#it's a whole long glitchy train we all ended up in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cyberdva · 4 years

Text

house of cards- j.jk

Summary: A vacation by the shore with a break from constant labor was all a young couple could dream of and when that time finally presented itself it was exactly what they pounced for. A tiny community on the edge of a coastline caught the attention of a young idol and his hidden lover, yet the all but homey atmosphere chipped away at an alarming rate past their arrival. Small happenings caught the eye of the sharp-witted woman, more and more occurrences kept shoving chilling encounters her way. Something was brewing and with the faith of next to no one it was in her hands to keep the life of her dearest at bay along with the force of a menacing spirit having ties to hundreds of myths, it might just be too late. Was it time for a final goodbye?

Warnings: Horror Themes, Sexual References and Romantic Scenarios, Violence, and Cursing (Perfect Just For Your Halloween)

Word Count: 4.7k

BTS Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“A house made of cards, and us, inside

Even though the end is visible

Even if it’s going to collapse soon.

A house made of cards, we’re like idiots

Even if it’s a vain dream, stay like this a little more…”

A frisk zephyr of overlooking, pristine Autumn air plunged a heavy set attack through the leaves of helpless trees. Tiny bumps formed by the hundreds along the skin of an unsuspecting idol. His mind was still set in the summer season, time was nothing but a concept to the young adult’s mind. Hours spent training and rehearsing can do that to a person. Life was hard enough trying to shield your personal life away from the public, Jungkook always thought of it like putting his memories in a small box, they never saw the light of day again. His inner frustrations boiled inside of him. He already missed out on so many important journeys in a common life. Even now at age twenty-three he still has to beg for a break, on his knees if he has to.

“I’m telling you. Nothing’s going to go wrong. Can you please trust me for once.” His voice laced with anticipation, a weekend away from everything, from all the hell pushing its way through the cracks of its gates, felt like a dream. Which was the problem, “like a dream.” Jungkook wanted more than anything to ditch his constant rehearsals and run away with his endearing better half. If it weren’t for the constant bickering of the elders in his group the plan would’ve been set in stone.

“Fine,” Jungkook sprung back in his girlfriend’s direction and threw his bulky arms over her shoulder, “Just this once, I don’t want Joonie to get mad at you.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Finally the day came, it was a risky trip, especially with the newest comeback just around the corner. Really, a miracle. In retrospect, it wasn’t the most organized plan, but the small house the couple rented was only a mere hour away. More like thirty minutes away since Jungkook was driving. Y/N would constantly poke fun with him for his reckless behavior behind the wheel, not like she was complaining. It took a good half hour just to reach the highway, the area was lined up with houses, one by one space filled the gaps and the scene trickled out.

Up and down, up and down, the two of them bobbed up and down continuously. You would think for such a mainstream road it would be in much better condition, A wave of uneasiness fell over Y/N, her eyes crinkled while still trying to keep her composure. Her mind shifted between thoughts of car sickness or a longing of home. Up, up, up they went, the evergreen landscape quickly morphed into blue waves. Jungkook gave a quick glance her way, then again. His brows furrowed, but his eyes stayed on the road.

“Baby? Are you doing okay? You’re not pregnant or anything, right?” Even with the joking manner his voice gave a shaky form. He cleared his throat, unsure how to continue.

"Nope, I'm ok." she hissed. This road was too crazy, the car too crazy, the whole scenario far from a nice day off. “And no I’m not pregnant yet. Relax a little bit. I just haven’t been feeling great these past few days.” She trailed off. Y/N knew it sounded silly, but as if just admitting it made it real and added a big weight on her chest.” A huff of air spilt from her mouth in a laugh. With hands gripping the edge of the window, things felt easier. Still, a small lump of anxiousness stayed embedded in the back of her mind. Something just felt wrong. There was nothing to pinpoint exactly what.

“You’re probably just hungry or car sick,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“I hope so,” Y/N replied. The tiny bit of his smile twitched in the corner of his lips. “Maybe I just left something back at the house. No big deal, no big deal.” She attentively reassured herself.

"Are you sure?" Jungkook squeaked. "We can pull over. I don’t want you to be in any pain."

"Don't worry." Y/N muttered while she chewed on her nail, it was a bad habit. She couldn’t help doing it. Relief washed over her contemplation just imaging how her old friends tried to force her out of it. Soon sorrow after, it had been forever since they last talked. “Nonsense.” A voice reasoned back, Y/N dropped reminiscing on the past quickly. She looked out the window and her mouth grew dry. So much water, she thought. All those farms way back when and none in sight.

Small airplanes gilded with banners, advertisements for local businesses, or even insurance, it must be ironic if one of those crashes. The place looked menacing. The road became shorter and turns filled their place, looks like their next stop was to fill up the tank. Y/N could see the townsfolk, not all congregated. They speckled out every few yards or so. The vehicle stopped abruptly and Jungkook hopped out without a word. Once the cut door swung open the soft song dancing across the air went dark. Silent. The wooden and glass buildings still standing, the old-timers sitting at the gas pumps, the store shelves still full, the strangers walking. They're all strangers out here, but they've all lived here since more people have come and gone. Weathered, even at their age. She looked to her boyfriend, her eyes widening. What if that were him? What if they both died there? Or anywhere like this, it better not come to that. She meant no offense, but these people seemed off. It could just be the way they look, but even their movements felt robotic. They were already strangers here, not like they were really going to fit in. Having the small break made Y/N’s nerves settle, the car door slammed shut and back onto the freeway it was.

Blue blurs formed again and music, louder this time, picked back up. Manufactured cool air blew onto Y/N’s face, her fingers clasped the opening shut. The feeling could be described as far from pleasurable. The small knacks in the road kept coming, the build up was painful. A glitchy GPS voice crackled on and off.

“Dammit, I thought I fixed this.” Jungkook whacked his head against his seat. The poor man spent hours trying to mend the apparent virus filled app, Y/N grabbed the device and replaced it with hers. No bother in trying to mend it now. There was only around five minutes left until they arrived, elation flared through their veins.

“This is it.” Gravel crunched beneath the tires, leaving a path of marks down the long driveway. Trees cascaded down the trail, sunlight shined down past the windshield, lighting up the various screens underneath. The silhouette of the house loomed down beyond the small white garage which was accompanied by a lean basketball net attached by the top. It was homely, clearly meant for a larger family. It gave more space for random objects trying to fit that “beach theme.” Y/N swung her backpack over her right shoulder with a loud thud, Jungkook snagged his wallet from the cup holder and plopped a dark bucket hat over his head. Even with the odd setting, he couldn’t be noticed by an unsuspecting fan, it definitely wouldn’t end.

“Found the keys under the mat, you can head in.” The door was painted and off brand white, a chiseled glass pane was positioned in the center. It creaked open to reveal a balmy ambience, the kitchen laid straight ahead. A warm brown color pallet coincided with a lemon motley. A beam formed on Y/N’s face. This place lightened the foul spirit from before. The parlor was across the way, a giant TV cascaded over the wall with a slim couch behind. It was cute, except for the off setting décor. There comes a point when too many seashells overload a room. Next to that mess was a long corridor which probably led to the bedrooms, maybe even the bathroom and suddenly Y/N caught wind of a sound, like footsteps. Walking just right in front of her, right down that same hallway. Instinctively, she followed. Her hand shook with small pints of fear. More assorted paintings graced the wall, she didn’t bother stopping to poke fun. The creaking moved faster, so did she. The end of the pathway was nearing, the energy darted to the left, a children’s room. Y/N’s heart beat with fury, her mind was screaming at her to stop, far too late. A whisper swirled past her ears, it was at a nearly unintelligible decibel. The bed was perfectly made, a doorway led to the posh yard out back, and a mirror clung to the wall. No child would really want to stay here, too antiquated. Again, the murmurs returned, this time more of them and they were much louder.

“Bring her back. Bring her back.”

“What in the goddamn fu-” The glass door slammed itself shut, there was no wind, no person. Small cracks forced their way through the corners of the frame. Y/N’s eyes were stunned open, a hand covering her dropped jaw. There is no way she saw that, this has to be a joke.

A hand grabbed her shoulder, shivers ran up her arms with an ache. Her head zipped around with an instinct, her palm smashing into whatever was behind her. A mistake, Jungkook toppled down, grasping his eye. A single tear slipped down the red shot iris. His nose crinkled in distress.

“Baby!” She rushed over to him, “Are you okay? You scared the absolute shit out of me!” Her fingers pressed up against the sensitive skin which relived the man of a groan.

He brushed her off, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” He pulled her into a quick hug and placed a kiss on her forehead. She was trying best to ignore whatever the hell just happened. “Babe,” he groaned, “It’s so good to see you again.” His body slumped onto the spare bed. Children weren’t an “issue” yet, so the room lost its charming use. In all honesty, it didn’t look really safe to begin with. Open outlets, high ledges, who knows what could happen here. Jungkook grabbed Y/N out of her thoughts, literally, and plucked the air right out of her. Soft lips powdering small kisses across the woman’s face much to her delight. A pang of red heat rose to her cheeks. It was hard to notice, but a wave of satisfaction tore through the face of the maknae.

“You see me all the time Koo, what do you mean?’ The space radiated passion. This is all Jungkook could have ever asked for. Of course, the circumstances weren’t all the best, but still it was perfect to him. His hands roamed their way across her torso as the kiss deepened. A gasp exploded from Y/N’s mouth with her boyfriend’s lips grazing the crook of her neck.

“Koo.” Her words trembled with conflict, ”Jungkook.” His attention cracking back to actuality, hair dilated with static and all, a faint mark of his tenderness was left by a circular imprint. His smile beamed with devious pride, slowly growing bigger.

A hand intercepted his ardor. "There’s still stuff in the car. We have to bring it in, before the sunsets please.” A slick eyeroll was the only response mustered up.

“You’re no fun…” Jungkook slumped to the ground from the edge of the bed into a crumpled pile on the floor. His posture curved and a small pout was sent in Y/N’s direction, down to the small flick of his outer lip. Only she could barely escape his enticing puppy dog eyes. A continuous click sprouted from the disturbed blinds behind their heads, the pressure was obvious. Neither one of them made the first move, it had been so long, too long. They sensed something else though, again no one could put their finger on it.

Amusement was drawn from the other despite the odd mood, ”You’re such a child!” Y/N giggled, which got Jungkook going. He propped himself right back up with full energy bouncing off the yellow-chipped walls.

“We can do whatever you want after we get our bags, scouts honor.” Y/N delicately placed one hand on her chest, the other up on the air. Her boyfriend had absolutely no clue on what she was talking about, but still went along with the spiel best as he could. A dazed nod came from him and his slim finger grasped the ends of his hair, running them through the roots. He slid a small elastic over it all, forming a tiny bun in the back of his head. Jungkook knew it drew his girlfriend wild, that’s why he does these sorts of things. Out of the room he went, Y/N stood silently in her same place, trying to listen for something. Her mind on high alert kept driving her insane. Her only hope, maybe some Advil, was still locked in the car. Her head never moved its spot, furthering the booming discomfort she felt, staring at the large door. It wasn’t right, or it was just her imagination once more. Too soon to determine according to her. The jingling of the car keys signaled the end of her inner battle, louder and louder they went. A small crack emitted from her ankles while slipping her shoes on, accompanied by a groan. It’d been forever since the two of them went out, being locked away in your house while the days stripped away can do that to a person. Hell, it has happened! Jungkook’s hand graced her back ever so slightly, sending the woman into brief hysteria.

“Screw you!” Y/N jabbed at the chest of her boyfriend playfully.

Jungkook dogged her blows and stuck out his tongue, “Hey! You’re being the jumpy one today!”

Instead of going all the way round the lot, the couple opted for passing through the shady back door, much to Y/N distaste.

“It’s just a door, sweetheart.” Jungkook cooed. He found the situation comical, not knowing the full story of what happened. He grabbed the handle to the exit and it slid back with haste, they were quite careful as to not rupture it even more. The landlord didn’t seem like a pleasant person from their experiences. It felt like opening a greenhouse while stepping outdoors. Even with winter approaching, the atmosphere clung to their frames likes a spider entangled in pesticide. The grass beamed an unnatural green giving it some otherworldly look. Along with the various brightly colored lawn décor, it looked god awful.

There was a light mist floating above them, blending in with the ash sky. It was truly a freak of nature photo opt, the weather changed more promptly than usual.

“Maybe we should buy another house like this, huh?” The boyfriend wasn’t just yet done with his rampage of witty one liners, most of which making no sense.

“I never striked you as the suburban family type of man.” Y/N patted his back.

“Dear god no, my standards aren’t that low. Imagine the neighbors.” Now that’s the real horror show. The car was already unlocked, rapidly the trunk was swung open. Just two suitcases and a medium sized bag was left.

Parading back in didn’t take much time. Next door was the main bedroom, it was nearly identical to the other. Jungkook wheeled his belongings into a folding closet, grabbing the TV remote in the process. Finally, he could rest. Y/N did the same, afterwards she made her way towards the washroom, in hopes of placing a bag filled with various items for hygiene inside. The events that occurred minutes ago had already been mangled aside.

A mortified shriek came from the very same room Y/N had just stumbled into. Jungkook’s head snapped right up, quickly running down the narrow hallway pictured with corny beach puns and postcards he busted the door right open. The very bags his paramour had just lugged in clatter to the cheap wooden flooring in an instant. With one hand covering her mouth, the other shakily pointed to the wall across the way.

An assortment of hundred legged creatures made their way around the right side of the room, some on the floor, even on the ceiling. Stares of horror were the only response, at least thirty of the innocents were visible.

“Dear god,” Jungkook didn’t like bugs, even more than Y/N. His nerves sprung shot and slowly made his way out of the doorway. The inamorata looked for any spray or object to hurdle their way. The only option was to scavenge through whatever chemicals that could be found in the cabinets. Her shoes slid across the floor with an edge while trying to compose herself. Her boyfriend was scared shitless and the least she could do was calm his nerves. After grabbing handfuls of bottles back she went, but Jungkook was already in her place.

“Y/N.. you saw that right? You saw the bugs?” His voice trembled.

“What is happening… are we going insane?”

So much continued to happen, proceeding the weird visions Jungkook and Y/N sat outside, watching the stars form. A small dinner was prepared, outdoors of course, the weather refused to make amends and discomfort was high.

“You know, it’s getting pretty late,” Jungkook smoothed his hands around his lover’s waist. “We should go back inside and try to get some rest. We’re going to be okay.” He got up and extended his arm out as an offer to cling to. No exchange of words provided. Tiredness washed over the two, there was no point in arguing. Walking back into the shady house found only hours ago could be considered the worst choice made, but carelessness was the new fad. Both doors were locked upon entry. The house was warmer than before, Y/N stripped into a cooler outfit, Jungkook removed his lighter shirt and as soon as they hit the bed they were out like a light.

Y/N shot straight up in the air, breathing heavily. Her head whipped around to the clock, 2:24 am. Her other half was still passed out, but he wasn’t the only other person watching them. A large, black figure stood right outside the same glass door. It looked inhuman, what seemed to be seven feet tall, a bony structure giving it the posture of a lazy school boy and it was looking right at her.

Violently shaking the man she whispered, “Someone’s outside Jungkook. Please tell me we aren’t going to die.” He awoke at an instant trying to grasp what was going on around him. Anxiety mixed with shock filled his mind. He held her back down to his chest seeking to go unnoticed.

“We aren’t going to die. I love you so much princess, please trust me.” Empty promises, he didn’t know what was going to happen. Hope was the only option he had. Hope was the only thing that could save him. He was going to stay up as long as he could until his body gave in. They ran past the doors, the creature created haunting moans while pushing at the crystalware. He showed Y/N into the small supply closet. Sobs racked out of Y/N body, Jungkook’s tears plopped past the roots of her hair. He kept gripping harder onto her, trying to get as close as possible to her core.

“Honey, we have to stay very quiet so nobody gets to us. Okay?” He whispered.

“I know. We don’t want to get in trouble. I’ll go first.” Y/N said, quietly breathing heavily.

“Okay, you know I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” His angelic voice replied, “I’ll go get a knife. Stay right here.” Objections spewed from her mouth, but he didn’t listen.

The distinct sound of glass shattering filled the vicinity. Then silence. The walls felt like they were closing in on them, the girl knew this might be it. She couldn’t even say goodbye since her boyfriend clamped her mouth shut with his vast palm. It was for the best, surely her head would’ve been on a platter from her cries being found.

“JK?” Y/N called out for him with a longing for his response, “Jungkook? Please come out, I think we’re okay!” So much desperation in her sore croaks. He had to be out there she knew he was.

Her hand flew up in defense as she took a deep blow to her stomach, toppling over the metal coffee table. The ringing became worse, old coffee from yesterday morning mixed with the liquid flowing from fresh, small cuts. Her arms flew up in retaliation, but Y/N’s instincts weren’t as sharp as the knife on the kitchen counter once held by the goner searching for protection.

There wasn’t any screaming, no struggle or pain. All she could hear was the soft singing of him, they were forever young. He was gone. His smell engulfed her senses, memories, all gone. Y/N would see him soon

“A house made of cards, and us, inside

Even though the end is visible

Even if it’s going to collapse soon

A house made of cards, we’re like idiots

Even if it’s a vain dream, stay like this a little more…”

They sang, they mocked. Her mind was numb with the figure of god-knows-who hovered over her limp physique. Little to her knowledge, Jungkook’s phone laid in the grasp of their left hand with the tantalizing feeling to take a photo to capture this moment. All for nothing.

It was over, they should’ve just stayed home.

Moral of the story: always listen to RM.

cyberdva. 2020

38 notes · View notes

blazehedgehog · 4 years

Note

What was the honest reaction to Sonic 06 back in 2006?

It was a long time ago, so I can only really speak to my own perspective.

Sonic 2006 was the time that Sega’s marketing department really started cranking the hype train really, really hard. Sonic 2006 was announced as a fresh start. A soft reboot. Sonic Team said they were treating it like “the first Sonic game on the Sega Genesis.” You still had Tails, and Knuckles, and Shadow, but it was the start of a new era. A new type of Sonic the Hedgehog. More serious, more realistic, more “epic.”

At this point, there was no reason to necessarily distrust any of that. Yes, Sonic games had been slipping in quality, and yes, Sega was still more or less pretending that everything was “okay.” But that was always in the typical, “we’re trying to sell a video game and not go bankrupt” sense. This felt like a tacit acknowledgement that things weren’t so great and they were going to start over and refocus. Set things right.

Early gameplay footage looked rough. I distinctly remember a Gametrailers hands-on where they were demoing the Mach Speed Zone in Kingdom Valley, and the Sega representative was very clear and upfront that the game wasn’t done yet, and all of the empty space Sonic was running through would be filled in later. (It wasn’t.) There was also the typical debate over the TGS 2006 “Bringing it Home” playable demo, where people argued then, too, that the game wasn’t done yet, and not to judge things too harshly. The final version will be better.

The final version also wasn’t done yet. So, y’know.

I had effectively bought an Xbox 360 for this game. I was broke as per usual, but I’d gotten lucky and won a Gametrailers video competition, which landed me $1000 in Gamestop gift cards. I bought a PS2, a Nintendo DS, and an Xbox 360, plus more than a dozen games between the three platforms. I knew there would be more Xbox 360 games besides Sonic 2006, and I’d even originally wanted a 360 primarily for Elder Scrolls Oblivion, but the simple fact is that once the money was in my hands and I spent it, Sonic 2006 was the only actual Xbox 360 game I owned.

Or was going to own, anyway. I think I’d won the contest in September or October of 2006, when Sonic came out in November. So I bought the 360 a few weeks early with some original Xbox games, and spent the interim with Spider-man 2, Ninja Gaiden Black, and the copy of Halo 2 I borrowed from my cousin.

Sonic 2006 was the first game I’d ever pre-ordered. The second game, pre-ordered on the same day, was The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess for the Gamecube. I still have the tiny pre-order statue that came with Sonic. His gloves and socks, once white, have begun to yellow with age, and the skin tone on his face and body is turning an ashy gray.

Even 72 hours before launch, there was not a clear picture what Sonic 2006 actually was. Sega was deliberately obfuscating certain features; early in development they’d sworn up and down that there were only three playable characters in the game, something that blatantly wasn’t true. Perhaps it was miscommunication from Japan, but it meant they were now going out of their way to hide how many other playable characters were actually in the game. I naively distrusted most (if not all) professional reviewers back then, and the earliest scores for Sonic 2006 were all over the map.

As a Sonic fan, you kind of had to know how to read between the lines on the more negative reviews, because we were definitely in the era where it felt like critics were starting to dogpile on the Sonic franchise now that Sega was a third party developer. There weren’t a lot of professional reviews you could trust regarding Sonic games, or at least, that’s what it felt like. This was the rise of the podcast, and snarky hosts were taking whatever low hanging fruit they could get.

I remember waking up on launch day -- friends had gotten up early and picked theirs up in the morning, when I’d rolled out of bed somewhere closer to noon (or maybe even afternoon). I had plans to pick up my copy later that evening, after sunset. My friends did not sound happy, but again, there was always this vibe of “Wait and see.” They had only just started the game. First impressions were still too fresh to really call.

But I had this moment, this cold spot in the pit of my stomach, where I thought “Maybe I can cancel the pre-order and get Gears of War instead?” Reviews for Gears seemed pretty good. I’d probably be happy with it instead of Sonic.

I couldn’t let myself do that. I was a Sonic fan. This was the first big Sonic game of a new generation. A new start. I bought the console for this. First game I ever pre-ordered. The second Sonic game in the history of the franchise I’d bought on launch day. This was it. This was the event. No backing down. Besides, Sonic 2006 was a big 15th Anniversary celebration game. They wouldn’t make such a big deal about the anniversary without just cause, right? Sonic 2006 was going to be great. I just needed to calm down.

So we drove out to Gamestop -- and it was the sort of thing where I think we couldn’t do the pre-order at my local Gamestop for some reason, so this one was a town or two over. It was a journey. I was nervous the whole way there. Something told me I was making a mistake. But I had to do this.

I think it may have been starting to rain as we rolled up on the store. It was around 8pm, and people were starting to camp out on the sidewalk. Literally camp out, tents and all, because of the rain. Today was the launch date for Sonic 2006, but tomorrow was the launch of the Playstation 3. These guys were here for Gamestop’s “Midnight Madness” launch event. They were going to be some of the first to get a PS3. I was probably the last person to pick up a Sonic 2006 pre-order.

Sonic 2006 might have been the first Sonic game to ever make me angry. I’d had a lot of internet debates on how I felt about Sonic Adventure 2, but most of those amounted to splitting hairs about things that felt disappointing when compared to the original Sonic Adventure. I was not angry then, I was simply let down. I was similarly let down when I finally got a chance to play Sonic Heroes. But again, not angry. Baffled, maybe. A little sad. But not angry.

With Sonic 2006, I slammed head first in to all of my excitement and uncertainty at 200mph. This was a Sonic game unlike anything I’d ever played before, and in all of the worst possible ways. Enough has been said about the quality of the game that I don’t need to describe anything that’s wrong with it -- also because literally everything was wrong with it. Perhaps the first video game I’d ever played, ever, on any platform, that actually fought back against your efforts to play it. A disaster in every sense of the word. A broken nightmare. After finishing Sonic’s story, I was mad. How could they let this happen? What was wrong with them?

I was less angry after having finished Shadow’s story. Shadow had even buggier gameplay than Sonic, but it also felt more complex, more action-oriented. His story was better, too -- instead of the sappy Princess love story, Shadow’s story was about how the world was against him, and the crossroads that brought him to: rise above his past and strive to be a better person, or give in to the temptations of evil? It was still dumb as heck, but it was less dumb than Sonic’s story.

By the time the credits rolled, I had accepted the fact that this game was a mess. More of a mess than any Sonic game ever had been before. It was clearly a deeply unfinished game. Friends theorized maybe they could patch the game, because that was a thing games could get now. Sonic 2006 could still be saved. The PS3 version wouldn’t be out for another month, surely that means they’re working on a fix, right? Some were even theorizing over an achievement called “Nights of Kronos” -- it mentioned a “complete ending to the last hidden story.” Perhaps that meant there was going to be more? Maybe we got the bad ending, and a better, more finished ending was waiting for us on the disc somewhere?

There wasn’t. And no patch ever fixed the game. That was Sonic 2006 -- the kiss, the loading screens, the strange mannequin NPCs, the stiff controls, the glitchy physics, the empty overworlds, the bizarre dialog, the plotholes and time paradoxes, that’s just what the game was, and was always going to be, forever.

Before Sonic 2006, you could say that 3D Sonic games were bad, but there was always a place to defend them from. They had problems, but they were never irredeemable. Sonic Heroes may have had frustrating controls and repetitive level design, but it had great art direction, nice music, and fun concepts. They were always trying, dang it, and it was obvious to see that.

Sonic 2006 felt irredeemable. Offensively terrible. A failure on such a level that it was hard to comprehend. Beyond simply “a new low” for the franchise. This felt like rock bottom. It was the kind of bad that spread like a virus. Even good games, like Sonic 2 on the Sega Genesis, felt notably tarnished by the existence of Sonic 2006. It threatened to ruin the entire franchise by proximity alone. For some, it probably did. I definitely had a moment where I wondered if I would ever enjoy a Sonic game in the same way ever again. They were all tainted now. Infected by memories of Sonic 2006, the game that was supposed to save the franchise, but condemned it to the lowest pits of hell.

In isolation, that might have been the end for me. I might have continued to drift away, bit by bit, until I found greener hills outside of the Sonic franchise.

I’ve said this before, but what saved me was getting hired to write for TSSZ News. Now, suddenly, I was paid to play and write about Sonic games. It was a duty. And it helped that the first Sonic game I reviewed for TSSZ ended up being Sonic Unleashed, a game I continue to openly gush about to this day, more than a decade after its release.

But never forget that Sonic 2006 was such a disaster that it nearly made me give up Sonic the Hedgehog. It really was that bad.

#questions #sonic the hedgehog #sega #sonic 2006 #tssz news #Anonymous

33 notes · View notes

gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 5 years

Link

I keep forgetting to post my fics here. have some ladynoir angst, desperada + gamer 2.0 flavor. inspired by @marinetteplztakeabreak

Rating: T

Summary: Chat Noir refuses to let anyone else play as Desperada. Ladybug doesn't know why. But she /does/ know that if he sacrifices himself one more time, her heart won't be able to take it. He doesn't know how it feels to watch her vanish in front of him... right? (Ladynoir, Set during/after Gamer 2.0)

Word Count: 5771

XXX

“No!”

Marinette’s hand paused, leaving her red cursor highlighting the triangular icon for Desperada.

“Chat?” Her eyes darted around the cramped pyramid, wishing she could see him, but her field of vision was eclipsed with the akuma selection screen until she chose a fighter. And even then, she’d enter the body of the akumatized victim; she still wouldn’t be able to reach her Kitty.

Had Gamer 2.0 broken the rules? Chat had seemed to be enjoying this game, but his voice just then—

“Don’t pick Desperada,” his voice crackled through her earpiece. Something was off for sure.

“Why not?” She asked. “She’s got an easy power to win with. I know you’re having fun, but we do still need to win.”

“I know, I know, but… please. You can win with anyone, my Lady. I’ll take Desperada.”

It was a strange request, but Marinette wasn’t picky. He was right; her strategy didn’t require any overpowered finishing moves.

“Are we going to play or not?” Gamer 2.0’s voice whined.

Marinette scrolled her cursor up and over to Gigantitan. Chat was always willing to listen to her plans. Of course she would respect the one thing he asked of her.

Though she easily won the match, she couldn’t shake the echo of Chat Noir’s panicked voice.

XXX

Stupid, stupid. Adrien’s hands still shook where they were trapped inside of the control console.

He should’ve just let Ladybug play as Desperada. What safer place could there be for her than inside the villain—no, victim, he could usually remember that—who haunted his nightmares? She couldn’t go up in golden smoke if she was the one wielding Desperada’s shapeshifting instrument.

But still, he wasn’t sure he could watch Desperada in action without clawing at his wrist, even if he knew his Lady was the one beneath her skin. And he knew he couldn’t let Ladybug face her—and he couldn’t face her—so there was only one solution his suddenly-whirling mind provided him.

He selected Desperada and slammed the button.

His body flickered, leaving him weightless for a brief second before he was thrust into the akuma victim’s body. He kept his eyes shut for as long as he could afford—not long, since Gamer 2.0 had chosen Pixelator. Another villain with a one-hit k.o.

Just don’t think about it. It’s just a game. It’s not her, you’re not Aspik, you’re not going to be trapped here again, you’re Chat Noir and you LOVE video games it’s just a game it’s just a game it’s just—

Pixelator’s blast nearly hit his feet. Only a quick skid across the slick arena floor saved him. Not that he’d be gone gone if he lost this match—but it would mean that Gamer 2.0 ended up with Desperada’s weapon.

Adrien grit his teeth. He couldn’t risk that. Her would win.

“Chat? Are you okay?” Ladybug’s voice came through his earpiece, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted by her. Not like he had been 25,913 times before.

“Fine!” He managed to choke out before gripping the trombone in his hands.

Pixelator fired off a few more shots, but apparently Gamer 2.0’s practice hadn’t improved his hand-eye coordination. The glitchy-looking projectiles flew wide enough for Adrien to scramble away, roll, take aim.

One shot. He just needed one shot. It would be easy.

But squeezing the modified trombone’s trigger? Not so much.

Panic gripped him, months upon months of memories slamming back into him as his gaze skirted the brass weapon. Five thousand separate instances where his Lady had disintegrated at its hand.

“Chat! Get your head in the game!”

Ladybug’s voice startled him enough that his hands clenched—squeezing the trigger and blasting that horrible, horrible noise.

Pixelator vanished in a spray of golden smoke.

Pixelator. Not his Lady.

His hand squeezed the blood from his left wrist anyway.

“Desperada wins!”

The announcer’s voice hit like a punch to the gut, and his body reacted by leaking bile into his throat.

But he won.

He won.

His body rematerialized in the control pyramid, and Ladybug wasted no time in picking her next fighter. She was laughing, using Prime Queen to hurl Princess Fragrance against the ground. She was having fun.

She was here, with him, even if he couldn’t squeeze her hand to physically reassure himself. She was here.

...And, he realized when it was his turn at the selection screen again, she still needed him.

If his time fighting Desperada had taught him anything, it was that he would never let down his Lady.

XXX

“The times when I have the most fun—my favorite moments— are when I'm with you, my Lady. And I would give up everything for just that.”

Chat Noir’s words echoed in Marinette’s mind hours after the fight with Gamer 2.0. Hours after Max had left her house, cheered by the time spent with her and her parents. Hours after she lady in bed, trying to convince herself to sleep.

He did give up everything for her. All the time. Including today.

Did he know how much it hurt to watch him fall out of the arena? And he’d had the nerve to wink at her while he did it! While she couldn’t doubt his logic—and while warmth pooled in her at his trust—what if she’d failed? She’d been pushed to the brink today; she’d snapped and directed her frustrations from her civilian life at him. And the whole time, he’d taken it, talked her down, taken the hit.

Just like he always did.

He always did.

She buried her face in her pillow, wishing she’d at least taken the time to thank him today. He knew she couldn’t do this without him, didn’t he? So much of their partnership went without saying…

But then again, she hadn’t realized how much she meant to him until he’d said it, either.

“Marinette?” Tikki whispered from her spot next to her pillow. “I thought you’d be asleep by now. You were exhausted today.”

“I am exhausted,” she groaned, squeezing the pillow against the sides of her head. “But I can’t stop thinking about…”

“About who?”

Marinette peeked out enough to glare at her kwami. She knew, of course—she’d said who, not what—but she was going to make Marinette say it.

“Chat Noir,” she huffed into the pillowcase. “He sacrificed himself again today.”

Tikki nodded, even though she probably already knew that too. Her kwami had a good sense of what happened while Marinette was in the suit, though she was unable to explain how it worked in a way that a human mind could understand.

“But you saved him,” Tikki said. “Just like he knew you would.”

“I know I can, but… it still hurts, you know?” Her voice came out as little more than a whimper. “I know I’m Ladybug, and I have to purify the akuma, but still… I couldn’t do it without him. And it’s like he didn’t even think before jumping today!”

“Because he trusts you, Marinette.”

“I know! But—”

But what? There really wasn’t anything else to it. She’d tried talking Chat out of taking hits before. She could never get him to promise to stop, not when Paris needed the Miraculous Cure more than it needed his Cataclysm.

But.

She just wanted him to be okay. He’d said he was fine—that his favorite moments were with her.

How could they be, when he was always in so much danger?

How would he feel if he knew how much she worried about him? Not all the time, of course—just times like this, when she remembered him falling like a ragdoll, disappearing, fading from existence. It hadn’t been as bad as Timebreaker for sure, or even the Puppeteer when he’d been briefly turned against her—but those had been so long ago. Maybe it was just the recentness of it, reminding her again just how much she cherished her partner.

Not that she could tell him that so directly. He’d never stop riding the high of it.

Tikki smiled knowingly. “If you’re worried about Chat Noir, you should tell him. He’s your partner. And I… don’t think he gets to hear how much he means to people very often.”

Of course, Tikki had managed to follow her train of thought. Being literally merged as Ladybug tended to make that easier for her.

“You really think his ego isn’t big enough?” Marinette grumbled.

Tikki’s eyes turned sad. “This isn’t Chloe we’re talking about. He’s your friend.”

Marinette’s brows drew together. He was her friend, and her partner, and… and he couldn’t be more than that. Today had reminded her why.

If it already hurt so much to watch Chat throw his life away, how could she handle it if she were in love with him?

“Right,” she mumbled, hating the way her exhaustion twisted her thoughts. She couldn’t be in love with Chat anyway—because she was in love with Adrien. She’d taken down some of his pictures since becoming better friends with him, but a few still peeked out from the top of her cork board.

She’d never displayed a picture of Chat Noir, even if she could easily pass herself off as a casual fan. She wasn’t sure her heart would be able to take both blond-haired boys staring down at her.

This was useless. She’d been worried about Chat’s safety, not whether or not she was in love with him!

“Tikki? You think I could get out for a bit to clear my head?” Lying here in the dark certainly wasn’t cutting it.

“Of course. Just don’t stay out too long; you still need your rest.”

That much was obvious, especially if she was entertaining romantic thoughts of Chat Noir.

After a whispered “spots on,” she swung out into the night.

XXX

Adrien wound the red string around his left wrist. Breathed in.

Unwound. Breathed out.

Wound. Breathed in.

Unwound.

The rooftop’s shingles still dug into Adrien’s back, but some of the tension uncoiled from his shoulders as he methodically twisted Marinette’s lucky charm. Maybe it was silly, but more than anything else he’d tried, it worked. Having something to replace the weight of the miraculous bracelet he’d worn for so long… maybe it should’ve been a reminder of all the times he’d failed, but instead it gave him hope.

How could anything bad happen to him while he held his friend’s lucky charm?

A gentle breeze kissed his masked face as he held his wrist up to the moon. The green and pink beads glinted brightly against the inky black of his gloves.

He was glad the moon was the only one who could see him from his hiding spot on the abandoned roof. What would Ladybug think if she knew he had such a weird way of clearing his head? Maybe she’d joke that she was being replaced, that he didn’t need her luck anymore if he had Marinette’s. But no, that thought wouldn’t even occur to her. Unlike Adrien, she knew she couldn’t be replaced.

“Chat Noir! You know you’re irreplaceable.”

He tried to remember her reassuring words every time those doubts crept in. She had needed him today. Something had been off with her, a vulnerability he rarely got to see.

“Aren't you scared you'll eventually have to sacrifice everything you love for all of this?”

It would be hard to sacrifice everything he loved when everything he loved was her. He’d toned down that sentiment out loud, but he still wished he could pull her into his arms, promise her that everything was going to be okay, that they’d beat Hawkmoth and steal his miraculous and reveal their identities to each other and fall and love and move to a private island with a hamster—

He chuckled at his own fantasy. He could dream, right? He had to have something to get through the days when all he could remember was her vanishing over and over, golden smoke and shocked blue eyes—

The charm bracelet was too tight on his wrist. He quickly unwound it before the red string could snap.

Breathed out. Wound. Breathed in—

And nearly choked when his staff started ringing.

He rolled over and whipped it out from behind his back, too shocked to even pretend he was busy before picking up. “LB? You okay?”

“Oh, um… I didn’t think you’d be up, honestly.” Her awkward laugh echoed over the pounding of his heart. “Are you okay?”

“I’m absolutely purrrrfect now, my Lady.” He grinned. Marinette’s lucky charm has paid off again. “How about yourself? Just wanted to have a chat on this feline evening?”

“Nope, nope, that’s it, I’m hanging up.”

“No no no don’t go,” he said in one breath, both hands tightening around his staff-phone. “I mean. You didn’t even tell me why you called yet.”

“I can’t just want to chat with my kitty?”

Oh, that put fluttery feelings in his stomach. It was probably for the best that she wasn’t there in person to see his absolutely smitten look. “You made a pun.”

“Completely accidental!”

“Suuuure it was, bugaboo.” He was pushing it, he knew, but she’d called her his kitty. Either something was finally going right for him… or something was very, very wrong. “Seriously, though. You never make house calls. What’s up?”

“I… nevermind, this was stupid,” she muttered.

“No excuse to talk to you is stupid.”

She paused, and for a moment he was sure she’d hung up. But then she said, “Meet me at the Eiffel Tower in ten minutes.”

“As you wish, my Lady.”

He tucked Marinette’s lucky charm away in his pocket, making sure to zip it shut. Then he vaulted off into the night, leaving memories of other bracelets and vanishing Ladybugs behind.

XXX

“We need to talk.” Marinette crossed her arms to keep them from shaking.

Chat Noir dropped onto the crossbeam in front of her, a grin wide on his face. “What, you’re not even going to take me out to dinner first?”

She found herself wishing she’d brought some croissants, if only to have one to throw at him. “Can you—can you be serious for once?”

Her voice cracked pitifully. She was doing it again—taking out her fear and anger on him, and he didn’t deserve it, and she just…

She covered her eyes and crouched down on the cold crossbar. “I’m sorry, Chat. I—I shouldn’t have asked you to come out this late.”

“Hey.”

She felt more than saw Chat sit down beside her. His arms came gently around her, slow enough that she could’ve chosen to pull away.

“You know I’ll always come when you call, little Bug.”

She tried to snort at the nickname, but it felt all too accurate. She felt so, so small.

“I know you will,” she murmured, twisting to better return his undeserved embrace. “I’m still sorry. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciated you today. I’ve been… having a rough time in my civilian life. It wasn’t fair to take it out on you.”

“We all have off days, LB. Don’t worry about it.”

Of course, it hadn’t even fazed him. How many times had she taken that for granted?

“I know you don’t want to reveal too much about our identities, but if you want to talk about anything that’s bothering you, I’m all ears.” He pulled back just a little, enough for her to see him twitch his leather cat ears.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide a smile. “I just took on too many obligations at the same time, that’s all. It’s a problem I have.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” He smiled sadly. “You’re always sacrificing so much for others. I can’t imagine your civilian self is any different.”

Her face warmed at his praise. She did do a lot, but she doubted he’d find her exploits as Marinette half as impressive as Ladybug. Besides—

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, the most self-sacrificing person I know.”

Her gaze peeled away from him as his most recent sacrifice again flashed through her mind. Would it be worth bringing up again? He’d never stop choosing her safety over his own. And she really didn’t want to argue after just apologizing to him.

“Sorry.”

His soft, sad voice surprised her. Of course it hadn’t been hard for him to guess what she was thinking—he did that all the time when they fought side by side—but he’d never sounded so much like… like he understood.

“I should’ve thought a little harder before jumping today. That was probably hard to watch.”

“Probably?” She couldn’t help gaping. “Chat, it hurts every time I see you throw yourself into danger. We could’ve found a way to trick Gamer 2.0, or at least come up with a plan. But you just…”

Left me.

That was it, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be her and him against the world. Even if the fight could technically be handled alone sometimes, she needed him.

Her partner’s claws scratched at his wrist, just below the leather brace. His gaze wouldn’t focus on her.

“I’m sorry, Ladybug, I really am. I wasn’t... having the best day either, I guess.”

“Hey,” she said, taking his hand—had his claws been digging into his suit?—and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry. I know we’ve talked about this, and I don’t want to fight about it again.” There had been too many tears last time, from both of them. (Mostly her.) “I’m sorry today was hard for you too.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head, but his grip tightened on her hand, like she was anchoring him. “It was nothing, really. Just not at the top of my game.”

The pun was forced, and she knew it. She frowned up at him.

“I’m not going to stop worrying about you just because you tell me to, Chat. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Can’t. Civilian stuff,” he said quickly.

“Really? I guess I just thought… nevermind.”

“What?”

Maybe she’d misread the situation earlier—after all, she hadn’t been able to see his face while they were in the Gamer’s domain. Could the strange panic she’d thought she heard in his voice just been her imagination?

“You didn’t want me to play as Desperada. And you seemed a little off afterwards…”

He shuddered at the akuma’s name. “You noticed?”

“Of course I did. You sounded scared, but I didn’t want to ask and give Gamer 2.0 anything he could use against you.”

“Smart,” he said under his breath. “I should know I can’t hide anything from you.”

“I don’t know about that. It’s not like I know your identity.”

He gave a shallow laugh at that. “Right…”

There was an awkward silence, where nothing passed between them but Chat’s rapid pulse against her palm. She still hadn’t let go of his hand. He hadn’t teased her about it—which was more of a sign that something was wrong than anything.

“You know,” she said under her breath, tracing her thumb along the back of his hand, “keeping you safe is my number one priority, right?”

“No it’s not.” He shook his head, but he didn’t sound bitter about it. “Keeping Paris safe is your priority. Keeping you safe is mine.”

She bit her lip. Unfortunately, no matter how her heart felt, he was right.

“I just mean… the rules we have, about identities and everything—it’s to protect us.” She swallowed, wondering if she’d regret what she was about to say, if she was only considering it because she’d been worn down by the emotionally exhausting day. “But if you need to talk about something related to your civilian identity that’s affecting you in battle, well… I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

His eyes snapped up to hers. “Don’t say that.”

“W-what?” His intensity caught her off guard. She was always one to shut down conversations that danced too close to their civilian life, not him.

“If you give me permission to talk about this… I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop.”

His shoulders hunched; his knees pulled up to his chest. For all that he’d called her Little Bug earlier, she’d never seen him look so small. Not when she’d told him she was in love with someone else. Not when they’d fought a horde of akumas turned by Scarlett Moth.

But she’d rather face a hundred akumas then see her partner look so defeated.

“Chat Noir.” She squeezed his hand tighter, afraid he would slip away. “I trust you. I know you wouldn’t reveal yourself to me on purpose. I’m not trying to tempt you or anything, I just… I hate seeing you like this.”

Maybe it was selfish of her, but could he really blame her for wanting to help him?

“Let me protect you for once,” she whispered.

“You already have.” He looked up, and to her surprise, tears welled in the corners of his green eyes. “So many times.”

“Then let me do it again. Maybe I can’t keep you from getting hurt, but at least let me be here for you. You don’t have to pretend to be okay all the time, you know that, right?”

“I do, actually.” He snorted, wiping at one eye with his free hand. “Can’t get akumatized.”

Marinette could’ve punched Hawkmoth in the face right then. Well, she wanted to punch Hawkmoth all the time, but especially now.

“Forget about that. I’ll watch out for any butterflies, if you just want to… you know.”

Sometimes you just needed a good cry. Marinette hadn’t had that luxury since becoming Ladybug two years ago—except for a few rare times where Tikki had kept watch for her—but she had no idea how much Chat might have been bottling up.

From the sound of his shaking sobs, it was a lot.

“It’s okay, kitty, I’ve got you.”

She released his hand, but only so she could better wrap her arms around him, curling into his side. He collapsed into her embrace.

“It’s okay. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.” She ran her hands through his hair, scratched gently behind his cat ears, until a low rumble sounded in his chest. She didn’t let that fool her though; she’d read that cats sometimes purred when they were in pain.

And her kitty was in more pain than she’d ever realized.

“I can’t lose you again,” he finally said against her collarbone. “I can’t. I know you won’t leave me on purpose, but—even just remembering it—”

“I’ll never leave you, Chaton. It’s you and me against the world.” She kept up her soothing touches, steadfastly ignoring just how nice it felt to her too. She was here to comfort her partner, not get lost in the scent of his strawberry shampoo and leather suit.

“But what if I can’t save you?” He finally burst, looking up at her with tearstained eyes. “I… we don’t always get second chances…”

It wasn’t the first time she’d had that fear—though usually hers was the fear of failing as a whole, of watching Chat disappear forever, of watching Paris crumble around her.

“I know,” she murmured. She wouldn’t lie and pretend there was nothing to be afraid of. “But I also know that no matter what we’ve faced, you’ve always been here to save me. You saved me today.”

As much as it pained her to admit, his self-sacrificing stunt had allowed her to win. While she understood his fear, why was it catching up to him now, of all times? Maybe it was just remembering all the akumas they’d faced, all their close calls…

“Don’t pick Desperada.”

That one… hadn’t been worse than usual, had it?

“We don’t always get second chances…”

“I don’t always save you,” he said. “I don’t, and—and I can’t tell you, and that’s what hurts more than anything.” He squeezed his eyes shut before dropping his head back onto her shoulder.

“I don’t understand. I’m still here. Safe,” she reassured him while rubbing his back. “That should be proof enough that you didn’t fail.”

“Only because you don’t remember.”

Didn’t… remember? Had there been an akuma attack like Oblivio that she had no memory of? But surely she would’ve remembered casting the Cure at least, and noticed that there was a gap in time that she’d missed…

And she still didn’t understand how any of this could relate to worries about Chat’s civilian identity, unless that had just been a bluff to keep her from asking. But she doubted that—Chat Noir didn’t lie to her.

“25,913 times…”

She wasn’t supposed to hear that. She knew that from the way it was mumbled despondently into the crook of her neck. She knew it from the way his whole body froze at the admission.

She knew it from the way she had that number memorized. If it had been anything else, any other number, she would’ve thought he was exaggerating, but—

“It was the 25,913th time. I don’t know what to do anymore!”

“No,” she gasped. He was—and he had— “Adrien?”

Slowly, as if every degree he lifted his head caused him pain, he met her eyes. His lips tried to twitch into a hopeful smile, but they wavered before letting out another sob.

“I told you I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, even though it did matter, because the boy she loved was the other boy she loved, and—now was not the time to be coming out of denial! “I mean, it does matter, of course I care who you are, but I’m not—we’ll get through it, okay?”

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” He sniffed.

She squeezed him before he could pull out of her hug—even though he had every right to pull away. She had been the one to give him the snake miraculous.

Everything snapped into place. Why Desperada had freaked him out. His fear of failing her. Why he would jump into danger so rashly.

And she’d thought it was bad to watch Chat sacrifice himself. He he’d been in love with her all along, and she’d made him watch her vanish 25,913 times.

She’d tried to check on Adrien as Ladybug shortly after the Desperada fight. She’d known there was a chance that he’d be struggling, he said he’d been in the time loop for months, but every time she tried to visit he was gone or asleep (she knew she should’ve kept his schedule!) and then he’d come to school and he’d seemed fine, but all along…

“Talk to me, Bug, please,” he choked out.

“Sorry!” She released him from her hug, but only so she could grab his hands instead.

(She was holding Adrien’s hands, the useless part of her brain screamed.)

(She told it to shut up.)

“I’m not mad, I promise. I’m just so—so stupid,” she finally said, traitorous tears already welling in her own eyes, spilling over, clinging to the edge of her mask. Blurring her view of the one person who meant more to her than anyone. “I’m so sorry, chaton— if anyone should be mad it’s you. I was the one who chose you to use the snake miraculous; I was so selfish—”

“Ladybug, no.” He shook his head, blond hair flaring out around his human ears. “You couldn’t know I was Chat Noir. I was… I was thrilled that you picked my civilian self.”

“But I shouldn’t have. I should have used my head instead of my heart.” She bit her lip. How could he still look at her with such warmth when he’d been trapped trying to protect her for so long?

“You always use your head. I’m the one who was stupid enough to keep trying.”

“Because you trusted me—”

“Because I love you.”

Her head snapped up, wet blue eyes locking on shimmering green ones. Those were the words she’d wanted to hear ever since he’d caught her in the rain two years ago. She’d never expected to hear them here, now, when she felt she least deserved them.

“You—still?” Her breath caught.

He chuckled. “I thought it was obvious, Bugaboo.”

“How do you stand it?” She blurted. Wrong time, wrong words, but she couldn’t stop. “I mean… if you don’t want to talk about it, I get it, I really do, but—how did you watch me… get hit all those times, when you love me, and not—”

She wasn’t going to cry again. She wasn’t.

“Go crazy?” He smiled sadly. “I think it’s too late for that.”

“Adrien…”

“But it means I know how you feel now. I’m sorry I made you watch me disappear again today. That wasn’t cool of me.”

“Stop it—stop apologizing, Chat, I mean—you—agh!” She threw her arms around his neck, and from the brief look of panic on his face, he must have thought she was going to strangle him. But she just pulled him into another crushing hug. “You’re so much braver than I am.”

“Pawsitively untrue.”

“True! I always knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it if I watched you take the hits you do, and I was… and I was… in love with you,” she mumbled.

This time his chuckle was hollow, echoing in the pit of her stomach.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not in love with me, then.”

“I am.”

Cold clarity washed over her. Did—did she really just say that? No! She wasn’t supposed to say it like that, when they’d both been crying and…

And it didn’t matter.

Because he was looking at her like she’d just cast the Miracle Cure over his whole world.

“You… you’re…”

“In love with you,” she said, because she could, oh she could and it felt like someone had finally breathed the air back into her lungs. “I’m in love with you, Chat Noir. Adrien. Both of you—just you, wow, that’s still going to take some getting used to…”

But it felt right. ...Maybe just because she was relieved she didn’t have to choose between her all-consuming crush and her partner who she wouldn’t give up for the world. But still.

“You’re in love with me,” he breathed. The grin that spread across his face could’ve powered the whole Eiffel Tower—no, all of Paris. She could still hardly believe he’d grace her with it, after everything that had happened—

But they were partners. They were friends. Even if they weren’t in love—which they were, she thought with a giddy shiver—nothing could tear apart Ladybug and Chat Noir.

To her surprise, his hand detangled from hers to unzip his pocket. But the even bigger surprise was what he fished out.

“I’m going to have to to thank Marinette again.” He held up her old beaded bracelet by one end of the red string. “I think her lucky charm works almost as well as yours.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. Even when he’d been in love with Ladybug, he’d carried Marinette’s charm with him?

The urge to yank his bell and kiss him punched her in the gut. But she had to hold out for at least a little longer—just long enough to blow his mind, she hoped.

“You’re welcome, chaton,” she said with a smirk. “I’m glad you’re making good use of it. Seems like you needed it more than I did.”

He blinked, his jaw dropping open. “Wh—no way, Marinette?”

Her face heated. She was used to teasing and flirting with Chat, but hearing him say her name while she was suited up—there was something about it that shot lightning from her toes to the tips of her fingers.

“Er—surprise?”

“I love you,” he said before slapping his hands over his mouth. Which was too bad, because she was really close to just pressing her own mouth over his. Her lucky charm dangled teasingly between his fingers, probably touching his lips, not fair—

“Yep, you’ve said that.” She giggled.

“Agh, I know, but—it was you! Marinette!”

She wasn’t really sure what was playing out in his head right now. His eyes shifted through so many expressions before settling on one that just about melted her insides.

“I know you said not to apologize—”

“Don’t you dare.” She jabbed his chest. “I’m just going to forgive you anyway.”

“Because you love me.” He grinned dopily, clutching her lucky charm to the spot she’d poked.

“No.” It was really hard to keep glaring when he just stared at her like she was the only star in the sky.

“Yes.”

“Yes, I love you, no, it’s because you’re my partner and I think we’ve both sacrificed ourselves enough for each other. We’re both superheroes. We’re going to have to take hard hits, it’s our job.” She took a deep breath. Even though it might hurt even more now… “I trust you, Chat. You’re not going to jump in front of an akuma unless you really have to, right?”

“Of course. Right.” He nodded. “But that wasn’t what I was apologizing for this time.”

“Oh.” She blinked. She’d still forgive him anyway, but she had to admit she was curious now.

“I’m sorry I never noticed that the love of my life was in front of me this whole time.”

He twined their fingers, the red string of her charm tangling in between them.

She let out a half-laugh. That was it?

“I could apologize for the same thing, you know.”

“Or,” he said with a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips, “we could skip to the part where we kiss and make—mmpf!”

Her mouth was clumsy against his, but she was so high on the exhilaration of kissing him that it didn’t matter. He followed her lips with equal fervor, no longer shaking, his claws digging wonderfully into the divot just to the side of her spine.

For that moment, they didn’t have to be superheroes. They didn’t have to think about failing, about consequences—they were just two teenagers, in love, chasing each others breaths on the side of the Eiffel Tower.

Kissing her partner wouldn’t fix everything. But for now it was a reprieve, and a promise.

She would always, always be here for her kitty.

#fic tag #tali writes #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #love square #ml #angst #hurt/comfort #reveal fic

271 notes · View notes

wafflebloggies · 4 years

Text

A Favourite Idea

Figment, light as a feather in the updraft, half-bounced and half-fluttered across the maze of beams in the workshop’s high vaulted roof until he reached the middle.

If anyone below had happened to look up, they would have seen a wide, airy warehouse ceiling, criss-crossed with beams and strong gunmetal-gray supports. They might also have seen a scrap of yellow, a hint of chrome, or a suspicion of sweatpants. Nobody looked up, so nobody did.

The Captain sat on a central span with his legs crossed, his back against the top of the centre-most column. At floor level, each column was a handy storage-post for something or the other, hanging tools, shelves, blueprints on pinboards. Up here, there was nothing but patchy paint and dust, and the Captain, chin propped on his hand, watching the ground below.

It seemed rude to just plonk himself down right next to him, so Figment parked himself a few feet from his side- just close enough to be convenient for conversational purposes- and cleared his throat politely.

“Hek-hempf.”

No response. Figment edged a couple of inches closer, and coughed again, but the Captain seemed to be set on watching the workshop floor, without much expression beyond a small irritable crease at the top of his nose. Figment tried to follow his gaze, but he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary down below. Only Blair, working, shirtsleeves rolled up amidst the chaos, buried up to his elbows in the Dream Machine’s complex workings, and Alan on the old couch, his laptop on his knees, cross-legged in an attitude pretty similar to the Captain’s. As Figment watched, Alan looked up from his screen and said something- unintelligible, from this distance- and Blair pulled his head out of the tangle of machinery and laughed.

Figment smiled, bright and wide, because seeing people happy made him happy, and seeing Blair happy was best of all. Then he noticed that the furrow at the top of the Captain’s nose had deepened, turning into a Definite Scrunch.

Well, if the Captain needed cheering up, Figment had the perfect thing. The little dragon scooched another inch closer, coughed a third time, and began-

“Hey, Captain, what lies at the bottom of the sea and shivers?”

“What does he think he’s doing?”

Figment blinked and shook his head. “No, you’re supposed to say ‘I don’t know, Figment, what lies at the-’”

“It’d drive me crazy, someone sucking up to me like that.” The Captain waved a hand. “It’s so obvious- look at them! He follows the Dreamfinder around like some kinda… lost puppy. I mean, doesn’t he have any standards?”

“Uh…” Figment, watching the two humans below, tapped his two index claws together, making a blunt, uneasy little noise. “I don’t think he’s-”

“It’s so transparent. Honestly, Figment, it’s pathetic.”

Figment’s big, luminous eyes looked troubled. If he felt like it- and honestly, right now, he did- he could drop down out of the dusty rafters, free as air, and curl round Blair’s shoulders. He could tell Blair his awesome joke, and Blair would probably think it was a riot. It occurred to him, vaguely, that for some reason the Captain didn’t have the same sort of freedom, and not just because he was bigger and human-shaped and would knock Alan flat if he tried landing on top of him. No, it was part of the whole Thing that had Blair so worried. The Thing that Figment wanted to understand… and help with, if he could.

The Captain was a spark, just like Figment. Figment felt that this should mean that there were things that they could talk about between them, things that maybe the Captain found hard to discuss with Alan. This seemed even more likely to him because, from what he’d seen lately, the Captain and Alan didn’t really talk. The Captain demanded things, usually sounding more like he was telling off an irritating house-pet than anything else, and Alan mumbled monotone agreement. As far as Figment could tell, it wasn’t really an open exchange of ideas.

“Is this… because Alan isn’t helping with your show?”

“It has nothing to do with Alan not helping with-” The Captain looked as if he was trying to swallow a kiwi whole. “-with our show. Just because he doesn’t understand the meaning of a commitment-”

Figment craned his long neck over the edge of the beam, looking closer, trying to confirm for himself what the Captain was studying so intently. Nothing stood out to him, so he scratched his horns, scootched a bit closer still and tried to sit himself cross-legged like the Captain, in case that helped his point of view, and began again.

“Come on. What’s up, Captain?”

“Us,” said the Captain, in a distracted voice.

“I meant-” started Figment, but before he could finish the Captain looked right at him, as if he’d only just realised he was there.

“What’s the first thing you heard him say?”

“Huh?”

“The Dreamfinder. The first thing you ever heard.”

“Oh!” Figment cheered up immediately, beaming happily at the memory. “Well, he didn’t say it out loud, but he thought, ‘I’m gonna make a friend!’ And then he did. And then, when he needed me, he found that memory, and I was right there with it! The first thing he actually said was ‘Oh, good Lord,” but the actual, factual, first thought… that was the thought that turned into me!”

“’I’m going to make a friend,’” repeated the Captain.

“Yep-yep! I’m his spark- his favourite idea. You know- just like you’re Alan’s!”

The Captain made a noise like a cough with a strangled huff in it. Figment’s smile fell a little, as he sensed that while his answer had been true, it hadn’t been very welcome.

“What about you, Captain? What was Alan’s idea?”

The Captain stood up, suddenly enough that Figment flinched and slid off the beam. Righting himself in the air, the little dragon looked up at him, alarmed.

“’Please do what I can’t,”’ he parroted, somehow managing to sound sing-song and flat at the same time.

“Huh?”

“Favourite idea, ppff, right. I’m not here to be his friend, he didn’t-” He stared downwards, a hitch of distaste at the corner of his silvery lip. “He didn’t make me for that, he made me because he needs me to do all the stuff he can’t do. At the end of the day, he’s not a superhero, he’s not a- a super-successful Shorty-winning Youtube sensation, he’s just some guy! He’s just- he’s just human!”

Figment thought. “Blair’s the Dreamfinder, and a Portal Master,” he said, “and the Last Keeper of the Dreamport- or he will be, when we find it! But… he’s human, too. I don’t know that there’s any just about it, Captain.”

“Ugh,” said the Captain, and it sounded like an ugh right from the depths of his soul. “Humans, they’re so… glitchy. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in that body? I was in it for less than an hour and I basically wanted to explode! When Alan even thinks about talking to a room full of people, his entire body tries to kill him so he doesn’t have to do it. You wouldn’t believe how much he sweats, and his stomach goes crazy, and it’s like his throat gets really-” A hard swallow. “The point is, Alan can’t stand in front of an audience or, or a camera and say stuff… even if he wrote it! But someone has to. I have to- I have to do what he can’t!”

“Sure, but-” said Figment, but the Captain wasn’t done.

“So if he can’t do all that stuff, the least he can do is…” He sat back, tucked a hand under his chin again, grumpily, and waved the other in a vague, dismissive manner. “You know… the stuff I don’t want to. Without getting an attitude about it!”

Figment cocked his head. It seemed to him that there were an awful lot of things the Captain didn’t want to do, all the way across the spectrum of tasks from fetching snacks to intensive editing, scriptwriting, musical composition, finances, web administration, correspondence, and his own laundry. He thought about saying something to the point, but right when he opened his mouth, the Captain looked at him again, hiking an eyebrow as whatever train of thought he’d been following pulled laboriously to an end. Not a great end, if the look on his face was anything to go by. Just for a moment, in fact, he looked just as tired as Alan.

“A nervous wreck,” he said, and then- as he seemed more and more inclined to do, lately- he fizzled into a vaguely Captain-shaped array of bright cubes that spread and spilled away upwards, vanishing into thin air.

Left alone in the rafters, Figment sighed, fidgeting uneasily with the ends of his two-spiked tail.

“Well… I thought it was funny.”

#figment #figment the dragon #captain disillusion #alan amelik #The Dream Team #dream team #the dreamfinder #my writes

19 notes · View notes

bananaofswifts · 4 years

Link

Released with little fanfare this move to more muted songwriting is proof Swift’s music can thrive without the celebrity drama

Taylor Swift announced the existence of her eighth album an uncharacteristic 17 hours prior to its release: “Most of the things I had planned this summer didn’t end up happening,” she said – among them, a headline slot at Glastonbury – “But there is something I hadn’t planned on that DID happen.” Swift only released her last album, Lover, last August. If she was surprised to have emerged from lockdown with Folklore – a 16-track album largely produced (remotely) by the National’s Aaron Dessner – her fans were even more stunned by the fact that Swift would release a record with zero fanfare.

Swift pioneered the art of the all-consuming album rollout. It usually starts with her sharing coded hints that her well trained fans understand immediately. Then there are teasers for lyric videos that beget actual blockbuster videos, strewn with self-mythologising references for Swifties and journalists to unpick. It’s a smart promotional strategy-by-proxy for an artist who has done little press in the past five years, and a good way of making your actions seem as if they were written in the stars. There are sometimes baffling brand endorsements. The often unpopular lead single seldom sounds like the rest of the album. By the time that arrives, a weariness has descended: the sense that one of pop’s all-time greatest songwriters is overcompensating despite her clear talent.

Recent albums, too, have been consumed with the various dramas that have plagued her since the country ingenue became a pop superstar with 2012’s Red. Despite the last 12 months bringing a new, high-profile disagreement with her former label and enduring disputes with Kanye West, thankfully Folklore features none of that, beyond inadvertently arriving the same day as West said he was releasing a new album. Moreover, Swift conveys the sense that her tendency to desire the last word, in public and private, has been her undoing: “I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere / Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here,” she sings on This Is Me Trying.

Folklore proves that she can thrive away from the noise: if you interpret “classmates” as pop peers, Swift is no longer competing. Bombastic pop makes way for more muted songwriting, and a singular vision compared to the joyful but spread-betting Lover. With concerts off the table for the foreseeable future, no longer needing to reach four sides of a stadium may have proven liberating.

Elements of her fanbase have long wanted her to revisit the Nashville songcraft of her youth through an adult lens, but this isn’t that album. Folklore is largely built around the soft cascades of piano, burbling guitar and fractured, glitchy electronica that will be familiar to fans of the National’s post-2010 output – at least part of the album came about from Swift writing to Dessner’s musical sketches. Swift’s most coherent record since her staunchly country days, it’s nonetheless her most experimental, developing on Lover’s stranger, more minimalist end. More than one song evokes the intimate celestial tenderness of Sufjan Stevens circa Carrie and Lowell. At the opposite end of the scale, This Is Me Trying subtly grows into its wracked orchestral grandeur, sounding more unsettling still for how Swift’s voice, processed at a ghostly, vast remove, seems to encompass the whole song with her desperation.

Swift is known for her vocal directness – there is no pop star as adroit at searing a chorus into your brain, or as winking in her tartness – if not her range. But the demands of pop processing mean her voice has never been heard as it is here: the acceptance that colours it on The 1, a bouncy reminiscence of a lost lover from her “roaring twenties”; how weatherworn yet at peace she sounds as she remembers the good parts of a treacherous relationship on Cardigan, a song as cavernous and shimmering as a rock pool in a cave. Her vocal trademarks remain in the yo-yoing vocal yelps on August, and the climactic, processed cri de coeur of My Tears Ricochet, and she holds her own against the wounded bark of Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon on Exile, which paints a split first in scenes of overt betrayal, and then gorgeous, subtle harmonies at crossed purposes indicating a problem deeper than one infidelity.

Given the more earthy production, some will characterise Folklore as showing a more authentic side of Swift. Not only would that be facile, asserting some authentic self is also explicitly not her aim. In a brief essay included in the liner notes, she says of the album’s concept: “The lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and fiction become almost indiscernible.” She writes that some songs are about her and others are about invented characters. More interesting than parsing which is which (many are obviously both) is the sense that Swift is interrogating her own self-conception and challenging that personal mythology: how helpful and true those ideas are to herself as a woman of 30.

Swift’s longest lyrical obsession is the loss of innocence, a theme she makes fairly devastating here. Set to high piano flurries, Seven switches between hopscotch-rhyme verses about childhood rituals, and pleading, choral depictions of herself at seven, “in the weeds, before I learned civility,” she sings. “I used to scream ferociously / Any time I wanted.” What conditioning beat out of her as a girl, it beat back in decades later: the tense, slippery Mad Woman traces the self-perpetuating cycle of women being angered by being labelled angry – both massively improve on Lover’s slightly facile gender inequality treatise, The Man, because they’re personal, not projections. Later she recalls naive young love, “back when we were still changing for the better”, then, on Illicit Affairs, willingly entering into a deceitful relationship with someone who “showed me colours you know I can’t see with anyone else”.

The self-awareness that Swift displayed on Lover deepens in Folklore, where she subtly considers the murky line between corruption and complicity, between being a victim and a catalyst. The recriminations are fewer, the fights fairer, and her sense of responsibility in them greater. The seismic shocks of her Reputation-era rude awakening about her public image are still felt: “I can change everything about me to fit in,” she sings on Mirrorball, a gorgeous pedal steel wooze made with Jack Antonoff. Yet she tentatively asserts what’s at her core: the deep dedication she sings about on the resonant, minimalist Peace, and the abiding romanticism of Invisible String.

Lockdown has been a fruitful time for this sort of soul-searching, the absence of much in the way of new memory-formation triggering nostalgic reveries and regrets. This strange summer of arrested development is steadily ending. Folklore will endure long beyond it: as fragmented as Swift is across her eighth album – and much as you hope it doesn’t mark the end of her pop ambitions – her emotional acuity has never been more assured.

#taylor swift #music #culture #review #folklore

26 notes · View notes

strawberryblossom00 · 4 years

Text

The Predicament of Virtual Learning

It was Friday, March 13th. The bell rang, and the halls of my high school were brimming with chatter as usual- save for one major difference. There were no discussion of after-school hangouts, or basketball practice, or the absurd amount of homework assigned for the weekend; all conversation has turned to one topic only: school is out, possibly for good. I had no idea, back then, that walking out of my seventh period classroom was a one-way trip.

Now, the classroom is dissolved, at least in a traditional sense. Coronavirus drove students and teachers into their homes, and with that shift came the movement from physical to virtual learning. However, this movement came with several problems, including a less effective curriculum, lack of crucial access for some, and invasive anti-cheating methods. The impact that COVID-19 has had on education is widespread, and it appears to not be leaving anytime soon. As an Ohio arts teacher phrases it:

“I’m depressed and I miss my students. I can’t connect well this way.” (Education Week, 2020)

Teaching Through a Screen: Zoom and Video Call Fatigue

Viewing fellow students and/or teachers through a screen adds an impersonal touch that leaves many unmotivated and anxious. The awkward silences and glitchiness of online education builds up over time, leading to video call fatigue, as Kate Murphy of the New York Times explains:

“The problem is that the way the video images are digitally encoded and decoded, altered and adjusted, patched and synthesized introduces all kinds of artifacts: blocking, freezing, blurring, jerkiness and out-of-sync audio. These disruptions, some below our conscious awareness, confound perception and scramble subtle social cues. Our brains strain to fill in the gaps and make sense of the disorder, which makes us feel vaguely disturbed, uneasy and tired without quite knowing why.” (Murphy, 2020)

A virtual classroom makes it incredibly difficult to read facial and body language, and an entire day of nothing but hurdling over problems is almost certain to lead to exhaustion. This exhaustion bleeds into student and teacher performance alike; attempts to account for lower quality work with pass/fail systems and relaxed grading scales only temporarily alleviate the issue, as months of Zoom calls means a degraded learning experience as a whole.

And, on another note, what of the students that can’t access the internet at all?

Essential Workers and Essential Education Don’t Mix

For low-income students that depended on outside locations to have access to wi-fi, as well as workers deemed essential during the crisis, online schooling has presented additional obstacles to learning.

I was fortunate enough to attend a high school where each student was assigned a laptop to use, but in poorer areas and for college students without the luxury of designated equipment, access to a computer or even a stable internet connection is much more scarce. On top of the struggle to comprehend material through a screen rather than in person, there is the constant question of how to connect to Zoom meetings, submit assignments, etc.

“The absence rate appears particularly high in schools with many low-income students, whose access to home computers and internet connections can be spotty. Some teachers report that fewer than half of their students are regularly participating.” (Goldstein, Popescu, Hannah-Jones, 2020)

Even prior to the pandemic, some were at a disadvantage due to their economic situation. Now, especially with the unemployment rate skyrocketing past fourteen percent, the highest in U.S. history according to tradingeconomics.com, more and more families are burdened with financial stress that make affording internet near impossible. For those that remain in the workforce, the long hours required of them during the crisis has introduced a new hurdle to scheduled meetings and even simply making time for assignments. Teacher Michelle Martin-Sullivan paints a vivid image of her problems trying to reach students:

“Many of her students are essential workers at stores like Walmart and have begun picking up extra shifts to support their families. Other students, as well as some teachers, don’t have internet access at all.” (Markus, 2020)

The strain of juggling work and school proves overwhelming for some, and an inability to access wi-fi doubles the load. To put it simply, switching to a pass/fail grading system is at best putting a bandaid on a gunshot wound. The wealth gap is proving fatal to the education of low-income students, and even for those who can enter their virtual classrooms, a matter of privacy comes into question...

Did We Not Learn Anything From 1984?

Now, Zoom and test proctors are far from Orwell’s terrifying surveillance state, but the point of individual privacy and discomfort of being watched still stand. Zoom has been faced with criticism over its security and privacy practices from the moment it exploded in popularity at the front end of the pandemic, but even as the service has addressed these concerns, one major flaw continues to present itself: for free users, end-to-end encryption of data will not be offered. As explained by Wired’s Lily Hay Newman:

“End-to-end encryption allows data to move between devices in a form that is unreadable to anyone other than the recipients—protecting the information in transit from snooping by your internet service provider, the government, or communication platforms themselves.” (Newman, 2020)

On top of Zoom ‘hackers’ infiltrating calls and potential for sensitive information to be stolen, the company seems to be more concerned with profitability than the safety of its users.

Post-lecture, many teachers and professors have taken to using proctoring software/services such as Examity or Proctorio to discourage cheating. However, both algorithmic and live proctors suffer from drawbacks. Using a machine to detect cheating may initially seem productive, but based on how the a.i. was trained, there could be a bias in favor of certain skin tones, face shapes, etc. as experienced by a University of Washington student and described to Rebecca Heilweil:

“...the tool’s facial detection algorithm seemed to struggle to recognize them, so they needed to sit in the full light of the window to better expose the contours of their face, in their view an indication that the system might be biased.” (Heilweil, 2020)

In a separate article, Heilweil explains this trained bias in more detail.

“Often, the data on which many of these decision-making systems are trained or checked are often not complete, balanced, or selected appropriately, and that can be a major source of — although certainly not the only source — of algorithmic bias.”

Human proctors, on the other hand, are widely viewed as an invasion of privacy by students. Having a teacher walk around the room during the exam is quite different than this virtual ‘equivalent,’ where students are monitored one-on-one. As if exams weren’t stressful enough, test-takers must additionally try not to alert the proctor, who is watching them for the entirety of the exam, to potentially suspicious behavior such as eye movement or whispering. As Jackson Hayes from the University of Arizona phrases it:

“’Every student I know finds this the creepiest thing ever,’ Hayes says. On his campus, he finds, ‘the predominant feeling towards Examity is ‘Screw this.’” (Chin, 2020)

Orwell is laughing in his grave, as far as I’m concerned.

All this is to say...

Through the mess of virtual learning, it is beyond troublesome for students to get the education they (or their parents) are paying for. Despite this, though, teachers are still working hard to reach their students. This may be our temporary normal, but just as this haphazard system was created, so can we try to make the best of a less than ideal situation. I’ll always feel a pang of regret not getting to experience the last third of my senior year live, but hopefully I- and everyone else- will come out stronger for it.

“The COVID-19 crisis may well change our world and our global outlook; it may also teach us about how education needs to change to be able to better prepare our young learners for what the future might hold.” (Luthra, Mackenzie, 2020)

Sources:

Images, in order of appearance:

https://www.theverge.com/2020/3/31/21197215/how-to-zoom-free-account-get-started-register-sign-up-log-in-invite

https://www.forbes.com/sites/yolarobert1/2020/04/30/heres-why-youre-feeling-zoom-fatigue/#b6a61112ac69

https://lakecentralnews.com/45022/top-stories/life-with-essential-worker-in-family/

[created by author]

Links, in order of use:

https://www.edweek.org/ew/articles/2020/06/03/how-did-covid-19-change-your-teaching-for.html

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/29/sunday-review/zoom-video-conference.html

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/06/us/coronavirus-schools-attendance-absent.html

https://tradingeconomics.com/united-states/unemployment-rate#:~:text=Unemployment%20Rate%20in%20the%20United,percent%20in%20May%20of%201953.

https://www.vox.com/2020/4/23/21233042/coronavirus-online-learning-teachers-students

https://www.wired.com/story/zoom-end-to-end-encryption-paid-accounts/

https://www.vox.com/recode/2020/5/4/21241062/schools-cheating-proctorio-artificial-intelligence

https://www.vox.com/recode/2020/2/18/21121286/algorithms-bias-discrimination-facial-recognition-transparency

https://www.theverge.com/2020/4/29/21232777/examity-remote-test-proctoring-online-class-education

https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2020/03/4-ways-covid-19-education-future-generations/

#covid #coronavirus #education #zoom #virtual learning #online learning #privacy

2 notes · View notes

sleepyfan-blog · 5 years

Text

Ink Please

Discord request fill for @trashydragonartist7

Fandom: undertale aus

Characters and pairing: Ink, Dream, Nightmare, Dreammare

Warnings: lying tw

Word count: 1,687

Summary: Dream and Nightmare are about to cuddle when Ink comes over for a chat.

Tagslist: @anxiety-is-married-to-depression @angelofthehalfmoon @trainwreck-of-skeletons @hisame-amadashi @therandomskelekey @capisnotonfire

"I'm really glad that you came. I've missed you..." Dream hummed softly as he moved over to where his other half was currently sitting on his couch.

"You've been busy ever since Ink struck that truce with Error. I'm convinced that one or both of them are up to something, but from what I've seen, Error's just been sitting in his anti-void, watching Undernovella and stealing chocolate from Underfell timelines when he's hungry. What have you been up to?" Nightmare responded with a sigh, one of his tentacles reaching up and curling around one of Dream's wrist - a subtle hand-hold of sorts.

"Well... Since Error hasn't been destroying things - and Ink has been unable to help create new timelines... he's been going a little stir-crazy. He's been doodling up a storm and helping to fix up anything that's the slightest bit out of order in timelines that already exist. He's also been talking about fighting you and your friends - I mean your evil minions of evilness. To fix the timelines that you're currently ruling... I've been doing all I can to talk him out of doing that... Not that I've told him that you and I collaborated on making that magical mason jar that Blue and I use when he's being completely insufferable and his form destabilizes, so of course you not only know how to make one, you have one on hand in case he is being a terror or a complete nuisance." Dream ranted, pacing back and forth in front of his beloved. "Blue and I have been desperately trying to come up with anything and everything to keep him from breaking the truce out of boredom. Core's been trying to help as best as they can."

"Ah well I am grateful that you're trying to keep that nuisance from interfering in the dark timelines that he helped to create, and then abandoned to their miserable storylines because that was what the supposed creators that he supposedly worked alongside in order to -" Nightmare started, though the stopped speaking abruptly as someone banged loudly on the door.

Both of the emotive guardians startled and raced for the door, Dream just a touch faster. He peered through the peephole to check who it was and swore under his breath as he turned, opened the closet door and shoved Nightmare inside of it before closing the door shut, whispering "Hide! And please stay quiet!" Before he opened the door, a bright (and fake) smile appearing on his face as he gestured for the person who was at the door to come in. "Hi Ink - how are you?"

"Gooood! I'm super bored though... I helped Captain Alphys repair her training dummies - as well as the walls of her house, but that didn't take more than like... an hour to fix! She was super impressed by how quickly I was able to fix things, and I ended up sparring with her... and then the entirety of Blue's royal guard, which took several hours as they insisted on fighting me individually - apart from Number One and Number two, and Dogamy and Dogaressa! Both of them are really cute couples. So I came to see you!" Ink responded, bouncing a little bit on the balls of his feet "I"m... Bored and I want to do something, but I can't think of anything that wouldn't get me into trouble. I've already pestered Glitchy until he chased me out of that boring, blank space of his. I mean really - why won't he let me decorate the place a little? The Blue Strings and Red Souls are creepy at best."

Dream paused for a moment, thinking "Uhm... Have you tried talking to Outer, to see if he or his people need anything? Their AU is a lot bigger than most, and I'm sure that there's a lot that you could explore?"

"Meh, I was there when the first Outertale was created - that was a lot of fun to help make, you know? SUch space and grandeur... It was stunning to look at, at first... But I know every star, every planet, every asteroid, and comet. I've played cosmic billiards with Glitchy using asteroid belts and danced on planetary dust rings... And before you suggest going to Outerswap or Outerfell, I've done all of that in multiples of those timelines as well... I just wish that there was something new... I'm so bored." INk complained, flopping down dramatically on Dream's couch, pouting for a couple of moments. He then stared hopefully up at the positive guardian "Do you have any ideas? Any clue as to Nightmare and his gang of evildoers are?"

Dream nearly swallowed his tongue as he froze at the sudden mention of Nightmare - who was hiding and irritated in his closet "Uhh... No? Why do you ask?"

"Well... I can't create anything, as agreed with Glitchy... But we've got to stop whatever evil bullshit that Nightmare is up to... Not that you've ever explained how the hell the two of you know each other or anything like that... I'm sure that there's a very interesting story behind that." Ink responded, walking closer to his long-time companion. He was pretty sure he hasn't been to Dream's timeline in a very long time... Or perhaps ever. There were timelines that were spontaneously created - rare as it is that such things happen that way.

"I... I've told you before, I don't like to talk about my past - and even if I did tell you, Nightmare would do his best to murder you if you gave so much as a hint about knowing said past..." Dream sputtered in protest.

"I know that the two of you are connected somehow - your powers and his counterbalance each other in a way that I've never seen before... And the way that you talk about him, I'm quite certain that the two of you lived together in the same timeline for a while... Although I can't imagine what that might have been like... Oooh, maybe I could try to do that? I don't like the way his aura affects me much, but it could be fun pestering him regularly... and since he seems to fancy himself as some sort of tyrant of sorts, we could live amongst his people and sow the seeds of rebellion against him... I wonder if it would be fun to be a rebel leader, or perhaps the guiding whisper in their ears... I don't think that I've done a lot of larger-scale strategy like that, but Blue's had a lot of royal guard training - and is very good at instructing others. With your ability to inspire others, my ability to create things - like weapons for those who can't make their magical attacks, and Blue's knowledge of actual fighting training, I bet that we could do quite a lot to help inspire them!" Ink babbled excitedly, his eye lights shifting shape and colors as the plan started to form in his mind.

"And... Uhm... What if they are content to live under Nightmare's rule?" Dream gently prodded, a small frown appearing on his face "Nightmare usually targets darker timelines - most of those timelines I am unable to physically enter, even in pacifist timelines, due to the extremely low positivity... and from what we have been able to observe, he takes them over, not just through force and intimidation. They may be loyal to him because of what he's done for them."

"Oh... I suppose that you're right about that... But he's disrupting the narratives of their stories, which isn't right!" Ink protested "... Although, you not being able to enter those timelines does throw a major wrench into potential plans... I'll have to think about something else to occupy all of the free time I've got, suddenly. Maybe we'll be able to figure out where Nightmare is going to strike next and chase him off before he can get his tendrils in their minds... Bye for now! I've got some thinking and planning to do. See you later, Dream~!" With that, the creative guardian teleported out of the timeline in a flash of rainbow-colored magic.

Dream silently counted to twenty before he walked over to where Nightmare was, opening the door "I... I think it's safe for you to come out now."

"Thanks... Is he planning on trying to sow chaos and discord in my empire?" Nightmare asked with a huff as he leaves the closet, scooping up his beloved and snuggling the other close.

"I... I don't think so? Long term and large-scale strategy is not something that Ink is good at for several reasons..." Dream responded.

The negative guardian snorts a little bit "For example the fact that he has the attention span of a gerbil and the memory of a goldfish?"

"Hey! Ink's not that bad - and he does his best to adapt to his memory issues by writing things down... But... He is more than a bit scatterbrained, which wouldn't help him in the whole... Plotting to overthrow a supposedly evil overlord. Speaking of, I plan on thwarting your plans for the rest of the day by cuddling you." Dream responded, moving closer to his beloved, wrapping his arms around the other's waist as he rested his head on one of the other's shoulders.

"Well, your sneaky plans happen to coincide with my evil plots for the day. I plan on trapping you in my arms as we watch movies and eat junk food." Nightmare purred in response as he carried the other over to the couch, settling the both of them down on it, grabbing a blanket and draping it around the two of them. he grabbed the remote and started to flick through the movie selection.

"Ah... Our plots align... How fortuitous for the both of us... Mm... Love you." the positive spirit mumbled as he contentedly nuzzled into his other half.

"And I love you... Are you ready to start the first movie? It's about pirates and curses. Adventure on the high seas." Nightmare asked after a moment, smiling gently. Dream nodded in response, and the movie began to play.

#my writing #dream sans #nightmare sans #ink sans #dreammare #tw lying

75 notes · View notes

r6shippingdelivery · 5 years

Text

This had been collecting dust in my Google docs for a week, and I finally decided to just post it and stop podering what I should do with it. Some silliness coming right up (Gen, humour hopefully, 2.2k) ! No ships, no smut, just random shenanigans 😂

With an ever expanding roster of operators, training had become harder and harder to coordinate. No amount of planning and rotation was enough to keep all operators on top of their game, or knowing how to work with any possible team. That was the reason Harry turned to less conventional methods of training. Nothing would be able to totally supplant conventional training, which honed both teamwork and reflexes, but virtual reality seemed perfect to try new strategies before applying them in real life.

The reactions to the new training method had ranged from Dokkaebi and Mute’s interest, to Thatcher’s expected scorn and suspicion. Most seemed to be vaguely curious about what it would entail, and for the sake of fairness, the teams and order of participation would be randomly selected. Harry was sure this would be the perfect tool to keep Rainbow on top of its game, he couldn’t wait to see how the test run went.

Sitting next to the IT specialist who would handle the connection, Harry greeted the first operators with a relaxed smile. He regarded the attackers; overall it wasn’t a bad group despite having been picked at random. However, there was one crucial matter he needed to ask.

“Where is the fifth member of the team?”

“It was Thatcher,” Glaz answered.

That was explanation enough, but Hibana felt the need to add something. “He said he would not be a lab rat for this ‘fookin Matrix shit’, sir.”

Hibana’s impression of the older operator was spot on, and Harry saw the rest of the team trying to not laugh. Oh well, expecting any different would have been a folly. A team of four wasn’t the end of the world, not when the selected training program was such that they could probably do it even if they were going one by one, alone.

It was time for the first run of the virtual reality program, to test how well the attacking and defending simulations worked.

ATTACKING TEAM

At first there was only darkness, and a strange and dizzying feeling like someone had dipped his brain in molasses. Fuze wondered if this was a hangover simulator or if it was possible to puke when your reality wasn’t even, well, real.

The world became clearer around him with startling celerity, and he found himself in front of a building, the smell of water clinging to the air while thunder cracked ominously over their heads. He had to admit the simulation was quite convincing.

“Hostage located, attackers prepared for extraction,” a disembodied voice told them.

They all nodded at each other, ready to go. Except for Maverick. The American seemed to be rooted on the spot, unresponsive. Being the one closest to him, Fuze waved a hand in front of his face. No reaction. It was creepy, like staring at a mannequin.

“Movin’ out,” Maverick said, turning around to face the docks behind them. He proceeded to stand in place as if he was imitating a statue.

“Something is wrong with him,” Glaz helpfully stated. Hibana snorted and Fuze rolled his eyes behind his helmet. He could see that by himself, thank you very much.

“I’m giving standby a new meaning,” Maverick turned around once more and chuckled apologetically at the end.

He was clearly aware he was acting with delay, almost as if he was lagging. Could that be the answer? Perhaps the program needed to be calibrated better, and after all this was the first time tying it, so Fuze would say yes, Maverick was lagging.

“Stay together and follow my lead.” Right after saying so, Hibana dashed away towards the building.

Fuze looked at their still unmoving teammate and then to Glaz, who shrugged at him, and sprinted after Hibana before Fuze could say anything. Damn them, he didn’t want to act as a babysitter! Maybe leaving Maverick out here wasn’t so bad? This wasn’t real, death was not permanent here. However, the decision was taken for him when Maverick suddenly moved.

Following the American seemed his best choice, and if things went south, he could use Maverick as an unmoving shield of sorts. Not the most noble notion, but if he froze again, Fuze at least would find a way to use it in his favour. They reached a barricaded entrance, and he saw how Maverick insisted on breaking it. Hit by agonizingly slow hit. It was a miracle nobody shot him in the long pauses between his movements. Then, instead of entering the building, Maverick remained planted there, in front of the entrance and without cover. Damn it, not again!

A well known sound startled him, a heavy breathing that all operators hated. It made sense that the White Mask bombers had been included in the simulation, but Fuze wasn’t happy about it. Seeing the blue light get closer and closer to the still frozen Maverick, he acted by instinct and swept in to kill the bomber. It was a close call; the suit beeping menacingly before it dropped dead right in front of Maverick. And just as Fuze thought they were on the clear, a second bomber came rushing down the hall. He killed it too, taking a bullet in the process, and Maverick better appreciate his sacrifice or Fuze would personally kill him next time.

After that, the American unfroze, shooting at thin air and moving choppily forward. Everything went well for about a minute, Fuze killing the two hostiles they encountered while Maverick shot at them once they were already dead, and thus hitting nothing at all. Then he stopped again. Knowing it might take him a while to get unstuck, Fuze went to put one of his cluster charges in a nearby barricaded door. He could see the surrounding walls were reinforced, so it was safe to say there was someone inside that room. Just as the cluster charged was primed and ready to go, Maverick appeared behind him and hit him in a delayed attempt to break the barricade. The bastard hit so hard that it knocked Fuze down. The ruckus alerted the hostiles in the other side of the barricade who then shot through it, destroying his precious cluster charge and hitting Fuze as well. Everything went dark, and he was pretty sure he just died.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back on the real world, Harry praising him for his cooperative spirit as the technician disconnected him from the simulation. Fuze glared both at Harry and at the seemingly unconscious Maverick next to him. If looks could kill, they all would drop dead. Next time something like this happened he would do like Glaz and run like hell, let someone else be stuck babysitting the team’s glitchy member. Worst of all was that he had died but Maverick was still alive apparently, talk about unfair. He would make the American’s life hell next time they met at the gym.

DEFENDING TEAM

Having heard from Glaz and Fuze about their experience, the simulated environment didn’t surprise Kapkan that much. Although it was quite the whiplash to go from being on a room at the base, and next second everything was dark and a completely different room just appeared around you.

“Secure the room, protect the hostage,” the disembodied voice instructed.

Of all his teammates, only Doc was taking measure to secure the room, reinforcing a wall. Smoke was gleefully shooting holes into another wall with his shotgun, Caveira was nowhere to be seen, and Bandit was staring around the room.

“I wonder how realistic this is,” the German pondered aloud. “Any volunteers to see how friendly fire works?”

“Sure, catch this!”

A cloud of yellow gas followed Smoke’s cheerful warning, engulfing them and making them cough despite their lack of actual lungs. The simulation was apparently that realistic. Doc was screaming something between coughing fits, then everything went black.

“Mission failed, the hostage was lost.”

It was as if someone rewinded time, and they found themselves in the same situation from before, just as the announcer stated they needed to protect the hostage. Kapkan frowned, unsure about how he felt about this whole virtual reality thing and dying. It was disorienting.

“Ooh, that was fun” Smoke laughed, but he was the only one amused by their situation. “I’m pretty sure there’s more havoc to wreak.”

Shooting the hostage with the shotgun didn’t instantly kill him, but only because Doc used one of his stims on the hostage. Then he shot Smoke, but with his normal revolver. It was surprising to see Doc kill a teammate, but in this case it was not undeserved to be honest.

“Nobody else has to end up hurt if you all do your jobs,” Doc announced, earning a surprised look from both Caveira and Bandit. Kapkan on his part couldn’t care less, and he started to lay down his traps.

“You realize that’s just a bunch of pixels, right?” Bandit pointed at the hostage, “Just as we are right now.”

Kapkan was too busy fixing one of his EDDs to the door’s frame to pay attention to what Doc replied, the sound of his drill drowning everything else. Whatever he said, it was enough to get Bandit reinforcing the walls of the room. Once again Caveira had disappeared, and Kapkan decided that while not as stealthy as she was, he would also roam and see where the hostiles were coming from.

The corridor outside the room was longer than Kapkan imagined, and soon he realized they were supposed to be in some sort of plane, even if it was nothing like any other plane he’d been in. Going around the corner, he came face to face with a group of White Masks. Kapkan took a second to admire how real they looked, before opening fire on them. In the narrow corridor, there weren’t many places to take cover, and he got hit a couple of times before he killed them all. Fortunately, all he felt was a light tingling sensation at the supposed loss of health. It was reassuring to know whoever coded this simulation wasn’t sadistic enough to implement the pain associated to bullet wounds in real life.

A second wave would come soon, and Kapkan barricaded a possible entrance, setting one of his traps on another. This way he would know if they came in from any of these points. He went back to the objective room, to check how his teammates were doing, and hopefully to receive a stim shot from Doc. No such luck, Doc said Kapkan was well enough to keep fighting and that he was saving the stims for emergencies. It made sense, Kapkan supposed, but he wasn’t happy with it.

Deciding to take a more proactive role, he stepped out of the plane to see if he could spot the hostiles. The disembodied voice cautioned him to get back inside before he would die, accompanied by a fucking annoying effect that tinged everything red. What kind of bullshit was this? However, before he could turn around and get back in, someone barricaded the entrance, wooden planks sealing the door and his fate, most probably. Cursing up a storm, he broke the barricade and got inside the plane just as the red effect got stronger. He had just narrowly dodged death, he was sure. And of course, Bandit was the culprit, laughing like a hyena until Kapkan smacked the back of his head for it. It wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been, since he knew Bandit wouldn’t feel the true force of his hit.

Now that revenge was taken care of, Kapkan hid behind the nearest corner and lay in wait. When the hostiles came through the main entrance, he caught them unaware. So easy it was almost disappointing. He reloaded his weapon while waiting for the next wave of enemies, not wanting to move from this spot yet. Although he used the last of his traps on the main door. Just as he imagined, the first enemy blew himself with the trap. However, he hadn’t expected someone to drop from a hatch right above him. Fuck, he didn’t even know that thing was there!

They caught him in the crossfire and he promptly went down, unable to move and with his vision getting darker. Now would be the perfect moment for Doc to use his stim shots, Kapkan hoped the Frenchman could reach him soon, before he died from a very preventable mistake that would destroy his reputation as a hunter. He heard gunshots near him and then Bandit and Doc came into his field of vision.

Doc’s voice floated down to him, “I’ve got you, you’ll be alright.”

Any relief he might have felt was replaced by confusion when he heard a loud gunshot, then darkness. Kapkan woke up in real life and was greeted by Smoke.

“Doc is out of control, mate, I tell you.” The British defender said while looking at a screen. Kapkan got closer and saw Bandit in the simulation asking Doc why he had put Kapkan out of his misery instead of helping him. Doc claimed it had been a mistake, but Kapkan wasn’t sure if he believed him. “I hope they end soon, watching gets boring. Except when you died, that was entertaining!”

He wondered if he could get away with whacking Smoke upside the head, but Harry was observing them, no doubt taking notes on their behaviour as he always did. What a buzzkill. Kapkan instead gave Smoke a smile full of teeth, and started to plot his revenge for the next round. If the game was now team killing, he would excel at it.

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #fanfiction #bot of these are based on things that happened to me when playing #not pictured: the time I was playing rescue hostage and there was no fucking hostage anywhere on the map 😂

21 notes · View notes

welcometothepenumbra · 5 years

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE MONSTER’S REFLECTION (PART THREE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

Pay no mind to our train’s backwards motion, dear Traveler. We are now passing through decades of the past.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

Our next stop? Juno Steel and the Monster’s Reflection.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: CLOCK TICKING. RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

VOICE 7 (FROM RADIO): …Eh-eh-eh-ehndromeda! How did you get here? The waves around Queen Pisces’ castle are ih-ih-ih-impossible to escape!

ANDROMEDA (FROM RADIO): Your cursed waves are powerful, Capricorn – but in suffering’s wake my chains always sail true. Chain Whip!

SOUND: METAL CHAIN CLANKS.

VOICE 7 [CAPRICORN] (FROM RADIO): (YELPS) My staff! B-b-b-b-but that was the only way off this island! We’ll neh-eh-eh-ever get home!

ANDROMEDA (FROM RADIO): And because of you neither will Prince Pod, warlock. Chainmail Fist! Haaaaaaaaaah!

CAPRICORN (FROM RADIO): Nooooo… (FADES OUT)

TURBO (FROM RADIO): The good guys always win!

JUNO: Nope.

TURBO (FROM RADIO): It’s a fact— (FADING OUT)

SOUND: RADIO TUNING.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): A cop? You? (LAUGHS) You look so smug. Counting your chickens before they’ve hatched. A year from now, you’ll be stunning some homeless half to death and you’ll be too stubborn to admit you never even wanted chickens anyway. (CHUCKLES) I called the cops when you handed our lives away. Came in, looked around, and left with two thousand creds in family heirlooms, and a hell of a story for the old water cooler. “Kid said he was robbed by a cartoon! And his mom believed him! Haw haw!” Stupid. Stupid!

You’ll fit right in with people like that.

I’m right, aren’t I? Biting other people so you don’t get bit. You’ve been like that from minute one. I paid a lot of creds to make you and your brother happen on my own, and for nine months you fed on my insides, and every day since you’ve carved off a piece of my life, and now that there’s nothing left, you want something bigger to chew on.

What the hell are you still doing here? You took your bite. Go choke on it.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: (SIGHS)

SOUND: RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

Come on… come on, there’s got to be something on this stupid—

SARAH (FROM RADIO): …whole sun was covered in shifting darkness, the sky blotted out completely by the millions of butterflies the king had sent them. And so the harpies were trapped. They could never see the sun, and they could never fly to the top of their mountain, and they could never look out over the ocean, from what had been the mountain’s peak, but was now the king’s high tower. And they felt deep in their hearts that all things beautiful had been taken from them… except one. And so what did they do?

JUNO: They sang.

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES. STATIC ENDS.

SARAH: (LAUGHS) That’s right, my little monster. They sang. They sang their sad, sad song just like they always did, with the long notes like cloud-swirls, and the short ones like raindrops, and even when they weren’t so sad anymore, they still sang the same sad song, because it was what they wanted, and it was how they knew they would always be harpies, and no king could change that.

BEN: What’s playing? Anything good?

JUNO: This is the… last good night.

BEN: Not even you could believe that—

JUNO: Shh.

SARAH: And when the king heard the harpies’ song he became sad again, and when he realized he was sad, he got angry. So he parted the wall of butterflies and he asked, “Harpies! How could you be so ungrateful? I heard your sad songs, I found out you like colors and butterflies, and so I gave them to you – every butterfly in the entire world! And still, you sing so sadly? Why aren’t you grateful?”

The king couldn’t see what the harpies saw, or hear what they heard, and even when they spoke, he did not care to listen. But if he had, he might have learned that even without a single butterfly, the harpies had everything they wanted: a sky, an ocean, a home where they could be sad if they wanted, and voices to let the air know it.

Juno? Benzaiten? Are you asleep?

Because I missed my boys so much today… and if they were just pretending to fall asleep to trick Mommy…

SOUND: CHILD GIGGLES.

There you are! Wanna watch something?

SOUND: TV TURNS ON.

MUSIC: FROM TV.

JUNO: I meant our last good night in Halcyon. A few hours after Turbo came.

I didn’t ask you to come back.

BEN: Maybe not out loud, but, I felt it. That’s a brother thing, not a brain-ghost thing.

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES. CLOCK TICKING.

(AFTER A PAUSE) So…? what’ve you been up to?

JUNO: Flipping through stations. Trying to find something.

BEN: Like what?

JUNO: I don’t know. Something’s just… wrong.

BEN: Sniffing around like always. You know I could never even touch your stuff without you knowing it? Ever? I’d take pictures, and memorize exactly where I found it, and then I’d put it back exactly right… but you always caught me.

JUNO: Sounds like a pretty easy problem to avoid. Just don’t touch my stuff.

Or my brain. Could you let go of that, too? Kinda using it right now.

BEN: Can’t. I live here now. (CHUCKLES)

Mom used to be a pretty good storyteller, wasn’t she?

JUNO: Is that why you stayed with her? Her stories?

BEN: (SIGHING) Juno…

JUNO: Right. I don’t know, you don’t know.

BEN: So? You wanna go solve a mystery?

JUNO: I mean, yeah, but—

BEN: Then let’s do it.

JUNO: Jeez, Benten, you’re dead and I still can’t get a word in edgewise. Do I want to figure this out? Sure. But I can’t even tell what the hell I’m supposed to be figuring out anymore.

BEN: So all this makes perfect sense to you. Old bedroom, a haunted radio and clock and everything?

JUNO: I mean, obviously not, but…

What was that?

BEN: Forget it. Just keep going.

JUNO: I mean… sure, this place is weird, but… your death, Mom killing you – I can’t find any leads. There are none of those weird patches, the parts that don’t make sense. There’s just a… bunch of stuff I don’t know.

BEN: Sounds frustrating. Also, doesn’t actually sound like a problem.

JUNO: The hell are you talking about? A case without any leads is a dead end, Ben! It ends here!

BEN: Alright. Then it ends here.

JUNO: That’s what I just said! It ends…

…here.

Your murder… that’s not the case I’m here to solve, is it?

BEN: It’s already been solved, Juno. Almost twenty years, now.

JUNO: It was, but—

BEN: They linked the laser burns to the gun with her fingerprints on it. She confessed. It… was a pretty simple case.

JUNO: But… what about her pills?

BEN: Lost ‘em. She lost things all the time.

JUNO: And why—

BEN: She told you. About twenty minutes after she did it.

JUNO: But… you…

Why did you stay with her, Benten? Why?

BEN: (CHUCKLES) Man, it used to drive me nuts when you’d listen to the same song for two weeks. Think how I must feel listening to these same questions on repeat for two decades, huh?

JUNO: It just… it didn’t have to happen. I keep thinking that—there were a million ways it could have been avoided, it– it just feels like… like…

BEN: Almost nothing has to happen, Juno. Things just… do. Then the world’s different, and more things happen later.

Like… like a road trip. Right? You just keep driving forward and sometimes the car stops for a minute so you can get out, look around, imagine staying there forever. And then someone says the car’s leaving, with or without you. And you’ll miss that place, sure. You might regret leaving. But, if you want to keep seeing what’s ahead… you gotta get back in the car.

I’m sorry I’m not on the road with you anymore. I miss it, if that’s worth anything.

JUNO: I miss it too, I just… (SNIFFLES)

…Okay. So your murder’s not the case. Fine. Then… what the hell; why the hell am I here?

BEN: Business again, huh?

I don’t know, man. Maybe you and I aren’t the point.

JUNO: Who else? It messed my life up, it killed you, so who—

…Mom. That day she was talking about. You think… Mom’s the victim?

BEN: Theeeere we go.

JUNO: (SNORTS) You want me to feel bad for her? You know how many victims she made in her life?

BEN: Yup. But, I never said we have to forgive her. And the Turbo thing doesn’t make sense, and you said when you’re solving a mystery, you start with what doesn’t make sense. Ipso-facto, presto-changeo, sounds like a mystery to me. Can we go now?

JUNO: I’m not going to forgive her! She’s just evil.

BEN: Seems like a strong word.

JUNO: If she wasn’t evil, then who the hell is, Ben—

BEN: Didn’t mean evil. I meant just.

JUNO: But…! She…! You…!

BEN: (YAWNS) Listen—

SOUND: RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

—Super-Steel, I get that you have all these questions, but we’re kind of running out of time, here.

RADIO ANNOUNCER: At the sound of the tone, the time will be. Eleven fifty-three PM.

SOUND: TONE.

BEN: So?

JUNO: (GROWLS) Fine.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF. SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES.

BEN: Let’s start like last time.

JUNO: ‘Cause that worked so well.

BEN: My turn, shut up, thanks! So, tell me: what doesn’t line up here? Besides the cartoon part. Also, the robbing us blind without actually taking anything part.

JUNO: (SIGHING) I don’t know.

BEN: Nothing she did or said that doesn’t make sense?

JUNO: I don’t know what to tell you, alright? She was barely even home that day. It was just us, alone, and then we broke something—

SOUND: STATIC FADES IN.

—because we were alone, and then you ran outside alone, and…

Hang on.

BEN: Here we go!

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES. STATIC ENDS, BIRDS CHIRPING DISTANTLY.

JUNO: She checked her locks constantly.

BEN: Yeah, you’ve proven that, like, three times. So what?

JUNO: So how the hell did you run outside, Ben? If she checked every lock a million times, how the hell would she leave the front door open?

BEN: Well, she was irresponsible. You said so yourself.

JUNO: Sure, irresponsible. But she wasn’t stupid.

SOUND: RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): …rules, okay? Be safe, stay together, and don’t go into the office. You won’t be alone long, I promise. Mommy loves you.

SOUND: RADIO TUNING.

…missed my boys so much today…

SOUND: RADIO TUNING.

…came home as soon as I heard, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my little monsters, I didn’t—

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: …Wait, what?

BEN: What what?

JUNO: I don’t remember that. We didn’t hear that one before, did we?

BEN: Uhhh, good ear, officer.

SOUND: BANGING ON DOOR, DOORKNOB RATTLING.

SARAH: (ECHOING) Juno! Benten! Just hold on one minute, I’m almost—

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Oh, you’re okay! Oh my god, you’re okay!

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES, CLUNK. QUICK FOOTSTEPS.

I came home as soon as I heard, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my little monsters, I didn’t know, c’mere.

SOUND: RUSTLING.

I missed you. I should never have left like—it was stupid, stupid! But I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m sorry, Juno, I’ll do better, Benten, I promise, I– I’ll…

I’m so glad you’re okay. When things settle down, it’ll be different. After tomorrow I promise I’ll be… all better.

JUNO: That was… new.

BEN: Almost forty years old, actually.

JUNO: (SNORTS)

BEN: Think about it. That memory’s been inside you this whole time, waiting. So why’d it take ‘til now for you to remember?

JUNO: I…

…I don’t think I would’ve believed it if I saw it.

BEN: You said to start with what’s weird, right? Weirdest thing here is you, easy. Mom comes up and all you can talk about is monsters and pure evil and—

JUNO: I lose the evidence. If I’m the tool all this evidence gets collected through, I have to… think about what the tool’s weaknesses are.

BEN: And strengths.

JUNO: Easy for you to say. It’s just so hard to remember her like that. Even now, I can feel it slipping. Like it was all so real a minute ago, but now—

BEN: Then use it now. Mom came home and said all that. What does that tell you?

JUNO: She was… surprised? She didn’t expect to be gone that long, or maybe, she didn’t expect us to be home alone?

SOUND: BANGING ON DOOR, DOORKNOB RATTLING.

The door.

The door was locked when she got home, but unlocked when you left.

BEN: We could’ve done it.

JUNO: That door needed a key. Every lock in here was analog and only Ma had the keys.

BEN: But she locked the office.

JUNO: I mean, yeah, obviously. She never wanted anybody to go in there; she even had a different key for it. So if she left the door open, that means, she must have been expecting someone. Expecting…

SOUND: RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

A babysitter.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): …don’t go into the office. You won’t be alone long, I promise. Mommy loves you.

Come on, Steel, you stupid sap, hurry it up, can’t miss your bus, you— (CALLING) Oh, and be nice to the babysitter, you two! He’s supposed to be here in five minutes.

(OVERLAPPING WITH ABOVE LINE) Five minutes?! I don’t care what your records say, I reserved a babysitter two days ago, from eleven to four; you said, they were five minutes away, now I’m home and guess what? No babysitter! My kids were home alone all day! You could’ve killed them, you stupid—

Don’t you tell me how to raise my kids! If you knew what I was going through, I just needed one day, before tomorrow, or I was gonna– it’s not my fault, it’s not my—

Yeah, I’d like to lodge a complaint. I’d like to lodge a complaint right up your—!

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

BEN: Remember when my guidance counselor quit the day after Mom came in to talk to him? That makes more sense now.

JUNO: Okay. Okay, now we’re gettin’ somewhere.

BEN: Like where? So Mom couldn’t figure out how to schedule a babysitter. Is that really so hard to believe?

JUNO: If it all started that day, maybe not, but… she said she reserved the babysitter two days before. She would’ve checked it a million times. She was like that about everything, her locks, her pills, her plans, it was constant.

So… okay. She scheduled a babysitter from eleven to four; they never showed and the service had no record of them, but she must’ve seen something, and that means that she left a reservation… somewhere.

BEN: Where?

JUNO: …I don’t know.

But I know who does.

SOUND: RADIO STATIC.

TURBO (FROM RADIO): And if anyone asks, you must tell them Turbo did it.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

BEN: So… a cartoon robbed us, and started up a phony babysitting service.

JUNO: No, but Turbo, whoever they were, knew exactly when to show up to rob the house. Right? And it’s not like they could’ve cased the place based on Mom’s past movements, either, because she barely ever left the office.

BEN: So you think someone lured her out, then broke in, and then… didn’t take anything?

JUNO: Exactly.

BEN: Why?

JUNO: That… I don’t know.

(QUIETER) I don’t know.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Evidence is all here, Steel, come on, think!

BEN: Don’t leave me out. We got the lead, we found the thing that doesn’t make sense. What’s next, officer?

JUNO: What?

BEN: Let’s trade. I’ll tell you how a pirouette works, if you tell me how a mystery does.

JUNO: I don’t care how a pirouette works.

BEN: Rude. Tell me anyway.

JUNO: I don’t know. Evidence, leads, it’s all…

You look at everything you got, you follow one lead until it’s dead, then you check the old ones with the new info and see if a new path opens, and…

What the hell was she doing that day, anyway?

BEN: I mean… we already heard, didn’t we?

SOUND: RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): …things settle down, it’ll be different. After tomorrow I promise I’ll be… all better.

SOUND: RADIO TUNING.

…knew what I was going through, I just needed one day, before tomorrow, or I was gonna– it’s not my fault, it’s not my—

JUNO: Before tomorrow… the meeting where she lost her Northstar job.

That’s the motive.

BEN: What’s the motive—

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES. STATIC ENDS.

Whoa.

???: Times have been hard. You know that. The coffers aren’t as full as they once were—

And cuts have to be made. Big ones. It’s not fair, but. There it is.

SOUND: STATIC FADES IN.

They’re only keeping one writer.

SARAH: What!

???: You’re on the list.

SARAH: Of course I’m on the list! I practically am the list!

JUNO: Not this time!

SARAH: God damn it. God damn it!

So how are they choosing?

SOUND: RADIO TUNING.

BEN: Losing reception again…

JUNO: Yeah, I know!

SARAH: What kind of pitch?

SOUND: STATIC.

BEN: Remember, Juno. And if you can’t remember, think. Who does that have to be?

JUNO: (GRUNTING)

TURBO: (FADING IN, ECHOING) …but think about where the company is, Sarah! If they’re out of money, they’re out of money. They can’t hold us longer just to be nice.

SOUND: STATIC FADES.

JUNO: Got him!

SARAH: (ECHOING) They want a pitch in a month! They want the keys to the project that’ll save them in thirty days? Idiots. Idiots! (GRUNTS)

SOUND: GLASS SHATTERING.

I don’t even have to ask who my competition is, do I? It’s just you and me, isn’t it?

TURBO: The rest of the team’s already gone. They’re only hearing two pitches.

JUNO: Turbo.

SARAH: So they split up their best writing team and put them at each other’s throats. God damn it. God—!

SOUND: CLINK.

TURBO: I don’t see how tearing your apartment to pieces is going to solve this.

SARAH: I know, I just…!

Why the hell are they cutting creative?

TURBO: I don’t know!

SARAH: It doesn’t make any sense! We’re behind in the race, so we lose weight by dropping the engine? Why not drop a few zeroes from marketing, Killbourne or Li, or, or what about that jerk in R&D, what the hell’s his name, when’s the last time he did anything worth a damn for this company, huh? When?

Pitting us against each other… it’s sick. It’s sick, and it’s gonna get them nowhere.

TURBO: I know. And we have to do it.

SARAH: I know that.

(SIGHS) You have to leave. Now. I’m sorry, I know this wasn’t exactly tea and biscuits, but… if you stay here, I’m gonna do something stupid.

SOUND: CREAKING. FOOTSTEPS.

TURBO: Well, then.

I hope you’ll take care of yourself, Sarah.

SARAH: Shut up.

TURBO: Your work has always been excellent, but if the pressure gets too high… you know how paranoia can—

SARAH: Go!

TURBO: Right. Sorry. Goodbye, Sarah.

SARAH: Bye—

TURBO: Turbo!

JUNO: What?

SOUND: GUNSHOT, WIND HOWLING, STATIC.

Aghhh!

TURBO (FROM RADIO): —must tell them Turbo did it.

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): It didn’t have to be this way! If he didn’t hand our lives over to Turbo—

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

BEN: Juno! You’ve gotta take control, man, you have to pull out of there!

JUNO: I… can’t…!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): …handed our lives away, because someone said please.

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

Where’s Turbo now, huh, Juno? Where is he!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

This stupid pitch! I don’t want to be like this, I’m trying, I’m trying, but then it’s like a trap door opens and I’m somewhere underground, somewhere everyone wants to get me, even– even you…

TURBO (FROM RADIO): It’s going to be alright, Sarah, just remember: (LOUD, ECHOING) The good guys always win!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

BEN: Juno, come on! I’m right here!

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES. WIND & STATIC STOP.

JUNO: (PAINED YELL, PANTING)

SOUND: CLOCK TICKING. RADIO JINGLE.

TURBO (FROM RADIO): At the sound of the gunshot that killed your brother, it will be eleven fifty-seven PM.

JUNO: God damn it, no you don’t!

TURBO (FROM RADIO): It’s a fact—

SOUND: GUNSHOT CUT OFF BY RADIO CLICKING OFF. CLOCK TICKING CONTINUES.

BEN: (AFTER A PAUSE) You did better that time.

JUNO: Got enough lies to deal with as is; you mind not adding to the pile?

BEN: No, really! You pulled yourself out, and… it… was… shorter?

JUNO: Goody. (GROANS)

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

I don’t think I’ve got another one of those in me, Benten.

BEN: So… what? You’re just gonna die?

JUNO: Who cares?

BEN: You do, moron.

JUNO: (GROWLS)

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

BEN: Get up.

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

Get up.

JUNO: (MUFFLED) Hey, quit it—

BEN: You want to live. You care. Not caring’s been your get-out-of-problems-free card for years, and you don’t know how to do anything else. Now you do care and you’ve got no idea what to do with it. That’s not brave, that’s not even being depressed, Juno, it’s just being a dick.

JUNO: Well… I mean, if I’m a dick, it’s ‘cause—

BEN: You’re a private dick? Got there first! Punchline’s mine.

JUNO: Damn it!

BEN & JUNO: (GIGGLE)

SOUND: STATIC, RADIO JINGLE.

RADIO ANNOUNCER: At the sound of the tone, the time will be. Eleven fifty-eight PM.

SOUND: TONE. RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: That sound can’t be good.

BEN: Juno? What’s up?

JUNO: Just a feeling. We’d better get started. We’ve still got a lot to figure out, and… not much time left.

BEN: Really? I think we’re pretty close. You got the where, when, why, and even the how and the who, kind of.

JUNO: You mean Turbo?

BEN: I mean whoever Turbo was. So what’s missing?

JUNO: Where, when, why, who, how… the what.

BEN: I mean, yeah; I just said what’s missing.

JUNO: What?

BEN: What, exactly.

JUNO: The hell are you—

(GROANS)

BEN: (LAUGHS) God, you’re easy.

JUNO: By what you mean what was stolen, right?

BEN: Yep.

JUNO: Nothing is the short answer. Mom said so herself; cops couldn’t find anything missing… besides what they took.

BEN: You think she would’ve gone that far off the rails over nothing?

JUNO: It’s a theory, alright? Imagine Mom realized the morning of the presentation that she’d got broken into, had a meltdown, and carried that meltdown with her all the way to work. Turbo could’ve messed with anything for that to happen. Just moved her chair a few inches to the left, she would’ve noticed.

BEN: Oh, come on. We’re back to this again? Crazy Sarah Steel with her hair-trigger?

JUNO: I didn’t say that.

BEN: Alright, let’s play it your way. Let’s assume Mom would’ve flipped no matter what was stolen. If that’s the case, the whole set up to this thing doesn’t make sense: the disappearing babysitter, Turbo at the door, all of it. It’s all pointless.

JUNO: Pointless. Pointless…

You’re right. If Mom’s hair-trigger really was that sensitive, Turbo could’ve messed with her anytime; hell, he could’ve just… chucked a brick through the window the morning of. Hoping she wouldn’t notice he’d entered ‘til the next morning, setting up a dummy babysitting service, telling me to keep quiet? That’s a big risk for no payoff.

I need to see the house again. Whatever Turbo took was in there, and, I think I know what it is.

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES. DISTANT BIRDS CHIRPING.

BEN: Our old bedroom? You really think he took something from here?

JUNO: Not here.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS. FOOTSTEPS.

The pitch meeting the next day; it wasn’t just that she flipped out. Her presentation… there was something wrong with her presentation, too.

BEN: What?

JUNO: One of her old coworkers said that a little over a month ago—

SOUND: STATIC.

—when I took a case in Polaris Park.

VEGA (FROM RADIO): …everything we’d made was on the line. We only had the money to keep one of our writers and then your mother, trying to steal someone else’s work…

JUNO: Her work. It was whatever she was working on. Turbo must’ve taken it. And that means—

BEN: Her office.

But, the door was locked. And what happened to “robbed us blind without taking a thing?”

JUNO: That’s the one part I don’t have yet.

But of course she’d flip over that. She was convinced it would help her, convinced.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): …once this is over, I promise, Juno, Ben, my little monsters. Once this is all over, and I’ve finished this, I’m gonna be all better. No more worries, no more stress. Nothing like this is ever going to happen again. And I know, I’ve said that before but I mean it, I really do, you’ll see, and it’ll all… be worth it. Just, one more hour, please.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: She wanted to be all better, and she thought whatever she was working on would get her there.

That’s all that mattered to her; we were just hurdles on the way there.

BEN: But why did she think her work would… I don’t know, fix her?

JUNO: Who knows? She was nuts.

BEN: Right, good point. Why try to figure out the complexities of a human being when you can just throw her out in one word?

JUNO: Oh, drop it.

BEN: No, I think you’re onto something. Maybe next time I’m in a bookstore, I’ll just go down the biography aisle, tear out all the pages, write ‘nuts’ on every cover.

JUNO: I get the point.

BEN: Is that how you think of yourself? Like a few problems are enough reason to call yourself trash?

JUNO: What the hell do you know about problems, huh? Benzaiten Steel, Mr. Dancer, Mr. Everybody’s-Favorite, Mr. Galaxy’s-Best-Smile. The hell do you know about—

BEN: We’re both Sarah Steel’s kids, Juno. We both inherited that weight around her neck. Just because I dealt with it differently than you, doesn’t mean you get to pretend it wasn’t there.

I’m just saying. Crazy’s as bad as all better, and you know it. It’s an ending. We don’t get those, alive or dead.

JUNO: Okay, alright. She’s not crazy. I’m not crazy. You, though—

BEN: So why did she care about her work so much?

JUNO: Uh, what?

BEN: Some people work for money, fame, whatever. I danced ‘cause it felt like flying, like freedom, in a life where that was hard to come by. You bust bad guys because it makes you feel like the world’s got a shot. So what did Mom work for?

SOUND: RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

JUNO: How the hell am I supposed to—

SARAH (FROM RADIO): …if you want to live out there, you need someone to live for. You need someone else, so that when you’re not tough enough, they can be; so that right when you want to give up, you remember you can’t. Because you’ve got someone better than you to worry about.

And that’s what you are to me. I love you, my little monsters.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: …For… us?

But then why would she have—

All those things she did to me, to you…

BEN: Oh really. You don’t believe someone could be scared of not living up to what they love most? So scared they’d just… throw it away?

Also, are you really still mad about that Galaxy’s Best Smile thing?

JUNO: Shut up.

BEN: That was a poll in our third grade class, man. A bunch of kids thirty years ago writing names on slips of paper—

JUNO: We had the same goddamn smile, alright? Just shut up. It doesn’t matter.

BEN: (CHUCKLES)

JUNO: But… your point is, she was doing all that for us. Trying to, anyway. And even at the time she was roughest on us when we were interrupting her, or trying to sneak in here, or…

Because if we hurt her work, we’d be hurting ourselves. So…

I’ve got to get into that office.

SOUND: KNOCKING.

BEN: But… why?

JUNO: Evidence, something…

SOUND: KNOCKING.

I have to see what she was working on. Help me get in there.

BEN: I told you, if you didn’t see someplace in here, it’s just… nothing.

JUNO: I did see it.

BEN: What? We never went into Mom’s office. She would’ve killed us.

JUNO: You were there too, Ben. We were in Mom’s office before Turbo ever showed up.

SOUND: RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

TURBO (FROM RADIO): …I’ll just go into her office now… put it all back together… nobody will know…

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: You hear that? Whatever we broke was in her office.

BEN: I mean… I guess that makes sense, but—

JUNO: Found it. A little piece of plastic from one of the Turbos. It’s wedged in the doorframe here so the bolt can’t close all the way. I remember… that’s why I remember the analog locks. I bothered Mom for hours trying to figure out how they worked, her and…

BEN: Mom and who?

SOUND: STATIC.

JUNO: I don’t know.

TURBO (FROM RADIO): (ECHOING) It’s a fact!

JUNO: We have to get in there. How the hell did this work? Just, grab the plastic and push?

SOUND: CLICKING, FOOTSTEPS.

BEN: Stop. Move over.

JUNO: Wha—

BEN: You always figured out the trouble. But I was better at doing it.

JUNO: You’re right.

SOUND: CLICKING, SCRAPING.

BEN: Hook it… so it can’t come loose… make sure I don’t lose that little part… push… and then…

Done.

SOUND: DOOR CREAKS OPEN.

Juno, I don’t know if… I don’t know what it is, but, I don’t think I can…

JUNO: It’s okay. I’ll go in. You just… stay here.

BEN: Alright.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: It’s a mess in here, obviously. She was like that, paper everywhere…

SOUND: PAGES FLIPPING.

Was Mom an artist?

BEN: (DISTANT, CALLING) Writer, I thought.

JUNO: These must just be doodles, then, or… test runs, or something. Two little alien-looking guys, a bull, a ram, and… dragons.

That’s not what we were fighting over, though.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

It smells like her. This room, it smells like… crisp paper and bourbon. Files, folders…

Ink stain on the carpet. I bet we knocked something over here.

BEN: (DISTANT, CALLING) So, this was the first time we ever went into her office?

JUNO: Might’ve been. There was something we both wanted to look at, something we’d been waiting for…

SOUND: RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): You can say please as many times as you want, kiddos, it’s not gonna happen.

BEN: (DISTANT) Holy hell, I thought that was really her for a second, almost jumped out of my—

JUNO: Shhhhh.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): (OVER THE LINES ABOVE) I know you want to see Mommy’s next project. You and everyone else… seems like nobody can shut up about it, you or—

SOUND: STATIC.

TURBO (FROM RADIO): It’s a fact!

SARAH (FROM RADIO): But this one’s… important to Mommy, okay? I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and… it’s gonna bring us home, my little monsters. We’re finally gonna go—

SOUND: DISTANT BOOM. STATIC ENDS.

TURBO: (DISTANT) Steady your crying now, young hero, and Turbo will help you with turbo speed!

BEN: Hurry, Juno. We have to get out of here.

JUNO: We wanted to see the next big project. Those sketches wouldn’t’ve satisfied us. The real stuff, where would she keep—

SOUND: THUDS.

TURBO: Your brother Benten broke it, you say! And your mother will be angry!

BEN: Juno…!

JUNO: Couldn’t’ve reached the filing cabinets, wouldn’t’ve gone in her desk, so—

Wrong question. It’s not where we found it, it’s where we put it after you ripped it.

Carpet around the potted plant’s a mess. Not Mom’s kind, not papers and booze and ideas, just… dirt.

SOUND: RUSTLING, CLINKS. SCRAPING. THUDS.

TURBO: Here comes – the Man of the Future!

BEN: (DISTANT) Juno, I’m trying to hold on, but the closer he gets—

JUNO: Found it!

This is it! This is…!

BEN: (DISTANT, FADING) I’m sorry! I can’t stay, I wasn’t—

SOUND: WIND BLOWING. PAPER RUSTLING. THUDS.

JUNO: Proposal: New Intellectual Property for Northstar Entertainment, designed by Sarah Steel. Tentatively named…

Chainmail Warrior Andromeda.

SOUND: DOOR CREAKING.

You did this. You stole her project. She didn’t show up empty-handed, she showed up with the Galaxy’s greatest hero.

VOICE 8: Juno? What are you doing here?

SOUND: DOOR SHUTS.

What’s wrong? Where’s Benzaiten?

JUNO: You lied to me. You used me. I trusted you, whoever the hell you were, and you used me.

VOICE 8: Ran outside… really?

Too brave for his own good, that boy…

Not like you, Super-Steel, eh? You and I, we like to watch, to learn. Shhh, don’t cry, now. You’re a smart boy; now use that big brain of yours and think.

JUNO: Who are you?

VOICE 8: You have to calm down, Super-Steel. Shhhh-sh-sh-sh-sh. Nobody’s going to let anything happen to Benten, nobody. But first you have to calm down.

JUNO: God damn it, stop haunting me! Don’t hide again! Just show your goddamn face so I know it’s you!

VOICE 8: Come on, it’s me. Take a deep breath and say it with me, Juno.

JUNO: Show it!

VOICE 8: It’s a fact…

JUNO & VOICE 8: (IN UNISON) I can count on Jack!

SOUND: GUNSHOT. WIND HOWLING.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): Bye, Jack.

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

My little monsters, look who it is! Jack’s here!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

VOICE 8 [JACK] (FROM RADIO): Be careful, Sarah. Paranoid behavior…

SARAH (FROM RADIO): I know, Jack, I know, I…

JACK (FROM RADIO): You have to rest. A day off, perhaps. A babysitter—

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): How could you do this to me? To them! They love you! They still ask for you, Jack Takano, and—

SOUND: GUNSHOT. WIND STOPS.

JUNO: (PANTING)

JACK: There you go. See? I’m proud of you. (GRUNTS) Now. Tell old Jack what happened, hm?

JUNO: It wasn’t me. It was my turn. Benten ripped it.

JACK: I can see that. My, he really did a number on this, didn’t he? And with Sarah so high-strung these days…

You don’t think she’d hurt him, do you?

JUNO: Where is Ben? Where—

JACK: We’ll find him in a moment, but first… there must be some way out of this, hmm? We don’t want your brother to get hurt, not even a risk of it, we love him, of course…

Ahhhh! An idea! But, you must have had the same one, right? A smart boy like you.

JUNO: Where’s Ben?

JACK: Shhh, Juno, now isn’t the time. You want to be good, don’t you? You want to help people like your friend Turbo, hanging in your hand there?

SOUND: SQUEAK.

TURBO (FROM TOY): Have you helped anyone yet today?

JACK: See? Your mother and I made Turbo together, you know. She loves a hero. She always tells me, “Jack, my boy Juno is going to grow up to do such good things for people – just like you.” (CHUCKLES) Well, maybe I added that last part. I’ve been thinking about it myself, you see, a great deal.

And so I will take away all the broken things, and leave behind copies, so she never has to know. That way Ben is safe, your mother is happy… it’s the best outcome we could hope for, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

JUNO: Yes, Jack.

JACK: In everyone’s best interest, what we’re doing here today. I should take it, she could never handle it, the pressure, and the company, and all those people…

(CHUCKLES, SIGHS) But being good is always hard, Juno. And when you do it, a part of you feels… lost. Like you took the wrong turn somewhere.

JUNO: We have to help Ben.

JACK: We are, Juno. We are.

Listen here.

SOUND: WATCH TICKING.

JUNO: (GASPS)

JACK: Do you hear that ticking, Juno? Lined all in a row they seem like they’ll never end, don’t they – but one day, you and I will both hear our last tock.

JUNO: …it’s… you.

JACK: (VOICE SLOWLY TURNS INTO RAMSES) And so… if we want to do as much good as we can before our time is out… we don’t always have time to ask for permission first. It is sad, but… aren’t so many things?

(CLEARS HIS THROAT) But we can’t have your mother finding out… I couldn’t bear what might happen.

SOUND: SQUEAK.

TURBO (FROM TOY): Here comes Turbo! The Man of the Future!

RAMSES: (VOICE SLOWLY TURNS INTO JACK) That’s just it. Look at me. A great many good people rest on your small shoulders, Juno Steel. If you want to be good… you must say nothing. No matter what. For Ben’s sake, and for yours. Do you understand?

And if anyone asks, you must tell them Turbo did it.

(GRUNTS) People need to be helped. I’m glad you agree.

Farewell, my partner in good.

SOUND: STATIC. GUNSHOT. WIND HOWLING.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): Turbo?!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

You little idiot, I oughta—

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

I love you, my little monsters. It’s gonna be okay. We’re going to find a way to… it’s gonna be okay.

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

JACK (FROM RADIO): Your mother will be fine. She needs our help, whether or not she accepts it, so we all have to try to—

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): Stop sending me money! I don’t want your charity, I don’t want your pity, I want you to give back what you took!

Don’t play dumb! I know it was you, Turbo! I know it was you, and I know you were scared of me, you’ve always been scared of me. Because you knew I was better than you—

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

VEGA (FROM RADIO): Well, we were all a little scared of her, of course. Jack is really the only one who could ever… talk to her. So for her to accuse him? Well, none of us believed her, even for a second. Jack’s one of the most dependable men I know. Still, the way she betrayed his kindness… horrible. It makes me shudder to think it.

VOICE 9 (FROM RADIO): Could you say a little more about that fear, Dr. Vega? Did she ever threaten any of you, or…?

VEGA (FROM RADIO): No, no, no, nothing of the sort. Nothing you’d believe she really meant. But a person like that, well… they’re unpredictable, aren’t they? There’s no telling what they might do. (LAUGHS) Why, I-I-I think… I think steal isn’t even the right word for it. The way she watched Jack’s presentation before her own, the hate in her eyes… I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Sarah really believed she had made Andromeda. A mind like hers, powerful, but so chaotic…

Inevitable. Nothing any of us could have done. Tragic, and… inevitable.

VOICE 9 (FROM RADIO): And is there anything you’d like to add, Mr. Takano?

JACK (FROM RADIO): Of course, we all wish Sarah the best…

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): A restraining order, Takano? You didn’t even have the guts to say it to my face?

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

JACK (FROM RADIO): …and I hope she knows we believe in her fully. I certainly do. And once she gets past this, once she understands why we had to act as we did… she is an incredibly talented woman. I am confident that she has a bright future ahead of her.

SOUND: GUNSHOT, STATIC & WIND END.

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO: (PANTING)

SARAH: You took your sweet time getting here. What’s the matter? Had something better to do?

JUNO: This day… again.

Mom?

SARAH: It’s been months since you’ve seen old Ma, and I don’t even get a hello?

JUNO: No. I’m not gonna play this game again.

SARAH: So you can do what, exactly? Think for a second. You never. Think.

JUNO: Stop it. I want to talk to you.

SARAH: Or, y’know, if you don’t think you can manage that, why don’t you just sit down, and shut—

JUNO: I said I want to talk to you!

SARAH: (AFTER A PAUSE) Fine. You wanna talk? Let’s talk.

JUNO: I—

SARAH: Just sit. You look like an idiot standing there, gearing up for a moral crusade.

You look tired, too.

JUNO: Hmph.

SOUND: RUSTLING.

SARAH: So? You got something you wanna say to me?

JUNO: Don’t think this means I forgive you.

SARAH: Ha! Why would you? I don’t.

JUNO: Doesn’t make this any better either.

SARAH: Sanctimonious… you were always like this. Holding people to standards too high to reach, you miserable little monster.

JUNO: Maybe, alright? Maybe I am sanctimonious. Maybe there were times when I was unfair to you, and maybe sometimes when I hurt you it really was my fault. But I am not a monster.

And neither were you.

SARAH: (LAUGHS) So, I’ve received your blessing, have I? Oh, thank you, kind sir! My spirit has been freed! No longer will I haunt—

JUNO: Not my blessing. Not my forgiveness. Listen. For years now, it’s felt like you were the beast lurking inside me. Like the part of me with the short fuse and the bruised knuckles had a name and that name was Sarah Steel, and every time I felt you in my hands, or heard you in my voice it was a sign that my days were numbered. That one day I was gonna be just like you. Causing as much pain as you. Feeling as much pain as you.

SARAH: And now you’re finally ready to get rid of me. So he’s an exorcist, too.

JUNO: No. I’m not getting rid of you. I’ve tried that already and it doesn’t work. You are always going to be a part of me. I am always going to do bad things and feel you in them.

But you weren’t a monster, Mom. You were just a person. A person who let her own hurt pour out and hurt other people, yeah. But…

SARAH: …But what?

JUNO: No, not but.

And. You hurt people and you cared about them. And you scared people and you made things nobody else could make. And you were brave, Ma, brave enough to push yourself as hard as you could, and you weren’t smart enough or patient enough or something enough to see that you never should’ve pushed yourself that far in the first place.

And I don’t have to be scared every time I feel you in me anymore.

SARAH: (AFTER A PAUSE) Little monster’s all grown up, isn’t he?

JUNO: Not yet. Workin’ on it.

SARAH: Lazy. How much longer you gonna take?

JUNO: Got a due date penciled in for a few seconds before I die, but I might ask for an extension.

SARAH: (LAUGHS) Look at you. A real hero. Funny, too.

SOUND: CLOCK TICKING.

(SIGHS) The last hero I ever made. I put so much of myself in her. The Homeless Hero. Then even she turned on me, and after that, hell, it was just… hard.

But look at you.

JUNO: Uh… sure. I’m lookin’.

SARAH: Principled. Strong. Stronger than I was.

And now you saw him do it. Now you know Benzaiten wasn’t my fault—

JUNO: Nope, that definitely was.

SARAH: Not all my fault. Jack, Ramses, whatever you call him… he took our life from us, Juno. Think of where you could be, where Benten could be, if he hadn’t done that. I think about it all the time. I think about it so much it makes me wanna puke, and I keep thinking about it.

JUNO: I… what?

SARAH: He ruined our life. He’s the monster. You’re the hero. And what do heroes do to monsters, Juno?

JUNO: Back off, Ma, I’m not—

SARAH & TURBO: (IN UNISON) Kill him.

JUNO: What?

SARAH: He took away our home, and we can never go back. You have to punish him for it, Juno.

JUNO: I’m– I’m not gonna—

SARAH: Then you’re just going to let him go free? You’re going to let Benzaiten die for nothing?

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

JUNO: (GASPS)

SARAH: Coward. Lazy little coward. Stand up and fight, Juno, and when you meet true evil on the road, you do not walk on until his body lies dead in the dust, because—

SARAH & TURBO: The good guys always win.

JUNO: No.

SARAH & TURBO: A hero heeds the call.

SOUND: THUDS.

JUNO: No!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

TURBO: Stop right there, Juno!

JUNO: (PANTING)

TURBO: (ECHOING) Have you helped everyone today? Did you know? You can count on Juno! You have finite breaths, detective!

BEN: Juno! Over here! Quickly!

JUNO: Ben!

TURBO: (ECHOING) You have finite lives to save! Feeling good isn’t the point.

BEN: Grab on!

TURBO: (ECHOING) Doing good… that’s what you’re for.

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES. CLOCK TICKING. RADIO TUNING, STATIC.

TURBO (FROM RADIO): Turbo’s here with turbo speed!

BEN: Juno, I can’t turn it off!

TURBO (FROM RADIO): I hired you looking for a bodyguard!

SOUND: RATTLING.

I found a partner in good!

JUNO: The clock!

BEN: What about the dumb clock?

JUNO: When we were in our real bedroom today, did you hear a clock? We never had one! And this… isn’t a clock, either! (GRUNTS)

TURBO (FROM RADIO): This is my city!

SOUND: CRACK. GLASS SHATTERING.

I’m not proud of it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth saving!

JUNO: (GRUNTS)

TURBO (FROM RADIO): (VOICE WARPING) We could do some real good together!

SOUND: WATCH TICKING. STATIC FADES. GLASS TINKLING.

BEN: You’re right. It’s not a clock. It’s…

JUNO: A watch.

SOUND: TICKING STOPS.

BEN: (AFTER A PAUSE) So. Long day?

JUNO & BEN: (LAUGHING)

JUNO: Benten… buddy, I don’t know how I could’ve done it without you. I don’t… (SIGHS) Come on… sit down. Stay a while.

BEN: (CHUCKLES) I’d love to, man.

SOUND: RADIO JINGLE.

You know there’s nothing I’d love more.

But…

RADIO ANNOUNCER 2: At the sound of the tone, the time will be. Midnight. Please move your calendars forward to a new day.

SOUND: TONE. RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: This is it, isn’t it?

But we barely got to talk, and I fought with you, and…

BEN: Not enough time? Meaner than we should’ve been? Sounds like life to me, Juno, and it’s calling one of us now.

SOUND: DISTANT THUNDER.

JUNO: I don’t know if I can do this, Ben. Not again.

BEN: I bet it feels that way.

JUNO: All that, and now… nothing?

So, what, I found out that the jerk in my present is the same as the jerk in my past? I found out I have some superhero in me, shouting platitudes about being good? And after all that I don’t even get two seconds, to just be with you, just to—

BEN: You found out more than that.

JUNO: Like what, Ben? Like what?

BEN: Why did I stay with Mom, Juno?

JUNO: What the hell kinda question is that? If I don’t know, you don’t know…

MUSIC: STARTS.

You stayed with Ma, because… you still saw the good things in her. When it all started to hurt, the only way I could deal with it was to look away from everything human and just see the monster, but… you could never stop seeing the person she could’ve been.

BEN: It wasn’t the right choice. It wasn’t a noble choice. But it was my choice.

And I think it’s about time you let me take responsibility for my choices. Okay?

JUNO: Okay, Benten. (SNIFFS) I love you so much.

BEN: I love you too.

Don’t miss your ride, Juno. You only get one.

JUNO: Goodbye, Benzaiten.

BEN: I’ll be right here when you need me, Super-Steel.

SOUND: BREEZE BLOWS.

MUSIC: FADES.

SOUND: ELECTRIC BEEPS, MACHINES HUMMING.

JUNO: (GROANS)

JACKET: (MUFFLED, TUNELESS HUMMING)

JUNO: Ben? Ben, where the hell—

This is… Hanataba’s.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I was too scared to check. I checked anyway.

There was a bandage covering where the Theia had been, and I was alive. I was too tired to make it to the door. I barely had the energy to breathe, but… but on the bedside table lay two things: another page of Hanataba’s instructions… and the Theia Spectrum.

And it was so small. For such a huge nightmare, the thing itself was… just a little marble, still and dead.

I reached for the eye… then picked up the page instead. The instructions had only one step, written in doctor’s scrawl: “You are alive. This is the gift you have been given. Use it as you see fit. Signed, Hanataba.” Use it as I see fit, huh? (SNORTS) Not sure I’ve ever done that before.

Because when your world’s black and white, split clean down the middle into monsters and superheroes? When you spend all your time running away from your own blood or running towards some vague good nobody ever stopped to define, well… how you see fit never really comes up, does it? It’s all reactions, reflexes. Mom would do this, so I can’t; a good guy would do this, so I have to.

So, Steel. What do you want to do next?

The thought made sleep even heavier in my head, so I lay down a spell. It could wait, I thought. When you’re not always running towards something, from something… tomorrow can wait.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Matthew Zahnzinger and Kiki Samko, and co-creators Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

KIKI: …and I just, I listened to a lot of Juno monologues and I was trying to sort of, capture that… y’know, that… (SIGHS) That, quali– that, like, sort of—

SOUND: LAUGHTER.

Gravelly, like… whiskey, late-night quality, y’know, so. (CHUCKLES) Um, uh, which I just naturally have. Uh… um, and, uh, Andromeda was a lot of fun to develop because it has always been my goal to become a cartoon character…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Camille Blanton, Jay Iannuzzelli, Karin Z-H, Canteloupe, Fiona Parker, Ota Arcana, Regan, Ko, Kim Zeugin, Atha Lang, Vron, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, and Jaimie Gunter for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

Did you know that The Penumbra has merchandise for sale? It’s true! The Penumbra has partnered with DFTBA to bring you the posters, shirts, and pins your heart desires. Just go to dftba.com and search for The Penumbra Podcast.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Monster’s Reflection, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Marc Pierre as Benzaiten Steel, Kiki Samko as Sarah Steel and Chainmail Warrior Andromeda, Matthew Zahnzinger as Jack Takano, Ramses O’Flaherty, and Turbo, the Man of the Future, and Bob Mussett as Lorenzo Vega.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel

21 notes · View notes

twracehorse · 5 years

Text

Cringing at my own videos

Training Videos Edition!

I got bored, needed motivation to start editing, went back to take a look at my older videos, and now I judge and cringe at them because that’s a given at this stage

Under the cut to keep your dash shorter :3

Determined Horse Training, the title I came up with to be a little unique. I obviously couldn’t use something akin to Northena’s “Training Is Fun...Right?” and I wanted to give it a proper title knowing this would be a series of videos. I thought, and thought, and came up with the title after thinking of Undertale and how you are filled with determination in the game. “I am filled with determination to train these horses!” is what I thought and so the title of the series became that!

I use // as a way to separate different topics I’m talking about

Brave Rebel- First off...the thumbnail. He was originally themed sort of after Nathan Drake from Uncharted, since I was into that series at the time. So the map was, you know, for the treasure hunting. But I didn’t want to stretch the map to fit and somehow decided that a brown background was a good idea?? // AH THE CLOTHES! THE NECK!! AHHH GATORADE OCEAN BLEHH. // Oh yeah I have a spelling error in the video “Let’s go defeat this traning day!”. // Been training with Sage from the start of the series. I wonder how many fails of their’s I’ve caught XD // Ah the rocks, the rocks that I caught Sage stumbling out of in a later training video. // Let’s not forget the double mouse thing going on that makes its appearance in many videos before I figured out to click off of the web pages (which had a music playlist going while training). // Omg there’s someone with the club name The Babies standing nearby when I turn in the final race. // Low-key still love this horse. He was my first true Soul Steed before we were designated to our starter. I don’t take him out much, the difference in horse animations from new to old is getting bigger and for dynamic photos, it just doesn’t look good ( @~@)

Cool Hero- The horse based off of Markiplier back when he had red hair. I also uploaded the video on his birthday! // The song choice....I mean it fits the theme, otherwise I’d pick a better song. // The mini references I’m still low-key proud of. // There’s quite the amount of gliding pons in this video and some horror texture pons. // I obviously had to max Markimoo at the observatory! // I also mimicked Mark’s outros where an image is boomeranging. It took a couple tries with my friend in the background, but it was worth it!

Violet Mystery- I hope when I introduced her as “The winner of the Jorvik Wild horse competition” I mean, she was the first coat to be picked. Back when it was only one horse coat is being made. They added the top two coats afterwards. // Oh yeah the character’s whole head would move to the side to keep eye contact with the camera. // It’s so weird to think that I caught a bit of footage of Swifty just before meeting her. Then again I remember NOT editing this training video until months later and uploaded it in September. Mind you that I got Cool Hero and Violet Mystery at the same time and Cool Hero’s video was out in June...oops. // Ironic that I have the pandoric cracks around when the horse is based off them. // People running up from the riding arena, ah the fog glitch that would happen when you left your horse in the riding area, ran all the way to the dino valley elevator, took it, and there was no fog in the valley!

Megalove- Ah the first Undertale horse! I mean technically still the only Undertale themed horse I have, but I do have others planned. Haven’t gotten them yet and some plans changed. // The thumbnail....why did I make the stickers super tiny?? // Finally changed Elsa’s hairstyle to the ponytail I still wear to this day. We need updated ponytails with side bangs! I know we have the awesome braided ponytail in Mistfall, but there’s too much forehead! // Also the first training footage with the meet up....was 4 hours long. This was back when I recorded all stages of training and went through the footage in real time....I’m glad I changed strategy. // Can’t remember if crashing into a jump and the jump of the music timed at the same point was on purpose or if it was editing magic. // Oof cringing that I put comic sans as Sans “talking” in the video nnngghhhhh! // Ah my old club name Royal Ambassadors. I gave that club over to my side account Chiara Monsterhope for obvious reasons. // Annoying Dog in the credits, I still love that

Lucky Hero- I’m still proud that I came up with his nickname Vien short of Vienna where the famous riding school is. He, along with Brave Rebel, are my top horses. Please get an update eventually boys! // Finally Mac users had clear water! I was so happy over this you do not understand XD // Warriors by Imagine Dragons fits this horse, but quite a pain when I got Dark Warrior and didn’t want repeating songs. // Oh yeah early on, the Lipizzaners had a weird reflective tail glitch going on. // Vien was the first horse of mine that I got the day of release, bright and early in the morning! // I love how in the face of danger, an approaching bull dozer, I just stare at it. It wasn’t even a “oh no I should get out of the way” and instead was “huh that’s a thing”. // ALLY CHUM! I forgot that was a nickname to good friend!

Grey Ghost- OH BOY HERE WE GO!! Honestly my favorite training video. It was so much fun to edit with the music and the Halloween stickers hidden around the screen! Despite waking up at 5am to train for that aesthetic™. // Okay but that mushroom with the dark green sign did legit give me a spook. My body froze for a second and then I remembered that Slenderman doesn’t exist in Star Stable XD. // Ngl two of the stickers are hard to see cause of their surroundings. // GALLOPER THOMPSON MY MAN! Honestly I waited till midnight for him to be in Goldenleaf forest, just to see what would happen if you were racing and he caught you. By the gods of editing magic, the song was at a good point that fits perfectly with that scene. // For the scarecrow race I did actually take two different takes. I failed the first one and when I was editing I noticed that the two runs looked similar. So I put the first part of run 1 and cut before I failed and then put the remaining of the race with run 2. Looks almost seamless!

Silent Promise- My favorite mare in my stable! She ends up being my AoT cosplay photo horse...until I get the actual themed horse XP. // Shadows were a little glitchy at first. // Why am I using Rud instead of Rude. Like I know why cause that’s how we got around the filter, but I didn’t need to put it like that in the video. It’s like back in my WolfQuest days where I learned to use Cuz as a short version of Cause and it bled into my text vocab. // The witch bombs...I wanted to make it dramatic, but in hindsight it’s just tasteless really. Also to note that the sound which was fine before uploading, got more rough once it was on YouTube

Small Potential- Real cringe theme here, Hetalia. It was fun while watching and all that, but since then I’ve seen some well done anime! Growth! // I love the nickname Finny. Not too sure if I want to keep this pony or not, sadly. // The Christmas remix song is because I had no other ideas XD

Brave Eagle- Oh this is another slight cringe theme. Even more cringe is the fact that I had to re-upload this training video since it got blocked all over the world! due to the Hamilton musical songs. So I....had to layer over the songs with other songs....it’s a whole mess and was a whole pain since I had to re-edit the sound effects. // I’m proud of the thumbnail though....that’s it

Winter Dust- Why did I make the “there’s a new app with these foals you can train” with the dramatic music? // I think because I had less levels to train, I tried filling that space with “cool looking shots”. // Ah, yes, my How To Get Over A Jump wikipedia step by step

Hollow Phantom- Had to bring a creepy vibe even though it was February. So he’s like a Halloween not Halloween horse. // Can you believe that I found the main song from a Haikyuu!! crack video? XD. // That zoom on the pony surrounded by magic shires was weird. We’re saying “SO TINY” but the clip was so short it was done and over without much sense. // Mmm that slight irritation that the music and clip didn’t match with the drop. // Tried to blend the music together with itself....it’s obvious. // Of course had to max the Galloper horse where I first met the phantom himself

North Guardian- I wanna talk about the thumbnail....that background...is literally just the horse’s hindquarters. I wanted something mossy since the horse is sort of based off of Pelagia from Shadow of the Colossus. I couldn’t find good enough backgrounds, so I used the horse itself. // Again that urge to want to make the clip and music match but ahhh

Lucky Lucky- Still wish I could name this horse Gold Luck or something. // I think one of the camera turns during a race was just to show off the rainbow nearby. // Ahh! back when we could say “demon” in the chat. // Hmm instead of letting the clip run, I could’ve just cut to Reed calling the askew fence “a disgrace”. // Text was onscreen for just too long. // Trying to do the riding arena jumps with a good camera angle. But at that point, the camera kept moving and wouldn’t hold still. I’m glad it’s better now. Maybe I’ll try it again with a future horse. // Huh, forgot to add sound effects when I hit something on the last race

Silent Surprise- Cause I had to let the people know that I bought the horse after watching the Belmont. // AH STILL THE NECK! // 2 minutes in and we haven’t even gotten to the actual training yet. // Another day, another SSO glitch, this time it’s shadow rocks. // Oop missed a sound effect

Hot Spot- THE MUSTACHE! // I forgot I put a filter over the video to give it an old timey look. I should do more like that if it’s in theme. // Of course I had to have The Wanted be playing with this song since it’s old west sounding. // What was the purpose of editing the scarecrow race like that? XD. // Random running clip. // Walking the whole bobcat race would be nice if I didn’t keep moving the camera

Pumpkin Candy- As much as I love my Halloween horses, this training video isn’t up to the standards that the first Halloween training video set up. It’s still got Halloween themed music, it’s still got stickers hidden in the video, but it doesn’t feel the same. // Having text be their default instead of making them the same agh. // The spooky filter I overlayed the clips with changes at times. Would be nice if it stayed consistent

Dragon Dawn- Hmm now that I have more songs to choose from (getting into another artist as much as I did with The Wanted), I would have another song playing to fit the horse better. Maybe Euphoria or Mikrokosmos. Oh well those will be for future horses eventually! // Didn’t drop with the music...disappointed

Thunder Spirit- The horse that trains through three months. You can easily tell by the Valentine race, the rainbows of March, and April Fools. // Man I really need to work on making the text not be so BIG. // The first rainbow race had lots of sound effects. After that one I was just like “yeah not doing that again”

Sun Chaser- Eh the slowed down music is not the best idea. But I think it was also an intro to a remix of the song. So it was only so long and I had a bit to say for the intro of the horse. // The second clip of the mysterious Icelandic cryptid you can’t see them once it zooms in....annoying. // Too much of a slow build up with another cryptid spotting. // Also using the same sound but slower after just using it...smooth (not). // You know the very last clip of the horse as he’s turning around on the beach? Yeah that’s the exact moment I did the intro for the horse XD

Dragon Warrior- The contrast between me and Sage’s bantering vs the sadder song (I found the song because of a Zeno AMV) well it’s kinda weird having laughs and then sad melody. // YouTube again ruins the quality of the mic as it sounds fuzzier than it was pre-uploaded. // Low-key recording voices was fun aside from having to make sure the clips matched the voices and clicking of the mouse. // I’m still annoyed I couldn’t find the perfect snoring sound effect when Sage’s Connemara is sleeping and starts gliding away

Smoke Mirror- A little too much of a pause between text in the intro. // I love how I’m wearing a Halloween shirt because no other shirt matched with the blue of the hat except for the dress it came with THAT I GOT RID OF!

Obsidian Mystery- I love the thumbnail for her training video. It’s so spooky and cool! Favorite thumbnail of the entire series right there. // Ironic that with the three Halloween horses I’ve had. The two with the upbeat music are the ones where Galloper was present that year. The one where Galloper was missing that October, the music was softer, generic Halloween music. Not intentional, but it works. Though the first Halloween training video still gets the trick-or-treats because it has nostalgic music. // Some text isn’t easily visible

Dark Warrior- The horse I wish I could name Secret Warrior cause that would make SO MUCH MORE SENSE than Dark Warrior, but here we are. // Since Warriors by Imagine Dragons was in a previous training video, I had to search for another song to fit the horse. I literally went through those anime character theme song videos to find one! That was a terrible jump cut of the song

Ember Flame- Coming Soon

#Star Stable #Star Stable Online #SSO

2 notes · View notes

valeandfade · 6 years

Text

Still Waters : MerMer AU

THE REPOST

So It was super glitchy on the phone app so we split it to try and make it easier to read. we think there was too many words.

Hey guys, take this in honor of MerMay that we didn’t really get to participate in, though we love mermaids (Especially Xell, they’re her favorite). It’s still may Technically so at least we didn’t miss it. This was written a little while ago, but it was fun.

Tell us if you like it!

Word Count: 14846

NOTES: IT IS SUPER SUPER AU. AUs: Mermaid!AU, AlternatePairing!AU

It was written as pure self indulgence and was super fun.

PART ONE

It was dark.

Somehow, Carson hadn’t thought the end would be so dark. He had heard stories, little rumors of what death would be like, the standard ‘bright light at the end of the tunnel’ having embedded the imagery that death would be white, bright and powerful, an eternity stretched out before you as you fell away into it. He pictured it warm, happy, soft…. But as he struggled to breathe, pain rippling over his skin as he struggled to find which way was up, Carson could only describe an abyss that rested before him, all consuming and unforgiving. There was no direction, just endless black that had his mind hazing with ice, his mind freezing in the tundric waters that now created his grave.

The ocean had never been a kind mistress...He should have been more careful.

“Carson! Get away from the edge!”

His Brother’s voice was frightened, the anxiety that was clearly running through his veins laced in his words, a light tilt to his voice that made him look up from the railing of the boat that they had both come to adore, their little run away from the overbearing pressures of human society. It was his mother’s boat, something she had saved up for and bought before she had even met their dad, but she allowed them to take it out to open seas when they wanted to, so long as she didn’t have a trip planned. Ragnar had decided to take it out this weekend, and Carson had to beg him to let him come along, having missed the open ocean, salty winds brushing kisses along his face.

His hands clenched the metal as he leaned back, mismatched eyes on his Brother’s own, his eyes widening as he gripped the wheel of their boat harder.

He smiled, tilting his head, opening his mouth to say something, when the boat rocked suddenly, jerking with some hidden underwater rock edge or a particularly nasty wave, one the would have been expected due to the darkening storm clouds that were circling ahead. Carson felt the boat buckle under him, jerking forward. Not having kept his footing stable, Carson lurched, his body moving, flipping into the dark waters below.

Pain ripped over his mind as his head slammed into something hard, and Carson Watched as his World faded from Blue, to red…. Then black..

But he didn’t sleep for long. His body forced awake as his lungs tried to draw breath, only feeling the heavy set of the salt water around him sliding into his lungs, pressing against his chest to bind his heart, the thud and roar of his own heart beating running through his ears. Everything felt light, but heavy, stuck in one spot with nowhere to go.

‘Shit…’

Carson cursed, his hands finding his throat as he heaved, needing air but his mind not receiving, darker spots of black flashing over the abyss before him. He struggled, but his body was starting to slow its response, limbs heavy, sluggish, the ice in his veins making his whole body ache.

He felt so tired…..

‘I don’t want to…..’

----------

Truthfully? Lochlan Hated this job.

It wasn’t that it was hard. On the contrary, hard labor was tiring, to be sure, but it wasn't anything Lochlan could call difficult. It was simple motions, simple turns and pulls to lift the nearly cripplingly heavy pulls of fish from the ocean, the scent of salt and brine all he could smell and the lingering scent of the still wet cigarettes that clung to him. There was the sound men’s laughter, the ugly cursing of men twice his age calling out vulgarities to each other, to him and his Ever silently friend, Ebbe. Ebbe took it all in stride, ignoring the ribbing of the other men on the ship with a pop of the bubble gum in his mouth, Lochlan acting as mouthpiece and spokesperson for the two newbies on the trip, the only one to say anything back as they ribbed on him.

“Don’t throw out your back, Pretty boys! Get your arms into it! Get your asses moving, the fish ain’t gonna just JUMP ON BOARD!”

“It’d Go a Lot faster with ALL OF US PULLING, JACKMAN!”

Lochlan curses as he momentarily lost his grip, hearing the grunt as Ebbe caught the slack his distraction had cost him. A quick sorry over his shoulder was the only apology that Ebbe would receive, his ears burning as the sun beat down on him and the dark laughter of men who had nothing better to do the bully the newest crew members lingering in his mind, his lips pulling back to let out a growl as he cast a look over to Ebbe, his friends long red hair sticking to his face and back and neck, the beanie he wore doing nothing to help keep the strands hidden….

Though Lochlan could not talk, his own duel colored strands sticking to his neck itching as the sweat rolled down his back.

The others would not help them, testing them, throwing them to the choppy waters to see if the sink or swim. Lochlan knew it, and So did Ebbe, and really, if this job didn’t pay so well, Lochlan would have given up a long time ago, would have told them to go fuck themselves and hidden away until they returned home, their trips never longer than a few days in the off season. Lochlan hated them, the way the underestimated him and the way they seemed to think he was the village fucking idiot and talked to him slowly, to help him understand. Normally he just would roll his eyes and do his job, but today? Today the forecast called for heavy storms and choppy waters, and being out in conditions so ready to become dangerous, and STILL pulling this stupid hazing ritual was irresponsible and stupid on their part. They Were going to lose a whole net just to fucking push them and see how far it too until they broke.

Lochlan would not break.

Things would be so much easier if he could.

As it was the ocean called to him. In what way, he never really could say, but there was a need in him, a pirate’s blood call in his veins made the sea sing to him, her waves soft and whispered lullabies, her currents and riptides calling to him. He needed to be by the ocean, needed to be surrounded by her.

It was why he worked so hard, why he jumped at the chance to work on this boat.

His calling was here, on these waves, in these waters, He just had to find it.

“Why is this so fucking heavy?” Lochlan cursed, yanking again to pull just that little bit more out of the churning waters. He could have swore he heard splashing, like something huge was slapping its tail against the ocean's surface, but eh didn’t dare look up, his focus on pulling this net in before the storm caught them off guard.

He pulled, He yanked and finally, after what felt like a thousand years of nothing but holding the world on his shoulders, there was a final cry, both Ebbe and his body swinging with the effort of pulling the net up and over the boat's railing.

And the world froze, silent, for a moment as Lochlan saw him for the first time.

He was small, smaller than any of the men on board, his skin tan and dusted with freckles along his shoulders face and arms, hints of them along his torso. He sucked in a breath, teeth sharp, and the tail of something far beyond humanity slapped against the wooden surface of the boat.

“What the actual Fuck is that?”

Ebbe’s first words spoken aboard this ship. At any other time it would have caused an uproar, but the words now were only met with silence.

“Someone bring me my radio… Mr. Dhouti is gonna want to hear about this.”

-------------

Dear god, no. This wasn’t going to happen to him. Not now, not when he had so many mistakes to already make up for. He already had so many rules broken, so many errors that had almost cost him and his friends lives. That was why he was out here, to make up for them. To prove that he was still needed in this kingdom of theirs.

He had to prove that he was actually worth the pain that they had to put up with.

Whiskey colored eyes watched the man, horrified, watched as his body slammed against the rocky edge of the mountain. Bile roe in the back of his throat as the man slide through the turbulence. His hands reaching, grasping out only to find nothing to save him, no one to see the man struggle to survive underneath the power of the currents. But he was valiant in his efforts, a trait that Echo could only applaud. A trait that Echo himself wished he had possessed more than once. But here was this human, ditching all of his energy to try a perceiver for the air that was only feet away from the flailing man.

There was no way, no way to save him without being cast out, if anyone found out. But the fear he felt jerking his heart to his throat was real, it was dangerous and turned the man’s vision hazy as he swam closer to the fighting human.His eyes never leaving the man, instead focused, trained to the spot where the man thrashed.

Twice. Twice!

The man almost had the surface his fingertips only inches away from the breaking point between air and water. Echo could hear his lungs screaming out for mercy, could hear the man’s heart racing relentlessly to win against the pain that must have been wracking his body at this point.

‘Fight…. Fight it!’

Fingernails grazed the inside of Echo’s palms, bitting heavier and heavier as he saw the fight slowly dying in the darklings eyes. His body slumping, the thrashes turning less and less aggressive as he sank. It was over, he was giving up. He was dying.

‘No. No. No… Oh,.... nonoonononononono!”

Echo could feel his body lurching forward, his arms already extending to try and wrap the darkling into him before he could even contemplate the situation. His hands moving on his own as tanned finger wrapped around the man’s chest, forcing him out of the murky darks of the water, he was light under the water, his body pressed too tightly against the warmth of his own chest. He didn’t have much time, his body forced the two through the surface, only for Echo to gasp, his lungs filling with oxygen. His fingers pressed the boy nose together, just as he had watched others do on the shore lines, and he pressed his lips to the boys mouth as they found the soft sand of the shores, his lips forcing the darklings apart so that he could do what he could only assume was right.

--------------

”Ethan, get it, my arms stuck…. Ethan! ITs stuck stop looking stupid and get over here and help me! ...Now!”

Panic was setting in, actual living fear was welling into his chest as he thrashed, his tail whipping under the currents that would have usually been calm. But there was a boat, far from the humans territory, there net wrapping bits of his arm into the thickly draw rope. Logically he knew. He needed to calm down, he knew that panic was no way to get out of here. To get out of the net he was going to have to have some sort of focus on the appendage and the net that was tangled around his scales.

“You have to calm down Ridley. Ridley! Calm down. I can’t help you f you’re thrashing around like that.”

But no matter how many time he thought to calm himself, no matter how many times he opened his mouth to take that calming breath, he found the terror was only sinking in. Even as pale fingers ripped away at the net from his arms his tail still swung, his body still yanked out trying to pull himself from the net. A motion he would regret as his tail jerked, only to find the net tangled into the briny ropes.

“Fuck! Fuck, COME ON RIDLEY STAY THE HELL STILL!”

Genuine fear gripped him, tore a hole into him as his eyes widened, his body trembled as Ethan yanked at the ropes, none of them seemed to come lose, none of them budged as he gripped each yanking and manoeuvring to get the ropes un-entwined. But nothing seemed to work. But he could see Ethan's eyes widen as a cran began, giant floodlights filling their vision. But Ridley had to give it to him. Ethan didn’t let go, instead his body pushed against Ridley trying to land some kind of force as he yanked at the ropes more viciously.

“Swim down Ridley! Swim down!”

He could only listen, his head nodding even as he began to shift, to try and power through the fishing net that was cast around him. Ethan grappled onto Ridleys free arm forcing the net down with himself. But it was to no avail. The lining to strong, and the fishers almost even stronger. The gasp that left him as Ethan's fingers slid off was appalling to say the least, his mouth opening to scream for those fingers that were outreached for him.

“Ethan!”

The air was cold, almost freezing against his skin, the wind almost blistering as the fresh night air plummeted against his exposed skin. But it distracted him briefly from the shock, from the hard floor hitting him, the net draping itself over his body, pressing him harshly into the woodend halt of the small fishing boat. Small finger reached yanking at the ropes as the eyes caught onto him, human eyes. They were every where, surrounding him in a small cluster.

He shook, his eyes wide as he took in each face. Their words played through his ears, but the meaning never hit. Their actions were those of confused children, the lot of them only gathering as one or two spoke. His escape was only inches away, the edge. He only needed to get the edge, even if he could only drop off with the net, at least Ethan could help him escape the cage he seemed to find himself in.

Small fingers inched quietly for a second, two, maybe, before he was bolting, using the end of his tail to push off the floor of the boat, his fingers gripping the ridge. Freedom was only a mere feet away.

“Ethan!”

----------

Carson didn't want to die.

Sure, there were moments, times when he thought otherwise, but in the moment, the moment that Death circled around him like the jaws of the beast, claws raking over his body, Carson found that he did not wish to die. He didn’t want this to be the end, didn’t want to live on ninteen years of his life before it was thrown away to the sea, another victim, another statistic that would push people away from the oceans and her beauty. He didn’t want to sink into her depth, didn’t want to be the reason Ragnar never went to sea again, because he knew, his brother would never forgive himself for allow this to happen on his watch. He was a freshman in College, had a future ahead of him that he wanted to see, scholarships and nights on the ocean he still wanted to enjoy...

But he wouldn’t get to. Because the sea had claimed him.

Carson didn’t want to die.

There was a strange feeling, a warmth that circled around him as he closed his eyes sluggishly, the darkness almost completely taking over his vision as he felt his heart starting to slow. There was a pressure, another bind about his chest as something spun around his head, a whooshing feeling threading through his mind as he felt his body drift. That darkness was still there, darkness that clung to him even as a warm solid feeling settled under him, an icy rush over him all he could feel.

That warmth was still there, still about his shoulders and grazing over his face before he felt something, a rush of air sliding through his body to push into waterlogged lungs. Carson felt it, once, twice, three times, before he suddenly jerked, his body forcing the water back up past his lips, burning as it force itself from his mouth, his nose, making the dark haired boy purge his body, turning to allow all the water and bile to fall onto the sands next to him. Had he died? The thought shot through his mind, and Carson decided that if this was dying, then dying really, REALLY sucked, and Hell looked a whole lot like home.

His whole body ached, his head throbbing as he tried to open his eyes, hand moving to lift up to his head, feeling pain explode behind his eyes he felt the gash on the back of his head, sand clinging to blood as he grazed fingertips over it. He still felt pain, so that was a good sign.

Carson sat up, only to let out a painful gasp as his head spun, pain throbbing enough to make him slip,slumping over as his hands reached up…. Only to land on something soft and wet, something that felt warm to the touch but strangely cold. Carson’s eyes finally opened, duel colored gaze holding nothing but confusion as he took in the sight before him.

The man Couldn’t have been any older than he was, his eyes wide, cognac colored with hints of red in the cinnamon brown. His gaze was on him, looking at him like one would look at a growling dog, all strangely hesitant and cautious. His skin was tan, blond locks falling to stick to his face, and it was only when he shifted that the light gleamed of the expanse of scales that created a long tail that resembled the legends he had read about when he was young, his mother's words filling his mind.

Mermaids, Carson… The Ocean is Deep, and she is vast. She gives no secrets willingly, and so no one can say for sure if they truly exist…

The kind of words used for children’s fairytales, to make them believe just that little longer. Carson could not say that he believed in Fairy tales anymore, but what eh could say, without a shred of doubt...Carson could say eh was…. Easily the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen.

He stared a moment, before his hand lifted, slowly, hesitantly, the worry that if he blinked this creature would be gone and left to his memories, a vision he would never be able to replicate. Was he real? He didn’t know. He didn’t seem real, mythic and strangely enchanting, beyond human.. His hand moved, hovered over his cheek, before he grazed his skin, a sharp gasp hitching his breath as he ran a fingertip over his cheek, his lips.

“Who are you?”

Carson asked. He had to be real…. Carson’s imagination was good, but he was sure he could never fantasize about a feeling so vividly.

“Did… You save me? Fuck…” Carson cursed as his head pounded again, looking away from the man to close his eye against the light shining off the waves.

“Where am I?”

---------------

Humans were vile, disturbing and blatant in their disrespect and their cruelty towards ocean life. They were selfish and wild. Unpredictable some said.

But if this wasn’t the most interesting human he had ever laid his eyes on.

A beauty that the gods and goddesses would praise for a millenia. And those eyes, god those eyes were ensnaring as they took him in. Echo swallowed around the boulder building in his throat, his fingers digging into the soft sand as the waves lapped against his tail. Something he should have been trying to avoid being seen.

But how could he just leave when he wasn’t even sure if the human was okay? All the work with no pay off? He thought not.

Echo watched, fascinated as the human stirred, his gaze unflinching as the darkling turned himself over, and it only seemed to grow more intense in his stare as the human turned those multi colored eyes to him. Locked him into place, when he knew he should have moved. Forced him to captured in the lights filling up behind those once dying eyes. There was something of marvel, something of wonder as he moved slightly to take in Echo. But there he was captured, entangled in the human that sat out beside him.

Cool air whipped around wet blonde tendrils of his hair, taned fingers movved to brush them back only to catch the darklings hand come up, his words slipping past to part those lips. Words he should not have been able to understand, words that were forbidden under the waves of the ocean. Words that once learned could earn a man’s death.

But he knew them. And he knew them well now, the simple brush of their lips together entwining the knowledge of this humans language into his veins. Pouring sickly sweet into him as he felt the smooth skin of the darkling brush over his freckled cheeks, over his lips.

There was a small shift in him, a skipped heart small, smoldering at the motion. A simple touch that had Echo concentrating much to hard to focus on the boys words, at least until the boy jerked. His hand coming up to his head in a jarring motion.

“Echo. Echo is my name. And yes, i did. No need to thank me.”

Echo’s heart snatched as he watched the darkling move backward, the words continuing to pour out of his mouth.

“I don’t know what you humans call this, we call it the End. Where the land reaches much too high for any of us to wander.”

There was a silence as he watched the boy writhed, and Echo shifted, digging his fingers into the small pouch that clung to his hip , digging for the small pocket of Salve he carried in the pockets. His other hand moved out, forcing the boy's neck to the side to let the bleeding gash hit the open air. Echo’s eyes narrowed on the cut, fingers trying to move the debris that seemed locked into his locks.

“This is going to hurt. But stay still for me a moment.”

The oiled substance stuck between his fingers as he pressed the tips of his fingers against the gash, smoothing the small amount into the wound. It would burn, it would sting the wound beyond any type of mercy but it would work. Help the blood clot and start to close the wound. The man would be able to be up and moving at any point,

at a point that he knew he should be far away as possible by then.

“It should start to take effect relatively soon. It is better to feel this type of pain rather than be dead i suppose.”

--------------------

“LOCHLAN! GRAB IT!”

The captain’s words shot out like gunfire, snapping lochlan from his trance at seeing something so strange. His body moved before he even really realized he had listened, the entirety of his 6’4 frame moving to push off against the slippery deck, his hands finding the body of the half man, half fish like creature. He practically tackled him, sliding along the floor to grab hold of his arm, his eyes widening as he spotted his other tangled up in the rope of the net he had just pulled up.

‘That explains why it was so heavy.’ Lochlan mused for all of a moment, feeling the slap as the boy struggled under him, his tail slapping against his jacket covered back, a grunt pulling from his lips as he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him up as he rolled onto his back and forced them up, his breath heavy as he looked down at the man in his arms being held down by the weight of Lochlan and the tangle of the net.

“Calm down, I don’t want to hurt you!” He could hear himself saying, not really knowing if he could understand him, but choosing to try anyway. The boy wasn’t really that much trouble when he was subdued, his strength impressive by with the adrenaline running through his veins and the hours he had spent on this ship, in the gym training for this trip and for the team he had found himself on in highschool, Lochlan found he didn’t even feel it as the boy battered against him, though eh had the feeling it was going to leave some serious bruises.

“Take It to the Cargo Hold, any of you!…. I gotta get Mr. Dhouti on the phone…”

The captain mumbled his words after that choosing to turn on heel and head back toward the captain’s quarters, stopping just enough to turn to the rest of the baffled crew and snap his next orders. He looked stressed, his fingers cracking as they clenched and uncurled. The darkness of the clouds was starting to settle in, the storm approaching, and Lochlan had to wonder if he would die on this boat.

It was looking like a pretty big possibility.

“DROP ANCHOR HERE! I’m not leaving this spot until I get a hold of The Senator, so you all can quit your bitching and rest like the princess fucks you are.”

Then he was gone, returning to his quarters, and leaving them to fend for themselves.

Fucking asshole.

“Alright, Come on, Captain’s orders…” The voice of Crane, a man in his mid fifties with salt and pepper hair moved forward, his voice gruff and straight, like sand had worn at his vocal cords. He was like an alcoholic father figure that didn’t know how to stop making creep vulgar comments, but mostly harmless. That didn’t show as He shifted, picking up the boy roughly, mostly by the net to throw him over his shoulder, not seeming to care that the position looked like it would hurt.

“Stop! You’re gonna hurt him!”

Crane ignored him, just disappeared into the cargo hold.

“This whole boat is full of assholes…. Whatever, let’s just do what eh says and try and settle in…”

That didn’t prove to be easy. Once the Anchor was dropped, everyone pretty much settled in for the night. Crane and Jacob set up their cards, Ebbe had returned to his own little room to read the book he had brought along with him, a large thick tome in some sort of ancient language. The rest were milling about, but Lochlan returned to the boat’s deck, ignoring the clouds as he looked out to the ocean, watching her waves crack against the boat but held himself steady.

It was a stupid man who did not keep his footing at all times on a boat.

“You’re worried about it, aren’t you?”

Ebbe’s voice shot out, making the blonde and brunette bounce and jump, his gaze snapping back toward the redhead whose gaze matched the clouds above. He blinked, opening his mouth to say something but the words were halted by Ebbe again, who rolled his eyes at him.

“Just go check on him. You’re too nice…. You’ll make yourself sick again with worry, so just check on the thing…”

Ebbe shifted, leaning on the rails next to him.

“Just bring your knife with you.”

“I already have it….” Lochlan said as he moved, leaving his spot to head toward the hold.

He could have swore he heard him call him a bitch, but if it was from Ebbe, he probably didn’t mean it.

Lochlan creeped down the stairs, blinking into the dark as he looked around. His hand fell to his pocket fingering the pocket knife. The light was dim as he pulled the chain, illuminating the room to reveal scores of tools and weapons, nets and hooks, and in the middle of it all, tied to a support beam, was the creature.

“Hey… Hey… can you talk?” He asked as he moved closer, crouching down low, fingertips against the ground. He was close, close enough to smell the sea on him, Lochlan’s eyes flickering over him to see if he was wounded

“Are you hurt?”

---------

All the legends were true, all of the myths and lores he grew up on, thinking they were just trying to make a species so monstrous that none of them dared approach, were in fact real. The cruelty that laid in these creatures was black and lifeless, soulless. And he would not doubt it if they bleed black and grew horn in the middle of the night.

They were not creatures to be reckoned with. And his mistake would never be rectified, would only be fully understood after his death at the hands of these…. Monsters of the land. They ignored him, stopped his only attempt at leaving and moved him too far away from any possible escape now.

He was lost now. His fate would have to be simply accepted.

They were rough, fingers tightening on his skin with bruising forces. He tried, tried to call out to them, tried to beg with everything he could offer, bribe the humans. But not one of the men batted their eyes even the old guy that dropped him with a thump onto the ground seemed uninterested in his words.

Not that they could understand Ridley. He knew that. Knew that his words were coming out in chirps and gruffs that their ears could barely audibly pick up. Knew that they would only hear them if they concentrated hard enough, and knew that truly none of them had any interest in what he had to say at this point. He was only a pawn now. Could only be valued after his death took place.

“Sir, please…. Please… hold on… Sir!”

He called after the old man as he stood, his eyes looking over the ropes and net that tangled him, making sure that the work he had done was well. If Ridley had a say in it, the man had done too well. The ropes cutting into delicate flesh and scales as he bunched his tail as close to him as possible. Trying for the life to him look as small as he could. It wasn’t until the light shifted, flickering before turning completely out that dread wrapped itself around him.

It was cold, the air frosting over his skin as the wind whirled and whipped against the boat, the wooden structure creaking and groaning in the silence of the blackened room around him. It was heart wrenching, the cry that ripped apart his lips, Ridley could feel the tears stinging behind his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not to these humans, not to the absolute filth that inhabited this boat.

But for his brothers he would, for Ethan he would, for the life he knew was getting ripped away from him, he would. Another sob parted his lips, ripped through the silence he was trying to hold. His fingers clenching at his hips as he sunk deeper into this heart ache that was gripping him so heavily.

Until the lights flickered, the sound of foot steps accompanying the light that flooded the wooden floor. Ridley tried to move, to squirm into himself, to look away from the man as he bent over in front of him, his words ringing to unaccustomed ears. Ridley flexed, his fins shifting and widening, as the man spoke, his ears lifting to frill the fins that laid attached to them, as if this would help him understand the man in front of him.

“Don’t leave me down here… please.”

He knew the words would fall on deaf ears, knew that it would do nothing to beg for this man help. But he could try, could try to somehow get across to him. And he shifted trying to lean in closer to the man as he spoke. The chips poured from his lips, whines and gruffs trying to explain himself out of the situation desperately.

“Let me go home… I’m scared.”

------------------

The moment he spoke, Carson was ensnared, his head snapping back up to take him in again for a moment before the pain hit him again suddenly, achingly desperate to make it’s presence known that it slammed against his temples, pulsed behind his eyes and made alarm ring off in his head. His voice was soothing, the calming hint of the waves hidden in that voice, a pull like no other, practically a song in it’s own right. Carson couldn’t remember a time that he had thought so highly of a voice that had said something so flippant and carefree, like it was nothing, that he wasn’t a creature conjured up from the depths of his imagination.

But he was. There was no denying that, bit as the sun glinted off scales in luminescent colors, like the light shining off a puddle of oil. This man, Echo, Echo was something he had never dreamed of seeing, long having left fantasy on the shelf as he picked up textbook after textbook to follow in his father’s footsteps, all while ignoring the call of the ocean just outside of his home.

“I do need to thank you. I Thought… I thought I was gonna…” the words faded away, unable to voice what he had though, the truth he had almost accepted. There was a moment, before Echo spoke up again, moving on, But Carson would not forget.

Echo spoke, his words soft, and Carson could feel it as he mouth the words that the blond had just said, before the dots connect, his mind much too distracted by the freckles dusting over Echo’s face, the strange accessories he wore.

“We call this the Shore… or the beach. We’re closer toward the bay, if I can guess correctly.” The last words were mostly to himself, a mutter that was almost inaudible with his accent lining his words. His thoughts wavered, spilled over as he thought, and suddenly he felt hands on him, moving his hair out of the way, fingers threading through his hair to pull a shiver down his spine. He liked it, the feeling of his hands on him, and carson leaned into the touch, his eyes hooded but his gaze flickering through dark lashes to look at what he could of the blond, not wanting to take his eyes off him.

“Echo, what are you…?”

He didn’t get to say much else, as for the second time that dayl, pain exploded behind his eyes, lights flashing in his veion as the back of his head felt like it had been bashed in with a bat. He cried out, hands moving as he fell forward, his eyes squeezing shut as he let the pain run through him. It was fine, he thought, forced himself to think over the pain, small droplets welling in his eyes as he sucked in another breath.

He had dealt with worse.

“Ow… FUCK me… That hurts… what’s in that stuff, Glass?”

The words came out accented, thick with his native tongue as he hissed in displeasure, but true to his word, the pain started to fade, dimming away to something almost manageable. Carson’s hand moved, to trace over the gap, one that while still tender was now healing, and quickly. He could already feel the itch of scabs starting to form.

“Holy shi-”

“I have to go.”

Echo voice pulled him from his mind once again, and even if he wanted to eh could not keep the look of shock and disappointment from crossing over his features. He moved, his hand reaching out to grab Echo’s who looked down at their hands in what looked like shock or confusion. Carson didn’t care.

“Wait, I-”

“I have to go.” Echo repeated, and pulled his hand away. Carson Panic, watching as the man moved, sliding along the soft sands to pull himself into the waves, and before he lowered his head underwater, Carson moved, leaning forward.

“Carson! My name is Carson Dhouti! Thank you!”

And he was gone, and Carson was left alone, nothing but waves and seagulls calling to him.

--------------------

“Woah, Hey, Hold on, I can’t…”

Lochlan could see he was trying, Trying to speak, to say something, but the words were lost to him, ears too human, to foreign to truly understand what it was this boy was saying. They Were pretty, little chips and grunts and tilts that sounded something like a song, though he knew that this boy had no reason for singing as he was tied up, ripped from his home. His expressions flickered over his face freely, the tinge of desperation that lined his features made Lochlan’s heart clench tightly, his hand moving from out of his pocket as his hands came up, to lift and brush over his shoulders.

His heart hammered in his chest, seeing him like this bothered him, deeply. He could see he was afraid, could see the fear in his eyes as he tried to speak, tried to get his point across but could not.

“Calm down… I can’t understand you… Shit this would be so much easier if I was like Ebbe and could pick up twenty thousand other languages for fun…..”

Lochlan cursed his brain, not the first time and most certainly not the last. He wished he was book smart, Like Ebbe, like Carson, the kind of guy who had studied for fun and knew the answer to everything. As it was, Lochlan had hardly made it through school with his scholarships, his grade a product of work and long nights killing himself for not understanding simple questions. It would be helpful now, but all the wishing in the world did not change what was.

This boy was scared. He was terrified and had no one to help him. Hell, he had been thrown here without so much as a courtesy light, and a temper he tried to keep down flared brightly.

“Shh… It’s okay…” lochlan cooed, his lids lowering as his eyes hooded, his hands moving to brush over his cheeks , through his hair to sooth him in all the little ways that helped him. He settled, sitting his butt down on the cold floor, the rocking of the boat getting harder as he pulled the boy into his lap. His hand reached for his pocket again, pulling out the knife that started the man in his hands, making Lochlan wrap him in his arms to settle him down again. He spoke softly against his skin, his cheek, his temple, his neck, fingers tracing patterns over him in familiar ways, soothing him.

“Just the net… I’m gonna get you out of the net.” He pointed to the rope, his gaze locked on it as he moved slowly, pick up the trapped arm with a gentle touch, the blade finding the ropes to cut through them. It was a meticulous task, one that slowly made his arms burn with the weight of holding him close and working slowly through the ropes, until he was finally free, remnants resting on the floor around them like littered scales. Lochlan place the knife down, shifting so that eh could lift his hands in front of them both, turning them slowly.

“There. I’m done. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, I don’t know how to help.”

He wanted to help. That was the thing. Lochlan wanted to help, wanted to say something, anything, to make that look of fear go away. But this was all he could do, all he could hope to do without understanding him. Lochlan’s hands ran through the man’s hair, blond locks and a red brown gaze that locked the older man in place. He held him, soothing over him with words that he hoped he at least understood the meaning, his hands running through hair and along his spine. He breathed stories to him, kept him safe as the boat rocked with the storm and the light shut off again.

Lochlan did not leave until they had docked, and he did not let go until the man was pulled from his hands.

Lochlan was given a bonus and told not to speak of it.

Lochlan had not slept well either, the sight of his face as he was being pulled away haunting his dreams.

He had to see him again.

He had to.

------------

It was world altering, a moment he would probably not forget for years to come. His fingers were still warm from the human's touch,... from Carson's touch. The look that he was giving Echo still gleaming even as he turned back to look through the ocean waters at the darkling that sat lost at shore.

He would find his way. What mattered, what truly mattered was that the human was safe, he was alive and breathing in the cool air into his lungs instead of the ocean water. Something Echo had learned through watching many humans, something he had witnessed first hand. It was simple, they breathed their air, their form oxygen and Echo breathed both.

The humans didn’t function on the same level, and took Echo seeing the marvel for himself to truly believe the words that his dad had spoke to him. Words of warning and those words were meant to scare them, him and his brothers. Meant to strike some kind of fear into the heart of the blonde boys that surrounded their father as he sung his praises of being mermaids. The praises of well they had it down here, how well they had all done to conceal their presents to humans for centuries.

And they were doing so well, until Echo had fucked it up. Unable to listen to the rules of their society. The number one being, leave the humans to their own. To never interact and to make sure that they never saw them. Was never able to lay eyes on a tail or fin. Or scales, anything of the sort. Anything that the greedy humans could deem as valuable.

But this human seemed thankful, truly. His interest lying in only the unknown of Echo and what could a human with no real way to find him do? Nothing that Echo could take too seriously. But he was alluring in his own way, the human boy Carson. His eyes haunting him even to this moment, those eyes that stuck to him so well. Even though Echo knew without a doubt that he may have been the one staring. A little too much, but a human up close was so different. Their reaction unexpected and reality unlike anything he had ever felt.

Echo could feel the smile pulling at his lips, offering what could only be described as a crooked smile.

“ECHO! THEY HAVE RIDLEY! THAT BOAT! IT TOOK HIM, IT TOOK HIM!”

The voice caused Echo to flinch to pulled so quickly out of his thoughts it was almost alarming. But small hand were yanking on his flesh as the words were bellowed. Distress etching every inch of Ethan's small frame. It was his brother's name though that caught him, that snapped his attention and forced Echo forward, his arms finding either one of Ethan’s biceps, pulling him close.

“What do you mean it took him? Ethan?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT TOOK HIM!?”

Echo could see the sheer grief over Ethan’s expression even as he got shook ruthlessly.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ETHAN?!”

------------

He should have been used to it, to the blistering cold and the wild winds that seemed to surround him by now. Should not have expected any sort of treatment besides this from the dastardly humans. Only a few had been allowed in, ogling at the what he could only imagined they called ‘fish-boy’. Hell, he would have called himself that,.... If he still had a fin or tail. Instead he had dried out, his skin losing it sheen as the cold air took away every drop that had previously clung to his flesh. Now in his tails place was what the humans called legs, sprouting but unmoving as he shifted uncomfortably in this new form of his.

Which had initially surprised him, scared him even further. He felt lost. Too far away from home as he sat in the cell, his back pressed into his corner and his legs shaking against his chest.

They were trying, he could say that, all pretty smiles and words of silk and honey. Not that that mattered. He didn’t respond instead trying to force himself smaller in his cage. They brought him squares of fluff, which he could only eyeball wildly. Was it supposed to be a comfort in the human world? A square of puffed fluff. The humans had given him dish after dish, trying to coax Ridley. Trying to force feed him until his teeth had found one of the men’s fingers. It was the last time one of them had walked into help him. The last time any of them had made attempts to calm the raging Langdon.

The only remnant he had now of his heritage was the scales that littered his skin, small splotches of ‘freckles’ and the fins that protected his ears so well. He knew he looked other worldly to the lot of them. Knew that most of them were only interested in the part of him that wasn’t ‘human’. But the truth behind it was, he wasn’t. He was a mermaid. A creature of fable and legends on dry land.

But his surprise only happened days after being there, his ears straining to hear the whispered words that echoed outside of the cell walls. But what he caught meant nothing to happen, instead only confusing him further. It was a woman's voice, soothing and caressing. Almost insuring as she spoke her words. But a man’s snapped back, firm in his resolution but yielding to her as she spoke, stopping to allow her to explain.

There was a silence before the man spoke again, this times his words brief. The tone defeated, he could almost visibly see arms getting thrown up over the situation.

Once more the woman spoke out, her words all the more loving, all the more soothing as she insured him.

But then the doors creaked open. And Ridley threw a glance over the tops of his knees to the dark haired woman. Her multi colored eyes on him, shining as she bent down outside the cell. Her forearms coming up to catch onto her thighs.

“Hello,... My name is Arber. Arber Dhouti. And i am going to need you to speak to me.”

Ridley marveled for a moment, his whole world spinning as the woman spoke, the words clear as day to him. He could feel himself getting pulled, the knees dropping as his mouth went slack all at once. His confusion clearly painted across his features as the woman spoke.

“That right there.”

Her hand moved suddenly, her finger pointed to the square of fluff laid out beside him. But her eyes remained on him.

“It’s a blanket. The humans use them to keep warm. It goes around your shoulders. Or over your legs…..”

Ridley was still reeling, but his fingers moved, reaching out for the square in almost a trance with the woman in front of him. Pulling the cold bundle over his bare legs, but he didn’t dare break eye contact. Not with this woman. Not to the only one he could understand.

“What is your name, Nekmit?”

The familiar endearment struck him odd, and only fascinated him further. He was almost afraid to answer her, afraid that the woman would turn away if she got what she wanted, but she wore a smile, one that almost seemed genuine. She seemed to care for the small boy in the cage and he couldn't deny her what she wanted, not when she used that voice so heavenly sweet to call to him.

“It’s Ridley. Ridley Langdon.”

“OH! You’re a Langdon son. It explains a lot about your stubborn nature you seem to harbor.”

There was a small chuckle in her voice as she spoke to him, her fingers coming up to brush against her lips. It took a second but finally the woman sat, her bottom hitting the floor with a small thump.

“You know the rules that are set underneath? They are set for a reason my dear, Ridley. Why would you get so close to the humans?”

“.....Who are you?”

He couldn’t help it, now when the woman, Arber Dhouti spoke to him so calmly, so fluently. Her eyes kind and her tone even kinder. Though she wasn’t the one she was hoping for he took the company with ride, through the confusion was beginning to become somewhat of a problem as she shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s best if we move on from this subject, Ridley. Just know, my name is Arber. I’m here to help you. No one else is going to hurt you. It is something i can promise.”

“Are you going to let me go?”

“......No. unfortunately. The rules are setting you in dangerous ways if you go back. Me and you both know that. We are finding other methods of… release. Somewhat. But the ocean is lost to you now, Nekmit. There is no returning.”

-------------------

Carson’s return home was loud, full of sobs and hugs and worried glanced over shoulders, his mother's and his father’s arms around him as they pulled him close, their murmurings of how they had been so scared, how they had thought they lost him to the sea whispering over his hearing. His mother had refused to let him go, and his father brushed tears off his face with the back of his expensive suit, Ragnar practically sobbing for forgiveness at almost killing him. It had taken a while, that was sure, to soothe them all, to tell them he was just tired and achy from his tumble in the underwater rivers, that he just wanted to rest. His mother insisted he sleep with her that night, had insisted he share the bed with his parents like he was four again and scared of the dark.

But it soothed her, and If His mom was happy he wouldn’t have to hear it from his dad.

They hovered over him, watching him like he might fall right back into the ocean, but Carson did not care, could not really find it in him to be bothered by such things. As it was, His mind had been consumed, absolutely enthralled with finding each and every bit of information he could on Mermaids.

Days had passed since he had least seen Echo, days that had seen Carson pouring over books to glean even the slightest bit of information, and night spent staring at the moon as he listened to the waves just outside his home, listening as his dad rambled about the biggest scandal to hit their town since his father had chosen to marry his mother. He listened to the waves, the birds as they called, and he remembered the little look of shock as he grabbed his hand and the way he had seemed to carefree, the cute little smile that was not really a smile at all. Days had passed, but Carson found he could not get the beautiful man out of his head, could not stop longing for his voice to drift up with the waves below him, and night where he should have been sleeping were spent hoping, wishing …. And remembering.

His mother had told him so many stories when he was young, and never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would become so enthralled by something as fanciful as Mermaids, But as it was, it seemed the fates had other plans for him, as not even an hour after his return home, his father received an important call. He could remember his dad trying to brush it off, but in the end, he had been forced to leave and see to the matter, something that, at the time, Carson had thought nothing of.

His father was a busy man, someone looked up to, a man people told first without pause. He ran this city, this town, this state, and nothing happened without his say so, especially not here in their pleasant little mountain beach home.

But when he returned home, his father seemed…. Spooked, shook like he had seen the depths of hell and the creatures that dwelled there. It had taken some persuading, but eh had finally got it out of him.

Some fishermen had found something. Something unexplainable.

Carson, later that night, met the second Mermaid he had ever seen in his life.

It wasn’t Echo. There was a shock as he took in the man behind the bars, the man much smaller than the blond he had seen but barring a very close resemblance to him. Carson hadn’t expected the fates to deliver Echo back to him so easily, if at all, but it had been… a spark of hope, a gleam of a wish. It was crushed as he took him in, but he still watched him with interest, his one way to possibly know more about Echo if he could just get him alone.

There was only so much that Carson would do in one day. He was ushered out before he could even talk to him.

Thus why he was so excited for this morning.

Today, He got to see the mermaid again.

He wasn’t paying attention as he was walking. That much was obvious as he was taken by surprise, grabbed roughly and suddenly. He was on his way to his bike when he was stopped, the feeling of a hand on his bicep making him jump as he blinked, his body being slammed against the wall as a very frustrated looking Lochlan glared up at him with a snarl on his lips. Carson blinked, breathing in as Lochlan stared at him, waiting for him to get on with what eh wanted.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Take me with you.”

The words were clipped, short, hurried and irritated. Knowing that no one was supposed to know about it, Carson pulled a face of ignorance, blinking as he tilted his head to the side.

“What?”

“Don’t play DUMB, Carson, the boy, the one that I pulled up from out of the ocean, and left to be poked and prodded by the scientists. The mermaid. Take. Me. to. Him.”

The words hit him oddly, a low soft sound of anger drifting over him as he took in the unhinging man. Normally, Carson would say no, laugh at him, but something in him make him reconsider. Maybe it was the way Lochlan looked so distressed, the usually calm boy frustrated beyond all belief. Lochlan was kind, soft, the sweet summer child kind of boy to Carson’s jagged winters. It must be important to him to demand it in this way.

“You pulled him up? Where? How, what did he say?” the question flew past his lips as he raced to get his car keys, practically running to the car, only matched by Lochlan’s pace. They rode together conversation flowing as he asked questions, though the answers only made him more curious.

No one could understand this boy, but with Echo he could perfectly understand him. Echo spoke fluent English, not a sign of a foreigner's tongue on the words. Why could this one not?

“I have to see him again. I fucked up, Car. I shouldn’t have kept him on that boat.”

Carson’s gaze glided over to the man sitting before him, snapping back to the building that was just starting to loom.

“You did the right thing. This is an important discovery.” The words were empty, repeated from his father’s advisors. Lochlan didn’t look at him, looking out of the window as they drove into the garage to park, descended into darkness as he finally spoke up.

“Could you have done it? If You had seen him?”

Instantly, Echo’s face popped up, fresh, vivid in his mind.His smile, the look of shock…. And then the boy’s dead expression as he had seen him last. Could have seen that face on Echo and the knowledge he had done it to him, could he have lived with that?

Carson had no answer for that.

---------------------

Lochlan wasn’t used to this sort of establishment, did not belong here, and it showed the instant that he walked through those doors.

There wasn’t many people around, only a secretary at the front desk that paled as she saw Carson walk in, her hands crinkling the paper she held as she watched the darkling moved. Lochlan could admit, even as his friend and a close one at that, that Carson was an intimidating sort of guy, the kind that seemed to have a switch in him that went off at the slightest bit of inclination that he might be underestimated. There was something about him, something in him that radiated leadership and demanded respect, made you want to follow his commands, a fear engraved in you even though he had never so much as rose his voice in your presence. You listened to him. And it only helped that his dad was practically the king of their little town, it’s inhabitants following him blindly, without protest.

Such devotion to his father had bled to his son, and Even now, Carson walked like he owned the building, breezing past the secretary without so much as even a glance, the juxtaposition between his awkward wave, stumble over his own two feet and nearly silently ‘Sorry’ more blaring than a siren.

Carson seemed like he was born for this, Born to get and do what he wanted, when he wanted, for no other reason other then he wanted it.Meanwhile, Lochlan had to hope he got lucky and someone took pity on him, or he had to work his fingers to the bone to get a suitable substitute.

Not this time.

The thought was harsh, glaring against the usual nerves that flooded his mind when he was in places like this, Expensive and rich and clearly not made for a fisherman to walk through it’s halls. He gave Carson Credit, taking him here with only the smallest of explanation, but as he delved deeper into the twists and turns of the labyrinth that called itself a lab, Lochlan couldn’t help but feel like maybe he had made a mistake in rushing over to the Dhouti household, had been rash in his instance that Carson took him with him. He didn’t belong here, he didn’t belong in this place. What would he even say to him when he saw him, considering he couldn’t understand him and he couldn’t tell him how sorry he was he had gotten him into this mess. Lochlan knew it was rash, it was irrational that he had stormed here, But the memory of his face, that expression over his features as the pulled him from his hands….

It haunted him, and Lochlan had this need, this urge, to see him again, To fix something beyond his reach...

But now that it was in front of him, what was he supposed to fucking do? What could he do?

Lochlan could only guess.

The doors opened before him, a bright light stinging his eyes as they stepped from the dimmer hallways and into the darker room, light spilling from what Lochlan could only assume was a one way window into the cell that they had placed the boy in. Dark brown eyes narrowed as he lifted his hand, the sound of a sudden gasp slipping past Carson making his gaze snap from the overly bright window to the figure leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glare locked on the window like it had personally insulted him.

“Dad!”

If Lochlan had thought Carson was intimidating, Soven Dhouti was absolutely terrifying. He was the exact picture of what he assumed a senator to be, the exact image that his mind created when he thought of the world leader. Soven was more than just a Senator, he practically ran this town, the owner of multiple companies and the father of one of his best friends. More often than not, you would find him in suits, hair slicked back or hidden away, clean cut and absolutely lethal. Now, however, it seemed he couldn’t have been bothered with appearance, clad in his white t-shirt and a pair of ragged jeans and boots. He would have looked like he belonged on the cover of some sort of fan service magazine for women if it wasn’t for the very palpable anger that was radiating off of him in heated waves.

Lochlan fell behind as Carson smiled, walking up to the imposing man.

Carson seemed to have a birth defect that made him lose his sense of fear and self preservation.The man stood at 6’7, towering over most, a trait he had given to his sons in spades, which only added to the imposing air he already had.. He was blond, platinum blond falling over his eyes as he glared, his eyes narrowing as Carson walked in, speckled blue green and brown drifting over to his black haired son, the look on his face softening immensely before he looked back again at the sight in the cell, his stance never moving.

“What’s going on?” Carson never sounded more like a child then when he was talking to his parents, all curious tones and absolute trust. Soven sighed, dropping his hands to his side before lifting them in what could only be described as irritated acceptance.

“Your Mother wanted to talk to him, and she wouldn’t let it go. I tried talking her out of it, but she’s hard headed, like someone else I know.” Lochlan watched, amazed as Soven smiled and teased his son, pulling on his cheeks and earning a laugh from his friend. The blond man watched him with adoration, before his gaze hardened again.

“You were told not to come back here, Carson, why are you here? More importantly….” He tried off, and for the first time since he entered, Soven’s eyes flashed over to Lochlan. The man swallowed thickly, brown eyes locked on speckled blue, a shot of fear rippling over his spine.

“What are you doing here?”

Carson moved, laughing as he placed himself between them. He opened his mouth to say something, but something in Lochlan made him move, his hand falling to the Darkling’s shoulder as his own stare hardened.

“I want to see him. The mermaid. I was the one who pulled him out, I was the one held him during the storm and I was the one who made sure nothing happened to him. I’m not being left in the dark.”

Soven didn’t say anything for a moment, and it felt like an eternity had passed before he sighed, once again lifting his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Go on then. I guess i’m just surrounded by Hard headed people. You will be required to sign a silence waver. You’re not allowed to talk about anything you hear or see in this building, Do you understand?”

Lochlan understood. You didn’t cross a Dhouti without serious consequences.

Lochlan moved, ignoring the mummers behind him in favor of the small little chips that were filtering through the door that led into the cell. Lochlan paused, his eyes on the door as he breathed in, now or never, sink or swim and god he felt like he was drowning.

Just see him again… we’ll start from there.

------------

Days. Four to be exact.

Four days of nothing but excruciating madness as the Langdons seemed to fall into what could only be called a madness. His father switched between anger and suffering, his mother inconsolable, the only solace she had was found in his father's arms.

The story was repeated. And recited to every Langdon, their interrogation of the smaller Delarosa was intense, their question bombarding, and relentless. Even Echo found himself tearing into the obviously frightened and worried boy. His words were starting to break, his spirit obviously deteriorating quickly as Scythe began for the thirtieth time to question Ethan. Blue eyes locked on cognac ones, ones that were filled with something between rage and desperation.

It was a long process, a process that Echo knew would lead them nowhere if they didn’t actually do anything. Not that the laws allowed them to do anything about the situation. On the contrary, if he was going to stand by their laws, Ridley was gone to them. His youngest brother was gone and by the laws would remain that way, even if he returned, he would have been an outcast, or worse, killed off.

Relations with any human was strictly forbidden. A law that was not taken lightly down here. A law that was taken to the fullest extent went presented, there were no warnings, there were no second chances. No matter the age. You were gone, nothing other than a traitor to their kind.

But still the days passed, a blur of emotions riddling through him until he had made that final decision. The one he knew could end his life, the one that he knew that the others had been having whispers of. But… They did not all have to suffer the same fate as what he knew making this decision would force him to face. The same fate that Ridley had been forced into.

But it wasn’t Ridleys fault he was caught, he was tangled into the net. From what Ethan had described he had fought against the ropes, he had tried to get out to free himself from the fate that he inevitably knew would befall him if he didn’t. And still. He had lost. And Echo could feel his heart wrenching, trying to tear from him as he thought about the fear that must have been wracking his brother. He could feel the frown pulling at his lips as the images raced behind his eyes.

But he was soft, his words coming out smoothly as tanned fingers pressed the bridge of his nose. His other hand clenched onto the smaller boy's shoulder, trying to force him into place so he could speak to him.

“Tell me again, Ethan. Tell me what happened out there. I need to know before i head out.”

He had to give Ethan some kind of credit, he stood tall, something most didn’t expect out of him. The boy was fragile looking, small and almost dainty in his movements, but he knew how to carry himself, knew how to act when it came down to it. And it came as no real shock when Ethan bucked up, his chest puffing out just that bit.

“I’ll just show you myself, we can get him back together.”

He was stern his voice, much like Echo’s came out softly, almost tentative but still he let those eyes fall on Echo own. Stern in his motion to accompany him. Ethan Delarosa let his hands clench into small fist. He knew what it meant to get caught, he knew what it meant just to go look for Ridley.

And here he was, still prepared for whatever the outcome may be.

“That makes sense. You did lose him.”

He chuckled half heartedly, his finger releasing the bys shoulder just to slap against his skin one good time.

--------------

“Wait…. What, what do you mean i can’t return?”

“If i allowed you return to Hydsa, if i said you could leave and not have to worry about any of us coming after you, where would you go? To your family? To the kingdom that you know would label you a traitor and willingly feed you to the shark?”

Ridley sunk back, his back hitting the cold concrete of the wall with a small thump, his head smacking right after that. He lifted his eyes to the ceilings, looking but not really seeing. She was right, where would he go, what would he do with himself once he got back, the questions would pile in. Every official would be sure to drag out the truth from him. If Ethan did not already tell them himself.

It was his fault. His fault for taking Ethan out so far into the human territories. Luckily though, it was only him paying the consequences. It was only him that was crammed into a hollow husk of a cage, and not with Ethan along his side. Stuck in the same predicament, with nowhere to run.

Arber shifted on the floor, her eyes trying hesitant but watchful. Her fingers rested easy against her knees, her black hair fell over her shoulders in waves as she watched. She was trying to be helpful, but she was human. She cold possibly make the damage worse. She could take his trust and twist games around the people holding him captive. He was always told that the humans were evil, always felt the itch of fear when the stories of them were told.

And from his experience with them thus far, he could truly state that they were just as horrible as he thought they were gonna be. She spoke softly as if she was speaking to an injured animal, her tone much too calm for a woman he knew was probably the reason he was actually here.

“I’m not here to scare you, Ridley. I want to help, but yo have to trust me. If even just a little bit.”

“How do you know my lan-”

There was a creak of hinges, the aluminum door swinging open to reveal the same man who had wandered across his thoughts once or twice since being in the confinement. Ridley watched with curious eyes as the darkling in front of him turned her head, shifting that smile to the brown and blonde haired boy that passed behind the door. One of her hands flung out in welcome to the much taller boy, her other coming down to rub against the floor that she was sitting on.

Brown eyes flickered to Ridleys and he couldn’t hold them, turning her head to shift his eyes back to Arber. There was a flare of temper whipping at his mind, forcing his eyebrows down as he looked away from the man. Irritation bloomed in his chest, but only if because it was the very man that had him confused. Forcing him to this and then soothing him through his way to this hell.

Ridley could see the hesitation that was littered in the man’s expression, painting across his body as he strode closer.

“Ah, Lochlan, here my love, come sit next to me. I’ll introduce you to Ridley.”

---------------------------

He watched him, Watched his long time friend slip into the cell, the old wooden door shutting quietly behind him with a soft click that resonated through the silence that had followed Lochlan’s declaration. He could see him still, Lochlan’s Brown and blond hair falling down his back, little braids and hair mattes that laziness refused to brush out, long strands spilling over his shoulders as he spoke, the words muffled by still slightly audible. He moved slightly, moving to place himself next to his mother, and Carson found himself wondering how of all people, the one to have pulled the scandal straight from the sea itself was his own Lochan, his sweet summer child, the boy too kind hearted for his own good and just about the last person who needed to have the weight of guilt slowing him down.

But fate had never been kind, and so it was with a heavy mantle about his shoulders Lochlan tried to make things right.

“Why did you come here, Carson?” His father’s voice asked, and Carson turned, duel colored gaze flicking back to his father's.

What was he supposed to tell him?

Carson hadn’t spoken a word about that day, the day he almost drowned and echo had saved him from an almost certain death. It wasn’t from a lack of being on his mind, mind you, as it had been on his mind frequently. Carson couldn’t tell you the number of times he had thought about it, about the merman that had stolen his thoughts with that red brown gaze and the quick quirk of his lips, could not tell you the number of hours he had spent in his bed staring at the window as he heard that ocean's lullaby, wondering about a creature long since thought fantasy, if maybe he didn’t dream it, imagined it….

But fantasies don’t hold him, and they don’t fix near lethal wounds.

Carson had wanted to tell his family… Hell, the moment he got back, Carson had wanted to tell them about the man who had saved him, about the Mermaid named Echo who had saved him, healed him and swam off, the only reason he still breathed today. He wanted to tell them what happened, but as soon as he had made to, his father’s phone had started going off, calling him into work. His mother had been angry at the phone, and his dad had put it off for as long as he could before he left, and really, as strange as it sounds, Carson felt fine after nearly dying. He was thirsty, tired, hungry, but his body only ached from fatigue, his headache gone and there was a fire in his chest that spurred him into the library.

Carson never got to tell his story, and now, with how this one was being treated, and seeing the regret in Lochlan’s frame…. Carson wasn’t sure he wanted to. If this was how they treated one, he didn’t want to see Echo like that. He didn’t know him, didn’t know anything on him other then he saved his life and had vanished just as quickly as he had come tumbling into his life, but Carson could already tell you that he didn’t want to see him look so…. Lost.

So Carson did something he had never done before.

He lied to his father

“I was just curious, Dad. You know my thing for the ocean and to see that Mermaids actually exist? It’s fascinating. I just… want to know more.”

“... I don’t know how much he would be able to give you, considering he doesn’t speak our language.”

Carson let out a slow breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding. His father accepted his lie easily, and any guilt was overshadowed by relief that there was no one out looking for Echo.

“But Mom speaks thiers.”

It was something that had been bothering him, something that had struck him as strangely and inherently odd. His mind raced with questions, his head tilting as he listened, catching small clicks and grunts that somehow almost formed words, occasionally a word jumping out of him to his tounge.

“That’s-”

“Hey, Carson.”

The sound of another voice stomped out any words his father might have said, any answers he could have gotten. Carson sighed as he turned to ebbe, his friend glaring at him with storms in his eyes. Ebbe tilted his head, long red hair falling over his shoulder, before he jerked his head toward the Exit, his arms in his jacket pockets.

“The boat is heading back out to that spot again.”

The words took a moment to register, clipped and short with jagged glass in the tones. Ebbe was a hard boy to get to know, not saying much and instead choosing to stare and ignore most of everyone, and when he did talk, more often than not what he said was something insulting, grade A asshole material. Most people chose not to look past that, but Carson knew better, knew Ebbe since he was in middle school. Carson had asked him to keep him updated on when he would be returning out, had told him to tell him if anything else strange had happened or been seen.

Carson nodded, a smile crossing his lips before his dad spoke.

“Can anyone Just… walk up in here? Like how is it that three nineteen year olds just found their way into a supposedly guarded laboratory. Was anyone even up there, anyone at all?”

“No.”

“Oh. Of course. No one to guard the lab with the mermaid in it. Yeah. Okay. that makes total sense.”

Carson watched his father’s brow twitch, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing as he shook his head. Carson wanted to laugh, holding in a chuckle from building in his throat. Ebbe only stared, seemingly uncaring about the obvious distress of the older man, instead turning to look back at Carson.

“Let’s go then. Up that security, Papa Dhouti.”

Ebbe turned on heel, walking back down the hallway. Carson turned, casting a look to the boy who looked so similar to the Mermaid he wanted to see, before he turned away and started out the door.

“Wait! Carson! You Just almost Drowned, I don’t want you to-”

“I’ll be fine Dad, I feel fine. Nothing hurts or anything. I’ll be super careful. Okay, Love you too, bye!”

Carson left him gaping, heard his Dad’s frustrated growl, but he was already following after Ebbe, running to catch up to him. Ebbe said nothing as they walked through the building, but Carson hadn’t expected any different from him, considering he wasn’t the most talkative guy.

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as we get there.”

Carson smiled.

“Then we’ll take my car.”

---------------------------

Ridley. His name was Ridley.

Somehow that knowledge made everything more real. Lochlan hadn’t had a name before, didn’t have a name for the face that had haunted his dreams. He didn’t think he would ever be able to know his name, didn’t think he would ever really get to know him, and suddenly he had a name to place with him, and it was like everything shifted right into place.

His name was Ridley. Lochlan had fucked over a mermaid named Ridley.

It seemed so much more real with a name for the mermaid, like it was cemented now in facts and not in his head. He couldn’t deny thinking it was possible he imagined it all, that he would wake up and go to work and everyone would laugh at him if he brought up fantasies like capturing a mermaid. He had thought it would be all one extended dream, but the problem with that was that the thoughts of his face, memories of seeing him hurt and scared and alone made his chest hurt and his gut wrench kept him up until morning's early hours, plaguing him enough to create dark shadows under his eyes. It was more blatant now, apparent, and Lochlan bit his lip out of nervousness, tongue playing with the silver of his piercings.

Lochlan moved, taking another step forward to take the seat next to the woman he had come to call Momma Dhouti. He had only known her since freshman year of highschool, but over the years, Mrs. Dhouti had become something like a second mother to him, her entire being warm and inviting and alluring, every inch of her the super mom that she seemed to be known for. It was comforting to see her here, comforting to know that she was here taking care of the boy he was worrying about constantly. She would make sure he's okay, heal any wounds and soothe him, like she did for her sons and their friends, for Him and Ebbe and Ender. If anyone would make sure the mermaid, Ridley, was okay, it would be her. He settled easily next to her, crossing his legs to let his hands rest on his knees, nerves kicking up again, though there was a slight hesitance to all his movements, his gaze flickering over to Ridley as he drew in a breath.

“How’d you find out his name? He speaks a language I’ve never heard before.”

Lochlan flicked his gaze back to Mrs. Dhouti, his stare curious and confused, but ultimately just returned to the smaller boy, taking in the luminescent scales over his cheeks and face, the bright stare of his eyes as he stared back. He offered him a hesitant smile, a little wave before he dropped his hand..

“If he doesn’t want me here, I’d understand.”

----------------------------

It had been hours, or at least what felt like hours of continuous swimming, the area just off the shore of the ocean a lot further away than he originally remembered. First to look was Ethan, his body dipping down to nodded almost excitedly towards him. The boat was only spotted after a single search above the water, Their floodlights must have been blinding up close, because even from thirty feet away he could feel the sting just behind his eyes.

But the waters here were dark, more seaweed dense. So he could see why they would be trying to see into the waters, if only to catch another glimpse at one of the ‘elusive’ mermaids. And they would if Echo had anything else to say about it.Water droplets spray against his skin as he moved just above the surface his eyes on the boat, inspecting for a minute, before dipping again where Ethan stared at him with hopeful eyes.

“Could you throw those guppy eyes somewhere else? God man.”

Storms were already rolling, roaring above the edges surface, cooling the waters as it weathered on. It did nothing to deter Echo Langdon. Rather encouraged, pushed the boy closer until he was within feet of the nets that the humans so haphazardly threw out of their boats. But what all could he really say, it's not as if the Humans really knew what laid beneath the surface of the waters.

“Is that the one though?”

“Yea! That’s literally the same exact boat.”

“Okay, okay dude. Don’t cream yourself, we still gotta get to Ridley.”

Echo smiled, his hand reaching out to push Ethan slightly, but he could feel his own excitement building up in his chest, could feel the hope that had already deep rooted itself in his heart. This was probably the most excited he had felt in a while, but he refused to let relief hit until he had Ridley back safe in Hydsa with him.

“Okay, so what do we do now?”

“No, no sir. Noper dope. I’m not the only one that gonna sit here and figure things out Ethan. I’m not the smart one of this group thing we all got going on here.”

He could almost hear the boy roll his eyes as he swam closer to the ropes himself, fingers skimming over the thick tufts of net. But Echo was right behind him, his hands shaking as he watched Ethan move fluidly through the ropes, yanking on various ones.

“I mean, one of us can get caught, distract them to the front... Other gets on the ship…. boat ,.... I really don't know the difference. I just thin-”

“Ok, i’m gonna stop you there, your plan is flawed. And borderline stupid…. It's just stupid.”

“Then what do you suggest, Echo?”

“Waiting, at least until they get to shore, we can see where they took him at first at least.”

-------------------

It was strange. Most people would be uneasy with the thought of returning to sea so quickly after they had almost drowned, but as the boat rocked and they moved away from the harbor, Carson found that eh felt more at home then when his feet touch dry solid, mostly still land. He knew his father worried, but his love of the Ocean had not stemmed simply from his mom, his father happiest when you saw him on the waves, be it on a boat, a board or neck deep. Carson lived for the ocean, the sea and it’s waves, and it had been his careless mistake that had caused him his misfortunate near death.

It was a mistake he did not plan on making again.

The boat rocked, waves still high from last night storm, dark circling clouds telling that nature was not quite done with them yet, the ocean’s spray ghosting over his skin as he looked out toward the horizon. There was nothing but ocean, so much calmer than last night's waves,but still able to rock the boat enough to make him grab hold of the railing again, fingers practically white with ice and force. Ebbe was a few feet away from him, grabbing hold of the rail as he looked out to see, grey eyes moving to search over the water like he would find the exact point that they had pulled the mermaid out of the water. They were close, if the murmurings of half drives as he held onto a hope that was slowly beginning to fade and Carson could not help but feel… disappointed.

It wasn’t like he has expected to see Echo swimming between the white crests of waves, he didn’t expect to really see him out here, but there had been a glimmer of hope that maybe he would see him, or even another Mermaid again. Besides his obvious biases fascination, Carson had always been interested in the sea and it's creatures, had always liked reading and learning about the living beings under the oceans glassy top, and to know that one of his favorite mythical beast were real, living beings he could see and touch and hear…. It was like he was five again and believing in magic and fairy tales. He felt light and giddy, childish in a sense as he hoped to catch a glimpse of one, but ultimately stared at nothing but blue waters and grey skies.

Reality sunk in harsh, shattering the childlike hope, and Carson, for the first time since his obsession had been rekindled by the appearance of mermaids in his life, Carson was reminded that it was a more than likely chance that He would never see Echo again. The ocean was vast, and she was deep, and Echo was far beyond his reach now, far beyond any place he could ever follow.

Carson breathed out a low, slow breath.

Maybe Fairy tales are true, but life was still unfair.

“ALl RIGHT, FU- BOYS! TIME TO SETTLE IN FOR THE NIGHT!”

Captain Jackman’s words were stilted, jerky and twisted, almost foreign on his tongue as he awkwardly tried to cover the curse he almost said with another word, The son of his boss on board and not looking the least bit amused as he turned around, dual colored gaze locked on him with a dull expression. They were stopping for the night, and Carson just watched them idly as they set up anchor, throwing out the automatic nets for the night, sticking close to Ebbe but far enough that he wasn’t in the way.

Really, Carson just wanted to go home… The acceptance had cost him a lot of enthusiasm about this trip, and eh wasn’t so keen to spend the night on a ship with a bunch of old men who were trying to act friendly because he was Soven Dhouti’s son and didn’t want him talking bad about them when he returned home, treating him like a child who they could not curse around for fear he would run back to daddy dearest and tattle. Carson Rolled his eyes, passing time by star gazing on the very back edge of the highest point of the boat, high up and away from the sounds of the men under the deck who were laughing a joking with each other.

“Fucking hell Carson. You could be in bed, but nooo…. You had to chase a cute mermaid halfway around the ocean because you don’t know how to casually do anything, do you? Fucking idiot.”

Carson berated himself, his eyes on the stars above him, the flashing little lights so much more apparent here than from his bedroom window. One hand rested under his head to cradle his head and the other resting over his stomach, and he stared up at the sky, sitting up only to look at the light of the moon glimmering off the ocean waves.

#mermay #mermay2018 #mermaid #Mermaid au #Still Waters : MerMerAU #Repost #UltimaWrites #XellWrites #renekostudios

28 notes · View notes

iamvegorott · 7 years

Text

A Small Glitch Chapter 10

Finally Merry

Dark and Anti both sat on their couch while Annalise was on the floor, playing with a Barbie and a toy car. She was happily giggling as she sat the doll on the car and rolled it around. She had a pair of earphones on so she wouldn’t be able to hear Dark and Anti talk.

“Anti, is she…” Dark let the question hang in the air.

“She can’t be mine. She’s three, I’ve been with you for four years.” Anti stated.

“The beginning of our relationship was a little rocky. If you-”

“She’s not mine.” Anti placed a hand on Dark’s leg. “I swear to you that I have not been with any other person since we first got together.”

“Then, how?” Dark asked. “I thought you said virus’ take over a body, use their form and detach into their own beings?”

“We do. That’s how I’m here. We’re made when there’s a fracture in the universe and we get absorbed into an electrical current.” Anti stated.

“By the sounds of it, Annalise has been with Jolene her whole life. That...what?” Dark rubbed his temple, very confused and hating that he didn’t have an answer.

“The only way that’s possible is if when Annalise was coming through the device, she took the form of the fetus inside of Jolene.” Anti stated. “She would become the fetus like how I became a full-grown man when I used Jack’s form.”

“Annalise doesn’t have any siblings. What happened to the one she based herself off of?”

“They must have died. It takes a lot to use someone’s body to make your own. I had to slit Jack’s throat in order to free myself. Ann must have killed...Annalise.” Anti plopped back, covering his face with his hands. “My daughter was a murderer before she was even fully processed.”

“She clearly didn’t do it on purpose, but still.” Dark took a deep breath. “It’s a good thing we have her, others wouldn’t know what to do.”

“She killed her own mother...she killed her and doesn’t know that she killed her.” Anti groaned. “She thinks mommy’s in time-out.” Anti started to laugh in disbelief. “What are we going to do when she learns that’s not true? How do we tell her that she killed her own mother? How-” Anti stopped when Dark was suddenly straddling him.

“She’s three, she has no idea what’s going on. What she needs to worry about is learning new words and colors and animals.” Dark took Anti’s hands and put them on his hips while his went to Anti’s shoulders. “Annalise is now calmed down, she’s no longer glitching and the pixels are gone. I’m going to make a few phone calls and then we can finally call it a day.” Dark moved his hands so he was holding Anti’s face. “We got her back.” He whispered before pulling Anti into a kiss.

“I still wanted to be the one to end her.” Anti slightly pouted when they parted.

“We’ll kill someone else later.” Dark said with a wink.

“We are fucked up.” Anti chuckled.

“And I wouldn’t want us any other way.” Dark gave Anti another quick kiss before getting up. “I shouldn’t be long.” He added before going into his office.

“Papa?” Annalise asked as she awkwardly removed the earphones, getting her hands tangled up.

“Papa’s talking to a few people and then he’ll be right out.” Anti explained as he joined Annalise on the ground, helping her get out of the mess she made. “We’ll have a nice dinner and then I’ll read you a bedtime story, how does that sound?”

“Train that could?” Annalise asked as she watched her hands be freed.

“Of course.” Anti wrapped the earphones into a ball and set them aside, he looked over at the office door and let out a sigh. “Ann?”

“Yeah?” Anti felt his heart warm up a little when Annalise looked at him with wide eyes, tilting her head and showing that she was ready.

“Do you know what happened today?” Annalise rocked her head around a little.

“Mommy was mean.” Annalise said, nodding her head before continuing. “Mommy in time-out.”

“Are you able to take mommy out of time-out?” Anti chewed his lip when Annalise shook her head.

“Forever time-out.” Annalise explained. “Mommy really bad.”

“Yeah, mommy really bad.” Anti repeated with a sigh. “I love you, Ann.”

“Love you, Daddy.” Annalise smiled.

x~x~x

“So if Annie’s a virus like you, does that mean there’s more of ya.” Wilford asked after a long sip of his eggnog.

“There’s probably a shit ton of virus’ and we don’t know them.” Anti shrugged, his sweater jingling as he did.

“Is that why there’s so many people that have doubles on the other side of the world?” Chase asked.

“I want a glitchy clone.” Bim chuckled.

“One Bim Trimmer is enough for this universe.” Dark lightly teased, giving the show host a pat on the shoulder.

“You two should have adopted years ago, Dark is less of a stiff because of Annie.” Wilford joked.

“Look, Jim, it’s the offspring.” Reporter Jim said as Cameraman Jim got a better view of Annalise.

“Tim!” Annalise cheered, clapping her hands.

“No, I’m Jim and this is Jim.” Reporter Jim corrected, getting a giggle from Annalise.

“Kim!”

“No, I’m Jim and this is Jim.” Reporter Jim corrected again.

“Bim!”

“No, that’s Bim.” The show host turned his head when he heard his name. “I’m Jim and this is Jim.”

“Mim!”

“Now, is that even a name?” The Jims looked at Anti when he started laughing.

“Ann, quit teasing the Jims.” Anti chuckled as he scooped Annalise up.

“Teasing? She’s not teasing. She’s clearly trying to avoid the questions. We’ll get the answers from her.” Reporter Jim held the microphone in front of Annalise’s face while Cameraman Jim got closer as well. “Tell us. Are you the offspring?”

“Are you suggesting that my child is the offspring that Host has been talking about?” Dark said, his voice harsh.

“Jim, it’s the demon!” The Jim twins both yelped and ran off, heading straight for dining table which had an endless supply of treats.

“Don’t you just love Christmas?” Anti chuckled.

“Merry Chrysler!” Annalise shouted happily, giggling as Dark glared at Anti.

“Where did she learn that?” Dark asked in a growl.

“Time for presents!” Anti announced.

“Anti!”

“Presents!” The Jim twins and Annalise cheered.

“The married couple have to open mine first!” Wilford stated as he grabbed three boxes while everyone sat down around the living room. “Here you go.” The madman had a large smile as he handed Anti and Dark a box each.

“It’s squishy.” Anti commented, tearing off the wrapping paper. “Yes!” Anti started laughing as he held up the t-shirt, an image of Dark glaring up was on it. “I love it!”

“You have to be kidding me.” Dark sighed as he held up his shirt, Anti’s face with a black bar across his eyes was printed on it.

“How could I not? All couples have cute shirt of their significant other.” Wilford chuckled, watching as Annalise opened her present.

“Shooty!” Reporter Jim shouted when Annalise pulled out a bright pink gun.

“Wilford!” Dark reached to take the gun, but Annalise already pulled the trigger, a large stream of bubbles came out of the barrel and the little girl laughed happily as it did.

“She’ll work her way up to the real thing.” Wilford said with a nod.

“You alright there?” Anti asked Dark, who was groaning.

“My husband is obsessed with knives, my best friend is obsessed with guns and I have a small child, I’m doing great.” Dark huffed.

“Love you.” Anti sang while the others began opening their gifts.

“How did you know?” Wilford said as he held up a brand new bowtie, a grinning Bim next to him.

“Dope!” Bing and Chase both shouted as the machine put on sunglasses and the ‘bro’ put on a hat. The two high-fived each other and laughed.

“Oh!” Dr. Schneeplestein said in awe, pulling out several new scalpels.

“We have the same mind.” Dr. Iplier chuckled as he took out the same scalpels.

“I gift!” Annalise announced, standing in the center of the group.

“What did you make, Annalise?” Dark asked. Everyone was waiting for a piece of paper to be pulled out or something like that.

“I make daddy and papa.” Annalise closed her hands and opened them back up, holographic images of Anti and Dark appeared on her palms. The group went into a stunned silence.

“Did you show her how to do that?” Dark finally asked.

“I have not.” Anti softly shook his head.

“You like?” Annalise smiled.

“Yes, yes, of course!” Anti held his hands and Annalise handed him the image. “I think it’s time for our little princess to go to bed, it’s getting late.”

“But, daddy!” Annalise protested as she was scooped up.

“Goodnight, Annie.” Wilford said with a wave.

“Night-night, Stache.” Annalise waved back.

“Your child is such a doll.” Wilford chuckled when Annalise and Anti were gone.

“She’s also a virus.” Marvin stated.

“She’s still a child, that doesn’t mean anything.” Dark said.

“Are all virus’ the same? Do they all have murderous tendencies like your husband?” Google asked. “I have no databases to look into for that.”

“What are you implying?” Dark asked.

“Would you allow your child to go into your field of work if she ends up like you guys?” Chase asked.

“Alright guys, I still have to give Dark my present and I’m pretty sure none of you want to see it.” Anti chuckled as he walked back in, preventing Dark from answering the question.

“Is it some kind of ritual?” Reporter Jim asked as Cameraman Jim aimed his camera at Anti. Anti smirked and leaned over, making sure his face was close to the camera.

“Yes, the ritual of me sucking Dark’s dick while he’s tied up to the bed.” The Jims looked at him with confusion while the other egos started saying random excuses for why they needed to leave. The twins were still confused as Wilford urged them to their feet and towards the front door.

“You two have your fun. We’ll see you for the new year.” Wilford said while ushering the stragglers.

“Papa!” Annalise giggled as she ran out of her bedroom and into Dark’s arms.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Dark asked with a chuckle.

“An offspring will cause pain to us all.” Host said quietly as Wilford shut the door.

Tag List: @readeatfightlove13 @kenzie-110101

#danti

30 notes · View notes

shinobicyrus · 7 years

Text

Monster Heart

A late, late entry for Ectober Day 6 because I am bad with deadlines. Decided to do ‘Shipwreck,’ with a bit of a sci-fi/horror theme. Warnings for squicky alien biotechnology.

Computers aren’t known for their sympathy. Just efficiency.

The shipboard AI pitilessly shocks Valerie back into consciousness like it’s turning on just another machine. Her whole body locks rigid like a muscle spasm, heart pounding and drowning in stims as her mouth gasps agape with a throat that can’t scream and intake oxygen at the same time.

Eventually, the agony subsides and she slumps in the cockpit’s heavy-gee couch, body and brain swimming in exhaustion and a chemical cocktail sharpening her nerves into a raw razor. Training helps her keep her last meal down instead of getting into her helmet. The suit would eventually clean it, but never thoroughly enough to get rid of the smell.

MAD-E pipes up in that calm, motherly voice its programmers thought was soothing. “Welcome Back, Lieutenant Gray!”

Valerie is unsoothed.

She’s painfully aware of every sore, aching inch of herself. Each inhale presses down hard on her chest, but she manages to rasp: “Status.”

“Emergency landing maneuver successful! We have touched down on Nova Ventura with only thirty-four percent damage to-”

“What happened?”

“On the twenty second of July, at approximately zero-three hundred hours standard, coded orders from the-”

“To me, you glitchy pile of-”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” MAD-E says agreeably. “I’m afraid you sustained life-threatening injuries on impact, despite the forced landing countermeasures. You were put into emergency stasis until the pod’s medical program and your internal nanites could repair the damage.”

That would explain the splitting headache, yeah. “How long was I out?”

“Stasis was initiated thirty-six hours, twenty seven minutes ago.”

“Good thing I get paid by the hour.” Valerie raises a palm and brings up the holo-displays with a thought. The walls of her pod buzz to life- most just showing black and three-dimensional scrolling text the computer diagnostic is spitting out. Her fingers tap at the controls and she’s given another error notice. “I can’t raise anyone on comms.”

“Communication with the Hartmann and other support elements was cut off thirty-three hours, thirteen minutes ago.”

A cold claw of dread squeezes something in her chest. “Cut off?”

“A signal of unknown origin is interfering with communications and long-range sensors. If there are still friendly elements in this system, we have no way of contacting them- or even ascertaining if they are even there.”

Valerie slumps in her gee-harness, suddenly feeling worlds heavier. “So we’re on our own.”

"For the moment, Lieutenant.” It goes for soothing again.

Like hell.

Valerie sweeps aside the mess of diagnostics and accesses the hatch controls. “Lieutenant,” MAD-E says, chiding. “I do not recommend egress at this time. Forced-Landing Protocol states-”

“First Lieutenant Valerie M. Gray, Lexic: Red Nine-Two-Four Slash-Wolf-Vee. Override Code: Shut Up and Do The Thing.”

“Override Accepted.”

Either the Hartmann and her entire wing were debris up in orbit, or the battle is still dragging on. Both options mean there are still hostiles in-system. Maybe even on the planet with her. Staying put in a tin can like a good little regulation soldier strikes her as a profoundly bad plan.

The pod floods with hissing mist as the pressure equalizes and hatch finally blows open. Valerie’s helmet visor immediately darkens so she isn’t blinded by the rush of natural light.

Crashing at Mach-3 and laying in a death-coma for thirty hours would give anyone sore legs. Valerie still manages to climb out of what’s left of her fighter. She’s outside, her pod resting in a crater-bed of cracked insta-crete on the rooftop of some building. There’s an entire city skyline behind her, fresh nanofactured towers barely a few years old glittering like diamonds in the shine of an alien sun. One of them has a hole in it, clean as a gunshot, lining up where Valerie’s pod had finally come to a rest.

“Damn,” Valerie whistles. “Any landing you can walk away from.”

From the quick briefing they’d all gotten before dropping in-system, estimates had Nova Ventura at around fifty thousand colonists. Not bad for a fresh terraform on the rim.

Walking down the street, sidearm ready in her hand, Valerie didn’t find a single person left.

Everywhere the juxtaposition of life: lights, scrolling holo-advertisments, parked cars, half-finished meals spoiling on outdoor cafe tables; but no people. No indications of a struggle. A dropped bag here, a crashed groundcar there. Hell, the worst damage in the city was caused by Valerie when she crashed.

There hadn’t even been a distress signal. It took days for people to figure out that something was wrong. The Hartmann just had the luck of being the closest ship that could investigate.

She almost jumps straight out of her suit when a shop’s automatic door slides open at her presence, raising her gun at cheerful holograms. Re-purposed pop-songs for last year’s fashion lines echo down the hollow streets. Valerie chuckles a little to herself, tension leaking as she lowers her pistol. The outer colonies were always behind on the trends.

“Mads?”

“Two-point-six kilometers ahead,” it reported, no irritation at being asked for the sixth time that hour.

MAD-E had reported when Valerie made it down to street level that there were signs another ship had crashed. Residual radiation from engine wake, unusual EM readings...the great big collapsed building Valerie could spot from the roof.

“Still no contacts on motion, heat, or biometric sensors,” MAD-E reports.

“Any change upstairs?”

“My attempts to cycle through all military and civilian bands remain unsuccessful.”

“Great.”

Valerie decided to keep her helmet on. MAD-E had said there were no detectable bio-chemical agents or radiation. Yeah, real assuring- no telling what the hell happened down here.

Normally, hiking the streets of a completely habitable colony would have a literal walk in the park. Fresh off a patch-job on her bones, head, half of her internal organs, it feels like barely holding together with nothing more some little robots and teeth-grinding stubbornness. Even with the the suit picking up the slack every breath is effort, every step is a fresh ache on a somewhere she didn’t even know could bruise.

Machine efficiency, of course. MAD-E didn’t care how uncomfortable Valerie is, only that she’s functioning.

Three blocks from the crash, street signs and wall screens flash warnings in a flurry of different languages and universal symbols for ‘get the hell away from here.’ Even without any people the city’s automation is still trying to respond to the emergency of a spaceship crash downtown. All citizens were advised to vacate the area with assurances that emergency personnel are ‘being dispatched.’

Too bad there’s no one left. Poor dumb computer’s probably trying to figure out why the slow response time.

Danger! Peligro! Achtung!

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.”

She steps over the emergency barricades that have sprouted up from the road, ignores the persistent warnings (Zorgema! 危険!) and passive-aggressive holographic legal notices about failing to respond to municipal instructions during an emergency situation. A path of destruction carves right through the main thoroughfare, flattened groundcars practically embedded into pulverized insta-crete. Long furrows swipe across building faces like scratches from enormous claws.

There’s less dust and smoke than Valerie expects- maybe cleaned up by municipal nanites that are supposed to keep the air clear. The crash site ends at an intersection, crashing into a building when it ran out of road. Valerie’s boots crunch glass shards and pulverized road as she heads towards it.

She almost slips on something and loses her footing. Swearing, she lifts up her boot and sees a glowing greenish fluid- like she stepped in a broken glow-stick.

“The fuc-”

Oh.

Oh shit.

A surge of adrenaline rushes through her, spiced with dread and danger. Her pulse pounds in the narrow confines of her helmet. The canyon of the buildings press around her, menace at every angle.

Le Danger! A sign says. Valerie agrees, but still approaches the end of the road, pistol raised.

(It’s not enough, just a measly little peashooter. She needs to be strapped in, enclosed in her cockpit pod- grip tight on the control yokes)

“I should have stayed in the pod,” Valerie mutters.

“I would agree, but I have been prohibited from speaking about the Forced Landing Protocols.”

Bucketfuls of lambent green stains smears down the street, a path for her follow. The air is thicker at ground zero, clogged with dust, but its still enough for Valerie to make out the shape of the ship.

It’s enough to recognize it: the blurry, blown-up images on her displays. An elusive sensor profile. A black shape against a blue sky, blurring past when Valerie slammed the air brakes in an ill-advised maneuver.

Valerie’d seen enough crashes to piece together what had happened. Hit the street skidding until a bad angle twisted it into a rolling tumble, stopping only when it crashed into the side of a building. Laid out on its side like a beached whale.

No, smaller than a whale, but the comparison is too accurate. The thing looks more like a dead animal than a shipwreck- cracked iridescent black plating like a bug’s chitinous exoskeleton. The sickening bend of its fuselage reminds Valerie of cracked bone. More green fluid pools beneath it, fed by a steady drip.

"Jesus, you guys are ugly up close.” Valerie tells it.

Dogfights were for fantasy sims and anachronistic biplanes. Most engagements were hundreds if not thousands of kilometers away, the enemy just green blips and sensors ghosts on screens. Never with her own flesh eyes. Never close enough to reach out and touch.

Not that Valerie would actually walk up and poke the goddamn alien ship. That would be beyond stupid. She was a combat pilot- screened, trained, and tested. A veteran of a three-dozen combat missions- a goddamn professional.

...she also has no idea what to do now. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard of anything like this happening, before.

After weighing her options, Valerie decides to hunkers down and observe the thing from a presumably safe vantage point behind some rubble. Watching it for for any signs of activity.

No heat or energy fluctuations. Nothing on the EM band save the slowly dissipating particle trail from its engine wake. No activity coming from it at all except the slow and steady drip of green fluid on the broken insta-crete, pothole puddles vaguely glowing like a cartoonish caricature of ancient nuclear waste, because how stupid had nuclear-age humans been before space colonization, right?

An hour goes by. Two. Still nothing on comms either, that makes over twenty-one hours of radio silence. Valerie cleans her gun five or six times, suggests MAD-E try one trick or another that it has probably already tried before, but will do again anyway if only to humor her. She tries to weigh all the worse-case scenarios she knows are horribly likely with all the less-grim reasons why she couldn’t get a hold of anyone friendly. It doesn’t really help.

Maybe they really were all dead, and she’s the last survivor.

(Drip drip drip, the ship bleeds)

That still wouldn’t explain why everything was still being jammed, if the battle was over and done with. If the enemy won, why weren’t they sweeping for stragglers, or coming to collect their fallen buddy? Was that even something they cared about? Rescuing wounded, collecting their dead?

Fucking aliens. They made no sense. No declarations, no demands. Just death and a dozen outer colonies scared shitless from the horror of humanity’s first real glimpse at an unknown that nature never intended them to meet.

It’s not lost on her how much the wreck almost resembles an old DP-4 starfighter. As though they tried to make their own cheap knockoff by...growing it, or something. Used to be they took less conventional forms. The classic squiddies: amorphous, protean things that swam through space and captured ships with their tendrils. Or those sharp angled fast-movers that were like the skeletons of winged, alien predators.

Others were immense and asteroid sized- impossible geometric shapes that fizzled out sensors and gave pilots vertigo if you tried to look at if for too long instead of shooting it. No two were ever the same, each one a species all their own.

Now there were these new...ship-shaped ones; no one had answers, but everyone had a theory. Are they adapting to human tactics? Or is it all just single-celled mindlessness, evolutionary mechanisms reacting to new stimuli without any real intelligence or malice? For all they knew, the whole damn war is an gigantic misunderstanding between two races that were so different it’s impossible to understand the other. The death toll just a side-effect of bad communication.

Valerie doesn’t care for that last theory.

A practiced flick of her eyes summons the clock in the corner of her helmet display. Hour three and still nothing from the wreck. Maybe it really is dead, and Valerie’s gotten herself skittish over what amounted to giant roadkill. The slowly building restlessness that’s been building since Valerie woke up, the ingrained military need to do something accumulating in her like itch, all the maddening for being ignored.

...oh hell, she’s gonna go poke it, isn’t she?

A growl escapes between her teeth- half determination, half berating herself. She checks her sidearm again, as it would do shit against that thing’s hull if it did try to pounce. Still, it was a security blanket. A 5 millimeter security blanket.

Valerie steps out of cover, gunsight trained on the bogey, still inert and dripping. Minds her footing to avoid the worse of the smears of green fluid that still show no sign of drying up.

Closer. Closer. This is what it must have been like for some ancient ancestor, stalking up to a mammoth as it slept. Roar, I am woman, Fear my pointy stick, giant sky-monster.

Just an arm’s length away, now, and so far Valerie isn’t dead. Clearly, the gods have blessed this hunt.

Up close she can see the damage (wounds, she almost wants to say, but doesn’t): holes piercing the hull, fist-sized and larger that could only be hits from a fighter’s kinetic guns. Valerie raises up her hand and feels the edges of one of the bullet-holes.

(Grip on the yokes, thumbs on the toggles, threading the needle at mach six.)

Valerie feels a swell of satisfaction. She might have gotten shot down, but she sure as hell didn’t go down alone. “Bullseye, you alien fuck.”

Touching the thing’s hull, Valerie feels a vibration from deep inside, shuddering through her suit right down to her bones. Like a purr without a sound- the low reverberation notes of some great undersea thing, immense and mourning.

HolymotherofstarspangledChrist that thing is still alive.

Valerie springs back like she’s been burned, gun raised on instinct. The hand is still tingling, her grip numb and insubstantial. The need to be airborne hits her like a phantom ache. Grip on the yokes, thumbs on the toggles, flick a switch so she could shred it apart with her cannons.

She waits for the feeling to come back to her hand. “Mads? What was that?”

"Please specify.”

“I just felt something from inside that thing. Like...like...a vibration, or something.”

“I did not detect any variances in the ship’s hull.”

“So it’s just a coincidence it did that when I touched it?”

“There is no indication that the vessel has the capability to perceive individual lifeforms of your size, were it operational.” MAD-E’s reply is even and calm, but Valerie friggin’ hears the ‘lol look at the dumb human’ in its tone. “I can only theorize it was psychosomatic, perhaps an adrenal response to being in close proximity to something you have instinctively registered as dangerous.”

If it was alive before- if a thing like this could even qualify- did that make what just happened its death throes? One last whimper before it was finally spent?

Well...its engines are still cold. It’s not going anywhere. She ain’t gonna scurry off like a dog running from a cleaner bot. Enough jumping at nothing. Time for morbid curiosity cleverly disguised as critical intelligence gathering.

A few cautious, gingerly steps in the slick green mess of whateverthefuck, Valerie's boots slide like she’s skating on grease. Easy Gray, don’t want to fall ass-first in the alien juice- be embarrassing on the footage playbacks.

The biggest...wound is at the neck of it, broke like two halves of a snapped twig still stubbornly hanging onto each other. Probably happened when it first crashed into the street nose-first. Now there’s a gaping hole- cracked hull and gooey insides like an egg.

The...shell is scraped all to hell with the world’s worst case of road rash. It also looks more...melted at the mouth of the wound. Heat from entering the atmosphere...or maybe it was a sign of it slowly repairing the damage? Healing itself? This was way above her paygrade.

Still: know your enemy, like The Lance would say. He loved to throw out proverbs like that from those ancient books of his.

“Okay squiddy, let’s get to know each other a little.” Yeah, perfect. Let’s stick our head in the probably-but-maybe-not dead alien ship creature thing like a disposable side-character in a horror sim. Why the fuck not.

Oh hell, her jumpsuit is even red. Foley would have a goddamn field day.

Needing both hands for this, Valerie holstered her gun gripped the sides of the hole, and hoisted herself up into the belly of the beast.

¡Cuidado!

If this thing was...alive, its insides weren’t anything like dissection in science class. She’s in a cavity lined with a white fibrous membrane filled snaking tubes like veins and thousands of hair-thin strands branching off in every direction. It’s a twisting, coiling mess that reminds her of fungal closeups under a microscope. A marriage of biology and architecture.

Jesus. This is officially the most disgusting thing she’s ever seen. The record has been set for all-time, never to be surpassed. Why is she even doing this again?

“This is very exciting!!” MAD-E chirps.

“You want to trade places? Be my guest.”

“If only!” it replies with disturbing sincerity. “I will have to be satisfied with purely vicarious observation.”

“Yeah, guess I’m just born lucky.”

She decides to follow the snaking cords- some as thick as her arm, others thin as straws from a fizzy-bottle. More than a few were torn and leaking new and exciting fluids, white and snotty. Follows their route further into the main body of the ship-thing.

The cords and wires terminated at the base of the neck, right before the main body of the ship. Some kind of round...organ....sack? Big enough to wrap her arms around; a semi-solid translucent mass like an egg without a shell, layered in an iridescent film like oil on the surface of a bog. All of the sharp white hair-like things and the tubes were feeding into it.

“The hell?” Her emergency pack has a med-kit, she takes it out and waves a bio-scanner at the egg-sack. It was designed for finding cracked bones or dangerous pathogens- not amateur xeno-biology. Whatever. Close enough for government work.

“Mads?”

“The scanner is detecting electrical signals coming from the unknown mass, too complex to be random discharges.”

“Is it...a control unit, maybe? A brain?”

“Unknown.”

"Great,” Valerie mutters.

It doesn’t quite...move, but beneath that sticky membrane is a hint of swirling viscosity. Like a squirming bacteria or a dollop from her dad’s antique “lava lamp” he insists is “cool.” As if lava is supposed to be cold.

So, like a moron who has already peaked at ‘huge idiot’, Valerie slowly stretches out her hand and lays it flat on the thing’s surface. It’s...surprisingly firm, soft but not a lot of give. It’s hard to get much sensation through her gloves.

Then the shadow of another hand touches hers from the fucking inside of it.

Valerie screams and pulls away so sharply she slips on green sludge underfoot and falls backwards out of the hole, landing hard on her back onto the goop-stained pavement below. Not as rough as her earlier landing, but it’s a rude reminder. She lays there for...a while, panting hard and swimming in the agony like a pulled muscle- but everywhere.

She waits out it, mind still reeling because: “What. The. Fuck.”

“Lieutenant Gray, are you alright?”

“What the fuck was that?!” She never thought she’d be grateful to have MAD-E with her- ever- but having something to talk to that could at least talk back...Well, if anything she’s got a newfound appreciation for those stupid programmers or whoever the hell thought up having a computer-nanny momming into her ear.

“You saw that right? Tell me you saw that.”

“Image recorders captured what appeared to be-”

“There’s...there’s a fucking person in there!”

“Based on the dimensions of the hand, that would be a likely conclusion.”

“Marvel of technology, you are.” Getting up felt like high-gee in basic again. Pushing past the pain, Valerie climbs back up into the hole and crouches in front of the egg sack thing again. The thing with a fucking person inside it.

Oh God. Is...is that what happened to the colonists here? To the crew of all the ships that vanished on the Periphery, the people in the orbital space stations and asteroid habs? There were never any remains- no bodies to recover. Just dark, gutted, and exposed to hard vacuum. Were they all ripped away, processed, shoved into the guts of a monster-ship to be used against their own families like parts?

“Lieutenant Gray, your heart rate is elevated.”

She has to. Needs to. Not just...stand there...gawking. Rummaging through the crash kit doesn’t yield a whole lot of options to work with: extra clips, repair tools, med kit, nutrient packs, a deployable lean-to.

Tycho Station was a floating cloud of debris ten trillion miles away and this whole colony’s gone Croatoan, like old spacers whisper about over engine-room moonshine. Valerie is going to save one goddamn person for once.

“Lieutenant, I am recommending you have your suit administer a mild sedative.”

The repair tools? No, those were designed for patching up ships, the plasma torch would probably hurt whoever was in there. Wait. A standard combat knife. Whose bright idea even was that? She flies fifty billion dollar star fighters; a knife is goddamn neolithic. Still, there’s a satisfying shnk as she yanks it from its sheath.

By now, MAD-E’s probably figured out what she’s planning. “Lieutenant. I don’t think-”

“Shut up and just keep recording.” If she’s going to play amateur alien dissection, might as well have some documentation. Yeah, nice home movies. Put that on the net, she’ll be a star.

The knife’s a carbon composite, manufactured by industrious little nanobots on the cheap, shaping the blade down to the nanometer. There’s barely any resistance at all when she stabs it into the oily membrane. She put too much force into it, expecting more resistance. She’s already wrist-deep in it, has to pull back her arm to try again. There’s some suction- like it’s almost try to pull her into it. Yanking her arm free, she goes at it with a lighter touch. More precise. At least pretend she knows what the hell she’s doing.

Distantly, Valerie knows she should be disgusted by this. Crawling into some alien thing and carving her way through it like a burrowing carrion eater. She’s goddamn Jane the Ripper, striking fear into all the little aliens. If the Hartmann’s really gone and this thing’s buddies come to find a crazy goo-covered human with a knife, at least they’ll have a story to tell.

She remembers herself, gets tangled in the fungal cords like a mess of wiring. Yanks the knife free and starts sawing instead- less hack, more scalpel. Don’t want to shank the person she’s trying to rescue by mistake.

No commentary from MAD-E, obeying her order to letter. Just her own grunts and heavy breathing filling the helmet, the wet scraping noise of the blade meeting white tissue, the hiss of suction as the membrane splits open like a mouth.

“I-I don’t know if you can hear me in there,” Valerie starts babbling, “But just...hang on, okay? I’m almost- I think I’m almost through. We’re getting you out of there, Okay?” Goddamn it, just a little bit more.

(There hadn’t even been a body, at her mother’s service. Just the artifice of an empty urn. No one to say goodbye to.)

She slices through something big. Green water the color of rotted limes hits Valerie full-on like a floodbreak, rushing past her and escaping the hole behind her to pool outside, as if it wasn’t a mess already.

And just like that, Valerie finds them.

Their skin matches the soft issue of the ship’s innards: washed-out white like antiseptic bleach. At first she doesn’t understand what she’s found until she hears a soft gasp. They try to move- a pale, painfully thin arm lifts towards her, reaching. Valerie grabs it and they recoil, struggle, try to pull away, but they’re so weak it’s hardly any effort at all to hold on.

She tries to pull, almost loses her grip. Their skin is slick, covered in more of that oily, goopy crap.

“It’s okay! I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m getting you out of this, okay?”

More of those cords and wires get in the way, like they’re tied up in- oh. Oh God. It takes a minute to fully process what it is she’s seeing: that shit is...fused to them. Like they’re plugged into the goddamn ship. Jesus, as if this isn’t already enough of a horror show.

Whatever this crap is, it wasn’t made to be sturdy. Just thrashing around on their own is enough to snap and tear some of the tangle. It has to hurt too, with how pained mewling their gasps are getting as more of the mess breaks off.

Fuck it. Time to rip off the galaxy’s nastiest band-aid. Valerie hacks away at the thickest of them, simultaneously fighting the nausea in her throat. The knife has to go back into its sheath messy- she needs both arms to get a good grip under their armpits and pulls back with all the force she can muster. They continue to thrash limply, probably too confused to understand what’s happening to them.

The legs are the last to go, too-white and slick. Valerie watches them slide out of what’s left of the ruined egg sack with a final sucking sound until all of them is free. Almost falls backwards on her ass, again.

It’s a pain to climb out of the hull. Everything's been washed in more gross alien goop and Valerie needs both arms to hold onto them steady. Leftover green stuff patters from the edges of the hole onto the ground like dripping rain.

“There we go, I got you. It’s okay. You’re safe now, alright? I got you, I promise.” Dammit, is she even doing this right? Talking to shell-shocked civilians- nevermind victims of alien abductions- wasn’t exactly covered in flight school.

She looks down to check her footing and- oh. She’s a girl, thin and frail looking in Valerie’s arms. Her skin is caked in an oily film of greenish spume, giving her a sickly pallor. Pieces of those cords and wires still dangle off her skin like hangnails. Her hair is an oily rope hanging heavy off her limp head, washed-out white as the rest of her.

Boots back down on solid ground- the girl is spasming pathetically in her arms, barely any trouble. She’s so damn light, Valerie doubts she even needs the nanites in her muscle fibers to carry her.

The girl makes a choking sound and coughs, hacking up more of the gooey crap.

“That’s it, let it out.” Valerie coaches her. “Try to breathe.”

It becomes obvious that’s she’s not, though. It doesn’t sound like choking anymore, more like a desperate wheezing of someone slowly suffocating.

“What’s wrong?” Valerie instantly feels stupid for asking. The girl’s gasping like an asthma attack, squirming like she can somehow wrestle air into her lungs.

Valerie puts her down on the least uncomfortable-looking patch of gooey road and fumbles with the med-kit’s scanner. “What’s wrong with her?”

Shut-up order officially rescinded, MAD-E syncs with the scanner and starts pouring over the data it’s pulling from her. Come on, come on, if it could put Valerie back together again it should be able to help her, too.

“The patient’s lungs are dangerously underdeveloped,” MAD-E is unaffected even as the girl imitates a suffocating fish. “She needs a proper medical facilities with the ability to augment or stimulate their growth.”

“We don’t have ‘proper facilities!’”

“Working. The medical kit: second row, third vial from the left.”

MAD-E walks her through preparing the dosage. This, Valerie can do. She keys in the proper delivery ratio into the injector gun, then presses the business end on the girl’s chest.

Valerie warns, “Sorry, this is gonna hurt.” and fires.

From the looks of it, it does. She jerks and goes rigid, whimpering while the dose of nanites goes straight to her heart. Valerie hovers over her with the scanner while they start being distributed through her entire circulatory system, oxygenating her blood directly to compensate for her weak lungs. Within a minute, her breathing isn’t nearly as labored.

“That was only a temporary measure,” MAD-E says. “She will need another injection in four hours, or her respiratory condition will deteriorate.”

“Temporary is good. I can work with temporary. Set a reminder for me.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Breathing easier, the girl hugs herself and shivers. Right, one problem solved, on to the next.

The survival kit has what she needs. Valerie places a fist-sized disc on the girl’s bare back, still pockmarked with angry green wounds from where the cords had been torn loose. They’re all over her; arms, her legs, the prominent ladder of her ribcage. Valerie pushes a button on the disk and watches the material flatten and spread itself over the girl’s skin until forms a simple white and black jumpsuit. Not nearly advanced as Valerie’s flight-suit, but enough to regulate her temperature, monitor her vitals, and is a touch preferable to nudity.

There’s also a heat-reflective blanket, which Valerie expands and drapes over her. Even asleep she instinctively wraps it around herself and curls smaller into herself.

MAD-E reads the data from the jumpsuit. “Her vitals are holding steady for now, Lieutenant. I think this is a good opportunity for you to get some rest as well.”

The last thing on Valerie’s to-do list is to sleep within 10 klicks of a goddamn alien monster ship, dead or no. But seeing the girl wrapped in her blanket flips a toggle in Valerie’s head, like the weight of everything that had happened since she’d woken up six hours ago finally settled into her, like gravity-sickness.

Guess her body isn’t counting being in stasis for thirty-six hours as proper sleep.

First step is a proper camp. The girl doesn’t stir when Valerie picks her up, blanket and all, and sets her a few more meters away from the crash, back near the rubble piles Valerie used as cover before. Not much of an improvement, but at least they’re not completely out in the open, anymore. She lays out a few thumbnail-sized security sensors around the perimeter and sets up a UV lamp in the middle for when it starts to get dark. There, now all they need are those marshmallow and graham cracker ration packs the brass won’t approve for inscrutable reasons.

Sitting is a more complex maneuver than Valerie remembers. Maybe carving her way into a giant alien corpse-ship was a thing that you shouldn’t do while recovering from a near-fatal crash. Maybe not. The universe may never know. Her only blanket is currently being hogged by the new addition. The crash-kit also has the deployable lean-to, but the idea of getting that damn thing unfolded properly is a task she should have thought about while she was still on her feet. This nice pile of rubble she’s got her back up against will do just fine.

With a final what-the-hell, Valerie also pops the seals of her helmet and gets her first breath of fresh, un-recycled air since she was planetside three months ago; is immediately filled with regret and something else that makes her nose crinkle.

Oh. Right. The dead gutted space monster-ship. What an amazing smell she’s discovered.

Inaction looks to have been a signal for her entire body to start clamoring with a vengeance. Food not being a thing she’s had in technically two days, her stomach starts growling. Wonderful. The flavors are all universally bad, so it doesn’t much matter which ration pack she picks from the survival kit. Those hard-working little nanites floating around in her have to get their energy from somewhere.

She breaks the seal and starts sucking up flavored nutrient-gel through the nozzle. There was no escaping the slimy-goop bullshit today. Of course she could have just had the suit inject her with an infusion instead, but MAD-E would probably raise a fit about it being reserved for massive blood loss and other medical crap.

Valerie keeps slurping on her goop-dinner, watching the strange girl she pulled out of an alien ship sleep. Even scrunched up fitfully her pale face is ethereal in the lamplight; the shallow rise and fall of her assisted-breathing a pattern Valerie finds reassuring.

The packet falls half-deflated onto Valerie’s lap when she finally falls asleep.

Valerie doesn’t realize she’d dozed off until a noise wakes her. She’s reaching for holster before she’s even half-awake, faltering when it registers that its the tell-tale siren-call of the heat blanket, crinkling loudly like a crackling fire.

The solar lamp had turned itself on when the sun set, casting soft light over their little makeshift campground. At the edge is the shape of the wreck, a looming dead presence like the bones of some primeval beast. Valerie shivers from a half-dissolved dream: a hunting shadow slithering over a field of stars, the red glow of her emergency cockpit lights, the fear of being buried alive in a universe’s worth of nothing.

She breathes deep and almost welcomes the bracing rot. At least it wakes her up.

The girl is already awake herself, sitting up and wrapped in her blanket like an extra-large ration pack. Most of that gunk from the ship’s innards looks like it’s finally dried off into a tacky, flaked mess. Her snowy hair is stained and matted in crusty clumps.

She doesn’t acknowledge that Valerie had woken up at all. Too busy examining her own hands in the lantern-light with a peculiar fascination.

“How are you feeling?”

The girl looks up at the sound of Valerie’s voice and-

It’s like being back up in the sky again, seeing streak of green plasma blur past her ship in the corner of her eye. Never saw the one that hit her engines and sent her in an uncontrolled spin- tore her out of the sky.

Her eyes are bright, luminous green. As piercing as those shots, impossible and strangely beautiful.

“Lieutenant.” MAD-E says.

A wire of tension unspools in her. Valerie is surprised to find her hand tight around the grip of her gun.

Valerie finally grasps the edges of her mistake, slippery for all the alien goopsnot. That isn’t the glowy-eyed, thousand yard stare of young civilian still reeling from the trauma of a violent abduction.

“What is hell is this, Mads,” it’s a demand, not a question.

“Underdeveloped lungs, muscle atrophy, deficiencies of vitamins D and K, calciu-”

“I’m talking about her fucking eyes.” She hisses, because they’re still goddamn staring at her.

“Based off the limited capabilities of the medical scanner, I cannot definitively-”

“MAD-E.”

“There were anomalous results from her genetic scan. I noted several unknown variations and genesets that do match any known human genome.”

Valerie could almost swear she felt her insides go still- breath, blood, and all. Just a few steps away the girl’s otherwordly eyes blinked, uncomprehending.

“Furthermore,” MAD-E goes on blithely, as if she hadn’t already dropped a fucking bombshell. “Despite the subject’s decreased bone density, her skeleton shows no detectable traces of breaks, stress fractures, or microfissures that would be present for a human in her age range.”

That...shouldn’t be possible. Even with nanites or collagen regeneration, there was always going to be scarring. Signs of damage and healing. Of...of...living.

Unless.

“How old is she, Mads?” Valerie asks quietly, eyes never leaving the girl.

She looks like she could be any average college co-ed. Skinny like someone raised in low-gravity, but not stretched out. Even the hair is pretty tame compared to the crazy augs some people did, but those eyes-

It’s not just the glowing. It’s the wide-eyed, naked bafflement of everything she’s looking at. Clueless as a kitten.

“Her telomeres have been altered, making the margin of error for any estimate-”

They-

They fucking grew her.

Had she ever been outside of that ship, before now? Even sitting up she was swaying unsteadily from the strain of her own weight. Forget walking, standing is probably beyond her at this point.

In the sky, it’d been a different story. Like trying to outswim a shark. A creature made for the Black. Picking off Valerie’s wingmates one.

By.

One.

Something in Valerie’s body language makes the...girl (the pilot, the heart of that monster) tilt her head, quizzically. Almost birdlike.

The gun’s out of its holster, sitting in Valerie's lap next to the unfinished ration pack. She never thought about its weight since the first time she had to pick up a gun in basic. The density. The complexity of so many moving parts just to fling a few grams of bullet faster than a pair of glowing alien eyes could see coming.

“Do you remember what it was like when you were in that thing?” Valerie gestures at the dark husk overlooking them with the gun. The alien-eyes remain fixed on her, captured by the sound of her words but deaf to the meaning. “Did you realize what it meant, when you shot those other ships down?”

She’d burned her engines past red and still couldn’t reach them before their radios let out an garbled scream and a burst of static that meant Orion and Hotshot hadn’t had time to eject. No waiting it out safe and cozy in stasis. Only the hard vacuum and the wreckage of their birds for company.

The girl doesn’t answer. Keeps watching Valerie with those bright, ghost-light eyes as though Valerie was the most perplexing puzzle. Keeps sitting there, wrapped in the foiling cape of her blanket. Like she’s waiting for Valerie to keep going.

Benign only in ignorance, she tells herself. If she understood the noise Valerie was making with her mouth, if Valerie told her that she’d been the one to bring her down, would that blank, soft face contort with a twisted snarl and try to lunge at her, atrophied muscles be damned?

No. She’s just grasping for any excuse to finish off the last living piece of that Thing that killed her wingmates. Leave her body in a puddle of goo next to her corpse-ship like they were floating cold in their own wreckage.

"This would be a lot easier if we were both back up there, instead of down here,” Valerie tells her.

A chime from her helmet on the ground beside her. “Lieutenant.”

Valerie stands up sharply, pistol still in her grip. Crosses the distance between them and stands over her.

The girl blinks up at Valerie. Her breath rasps.

Valerie crouches down in front of her and prepares a new dose. The weight of the injector in her other hand makes her feel titled. Off balance.

(Grip on the yokes, thumbs on the toggles, flick a switch and )

To her credit, the girl doesn’t even flinch. She puts her hand up to the injection site on her neck, grasping at her own steadying pulse. Valerie can almost hear the connections are being made. Basic animal cause and effect.

Valerie holsters her sidearm and lifts injector a hair higher. “That should keep you for a bit. You’ll need another injection in a few hours.”

The girl opens her mouth. “Jeck-shun” Her tongue stumbles on the syllables.

Valerie freezes in the middle of packing the kit back up. “...yeah. Jeck-shun. Close enough.”

“Klo Seenuff.”

Goddamn it that one actually makes Valerie burst out a surprised laugh. The girl tilts her head again at the unfamiliar sound.

Valerie stands up, considers the speculative look on the girl’s face. She turns around and walks back to her side of the camp and eases herself back down.

“You’re lucky I have a thing about strays.”

“Luh-key.”

“You have no idea.”

“Eye-Deeya.”

“You still recording this, Mads? Riveting stuff going on here.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” it pipes up from Valerie's helmet.

She frowns with concentration. Valerie's tempted to almost call it adorable. “Loot..ten. Ant?”

“Congratulations, you officially say it better than Dash.”

“Dha-sha.”

Valerie sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

Surprisingly, she doesn’t answer. Maybe it’s the tired resignation in Valerie's voice.

Whatever. Ultimately, the question was moot. A decision will be made all on its own, with or without Valerie's input. All there is to do is sit around and wait to see who drops out of the sky first.

The sky. Valerie cranes her head up. The stars grow thicker here, on the edge of settled space. Diamond dust overflowing on a black canvas. She’d almost forgotten why she enlisted all those years back, before the Amitié Mission vanished, before Elmerton Station and her mother’s empty urn.

Danny was right. It really is everything, up there.

A movement at the edge of her vision. The girl was looking up too, transfixed at the starry dome over their heads.

“Like the stars too, huh?”

“Stars.” She mumbles, barely blinking.

The crash must have knocked out the power on this block- the UV lamp is a lonely circle of light surrounded by indistinguishable dark. Their own little Island on a seas of stars.

It’s like something out of a bad sim: a pair of unlikely castaways alone on a conveniently habitable planet. Then again, in all likelihood, the two of them probably are the only people left on the entire planet- alien weirdness notwithstanding.

Valerie points at a thin white streak. “Look, a shooting star.”

“Shoot.”

“No, a shooting sta-” A blast of thunder shudders down from above, a long echo grumbling through the empty city spires. The girl squeaks with surprise, but Valerie shoots to her feet. There is not a single stormy cloud up there, and the shooting star is getting larger.

“Something’s just hit atmo...” Valerie dives for her helmet and put it back over her head. “MAD-E!”

“Three distinct shockwave events.” MAD-E reports.

She clenches a fist. “Profile?”

It takes four long, agonizing seconds for MAD-E to deliver its verdict. “One Riptide class shuttle and a fighter escort. They have already breached the stratosphere and are decelerating. Most likely vector is towards Nova Ventura.”

“Yes! Hell yes!” The weight of the past two days slides off her shoulders from the tide of sheer elation. “Hail them.”

“Working...I am unable to raise them on emergency channels. There is still interference from the jamming signal.”

Shit. That means there were still unfriendlies around. Without comms or sensors any of search-and-rescue op would be risky at best, hugely dangerous at worse. Someone up there must really like her.

The pilot trades off between glancing worriedly at the sky and back to Valerie rummaging through the crash-kit. “Loot-ehn-ant?”

“We are out of here, bright-eyes,” Valerie points skyward. “Take a look up there, that’s our ride.”

The shooting star from before has grown in size, flaring with the heat-bleedoff from a steep entry.

“Shoot.” the girl says again.

For once, Valerie appreciates the neurotic preparation of the nerds who designed the crash kit. Flares were ridiculously low-tech, but without a way to signal the ships, the only other option Valerie has is sticking out her thumb.

They ignite with an angry hiss, throwing dark green light that make the shadows dance. Lighting every single one, Valerie tosses them down a few meters down the road to mark a good LZ.

The escort fighters do their flyover first, the rumble of their own engines lags behind after they pass. Valerie watches them circle in a holding pattern with a tinge of envy. Down the road, the lights of the shuttle come toward them, following the same route the alien ship made on its way down, if less crashy.

Spotlights orbit around the crash sight, settling over them and the ship. The visor of Valerie's helmet compensates automatically, but the the girl flinches and hides her head under the flaring surface of her blanket.

Engine backwash blows gales of dust as the shuttle’s thrusters pivot, leveling it out and slowly easing it down on the broken road.

“Strange,” MAD-E remarks. “I am not receiving any IFF transponder signals from the shuttle, even at this range.”

“Can’t imagine why they wouldn’t want to broadcast their position,” Valerie replies, more focused on the decent of the shuttle’s gangplank.

The girl is outright trying to hide under the heat blanket at this point, frightened by the noise the strange ship. Valerie goes to her and lifts up a corner of the blanket. Two panicked, neon green eyes peer at her.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to hide. You’re with me, I’ll take care of you. Promise.”

“...pra-miss?”

“Yeah. Promise.” Valerie holds out her hand. The pilot looks at it, incredulous. Slowly, her pale, thin fingers lightly touch the glove of Valerie’s suit. Valerie grasps it as firmly as she dares before letting go and standing up. Should probably warn the SAR team about this so they don’t spook the-

A swarm of boots drum down the gangplank. Not Search and Rescue medics, but two full squads of troopers geared head to toe in bone-white armor sweep the landing zone. Their rifles are primed and ready- as though they were expecting an ambush from every corner.

Valerie raises a hand. “Evening, fellas. Glad you could finally join us. Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but-”

None of them even look her way, their full-faced helmets betraying nothing. Sometimes she’ll see them glance at one another, a nod here or a minute motion there that suggests they were talking to each other in a way Valerie couldn’t hear. Probably all sharing scrambled, short-range comm.

One squad breaks away and starts marching her way. “Finally. Hey guys, can anyone tell me what’s going on upstairs? I haven’t been able to get through to-”

They march past her like she was invisible, guns raised and cautiously approaching the crashed alien ship.

“Don’t worry about that thing. If it wasn’t dead on-impact, it definitely crashed after I-” She trails off, because a four-man team just formed a semi-circle in front of them and have all trained their guns on her. No, not just her.

“Loo-Ten-ant?” The girl huddles in her blanket anxiously.

Valerie steps in front of them, blocking most of their shots. “Whoa, whoa hey now, safety those things. The hell are you-”

“Stand down, Lieutenant Gray.”

Two of the soldiers part without breaking their sight lines. A pair of men in the plain, unassuming white uniform of the Observer’s Office step through the gap. Their hair is shaved even shorter than regulation length to the point of baldness and their eyes are hidden under black specs.

“Finally, some human contact.” Valerie snaps. “Can someone explain to me what the hell is going on?”

The first Man in White motions at the girl hiding behind Valerie’s legs with a gloved hand. “Please step away, Lieutenant.”

“Loo-ten-ent?” She asks quietly.

“Listen-” Valerie pulls off her helmet- one of the solider tenses and raises his rifle a little higher before. “I’ve been down in this creepy-ass colony for the past forty-six hours. The whole city is empty, I haven’t been able to raise anyone on comms, I’ve got no idea what’s going on up there-”

“The situation is under control,” The Second Man says coolly.

“What does that even mean? What happened to the Hartmann?”

“Relax, Lieutenant. The battle’s over. The Hartmann is intact and station-keeping in high obit about the planet’s southern pole.”

Valerie exhales. “Thank God- wait. That doesn’t make any sense. How are we still being jammed if the enemy is-”

It’s like crashing all over again. First the hit, losing control as the world spins.

“It’s been you,” she breathes. “The squids haven’t been jamming comms. It’s been you the whole time.”

The First Man in White starts reciting: “Under Special Directive granted to the Observer’s Office by Director Masters and the Ecumene Council, this area is under quarantine.”

The second man continued. “Lieutenant Gray, you are hereby ordered to report for a full debrief. All footage starting from when you came out of emergency stasis will be confiscated and classified Above Top Secret, including the full contents of your Virtual Intelligence Asset.”

MAD-E starts to say, “I would be happy to assist however I can. However, I-”

“Lexic: White Zero-Six-Three Over Specter-Kay.”

“Confirmed,” MAD-E responds obediently, then, apologetically to Valerie: “Their credentials are valid, Lieutenant. The orders are legal.”

Years of military discipline keeps her mouth fixed in a firm line. “...what about her?”

“That,” The Man in White nods first to the wreck, then to the girl. “And that are to be taken into custody.”

“Step aside, Lieutenant.” The cold edge in the second’s one voice is as subtle as a knife to the throat.

A gloved hand motions one of the troopers to stow away their weapon. Valerie watches them move towards the girl and is very aware that the other three still have theirs leveled at her. She’s standing in political black hole, where scruples get devoured and crushed beyond recognition. It wouldn’t be hard to sell that one lone, relatively skilled but ultimately insignificant fighter pilot had been shot down and died in the crash. Too much damage to the pod on impact, full stasis and life support failure. Her father would get a flag, a posthumous medal, and an empty urn to put beside his wife’s.

Valerie does nothing as the trooper grabs the girl. Hears the frantic crinkle of the heat blanket, the weak grunts and a shout.

“Loo-ten-ent? Lootenent!”

Valerie can’t even tell her she’s sorry. Not now, not with those hidden eyes watching.

The trooper walks past. Valerie feels a desperate tug on the sleeve of her flight suit and she has to keep her eyes locked on the Man in White. It’s the only way to keep her expression from betraying her.

Another four man fireteam escorts the trooper carrying the thrashing girl to the shuttle, where a pair of medics wait at the gangplank and administer a sedative that reduces her to a ragdoll in seconds.

Jeck-shun, Valerie thinks. “What’s going to happen to her?”

“That’s outside both of our paygrades.” The other Man in White snorts. His partner shoots him a look- probably the first damn show of emotion she’s seen from either of them since they landed.

Valerie looks past them and watches the girl be carried up the gangplank and vanish into the shuttle. Valerie can’t hear what any of them are saying, but their body language speaks volumes. None of them seemed confused or alarmed at the sight of ghostly pale, glowy-eyed girl being dragged from the site of a crashed alien ship. Certainly not as bad as Valerie had taken it, when she found out.

Her heart jumps at another sonic boom. More ships entering the atmosphere, probably bringing in the personnel and equipment they’ll need to start preparing the main body of the wreck for transport. Half the troopers have already moved from securing the scene to setting up tripods for high-powered lights and portable generators. It all plays out with the clockwork smoothness of a routine well-practiced.

Crossing her arms, Valerie looks right into the image of herself in the lens of the Man in White.

"She’s not the first you found, is she?”

90 notes · View notes

oathkeeper-of-tarth · 7 years

Text

Keep

For the @pearlroseweek prompt Forbidden Romance, I give you... a fic.

This is a followup to Steal and @dr-jekyl’s followup to that, Give. Reading those two definitely enriches the experience. You might also want to check out this.

Still very early days Homeworld-era secret Pearlrose shenanigans, some angst, some swords, some Pearl-as-White-Diamond’s-Pearl thoughts. Pearl/Rose, with mentions of Yellow and White Diamond, and Yellow Pearls (I’m so, so sorry). The usual warnings for Homeworld hierarchy-related content apply, as Homeworld continues to be the worst. ~4000 words.

---

Keep

Yellow Diamond is getting a new pearl.

“I heard from the carnelians the old one got glitchy,” the barracks’ most promising jasper lieutenant and biggest gossip shares proudly. “Scratched her gem somehow, so She got rid of her.”

A murmur about the well-known softness of pearls goes around the gathered Gems, and Rose can’t help a cringe.

“Must be nice,” her cubby neighbour elbows Rose, snapping her back to alertness, “being able to do that. Break your toy when you’re bored of it and get a new one just like that.”

Another murmur, this one much quieter and far more careful, about the well-known harshness of Yellow Diamond’s temper.

“Just like that,” Rose agrees, and lags behind deliberately, pretending to busy herself with sorting out a half-empty weapons rack as the chatter dies down and the others leave.

As soon as she is convinced she is alone, she slips away using by now well-worn routes. The forgotten storage room at the end of a shadowy service corridor has become something of a sanctuary for both her and her unusual companion. And Rose, who has never been one for subtlety or subterfuge, has all of a sudden become an expert - it’s more than her own existence at stake, after all. Secrets are suddenly of paramount importance and worth keeping in a way they never have been before.

She makes sure her patrols are covered, takes great care to ensure nobody misses her at her guard post, and that, in all that, she herself never misses a chance to spend time with Pearl. Oh, there is still a joke now and then in the barracks, about the way her head got turned by a fancy little pearl, but for the most part the gossip has moved on - though today’s Rose really could have done without.

Pearl, for her part, never misses a single one of their meetings - her training sessions - either. Witnessing her open up and grow and come into her own in the pretend-safety of their dusty little empire has been one of the most rewarding things so far in Rose’s brief life and service. Similarly, few things have torn at her the way it does to watch Pearl carefully fold into herself and fold herself away somewhere deep within, every time they have to leave to resume their regular duties and roles. There is such a sad, sad lessening about it, about the way her shoulders slip into… not exactly a hunch, for her posture is always perfect, of course, but the way sheer palpable obedience seems to drape over them is always jarring to behold. Moreso after long, forbidden hours of surprisingly exhilarating swordfighting drills, something Rose herself can’t remember ever taking delight in before now.

Skulking around rarely used service access corridors is the perfect time to muddle through utterly untenable thoughts like What if it didn’t have to be that way? and What if we could just go use one of the training arenas when they’re empty? and, loudest and unlikeliest of all, What if we didn’t have to sneak around and fear and hide at all?

Her destination sneaks up on Rose just as she is concocting a plan of getting them both in and out of an arena unnoticed, careful consideration of the possible obstacles quickly giving way to imagining the delighted look on Pearl’s face. She couldn’t exactly give her the arena like she did the sword, of course, but she could do the next best thing. It would be dangerous, yes, but everything they do is, and Rose could always take full responsibility if it came to that- and Pearl would be so happy, she would do that thing she does with her hands, and give an impromptu lecture on the different terrain simulation options, and her eyes would all but glow-

Pearl isn’t there.

Rose sets the training sword she brought for herself against the wall and waits for a while, somewhat disappointed but not too surprised. Pearl is rarely late if she can help it, always eager to take a stab at a new technique or work on an old one, but Diamonds are Diamonds and their affairs, of course, take priority - and, on occasion, run late. There is nothing either of them can do about that but indulge in wild fantasies of their time being their own, with no need to steal. So Rose does, with some fervour.

But moments creep by and the time draws perilously close to when she has to report back in for duty, and there is still no sign of Pearl at all. Rose’s thoughts skew darker, then - what if she’s been discovered? Caught while trying to sneak away? Maybe she couldn’t resist and took her sword - her sword - out of her gem to indulge for a moment, and whoever happened to see her do it refused to believe she was simply carrying it for her owner? In the mounting tension, anything seemed not only possible, but increasingly likely. And the chilling echo permeating it all: Yellow Diamond is getting a new pearl.

It is then, with her feet scuffing the stone tile in ghosts of the footwork drills they had planned for today, that Rose is struck with the full reality of their situation - and the sheer unfairness of it. She has no real way of contacting Pearl, or knowing if she is safe, or alive at all. If something were to happen to Pearl, Rose would certainly not be the first to know - who knows if she would ever know the whole truth. So much hinges on their meetings staying secret, and the secrecy robs them of so much.

She hates the sudden, unpleasant realisation that one day she could easily find herself looking at another, completely unknown white pearl across the hall from her post, with full knowledge of what that meant, no knowledge of the details save for what gossip she managed to scrounge up afterwards, and the awareness that she was under no circumstances supposed to or permitted to react as the barracks chatter moved on, washing over her without a care for what she might have lost.

She waits, fear mounting, until the very last moment, earns a tardiness mark from her Agate and a ribbing from her fellow guards on duty, goes through her (completely useless) rounds in a haze, and runs back to her and Pearl’s meeting place.

Pearl isn’t there.

She isn’t there the day after that, or the day after that, either. The absence, Rose keeps telling herself, doesn’t have to mean anything particularly sinister - a meeting could have simply run very, very long. Or perhaps White Diamond went to visit one of her colonies on very short notice and Pearl had no time to let Rose know. Not an entirely happy thought, as there is never any way of knowing how long a Diamond visit would last, but certainly better than many of the alternatives Rose keeps unwittingly coming up with. Maybe she could get access to a comms terminal-

Or maybe she could simply go check.

It isn’t all that hard, in the end, to visit the other barracks and trade some trinkets for useful information. Yellow Diamond’s newest citrines are both very forthcoming and eager to add to their incipient collections, and Rose comes away from the exchange with a detailed schedule of all elite, council, and Diamond meetings for the next five rotations. Yellow Diamond’s court is always so highly organised, the contrast to what she herself is used to is quite jarring for Rose. It’s easy to find and single out the ones which White Diamond - clearly not absent or on an intergalactic tour of any kind - is supposed to attend. Easier still to pick out the closest one, only a few hours from now. And of course, if White Diamond is going to be there, then so is Pearl.

Unless-

Rose shakes her head and shakes away the creeping, unwanted thoughts. Going to the council chambers in time for the meeting would mean skipping out on some of her duties, but she can’t find it in herself to care. She would know, and she would, stars willing, see Pearl, and no threats of punishment from an uptight agate could ever rival that.

She strolls over to the correct sector, confidently and purposefully, like it’s exactly where she is supposed to be. Nobody questions her presence. Even so, she has her excuses prepared - she is on duty, yes, of course this is the patrol route she’s been assigned, her Agate certainly wouldn’t make a mistake like that.

And - there, finally. The sight of Pearl, whole and apparently well enough, standing in her usual spot by the door seems to lift an astounding weight off Rose’s shoulders. It also fills her with a near-intolerable desire to run over and grasp her hands, cup her face, just to make sure. But she restrains herself and keeps to her spot.

She has, through lots of arduous and painstaking practice, become skilled enough in interpreting Pearl’s tiny, carefully subdued cues. Proficient enough to be able to read the discomfort radiating off her in the presence of the new yellow pearl standing perfectly still next to her. Rose feels a burst of thankfulness that Pearl does not belong to Yellow Diamond and is safe, at least, from that temper. A sting of guilt for harbouring this thought follows immediately. Yellow Diamond’s pearl can’t have deserved her fate. Nobody could.

The shock on Pearl’s face as she catches sight of Rose lurking around the corner of the corridor is far from hard to read, however quickly she tries to school her features back into blankness. She tries to wave Rose away with the tiniest of gestures, shaking her head near-imperceptibly when Rose gestures back and stays put exactly where she is. Pearl’s posture is still perfect, but she’s shifting her weight from foot to foot and shooting nervous glances to Rose, to the other pearl, to the door of the council chamber, back to Rose-

Then she stops fidgeting, and seems to have made up her mind about something. A moment later she is calmly walking over, and Rose ducks a bit further back into the corridor.

The calm façade drops as soon as she makes the corner.

“What are you doing here?” Pearl hisses, quietly but angrily, and Rose is taken aback.

“You didn’t come to train, and I thought- I don’t know what I thought. I heard about Yellow Diamond’s pearl.” Pearl visibly cringes and draws into herself at that, and Rose gives in, at least slightly, to her earlier impulses, gently and carefully taking one of her clenched hands in both of hers. “I just… I wanted to see you. I had to know you were... fine.”

Pearl heaves a sigh and some of the tension and anger seems to drain out of her, even as she keeps shooting nervous glances around. She opens her hand and returns the hold, and Rose is overcome with the conflicting feelings of her visit being worthwhile, and like she is the dullest, most unthinking and rash Gem in the universe.

“I’m sorry. Is… is this alright? Just for a little while? I don’t want to get you in trouble. And the pearl over there-”

Pearl’s smile is small, twisted, and bitter. “She’s new, and terrified, and has enough to deal with already. I suppose you could say you got lucky.”

“Will you come train again?” Rose blurts out. “I mean, when it’s safe for you again, of course. I don’t want you to...”

“It’s never safe.”

Rose bows her head - it is so… very matter-of-fact, the way Pearl said it. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Well, it’s not your fault, either.”

Pearl frowns and doesn’t reply, but tightens her hold on Rose’s hand and throws another anxious glance over her shoulder.

“I should go,” Rose whispers, and Pearl gives a tiny nod. “But I’ll see you soon. And you can show me those parry sequences you talked about.”

That earns her a full, genuine smile, one that is enough to subsist on until they meet again. The if turned into a mere when helps, as well, and Rose feels lighter on her feet than she’s ever been as she makes her way back to the barracks.

The punishment she receives rolls off her shoulders and barely seems to touch her at all. She plays suitably contrite and attends to her duties like the very model of a perfect quartz, until it is once again time to slink away.

Her giddiness is only marred by the sight of Pearl - an odd, contradictory situation, when the promise of seeing her again has been like a buoy to Rose. But Pearl looks so… small, and sad, and tired, sitting against the wall, hugging her sword to herself.

“Pearl?” Rose calls, and she looks up, but doesn’t reply save for a half-hearted nod of acknowledgement. “What happened?”

Pearl curls into herself some more, a tremble running through her entire form, and finally grinds out. “Please. Can we please just… do the work. The training.”

“Okay,” Rose replies quietly, then adds, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine,” Pearl insists, even though it’s quite clearly anything but. “I would just like to be away from it, at least here. At least for a little while. I have better things to do right now than worry about Her.”

“That’s right!” Rose takes up with all the enthusiasm she can muster, raking her mind for ways to lift Pearl’s spirits. “We can go over the distance drills again, and work on balance and reaction time later.”

Pearl is remarkably quick on her feet and her balance is flawless, of course, her weaknesses - and what she would realistically need to work on - in entirely different areas. But that is not Rose’s primary concern just now, not when Pearl is so- not when her shoulders are drooping like that, when the weight seems to have settled on her entire slight being, including the ruffles of her outfit and the ends of her hair.

Pearl sighs. “You really don’t need to do that.”

“Don’t need to do what?” Rose asks, all innocence, earning herself another sigh.

“Your intentions are good, but… You’re trying to give me easy victories, a few cheap successes, a sense of accomplishment that would be completely false-”

She is right, of course.

“No, no, that’s not it at all, I- I just wanted to...” Rose stammers, grasping around for an excuse, and finding none readily available, until her gaze catches on the sword in her own hand. “I want to work on balance. My balance. I’ve been lagging behind during training and my Agate was furious. I’m sorry to be so… selfish.”

Pearl raises an utterly unbelieving eyebrow, but she doesn’t argue. “Alright. We can do balance,” she acquiesces with the smallest of smiles, and Rose beams back.

They take their places facing each other, a few paces apart, just enough for their swords to lightly touch, when Pearl speaks up again, hesitantly, but with that clear want straining in her voice.

“But perhaps… perhaps after that, we could try to have...an actual bout of sparring?”

“I-” Rose wisely cuts herself off before the I don’t want to hurt you can make it out of her mouth. She wanted to make Pearl happy, didn’t she? She still wants it like she wants few things, but-

They would be careful. She would be careful. Nothing bad would happen. Just a friendly spar. No better way to truly put to use and put to the test what you’ve been learning, after all - barring an actual battle, which Pearl is highly unlikely to ever face. But again, and Rose focuses on this most of all, it would make Pearl happy.

“Would you like to spar now?” Rose asks, then laughs at the clear delight dawning on Pearl’s face. “I’ll take that as a yes. Alright, let’s start from a bit further away, then.”

“Don’t hold back - I won’t!” Pearl announces as she springs backwards lightly and falls back into stance, the beginnings of an excited and slightly wicked grin on her face, and Rose feels a warmth flood her form.

“Ready when you are,” Rose calls back. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Pearl is upon her with the first attack.

She beats the sword away easily enough, then again, and again, and again as Pearl continues to shower her with quick, light strikes, just enough to test her guard and try to find an opening. Her technique is perfect and her form and footwork flawless, and she strings together without hesitation the various movements Rose has seen her do in drills. Almost like a dance.

Rose knows she is far stronger, and has the clear advantage of size and reach. But she allows herself a few purely defensive moments of observation and, frankly, admiration. Then, finally, Pearl dances away far enough for Rose to rush in and take over the attack in turn - all but inviting her to do it, in fact.

Pearl is as quick here as she was on the offensive, and, as she dodges swing after swing, Rose begins to doubt she will manage to land even a glancing blow. But then something of a pattern begins to emerge in Pearl’s defense, and a window of opportunity presents itself that Rose decides to take. She darts around to Pearl’s right, makes a quick feint to the left, and knocks Pearl’s slightly delayed parry attempt away with ease. Then she stops, triumphant, sword pointing at Pearl’s chest.

She is the most lively Rose has ever seen her as she drops her sword and raises her arms in casual surrender, hair messy and pretty outfit in disarray, splashes of bright blue on her cheeks marring the usually smothering pristine white of her appearance. Rose feels herself mirror Pearl’s exhilarated grin and she lowers her sword and offers her a hand instead. Pearl laughs, and wraps both her arms around Rose’s own, and Rose gives in, reaches over with her free hand, and playfully ruffles Pearl’s hair some more. It is, she is convinced, the softest thing she has ever felt.

“Well!” Pearl exclaims after another bout of giggles.

“Well?”

“That was delightful. Thank you! But now...”

“A rematch?” Rose nudges her with her shoulder, and Pearl clings on.

“Huh? Oh, yes, of course, eventually, but not right now. I need a bit of time to analyse this outcome first,” she draws away slightly, and Rose fights to keep down her disappointment. “How did you do it? Was I being too obvious with my intentions? There was a strike there at the end that you pre-empted really well, I thought.”

Rose forces herself to focus and recall the details of the bout, and thinks back to the opening she found. “I think you keep too much to your left - like you’re constantly anticipating something from there. It’s nothing too bad, but it might end up giving you a blind spot if you don’t take care.”

“I do?” Pearl pauses and Rose can almost see, in the focused little furrow of her brow and the narrowing of her eyes and the thin fingers thoughtfully tapping against thin lips, the way she’s carefully retracing and analysing each of her recent steps and movements in her mind. “I do. I hadn’t noticed I was doing that. Well, that’s- I’ll work on it. Thank you. For- for noticing. For telling me.”

Rose smiles her most cheerful, benign smile. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Isn’t it? She still wonders about that sometimes - what, exactly, it was that brought her here, and what it is that is keeping her here still. But she saves that for another time, and chooses to focus on more important and more immediate matters. “Come on, I’ll stand over here and move at you from a few different angles, how does that sound?”

She’s helped with suggestions and brief demonstrations before - practical suggestions born from experience, where Pearl has only theory and her strange technical, mechanical approach to things that Rose has always just known. She can harness that now, certainly, and Pearl will be delighted to have improved, to have learned, in that particular way that Rose can’t quite understand but loves seeing.

Pearl moves away and picks her sword back up, awash with fresh determination. “Let’s do it.”

Rose attacks her as agreed, slowly at first, then gradually picking up the pace. But the same pattern emerges soon enough, and Pearl finds herself staring at a sword tip again. Then again, and again.

“You’re still doing it!” Rose exclaims, matching Pearl’s visible frustration. “I know you can do better. Come on, Pearl, there’s nothing there. What’s going on?”

“I-” Pearl freezes in sudden realisation, and lets her sword droop, carefully-kept pristine tip scraping carelessly against the stone floor. “She always has me stand to the right of her seat.”

And you anticipate and hop to indulge her every whim before she’s even had the chance to voice it.

“Pearl,” Rose reaches out to her, trying to think of a way to offer comfort, and feeling quite out of her depth.

But Pearl growls in the most frustrated and un-pearl-like fashion imaginable, and cuts at the air in wild, merciless arcs. “Really? Really? Well of course this would get ruined for me, too, just like everything always is! Why would I get to have anything at all-”

“Pearl!” Rose tries to interrupt the spiral she’s seen before - even though the hints of raw fury feel very new. Would not be unwelcome, perhaps, in some other scenario. “Pearl, it’s fine, we’ll just- we’ll do some training with that in mind and it’ll be gone in no time at all. You’ll see. I’ll help you.”

“I don’t want you to!” Pearl snaps, face blue and vividly, vibrantly angry. Then she draws back into herself, the anger drained away somewhere, packed away in some hidden, overused and discontent corner of herself that has to be overflowing by now. “Or- well, I do. I just... I don’t want you to need to.”

Rose sighs, and puts what she hopes is a comforting hand on Pearl’s shoulder. Pearl immediately covers the hand with her own, and Rose thinks she may just have been right. “It’s fine, I promise, and you don’t have to feel ashamed about it. Everyone needs help sometimes, everyone has trouble with some technique or other - and sparring is always done in pairs.”

Basic quartz philosophy. Pack mentality, she’s heard it called not at all kindly, by Gems who liked having fine, broad quartzes to hide behind, but who didn’t like to be reminded of their existence too much outside of that, primitive but useful.

“I’m not a quartz. I mean, obviously-”

“Obviously,” Rose confirms with mock seriousness, and Pearl lets out a little huff of almost-laughter.

But then Pearl brings both her hands up to her chin again, and her fingers begin to tap out a familiar rhythm that lets Rose know she is considering matters. “I do suppose certain… methods could be adapted...”

“Yes! You’ll see,” Rose picks up eagerly. “We can start tomorrow, and we’ll make it work, together. And you will be absolutely unstoppable.”

Pearl ducks her head and blushes that charming blue. “You really think so?” She asks in a small voice that can’t help but sound both worried and hopeful. “You’re not making fun?”

“I,” Rose proclaims, putting an arm around Pearl’s slight shoulders and pushing all thoughts of Diamonds and their whims aside, “have never been more serious about anything in my life.”

Much later, when she finds herself on the ground, disarmed and staring up at a glowingly triumphant Pearl for the third time that day, Rose Quartz thinks she has never been more right about anything in her life.

#pearl #rose quartz #steven universe #pearlrose #fanfiction #my fic #oathkeeper writes things #pearlrose week 2017 #la vie en rose #smitten rose 4 life #i've had this wip for forever and a day and i have never been so called out as when i opened it recently and saw the #'last edited on 11 February' gee thanks gdocs

68 notes · View notes