We went out nearly every night I was off. It was nice to be able to have a friend to talk to. Somehow Winn managed to introduce me to a new woman every night. I would laugh and talk with them before letting them down easy in the end.

Lena was sending the reports she had finished with the page. Lady Jessica was off overseeing feast preparations. We were alone except for the two guards outside the door.

"So are you competing in the tournaments?" Lena asks as she carefully puts her quill and ink away.

"No, I have no training in such things and wish not to attempt and make a fool of myself."

"Well, there is one you could do. The open brawl. It has almost no rules except not to kill." I consider the suggestion.

"That seems a difficult task, all those men surrounding you and not killing them. But I suppose it would be doable."

"Wonderful, I will have Jessica enter you. Your squire, John, I will make sure he gets everything you need." She says energetically.

"Lena, why is this so important to you? she sighs.

"Because whatever brute wins is rewarded with the place of honor next to me each night of the festival. Which means I am then obligated to speak with them or dance with them if they ask." I chuckle softly.

"So I am a brute now, am I?" We had long since lost the pretense of hiding our emotions and we actually teased each other in private. It was a banter that seems to flow easily between us.

"No! Of course not. You are the person I would much rather celebrate with because it would be a celebration instead of me dreading every minute."

"There is no guarantee I will win." I point out.

"I believe you will. That is enough." She says it so seriously that I almost cannot respond.

"Anything for my future Queen."

Lena rests her hand on mine. The contact surprises me when I realize we are both leaning forward on opposite sides of the desk. I clear my throat and take my hand back by adjusting the baldric again.

"Where to now, my Lady?" Intentionally not saying her name to break whatever spell had fallen over us. Her eyes darken slightly but she says nothing about me pulling away.

"Now we go to welcome my brother home."

After the very long formal Ceremony that was basically a big parade of mummers dancing, men marching, and women being put on display for the prince. The prince then takes his place on a throne next to his mother and sister. The ceremony dissolves into a feast that is more drink than food. When relieved of my post next to Lena I find Winn where we agreed to meet to head into the city. Our favorite tavern was The Kryptonite.

The food was great and the ale was sweet. Winn and I talked in a corner. Somehow Winn always knew the latest gossip. I had a feeling he read things he should not have but it kept me informed of the goings on in the castle so I did not complain. After several hours we begin the long walk up to the castle.

"I have something you may like in my room. Its a book on different herbal remedies I acquired from a healer. I have it memorized now so I do not need it anymore." At least I am pretty sure that is what I said. Winn was talking about how he wanted to learn about healing techniques. The ale was making my mouth feel like it was a little behind my thoughts.

"That would be a-maz-ing." He grins and stumbles slightly when he looks at me.

That puts us both in a fit of laughter before we resume the walk. It seems to take forever in the alcohol-induced haze but we finally make it all the way to my room. The guard's eye Winn but let him pass. When we are in my room I dig through the chest at the foot of my bed for the book.

"Here it is. Of course, it was at the bottom." I stand and turn back to Winn. He is standing closer than I thought and I give myself a shake. Maybe I drank more than I thought.

"Thanks, Kal." Winn's voice is kind of high like he was nervous.

He grasps the book but does not take it from me. I feel my head cock to the side in a question. Winn lurches forward and his lips clumsily meet mine. I jerk back and push him at the same time. Winn sprawls on the ground.

"Oh Rao, Winn I am sorry. I did not mean to push you so hard."

"So you aren't into me. Rao what have I done." Winn scrambles to his feet and tries to leave, but I step in front of him.

"Wait, Winn."

"It's fine Kal. Either you're gay or you're not. You obviously are not and I just ruined our friendship."

"No, it is not like that. I am but not in the way you think."

"What is that supposed to mean!" He is angry and hurt and it is plain on his face.

"I...I can't tell you."

"Whatever Kal. Move. I want to leave." I know if he leaves nothing will be the same and I will lose my only friend. I chew on my bottom lip as I contemplate what I am about to do.

"Winn, can I trust you?"

"What?" He nearly spits the question.

"If I tell you why I need to know that I can trust you. With my life. Because if you tell anyone it will mean I will lose my life." Winn's face slowly moves from anger to deep thought and then softens back into the gentleman I know.

"Yes, Kal. You can trust me." His slow response shows that he really did consider his answer and I know it is true.

"I...I am not who you think I am."

"Kal, just say whatever it is. I am way too drunk for obscure words." I sigh.

"Winn, my real name is Kara. I am a woman." I believe every emotion possible plays across Winn's face as he processes what I said. Then he laughs.

"Wow, oh Rao, you almost had me there. That was so out there I almost believed you. This has to be the strangest way someone has turned me down."

"Winn," I say seriously to get his attention. I take one of his hands and press it against my chest. I know my breast were never large but they were still there. I see Winn's eyes widen at the soft mound under his palm.

"Kal... Kara. Oh, this is fantastic. It explains so much too. No wonder you turned down nearly every woman I through at you. No wonder you were not attracted to me. Wait, no, why aren't you attracted to me?" I grin at his rambling and at the way he is waving his arms about.

"Really Winn? That is your first question?"

"Wait you said you were gay, just not the way I thought. Who then?" I blush and look down, Lena's face flashes across my vision.

"Kara no! The Queen-in-waiting?"

"Yes," I say in a small voice.

"Oh jeez, Kara."

"Well Winn, now you know my two biggest secrets."

"Oh Roa, this isn't like an 'I know too much and I have to die now' situation is it?" I laugh.

"No Winn. This is a 'you have to be my friend forever' situation."

"Oh, wonderful. Now you know my biggest secret too. Same sex relationships are very frowned upon."

"I know. Which is also why Lena should never know my feelings. Or my secrete. I have lied to the crown and that is treason."

"I understand Kara. But hey, you won't have to hide with me."

"That will be great Winn. I'll see you tomorrow." I finally step out of his way because somehow I know everything will be okay.

Winn pulls me into a tight hug and I stiffen at first. No one has hugged me since my mother died. Slowly I wrap my arms around him also.

"Goodnight, Kara."

"Kal. Just call me Kal. It is safer that way." Winn nods before leaving. I lock my door and fall into bed. I feel like a great burden is lessened a bit. Not that someone was taking it from me, but Winn was helping me hold it up.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #KoK #knight #au #medeival

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ask-de-writer · 6 years

Text

GONE TO SEA : World of Sea : Science Fiction : Part 1

GONE TO SEA

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

WORK IN PROGRESS (Word count unknown at this time)

Writing started 2005

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Chapter 01. Paradox Planet

This was going to be difficult, thought Captain Alain. In the wardroom of his ship, the ESA 14, he faced Mr. Torres, the leader of the colonial expedition. Mr. Torres was not a happy man.

Captain Alain looked down at the pile of files, data disks and crystals in front of him and back to Mr. Torres. He decided to be blunt.

“You know that due to energy constraints, this had to be a one way trip for you and the other colonists. We were trying to find a way to save your expedition’s lives. We failed.”

That brought Mr. Torres up short. “Trying to save us? You failed?” His eyes went wide, “Did my people die?”

“C?”, asked Mr. Torres, puzzled. “Is it because it’s the third world? Why call it C?”

“Sea, as in ocean,” said Captain Alain reaching into his pile of data and handing over a crystal. “Look for yourself.”

The storm swept north along a large curve that appeared to be dictated by Coriolis force. The warmer seas of the tropics fueled the storm and it grew into a monster with a core of powerful storm cells over a thousand miles across. The vastly aberrant storm's clouds did not limit themselves to the troposphere. They towered high into the stratosphere, where no sane cloud mass, let alone a whole cyclonic storm, belonged. The wind speeds achieved over three hundred and twenty kilometers per hour.

It followed a Coriolis arc north and finally cold northern waters robbed its energy. It broke up into thunderstorms, squalls and fogs about sixty five degrees North Latitude.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PROLOGUE NEXT==>

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#GONE TO SEA #World of Sea #Science Fiction #written by Glen TenEyck #Part 1

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ask-de-writer · 6 years

Text

PARADOX PLANET : World of Sea : Science Fiction : 1 part

Return to the Master Story Index

PARADOX PLANET

Glen Ten-Eyck

This is an excerpt from a novel in progress called GONE TO SEA

2579 words in chapter 1

writing begun 2005

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