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percywinchester27 · 2 years

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The new Mrs. Winchester (8)

Word count: 4.1K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Mentioned character death, mentioned kidnapping, fluff

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: There’s a surprise for you guys in this chapter ;)

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23 love ya!

The new Mrs. Winchester masterlist

“You’re shitting me,” you whispered. “He’s shitting me, isn’t he?”

Jack beamed. “He isn’t.”

“I can’t touch this thing.” You stepped backwards. “It’ll break and I’ll go to technology hell for it.”

“It’s just a laptop!”

“Yeah, the sort that people use in 200 million dollar budget movies. Look, the paint is all shiny and silver.” The thing looked like even your glance could break it. “I asked for a drawing table and tools. A decrepit computer would have done the job just the same.”

It had been two days since the day spent touring the house with Sam and in those two days, you had only seen him once at breakfast. His work kept him busier than the tiredness his face showed. Today Jack had greeted you in the morning with a brand new laptop and the news that the study next to the library was being fitted with a drawing table. You were free to furnish it as you saw fit.

The laptop scared you. “I don’t want it.”

“How’re you going to work, then?” Jack sounded amused.

“I’ll manage.”

“Just take the laptop, Y/N,” he said, smiling, then immediately made a funny noise. “I’m sorry. I mean, Mrs. Winchester.”

“No, please. Please call me Y/N.” It felt like being resuscitated each time your name was uttered.

Jack looked torn.

You reached out to touch his hand. “We’re friends, aren’t we? And friends call each other by name.”

When he still didn’t look convinced, you nudged his palm. “You call Sam by his name.”

“Oh, alright,” he gave in. “Just take the damn laptop, Y/N.”

Grinning, you opened the laptop gingerly and pressed the power button. The machine came to life almost in no time, without buffering. Wondrous.

“All your software is in there,” he said, sighing lovingly at the machine. “What was it? Auto something–”

“AutoCAD and SketchUp.”

“Yeah, pretty names for things in a pretty laptop.”

“Hey, if you want alone time with it…”

Jack threw you a withering look and you laughed. “Come show me the study you were talking about.”

*****

In the end, after much consideration on your part, you decided to start with the study itself. That morning, Sam stayed only long enough to introduce you to the contractor and his crew- all burly men with bulging arms and grim faces.

“Mrs. Winchester will look after the restoration,” he’d said, “Her word is final.”

You wished Sam had been around for the rest of the day when you had the men move your table to the seating room of your suite. It took some time to explain the process to them. From having renovated the room so many times over the years, one layer of paint had been coated over another and then another.

You instructed the crew to scrape off all the layers carefully till the original plaster was visible. The men went to work and you enlisted Abby’s help to look for the archival drawings stashed in the library.

“Sam said that the drawings should be somewhere here.” you pointed out to the rack at the very back. “He said all of them had been preserved for future reference.”

“You’ve been spending a bunch of time with him lately,” Abby mentioned casually.

“He’s been helpful while he is around,” you replied warily, recognising the hard edge in her voice.

“He’s around too much then,” she muttered ducking under a shelf ledge.

Not enough, not to you anyway.

“Found it!” You called, drawing out the dust-laden sheets from under the shelf. “No respect for archival drawings,” you tutted, blowing off the dust.

Abby agreed with you about the state of the sheets and forgot about her reservations for the time being. You explained to her the process of reading archival architectural drawings in order to decipher what the original details of construction must be. Most of your guesswork proved accurate. The sandstone used had been brought in from a local stone quarry and dressed on the premise itself.

“Local material is the best kind of material because it’s used to the climate of the area, will withstand weathering and is best suited for any kind of construction. Plus, you don’t have to cure the mortar for too long. Sandstone sets easily and the pointing–”

“Miss, you’re losing me.”

You smacked your head. “Oh, I’m blabbering..”

“No!” Abby reached out to hold your head, and you jerked in surprise. “Don’t stop talking about your work. I like listening to you, even if I don’t understand much.”

The catch in your throat made it hard to speak but you managed, “No. You will stop me when you don’t understand so I can make you understand. We’re in this together now.”

You spent the rest of the day testing out paint samples on the scraped-out walls. The contractor suggested a multitude of bright colours, but you picked out an understated cream to go with the natural ocher, having decided to keep the original sandstone exposed. When all was said and done for the day, you made a detour to the kitchen to check on Martha. She appeared delighted to see you, gushing about your ideas for the house. She had a couple of ideas up her sleeves, too, you realised, when she handed you a notepad and a pen.

“You need to draw up the plan for this week’s meals,” she announced.

“What, me?”

“Of course,” said Martha good-naturedly. “I’ve been using my discretion with what to cook these past years. Now that the house has a mistress, you get to choose.”

Staring at the writing pad, you murmured, “I don’t know what to do… I can barely cook.”

Martha laughed sweetly. “My dear, you don’t have to cook. I’ll do that. You just have to decide what gets cooked.”

The dishes that had been served at all prior dinners, even the big affairs, had been exquisite– French, Italian and God knew what all countries you didn’t even know the names of. Martha had a battalion of chefs working under her on days of big events. What did you know about cuisine and fine-dine food?

Instead of telling her that, you said, “I don’t know what everyone likes.” You didn’t know what Sam liked.

With a twinkle in her eye, Martha said, “It doesn’t take much to please master Sam. He’s very basic. Just Salads and eggs and meat. That’ll do.”

You snorted into your coffee. Martha had, for all practical purposes, just called Sam a basic bitch.

“Not just him,” you said. “I don’t know what the others like- Abby, Jack, the other girls, staff and… you, Martha. I understand that the meals are cooked for everyone? I don’t know about their choices, likes and dislikes.”

Her face softened. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t worry about us. We’ll eat what gets cooked.”

“No. If I get to decide what gets cooked, then everyone gets a say in it. We’re running a democracy from now on. We’ll have everyone put the names of their favourite dishes on this paper and cook them in rotation, yeah?”

“Mrs. Winchester–”

“I hope Sam won’t mind me deciding?”

Martha shook her head. “It was his idea. Yesterday morning, I asked him what he wanted for the formal dinner next week and he says, ‘ask Y/N. She’ll decide for the kitchen from now on.’” She sighed fondly.

You left the kitchen then, wandering back upstairs. The sun had commenced a downward arc and when you crossed it, you found Sam’s door locked from the outside, which only meant one thing; he won’t be home tonight.

Disheartened, confused and strangely excited about the day’s events, you rushed into your room and pulled out the lamp from under your bed. Last week, you had specifically requested Abby to put it there citing the possibility of a power outage. Grabbing a matchbox, you walked outside to the corridor and placed the lamp onto the ledge of an arched opening. Against the backdrop of the lavender evening sky, the flame inside the lamp looked like another trapped sun.

The flame was bright but you didn’t know if it was bright enough. Still, bracing yourself for disappointment, you carefully traced back the path to your pier behind the outhouse.

You spotted him as soon as the pier became visible. He sat with his legs swinging over the water’s edge, skipping stones over the surface. You counted four skips on the last one.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t come,” you said to his back.

“And here we are,” he said, turning around to give you that smirk of his. The one full of warmth and a hint of mischief. “Wouldn’t ditch you like that, Chewie.”

“Of course not,” you smiled, taking a seat next to him and raising your fist. “Millennium Falcon Crew for life.”

He bumped your fist back. “So, how’re you holding up in the ivory tower?”

“Ivory tower?” You snickered.

“I’m not a big fan of that house,” he muttered darkly. “Nothing good ever happened there.”

“Well, I’m trying to make good things happen now.”

He looked at you sharply, “Say what?”

Wriggling your hands in your lap, you peeked at him. “Sam’s asked me to overlook the restoration of the house since I studied architecture and all that. I started with the study on the second floor.”

“One next to the library?”

“Yep, that one.”

An odd look came over his face. “That used to be m– Mary Winchester’s study.”

Fascinated, you stared at him. “Really?”

“Yep. Or that’s what I’ve been told.”

“You know? I never knew my mother. She ditched my dad not two weeks after I was born, and I really don’t care enough about her to go look, and yeah dad died in combat, but at least I wasn’t there to see it. I didn't have to see him like that… but those boys. The older one especially. He had to see both his parents dead. Must've been awful." You hadn't given much thought to Dean except that he probably wasn't dead, but you did feel for the man. He had lost both his parents and his girlfriend to horrifying deaths. And then he'd lost his brother to something else. Wherever he was, he must be bitter and angry, at least. Anyone would be. Then it occurred to you. "Did you know them? John and Mary Winchester?"

"I knew them," said Han. "The only thing I can tell you is that neither of them deserved to die like that. And their kids? They didn't deserve to live like that— at the mercy of a trust, forced to fight back to back against a world that knew nothing but to be cruel to little children."

The tone of his words held a certain finality and you decided not to pursue that topic further. But the tone also reminded you of someone else and you sighed wistfully.

Han raised an eyebrow.

"You remind me of my best friend, Carmen. She, too, is very ‘no bullshit.’”

His eyes turned speculative. “Best friend? From college?”

You nodded. “Very protective. I think about her all the time, and how she must have reacted to my absence… disappearance. I'm certain she would have tried to find out.”

“What really happened to you?”

Giving him a wry smile, you said, “You can’t really expect me to tell you that, can you?”

“I wish you would. Have you ever told anyone at all?”

No. The answer was a clear, straight-up no.

“You’ve got to open up to someone, some time.” You didn’t need to see his face to know what it must look like because compassion rang true in each syllable. “You can’t live like this.”

“I am.”

His hands balled into fists over the denim of his jeans.

“Let me ask you this,” you said. “Have you ever loved someone so much that you would do anything to protect them? Anything… even if it meant destroying your life with your own two hands?”

His eyes flashed.

“Then you know why I can’t tell you.”

Han, very slowly, offered his hand palm up and like reaching out to a raft in a deluge you gripped it tight.

“They told me I get to pick what’s cooked in the house from now on,” you whispered. “Anything I say goes. How do I tell them that a month ago I barely had food to eat? I can’t name half the vegetables in the pantry, I don’t know the kind of money that goes into stalking a pantry. I’ve been scared enough times in my life, but when Martha looks at me with those expecting eyes, that scares me, too. No one’s hurting me now. So why is THIS scaring me?”

He only tightened his grip on your hand, fingers weaving through yours. The silence stretched on, not pregnant, but in perfect understanding, until he said, “What did you decide about the food?”

You almost laughed. “I turned it around on them. I told Martha to make a list of what everyone likes and cook it in rotation. After all, everyone deserves a feast.”

He chuckled. “Very smart” The weight of his hand just felt the right amount of comfortable. “What did you put on the list? What do you like?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “Store-bought Ramen maybe. Everything Martha makes is delicious… but I don’t know what I would pick for myself.”

“One day you’ll know,” said Han. “And when you do, you can invite me into your husband’s fancy dining room that you restored and serve it to me. High tea?”

Snickering, you let go of his hand, only to shove his shoulder with it. “Oh, shut up! I can’t imagine you and the concept of high tea in the same room.” With his leather jacket, worn-out jeans, and that devil-may-care smile, Han would seem more at home on the open road than in a constricted dining room.

“Hey,” he rocked back in mock offence. “You think I can’t do table manners?”

“I think you wouldn’t willingly want to.”

He shrugged, allowing it and you were tempted to thank him again, but held your tongue.

“Hey, Han?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you really come up to the house if I invited you?”

His apple-green eyes went opaque just for a second before they cleared up. “Hell, yeah. I will come when you need me.”

After dinner, you rolled over on the silk sheets of the bed, unable to fall asleep. A vicious part of your brain informed you that maybe the sheets were too soft, or maybe you weren’t “worn out” enough. The clanging of metals against the grills, an alarm of its own to mark the number of hours you could sleep, was missing here. The markers of your allowance to rest.

But a deeper part knew the reason you couldn’t sleep. It was the absence of those small noises that emanated from the other side of the room– the softened thuds of footsteps against the carpeted floor, the grunts when you assumed he was exerting himself, the swears when he banged his toe against something and the rarest chuckles when he found something amusing in a book. Most of all you missed his good night taps. You smiled to yourself recalling the first time he had wished you so. Sam had responded to the ‘princess.’

Sighing, you sat up in your bed, peering at the dark room. If everything in the room had been picked by Sam, it must reflect his taste. After all, he hadn’t known anything about your taste to use that. The sick voice interrupted again. He had decorated this room for ‘a’ girl. Not you. It could very well have been the girl in the next cell. You just happened to be a fluke.

Shutting the voice down more viciously this time, you searched for anything that would distract you from the rising uneasiness. The laptop bag by the nightstand caught your attention. Stretching your hand, you caught hold of the handle and pulled it to you.

If you couldn’t sleep, it would be best to dust off the old cobwebs and get to work on the software. Recreating the house plans would be a task and Sam had said you could enlist the help of his employees.

You removed the laptop and then put your hand inside the bag reaching for the charger when your fingers touched something small and smooth. Clutching it in your palm, you brought it out, only to find a small burner phone. The kind that is hard to trace.

Surprised, you flipped it open, not having touched a phone in so long. The phone meant freedom. You could literally dial any number now. Call the police and tell them everything. Sam knew that very well. It could be accomplished with any phone of course, but a burner would let you do it without a trace.

With trepidation, you swiped up to reveal the menu. The phone was obviously brand new with a single contact saved in it under… ‘princess.’

A slow warmth spread through your body, like the best kind of whiskey taking an effect, making you melt right where you sat. His smile, his eyes, the small touches of his fingers, each sent out sparks up your spine. But this feeling was real, lasting, and so much more altering. When it subsided, it still left an after-effect, an afterglow. Later still, an ounce of that warmth refused to go away, simmering just under the surface of your skin. With a longing more than just missing, you wished for Sam to be sleeping on the other side of the wall. Just imagining him there, in his sweats was a happy sensation, and you didn’t feel alone anymore.

******

The cluttered desk reminded Sam of the oak table in the library, back in the big house. That’s what he had always called it- ‘the big house.’ People called it his home, but it hadn’t ever felt like one. Just a huge house, where he could still get lost; not in the walls but in the borrowed memories. Sam’s home was a small, three-bedroom house by the brook, where the gurgling of water was an omnipresent sound, steadying his breath at night, lulling him to sleep. He remembered sleeping in the bed of his room in the big house for the first time and the absolute quiet had disturbed him. Sam had wanted to run to his home and hide in the bed of his real room. But he wasn’t eight anymore, and his home lay dark and empty. So he had turned on the lamp, and read himself to what little sleep he could manage.

The big house is starting to feel like a home now.

Sam didn’t try to extinguish the voice in his head. He chased it, tried to unspool that string of thought, but deep down, he already knew the answer. The absolute quiet of his room had ceased to be. Now there were small noises in the night- rustles and sneezes and the very rare snores. Then there were the taps and pats. At first, Sam couldn’t believe his ears. It couldn’t be possible, right? But after a minute, there was no mistaking the rhythm of the taps. They were words… words strung together to hold meaning.

And the second Sam deciphered the true meaning… Well, he hadn’t hated himself more in this life.

The taps were precise: I-T-S G-O-I-N-G T-O B-E O-K-A-Y. Y-O-U-L-L B-E F-I-N-E

Sam understood very well that those words weren’t a message for him, or for anyone. They were words of reassurance, a mantra repeating over and over and over. And yet before that realisation set in, for a split second, Sam had felt reassured. He’d been torn that day, and the words had brought in relief before they brought in the loathing. He was the reason she had been reassuring herself on the other side of the words.

Over and over in the nights that followed, Sam was doomed to listen to her taps, reliving the guilt, knowing he was the reason. Every night her reassurances ended with ‘good night, Princess’ and he couldn’t help but wonder who said them to her. Not that he’d had a prayer in the world of ever knowing. Sam had believed himself to be too hated to attempt to talk to her.

And yet, here he was looking at the cluttered table before him, and remembering how she left the library table littered with all her drawings, and remembering the look she had given him when he’d handed her the portfolio.

She talked to him now, smiled at his jokes and glanced at him like she didn’t hate him. That was more than Sam had ever expected or hoped.

“It’s late. You should sleep.”

Sam turned around to see Cas standing in the doorway.

Groaning to himself, Sam closed his eyes and tried to harden his voice. “Could say the same about you.”

Cas regarded him evenly and Sam had that weird feeling of being looked right through. This was exactly why he didn’t want to travel with Cas. It was nearly impossible to put on a face for him. Cas knew where Y/N came from and had most certainly guessed why. Sam had already been sick and tired of it all before Y/N came into his life. Now, after letting his guard down around her, it was damn near impossible to put it back up with his people.

With deliberate steps, Cas shortened the distance between them. Once face to face, Cas sighed. “For the millionth time, Sam, why are you doing this?”

“You know why.” Sam’s very soul felt weary.

Cas huffed out an exasperated breath, frustration evident in the gesture. “Everyone’s asking questions, and one day you’ll have to answer them all. Why’re you doing this and where did that girl come from.”

“Her name’s Y/N,” Sam corrected automatically. She liked being addressed by her name, and though Cas’ ‘the girl’ had been anything but unkind, Sam corrected him anyway.

“Y/N,” said Cas, balancing the name on his tongue. “No one believes your story.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You know what frustrates me?” Thundered Cas, abruptly. “It’s that you don’t trust me anymore. You can fool the whole damn world with your tough act, but you can’t fool me. I’ve been around for too long to fall for your farce. And Dean–”

“Don’t say his name,” Sam cut in sharply. “You know I don’t–”

“Like talking about him?” Cas barked. “Well, too bad, because you’re losing your edge now. Not long before your whole show falls apart. And bringing the girl into this? Dragging her into this godforsaken mess?”

“She’s better off here than where she was before.”

Cas narrowed his blue eyes. “So now you have a saviour complex?”

“No!” God no. If anything, Sam felt the exact opposite of that. “Look, I don’t need to explain myself. But, if you want to… you can help me with something. ”

“What?”

“Look into her past. Find out whatever you can about her.”

Cas frowned. “Sam, but the first condition of–”

“I know what the conditions of the deal were. I can’t look into it. But you can.”

Pacing across the room, Cas muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed. He finally stopped before Sam. “Fine.”

Sam almost smiled.

Cas scowled. “Just because you like her, doesn’t mean you need to put your ass in line…”

The rest of Cas’s words were drowned in the rush of blood in Sam’s ears. Was it so obvious?

Cas might have said something more; he gave another disappointed sigh and stalked off. The newly hired security had been astounded by Cas’s informality towards Sam, but he’d been like family for too long, Dean’s best friend. And despite what had happened, he refused to believe Sam’s parroted version of the past, refused to abandon the post. For the most part, Sam was too grateful to complain about the occasional outbursts Cas bestowed upon him… much like tonight.

Reeling from what might have just been Cas’s off-hand comment, Sam packed up his briefcase and headed to the hotel room. It wasn’t until after he’d settled in bed, that he finally felt the emptiness sink in.

Reaching out to the wall behind, knowing that no one would answer, he tapped out:

G-O-O-D N-I-G-H-T Y-N

He had only just closed his eyes when his phone pinged. And Sam’s entire body felt like it was melting within itself when he read the text: “Goodnight, princess.”

*****************************

A/N 2: So, we’re finally into Sam’s head, huh? Would you like to hang out there more often? And what did you think of the chapter? ;)

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

If you want to be tagged, you can send me an ask or you can add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

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#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester #sam love club #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x you #sam x you #sam x y/n #sam winchester x y/n #reader x sam winchester #Ana writes Sam #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes tnmw #tnmw8 #q

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duckprintspress · 4 months

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Meet Aether Beyond the Binary Contributor Zel Howland

We’re solidly through the first week of the crowdfunding campaign for our next anthology, Aether Beyond the Binary. We’re 55% funded (yay!) and inching toward our goal slowly but surely (I post daily funding goals and progress toward them on our Bluesky account, if you’re curious). The campaign ends on January 25th, 2024; between then and now, we need to raise $6,038 more to fund the publishing of this awesome collection of modern aetherpunk stories staring characters outside the gender binary!

Today, we introduce the fifth of our 17 authors: Zel Howland!

About Zel Howland: Zel (they/she) is a writer and artist currently living in Los Angeles with their partner. When not writing, they spend their time painting, embroidering, analyzing literature and tv shows, and playing Dungeons & Dragons. They are the author of many a fanfiction, as well as the novel The Shadow of Ophelia Walker.

Links: Archive of Our Own | Tumblr

This is Zel’s third publication with Duck Prints Press. Her short story Chrysopoeia (dark fantasy, f/f) is available at duckprintspress.com and her story The Lightkeeper and the Sea (dark modern fantasy, f/nb) is a Patreon exclusive. Both stories are in the Contributor Short Story Bundle campaign add-on! Learn more about Zel’s publishing career.

An Interview with Zel Howland

When and why did you begin creating?

I was always a voracious reader as a kid, and that sort of naturally lead to me trying to write my own stories. When I was about ten or eleven, I came up with a story that borrowed heavily from the Chronicles of Narnia, and I even managed to eke out 75 pages of bad, bad writing before getting discouraged. I still came back to writing though, and the intervening years of practice and failure taught me a lot about my craft and myself.

Are you a pantser, a planner, or a planster? What’s your process look like?

Planner, definitely! I spend as much time worldbuilding and outlining as I do actually writing. I usually have 3-4 outlines for each story (sometimes more for novels!), starting with a brainstorm outline, then getting gradually more detailed until the final outline functions almost as a first draft. They said make your first drafts shitty, and I really took that advice and ran with it.

What’s your favorite part of the creation process?

For writing, I love the first draft–or for me, also known as my final outline. I really love putting the story down on the page in all its messy glory, without the pressure of having to come up with the perfect turn of phrase or spending hours buried in a thesaurus. For art, rendering light and shadows will always be my favorite part. I love taking something flat and turning it into a three-dimensional object with just a little bit of time and care.

What are your favorite tropes?

I really love stories about the Other, whether they’re full horror or exploring other aspects of it. In school I took a class on Gothic Literature that stuck with me so much that I look for character mirroring and fear of the Other in everything I read or watch–there’s more than you might think, even in the most tame narratives! As far as fic goes, mutual pining is what I live and breathe–the kind where both characters are convinced the other doesn’t even like them. I love pretty much every trope that follows from that, from fake relationships to two person love triangles.

What are your favorite character archetypes?

I’ve always loved the manipulative types, especially hyper-competent ones. Characters that aren’t necessarily physically skilled or popular, but who have managed by way of a powerful intellect to pull all the strings so that everyone else is dancing to their tune. I especially love it when these characters aren’t unrepentantly evil, or even villains (although a good villain in this vein is pretty damn fun).

What are your favorite resources and tools for your craft?

I will always, always tout Scrivener as the best writing software available, period. It has so many different functionalities that I couldn’t possibly list them all, and probably don’t even know them all! My favorite functions are the corkboard for brainstorming, the split screen and reference pop-out for easy access to previous drafts or outlines, and the folders where I can organize my many, many outlines and resources without worrying about finding them again. For digital art, I’ve recently begun playing around with Rebelle, and I really love it. I’ve always been more comfortable with physical mediums, and Rebelle replicates both the feel and the look of mediums like oil or watercolor while maintaining the functionality of digital art (undo button and layers, my beloved). I’m still learning, but so far it’s been perfect for me.

What’s your favorite medium to work in? Why?

I love oil painting! It’s a very forgiving medium to work with–plus it has such a good texture, and there’s so much about mixing paint and doing glazes that are meditative and peaceful.

Which of your own creations is your favorite? Why?

I really love the story I produced for Aether Beyond the Binary. I came into writing it after three years of chronic illness that kept me from writing at all, and I think the silver lining was that I was able to come at the concept and the story from a different direction than I normally would have. Plus, it was my first time writing from the perspective of a character with the same gender identity as me, which felt like a boulder being lifted from my shoulders!

If you could give one piece of advice to a new creator who came to you for help, what would that advice be?

Learn the rules, and then break them! Understanding why certain conventions are popular and always recommended will ultimately help you figure out the best way to ignore the recommendations altogether, and find your own way of doing things.

Zel’s Contribution to Aether Beyond The Binary

Title: Flower and Rot

Art – Zel did art to accompany this story (will not be included in the published anthology, but still, look at it, it’s so cool and shiny!!!).

Tags: bipoc, body horror (graphic descriptions), break-up (past), california, character injury (serious), death of a parent (past), found family, jewish, los angeles, magic use, modern with magic, mystery, natural disaster, non-binary, past tense, pov first person, private investigator, second chances, self-esteem issues, suicide (mentions of), systemic inequality, telepathic bond, trans man, undeath, united states of america

Excerpt:

Four dozen minds linked by Aether watched me through thousands of leaves and roots and flowers as I hurried away. Their attention bored into my back right up to the moment I switched off the Aethercoil and the flow of Aether abruptly stopped. The grove became just an unusually lush garden. I was alone once more.

The thing growing inside my eye stopped too, but I couldn’t afford to hope that it had shriveled away without Aether to feed it. My vision was still cloudy in that eye, and the whole area was delicate and tender.

Spitting rain formed halos around the streetlights as I reached the drugstore parking lot. I clumsily fished for my keys with my left hand, keeping the right firmly covering my eye. My shitty sedan was the only car in the lot, but I checked every line of sight around me before stepping into the driver’s seat. I was pretty sure I was alone.

I couldn’t take the chance that I was wrong.

I already knew what I would see, but I had to know how fucked I was. I pulled down the visor and flipped open the mirror.

Rot.

Intrigued? You’ll have to buy the anthology to read more! Come check out our Kickstarter campaign!!

#duck prints press #aether beyond the binary #jewish characters #nonbinary #nonbinary character #queer anthology

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digitaldiscipline · 1 year

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Putting the SUBTLE into SUBCONSCIOUS. Sometimes.

So, having had my weekly therping, and talking about trying to be more in the moment (which is a challenge for me), I've begun rooting around to try and find the reasons-behind-the-reasons for some shit.

Dreamshit brain decided to take that baton and leave a billowing trail of dust in its wake last night.

Item the first:

Oh, we're trying to find a usable bathroom. I know this one, but, having performed some plumbing research this week (and paying a professional $800 to fix something that was way beyond my power, and I was fortunate that it broke in a manner that didn't cause thousands of dollars in water damage yesterday)... maybe it isn't just a powerlessness/wake-up-and-pee thing, maybe there's something unseen that needs to be unclogged.

Me: Cool, what is it?

My subconscious: [ostentatious shrug emoji]

Well, fuck you, too.

Also, fuck you for having people constantly interrupt me with things they needed me to do. I AM TRYING TO POOP. PLEASE GET OUT OF THIS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING MEN'S ROOM, MA'AM, AND TAKE YOUR COTERIE OF FLUNKIES WITH YOU. I will help you grade these essays when I am done.

Or when I remember to, because I got waylaid by a buddy with whom I needed to speak about a mutual friend Who Is Going Through Some Shit (oh, we're doing the opposite of obtuse, because this is both very clear and something I'd like to do).

[pee break! what do you mean it isn't even midnight yet, I usually get this quality programming at 3am]

Item the second:

So, we have exactly $24 in Costco credit to buy some meat for dinner, my bros, what shall we get? There's some chicken breasts, some disappointingly small steaks, and... holy shit, is that a three-pound package of salmon fillets? FUCK YEAH. (I checked this morning, and the real world price for that is $36, so my brain has decided it's got the inside line on some killer deals.)

... why are you letting my father drive your very nice car, and why are we and several of my dead relatives packed into what should be a very spacious large sedan like clowns?

Also, when did they turn the entire Scajaquada Expressway into a four-lanes-each-way tunnel? It's cool and all, but this is really stressful, especially seeing all the cops setting up speed traps.

.... annnnd we're being pulled over for doing *checks speedometer* 25 in a 15 after pulling through a roll-up garage door after nobody gave two shits about everyone doing 90 and weaving across all four lanes nonstop. No ticket? Because my dad's open-carrying? #ACAB.

Ah, finally back at my childhood home to pick up some veggie trays to take to some get-together. While the fam gets that all repacked, I'm going to toss a neverending supply of huge branches (like, 30 feet long and 6 inches thick) into a pile on the driveway.

No, dad, you do NOT need to slap a piece of teflon tape on this work laptop to write down the device name. One, it's already recorded in the software, and, two, you're not allowed to deface government property like that. No, seriously. Yes, I mean it. No, fuck you. Seriously. Do you want me to dump this cottage cheese on your head about it, because I fucking will.

Sorry it took so long to replace these twenty laptops, coworkers I've never seen in person but who are all milling around in agitation in my dining room; there was a delay because a now-ex-employee decided to rob a bank while carrying his around (yes, we know it was him because, one, he didn't wear a mask, and, two, he has forty-nine very distinctive tattoos - the security footage is pretty unambiguous on this one), so they all had to be completely wiped and redone, which took *checks calendar* five and a half months, because the people who do it are bad at their job in addition to being overworked and short staffed.

.... okay, this is going to take some time to mull over beyond, "Damn, I spend a lot of time annoyed and wanting to do yard work."

#dreamshit

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tigerkirby215 · 2 years

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5e Kaden, the Dragon Slayer build (DOTA: Dragon’s Blood)

(DOTA: Dragon’s Blood produced by Studio Mir and distributed by Netflix. Based on the game DOTA 2 by Valve Software.)

League players wondering why I’m making builds based on the DOTA 2 anime like...

youtube

I mean, Arcane is right there!

Jokes aside I actually got into MOBAs playing... Awesomenauts. Yeah if the handful of builds for Awesomenauts on this account doesn’t make that obvious it was my first experience, and I still genuinely recommend it for someone trying to get into MOBAs as its easily approachable and not as hard to understand as something like League.

That being said DOTA was my second major MOBA which I mostly played because it was on Steam along with Awesomenauts. I don’t play it anymore because the toxic community drove me away but DOTA still holds a place in my heart all these years later.

Anyways Dragon’s Blood is pretty freaking cool. It’s a bit of a slow burn anime but it really picks up later on. It has some of the problems I was scared Arcane would have (it uses its Mature rating as an excuse to say “fuck” a lot and often it feels like DOTA heroes show up for people to point at the screen and go “hey look it’s [character] from the hit Valve Software game DOTA 2!”) but it manages to tell a good story and bring some much needed lore to the DOTA universe and personality to some of the game’s more boring characters.

But why are the non-heroes just... cooler? Fymryn is a great character with cool powers (I was like 80% sure she’d turn out to be Phantom Assassin or something), Bram is the best damn squire in Dragonhold, people loved Marci so much they made her a hero in-game... And then of course there’s Kaden. Holy shit Kaden’s badass. I’m not going to spoil the show but seriously watch it because the fights are surprisingly intense and Kaden is super cool.

Please for the love of god give us Kaden as a hero in DOTA, Valve. Like I’ll come back for Kaden. His sword’s already in DOTA Underlords (apparently) so it can’t be that hard, right?

GOALS

I don’t exactly have a list of quotes for Kaden so I get to invoke my inspiration from Tulok and make bad puns instead.

Damage Voided - Void dragons are a thing (don’t tell Kai’sa) and Kaden can use his sword to both strike harder and create forcefields to protect himself and his allies.

Air Jordans - Making boots from air dragon scales makes you lighter than air, which translates into a lot of super jumps.

Now you see me - Kaden's armor is crafted from a chaos dragon, which can teleport I guess.

RACE

Kaden is a human, no matter how much he steals from dragons. A very particular point of the Dragon Knight order is that they’re all humans fighting on behalf of humanity... Doesn’t mean we can’t have some variance though.

Take Variant Human with +1 to Strength and Constitution. Grab the History skill to know about dragons, and the Draconic language because I mean... it’s funny? As for your feat at level 1 you will mostly be using a greatsword so grab good ol’ Great Weapon Master to put some heft in your swings.

ABILITY SCORES

15; STRENGTH - Kaden swing a greatsword and wears heavy armor; a knight by every sense of the word.

14; INTELLIGENCE - To fight dyne enemy you must know dyne enemy.

13; CONSTITUTION - Fighting dragons is risky buisness. You need to be able to shrug off a blow.

12; DEXTERITY - Kaden can fight even without armor on, and dodging breath weapons is very helpful.

10; WISDOM - Kaden is a very good tracker but we simply needed everything else more. He’d probably lose to Mirana in a hunt anyways.

8; CHARISMA - Kaden is... gruff, to say the least He’s a man of few words and a lot of action.

BACKGROUND

There’s many backgrounds that fit Kaden: Knight (obviously, and you get a squire!), Faction Agent (if you want to flavor the Dragon Knights as being a secret order), or just good old-fashioned Soldier. But we’ll be going for Haunted One because you don’t go on a hate-fueled vengeance quest against all dragons just because one cut you off in traffic. Grab proficiency with Arcana and Investigation as well as two languages (one regular one exotic) that will be used less for chatting and more for gathering information.

Your background feature Heart of Darkness will let people know why you fight. Seeing all your friends die to a dragon changes a man, and you need only look in their eyes to see that they’re doing more than just protecting innocent people... thankfully those innocent people will try to help you if they can.

(Concept art for DOTA: Dragon’s Blood made by Studio Mir.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - FIGHTER 1

I mean what were you expecting? A wizard? Regardless starting off as a Fighter for proficiency in Athletics and Survival as well as any weapon and armor proficiencies you might want. You also get a Fighting Style at level 1 and Defense is kinda just universally good for more AC.

Additionally you get Second Wind to heal for a d10 plus your Fighter level as a Bonus Action, just to make sure that you can go for a few rounds against a dragon.

LEVEL 2 - FIGHTER 2

Second level Fighters get Action Surge, allowing them to take an additional action once per Short Rest. For now that just means more attacks, but it will be more valuable later.

LEVEL 3 - FIGHTER 3

Third level Fighters get to choose their Martial Archetype, and man: if only there was a Fighter subclass that let you increase the damage of your blows, defend your allies, push people around, and jump super high. Anyways we’ll be going for Psi Warrior for Psionic Power, or I suppose it would be Draconic Power?

You get a number of Psionic Energy dice equal to twice your proficiency bonus. They are currently only a d6, but they’ll increase as you level up. You can use your Psionic Energy die in a variety of ways:

When you or another creature you can see within 30 feet of you takes damage, you can use your reaction to expend one Psionic Energy die to create a Protective Field to reduce the damage taken by the number rolled plus your Intelligence modifier.

Alternatively you can perform a Psionic Strike when you hit a foe, dealing extra force damage equal to the number rolled plus your Intelligence modifier.

Finally as an action you can move an object or creature with Telekinetic Movement. You target one loose object that is Large or smaller or one willing creature other than yourself: if you can see the target and it is within 30 feet of you, you can move it up to 30 feet to an unoccupied space you can see. Alternatively, if it is a Tiny object, you can move it to or from your hand. You can do so once for free per Short or Long Rest, and can do so again by using one of your Psionic Energy die.

LEVEL 4 - FIGHTER 4

4th level Fighters get the first of many Ability Score Improvements, and you’re still a Dragon Knight. More Strength to swing your sword would be good.

LEVEL 5 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters get an Extra Attack, allowing them to attack twice instead of once with their action. That does basically double your potential damage output!

And additionally your Psionic Energy dice are now a d8, meaning more potential damage dealt or blocked!

(DOTA: Dragon’s Blood produced by Studio Mir and distributed by Netflix. Based on the game DOTA 2 by Valve Software.)

LEVEL 6 - WIZARD 1

The Dragon Knights borrow their power from the dragons they slay, and while that would arguably make him a Warlock (or maybe a Cleric idk) but Wizards effectively borrow their powers from the weave, don’t they? Anyways Wizards obviously get Spellcasting: you learn 3 cantrips and 6 spells at level 1.

CANTRIPS

Kaden doesn’t have a ranged attack but it’s still good to have; take Fire Bolt to shoot some dragon fire at dragons other than Slyrak.

Prestidigitation will let you do all sorts of generic borrowed draconic abilities.

And Light will let you see with your dumb human eyes. Davion has a glowing knife; there’s no reason you can’t have one either.

SPELLS

Detect Magic will help you sense any dragons or draconic artifacts that may pose a threat to you.

Before we get ways to properly fly Jump is good for some low-tier air dragon-enhanced jumps.

Likewise Feather Fall is good to make sure you don’t break your legs from those jumps.

Tenser’s Floating Disk is good for hauling dead dragons back to Dragonhold.

False Life will give you the power from... some... dragon. Well it will give you more strength to fight.

And Shield is just generally a good defensive spell; use it against smaller attacks that you can completely block instead of negating damage with your Protective Field.

You also get Arcane Recovery, letting you recover expended spell slots equal to half your level on a Short Rest. There’s more to it than that (higher level slots are worth more) but I’d recommend reading the ability yourself for a better understanding of how it works.

LEVEL 7 - WIZARD 2

Second level Wizards get to choose their Arcane Tradition and honestly there isn’t much that I want? This is one of many times that subclass doesn’t really matter, and I could honestly perhaps suggest using homebrew or maybe even UA. But I opted for the Transmutation school. Right now all that gives you is Minor Alchemy to transform the physical properties of various objects in small, fun, “parlor trick” sort of ways. Oh and Transmutation Savant, which lets you learn Transmutation spells easier, I guess.

Additionally you can learn two more spells: Identify is good to help you know what’s affecting your fellow dragon knights (perhaps a case of Draconic Infestation?), and Protection from Evil and Good will help you defend them from non-draconic threats. (Trust me: they’ll need it.)

LEVEL 8 - WIZARD 3

3rd level Wizards can learn 2nd level spells; confusing I know. But what matters is that we can now begin phasing when necessary with the spell Misty Step. It’s simple: bonus action to teleport 30 feet when in danger, but it’s obviously limited by your spell slots.

I’m going to be honest there isn’t much else I want from 2nd level, so grab Vortex Warp to phase your allies out of danger too if needed.

LEVEL 9 - WIZARD 4

4th level Wizards get another Ability Score Improvement and despite everything you’re still primarily a Fighter, so max out your Strength to ensure that even if your borrowed power is lacking you can still swing a sword.

You can also try for Ray of Enfeeblement to lower the damage of a dragon if you manage to catch them with it. Alternatively Warding Wind is a weird spell, but it will let you use some air dragon power to defend yourself from ranged attacks. Additionally you can learn a new cantrip like Message in case you need to communicate (relatively) silently when closing in for the kill on a sleeping Eldwyrm.

Now is a good time to mention that because you’re a prepared caster you probably can’t have all the spells you know ready at all times, so it’s perfectly acceptable to skip some of them, especially if they force the enemy to save against your rather low saving throw. All you really need is Misty Step, and I’m currently taking spells that are more in-flavor than strong.

(DOTA: Dragon’s Blood produced by Studio Mir and distributed by Netflix. Based on the game DOTA 2 by Valve Software.)

LEVEL 10 - FIGHTER 6

6th level Fighters get another Ability Score Improvement instead of a class feature because Fighters are cool like that. Now that your Strength is maxed you can actually invest in Intelligence for more spells, better saving throws, and more damage with your Psi Warrior abilities.

LEVEL 11 - FIGHTER 7

7th level Fighters can borrow some more abilities from air dragons with Telekinetic Adept.

As a bonus action, you can gain a flying speed equal to twice your walking speed until the end of the current turn by making a Psi-Powered Leap. You can do this once for free per Short or Long Rest, but additional air dragon jumps will require Psionic Energy die.

Additionally your Psionic Strike (that’s the damage option from your level 3 ability) now comes with additional Telekinetic Thrust. When you deal damage to a target with your Psionic Strike, you can force the target to make a Strength save against your Intelligence modifier. (It’s basically your spell DC.) If the save fails, you can knock the target prone or move it up to 10 feet in any direction horizontally.

There we go: air jumps and forceful blows with your special sword! Simple.

LEVEL 12 - FIGHTER 8

Hey look at that more Ability Score Improvements. Now that we have better uses for our Intelligence getting more of it would serve you well.

(DOTA: Dragon’s Blood produced by Studio Mir and distributed by Netflix. Based on the game DOTA 2 by Valve Software.)

LEVEL 13 - WIZARD 5

More Intelligence is also useful because we’re going back to Wizard levels. 5th level Wizards can learn 3rd level spells like Blink to phase in-and-out of existence, making you harder to hit.

A spell that’s really good to combo with Blink is Haste, since you can use the added defense to make sure you concentrate on dishing out more damage while also having more speed and defense. You obviously need to be wary however because if you get knocked out of concentration while using Haste you’ll be unable to move for a turn.

LEVEL 14 - WIZARD 6

6th level Transmutation Wizards have a flexible set of powers borrowed from dragons. Well, technically it’s from a Transmuter’s Stone but flavor is free, innit? Regardless you can choose between either Darkvision to see with your dumb human eyes, 10 extra feet of movement speed, proficiency in Constitution saving throws (which you already have), and resistance to either acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder damage. Obviously the last one is the most in-character for a dragon slayer but you can choose a new effect at the end of every Long Rest, or when you cast a Transmutation spell of 1st level or higher.

Speaking of spells you can prepare two more of them: every good Dragon Knight has Counterspell ready, because while dragons might not be spellcasters you’ll no doubt fight many spellcasters during your travels. Alternatively Kaden doesn’t use an ability like Ashardalon’s Stride, but it felt very in-character to borrow draconic power for more speed and the ability to avoid opportunity attacks while also dealing fire drake damage to foes you pass. And it’s a Transmutation spell too!

LEVEL 15 - WIZARD 7

Divide 7 by 2 you get... 3.5, but that rounds up to 4 so it’s time for 4th level spells! If you want a very long-ranged phase then Dimension Door will let you move across hundreds of feet in the blink of an eye! Alternatively if you just want to remain phased forever (and have permanent advantage assuming the dragon you’re fighting doesn’t have Blindsight, which they will) then Greater Invisibility will let you keep invisible while swinging your sword, putting it above regular invisibility!

LEVEL 16 - WIZARD 8

Aren’t Ability Score Improvements the best? You can get more Intelligence with them! Max spells prepared and the toughest saves woo!

And you can grab two more spells so how about we borrow more draconic power? Storm Sphere will let you channel the strength of a storm dragon to make it harder and deadlier for enemies to approach, and Raulothim's Psychic Lance is good to sunder a single foe.

LEVEL 17 - WIZARD 9

9th level Wizards can learn 5th level spells and honestly? I just went into Wizard for Far Step. You can now consistently phase around the map to evade enemies and strike foes from unexpected angles.

Other than that? I dunno. Stabbing a foe with an Ionic Dragon dagger to Hold Monster in place is nice. Steel Wind Strike is always nice. Teleportation Circle is good to get back to Dragonhold. Truthfully the only reason I went this far into Wizard was for Far Step, and chances are most of your dragon knight bounties will go into learning new spells.

(Fuck it’s hard to find screenshots that doesn’t spoil this anime, and no one draws fan art of Kaden smh. DOTA: Dragon’s Blood produced by Studio Mir and distributed by Netflix. Based on the game DOTA 2 by Valve Software.)

LEVEL 18 - FIGHTER 9

Finishing off the build with a few Fighter levels: 9th level Fighters get Indomitable, allowing them to reroll a failed saving throw once per Long Rest. You’re not going to be succeeding any Wisdom or Charisma saves, but your Strength, Constitution, and Intelligence are more than strong enough to succeed with some added insurance.

LEVEL 19 - FIGHTER 10

10th level Psi Warriors have a Guarded Mind, giving them resistance to Psychic Damage. Additionally you can use a Psionic Energy die (of which you likely have plenty) to instantly end any and all effects that may be Charming or Fearing you at the start of your turn. A dragon knight isn’t afraid of any dragon! Not even Slyrak!

LEVEL 20 - FIGHTER 11

The final level is the 11th level of Fighter for another Extra Attack. That’s right you can now attack 3 times in a turn or 6 times with an Action Surge! And as an added bonus your Psionic Energy die finally increase to a d10 for just a little bit more damage dealt and damage negated if you choose to do so.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Jack of all Dragons - You have great versatility between offense, defense, mobility, and utility. Adapting to your enemy is key to survival as a dragon knight!

Blink and You’ll Miss It - Your extremely heightened mobility ensures that you can always get into range, something that melee characters often struggle with. Always being able to strike means you can always deal good damage, especially with Great Weapon Master.

Father of Lore - It always helps to have a Brainiac in the party. The Intelligence character is a role that isn’t often filled, and being able to provide some skill check utility as the (mostly) Fighter is a great way to show that you’re not just a tough guy with a big sword.

CONS

Exhausting Work - The strength of Fighters is their ability to thrive on just Short Rests, an ability which you somewhat lack. Your spell slots and Psionic Energy die are tied to Long Rests and while you can recover some of them on a Short Rest you’re still going to be beat by a Battle Master for versatility throughout the day.

Too many Dashes - The benefit of Psi Warrior’s jumps is that you have a flight ability which doesn’t take your Concentration, allowing you to Concentrate on other stronger spells... Far Step, while thematic, isn’t all that useful for you. You’d get far more mileage out of something like Spirit Shroud, which we didn’t take.

Terror of the Blade - Low Charisma is honestly fine, but having low Dexterity and low Wisdom will cause you a lot of trouble. Sure you can deal with Charms and Fears but there are plenty of other devastating spells that you will struggle against.

But while a slayer may hunt alone the Dragon Knights are an order for a reason. 30 men may have died that day but there’s always more men (and women!) to aid you! Strike your foes down and be there to mentor any new squires and their newfound friends. You may know one of them better than you think, and maybe an old enemy can become a new friend against a common foe.

(I ran out of pictures of Kaden so here’s a poster for DOTA Dragon’s Blood.)

#dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #DOTA #DOTA 2 #DOTA Dragon's Blood #Dragon's Blood #anime #Netflix #DOTA Dragon's Blood Kaden #Dragon's Blood Kaden #dragon knight #dragon slayer #dnd fighter #dnd wizard

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brazenautomaton · 2 years

Note

"the idea that an AI will be able to be so smart it can make itself smarter just but thinking about it" is obviously true. AI is a result of machine learning, and after a certain point, you can teach an AI machine learning. As for "infinitely" agentic, no, all you need is pretty damn powerful. Remember that the internet is up for grabs by the first truly intelligent virus, exaflops of computation - all of our software is shitty and full of undiscovered (but easily discoverable) 0day holes.

machine learning is about your training data set and has nothing to do with general intelligence

an AI cannot make itself better at machine learning because it has no internal way of gauging how accurate its observations are. if an AI identifies the presence of sheep by looking to see if it's in a field, it can't reason its way into knowing that's wrong.

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bruinhilda · 1 year

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So apparently all that rain shorted something out in my desktop. When I first turned it on, it rebooted, got all the way through the login...and then when my desktop loaded, the processor just shut off.

Rummaging around and drying off the insides (hair dryer on low) resulted in...pretty much the same problem. There is power going to the motherboard, various lights in there are on. But the processor will only come on for 1-3 seconds, then the power to it cuts out and the lights and cooler fan stop.

The next step will require me to excavate my repair bag from the Sorting Junkpile of Doom and test things like the power supply. If I’m really lucky, it’ll be something simple I can replace and resurrect the thing.

If I’m unlucky...this is probably a really bad time to be building a new system. Component prices are ridiculously high.

To say nothing of the fact that the tech jinx is now in full swing. Yesterday I did laundry. I tossed the wet clothes into the dryer, turned the knob to set it...and the damn thing snapped right off in my hand.

The guy who fixes things around here is looking into a replacement part. Meanwhile, he’s jury-rigged it with a screw, clamping pliers, and a zip tie. I have been assured that I’m not to blame; it’s old and the plastic went brittle. But still.

Several cats have attempted to jump on, flip, or knock off my laptop. I’m being as careful as I possibly can to preserve its working life. And while I’m doing that, I’m trying to fix all the software glitches. It was slow as shit with Discord and various other things not loading. It’s now not so slow, Discord and e-mail work, and I’m trying to troubleshoot various things when I have time.

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veilder · 2 years

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Alright my fine fellows, it is Monday night! Which means... Another prompt! Lol, here we go with another of my very self-indulgent AUs. Pls enjoy. XD

Prompt: Okay, but... Has anyone done an MMA!Gavin fic before? With trainer!bot Connor? Just think about it! Gavin's been working for years to try and take the middle-weight title and he's stepped on more than a few toes to get there. He’s been rising steadily through the ranks and has managed some pretty significant backing at this point? He’s a crowd favorite. So, in order to make sure he gives the best performance possible, his sponsors send him the latest in CyberLife tech, a personal trainer android designed specifically for him. It’s not just any ol fitness bot, either, this is a prototype with very specific functions. Well, as you can probably expect, when the brand new RK800 android shows up in the middle of one of his sessions, both he and his trainer (the legendary heavyweight champ, Hank Anderson) are outraged. Neither wants to accept this “gift,” they both believe in the power of human superiority over machine-based trainers. They consider using an android for this cheating. But the android... just won’t leave. It's cordial, polite, professional, but also a bit of an asshole, too. It's not like any other android they’ve ever encountered before, it actually talks back to them, critiques Gavin’s performance without being asked, corrects Hank in the middle of his lectures. Both of them hate its fuckin guts. So one day, Gavin decides he’s gonna do something about it. He invites it into the ring. He allows the android to size him up and then he just... he goes all out. He wants to beat the shit out of this mouthy toaster. Too bad the RK is equipped with the latest in preconstruction software. It’s like it knows what he’ll do before he even decides himself. It’s absolutely infuriating! So, without thinking, Gavin screams out, “STOP FUCKIN MOVING!!” And the android stills. And Gavin lands one hell of a punch on him. And it goes down hard. Well, Gavin didn’t expect the damn thing to actually listen to him for once. He didn’t expect it to just... stop. And he didn’t expect to lay it out flat. He goes down beside it, concerned despite himself even as Hank crowds in on the other side. And the damn thing is glitching out for sure. It’s eyes are flickering rapidly and an irritating, staticky sound is spewing out of its mouth. “Holy shit!” Hank mutters, tapping the thing on its face. “Hey! Wake up, asshole!” But the bot just twitches a bit before spitting out, “H-H-Hello-o-o-o, my n-n-name is C-Conn-nor.” Hank looks up at him and Gavin feels a sudden welling of shame from deep within. Yeah, the fuckin thing might not be alive, but he still took it out with a cheap shot. He doesn’t feel good about it. He...regrets. And even more, he feels a little bit ashamed when he realizes that even after weeks, he’s never even asked it’s damn name. The same name he curses loudly the next day when a brand new “Connor” shows up at his gym. (Anyway, what follows would be a very grudging friendship forming on all three of their parts. With a little more happening between Connor and Gavin, ohohoho.)

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uglymanchronicles · 3 years

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Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

#my writing #urban fantasy #ugly man chronicles: reignition

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kiyutsu · 3 years

Text

365 // kyōtani kentarō

summary

in which the leading android company in japan test drives their latest creation on you for 365 days.

warnings // blood, angst, mature language, made up robot rubbish.

He was beautiful. A plethora of metal and artificial skin along with man-made enzymes that can mimic the sacred temple that is the human body.

Was this sin? Is this what it looks like?

All-powerful and mindless?

A shaky exhale pushed its way past your lips. You ran a gentle hand down his unaturally chiseled chest, his dormant body rising and falling with an almost sacrilegious mimic of life. Warm. He was warm.

He layed propped up on a dark blue bed, his golden skin glimmering under the fluorescence of the bulbs hanging above his body and you swore you’ve never seen anything more perfect in your life. It was comical, really, how massive they made him. He had all of the characteristics of the perfect human body, and still, he looked as angry as ever under the gentlest gaze he had ever sensed near him in his short existence. It took four years to fabricate him, two to come up with his aesthetic design, and three to program a software that’s natural enough to pass off as human. They gave him a platinum head of soft, shaved hair with a perfect gradient that faded up into two shaved stripes on either side of his temple, windows into his mind, his intelligence.

They glowed the softest shade of blue, and you smiled, for he was calm. Of course he was. This was your time with him, the only time where the crease in his forehead softened up into smooth, synthetic skin. You’d wash off any oil, repair any scuffs, take care of any damage that they left behind and leave him looking brand new for the next team of studious bastards that decided to poke and prod at him despite his obvious discomfort.

“He can’t feel it, you silly girl.”

“He was built for this.”

Nonsense, you thought. He feels more than we do.

The dull whirr of a control panel firing up willed every single muscle in your neck to look up towards the metal sliding door on the opposite side of the bed, your fingers frantically covering up his naked body to preserve the god-like machine’s modesty.

Experiment KYOT - KN16 opened his eyes for the first time in seventy two hours.

It’s been four hours since you last saw the synthetic hazel lenses in his pretty blonde head. It’s been four hours since you were pushed out of the room in which he layed so peacefully undisturbed.

It’s been four hours. And he won’t. stop. screaming.

With knuckles so pale they would put Dracula to shame, you clutched your clipboard as you stood next to your Sensei, like a faithful disciple. His thin chestnut brow was furrowed in concentration at the scene in front of him, a slender hand brought up to his lips as he watched, and watched, and watched.

And did nothing.

Horrified, you suppressed any face that displayed your discomfort. Anything that let anybody else know that you thought prodding at this machine any longer was wrong. Any face that let anybody know that you were against what your job stood for. What your face did not tell, your lips did, and you couldn’t help the sharp burn of blood flooding your cheeks at the sight of his naked body writhing overtop sterile white sheets, chest pried open with lasers engraving new programs into his database. Why Oikawa didn’t shut him down during these procedures, was beyond you. The more twisted, professional side of your mind pushed a sick thought to the front of your head.

At least his pain receptors are intact.

“Sir, they’re hurting him.” You looked away from the double ended mirror that obscenely displayed every single bit of privacy this machine thought it had, and begun writing down faux notes, scribbles, stars, your name. Anything to make you not look at the beautiful man you’ve devoted 5 years of your life to in pain.

Oikawa hums, monotonous as he gazes in fascination at the android in the other room. He ignores your obvious comment and presses a button that lights up the entirety of the control panel before him, and he speaks.

“I think that’s enough, Iwa.”

The lazers stop, and so does his agonizing screams. His chest rises and falls, heavy breaths and small grunts escaping his plush parted lips as he furrowed his nonexistent brow. Experiment KYOT-KN lolls its heavy head upwards, and across the room, straight into the double ended mirror. A primal growl leaves his lips and you can’t help but fear for your Sensei at the look the machine is giving him as the shaved slits on either side of his head glow an angry crimson. Your shaky fingers grip your ballpoint pen, and with an iron first, you scribble down your observations

Database successfully updated.

He knows we’re here.

He might kill Tooru.

A metal door opens up, and along with the newfound presence of Oikawa’s right hand man, Iwaizumi, came four men and four women dressed from head to toe in white attire. You bit your lip. The worst part of the day was watching the white-coats manually put him back together, bolting his chest cavity, refilling his silicone blood stream, prying open his mouth to check for cracked teeth from all the grinding he does once the pain kicks in.

They’re so rough with him, so precise and indifferent to this machine’s discomfort. The emotional endurance this team of white-coats have. It’s professional, it’s admirable. It’s barbaric.

Dr. Iwaizumi Hajime speaks first, prying off his face mask and his gloves with a snap as he tosses his tall body into a rolling chair.

“He’s ready to go.” His slender fingers wrap almost entirely around his thermos as he takes a long swig. As if torturing this poor creation was hard work.

Wait. Go?

Your frantic scribbling ceased as Oikawa stood up, shutting down the monochromatic control panel as he watched the white-coats begin their work. KYOT-KN16 squirmed and writhed beneath the many hands that held his toned body against the bed, and he managed to knock a pint of blood from a woman’s hands as soon as she tried to refill his shimmering synthetic veins. The Coats, you thought. They always turned red.

“Go where?” Your mouth moved before you could think, and you stared between the two tall men next to you. Worried, you waited for an answer that you weren’t even sure you wanted.

“He’s going on a test run before we mass manufacture more models of him for public use.” Oikawa ran a hand through his brown locks, pushing his glasses off of his sleepy eyes.

“P-public use?” You squeaked.

“He’s a weapon. He’s a crossing guard. He’s a construction worker. He needs a purpose. Hell if I know what it is. We built the damn thing, now they want to see if it works.” Iwaizumi slides his cellphone out of his pocket and sighs, ever so disinterested.

“Well where is he going?” You pry, entirely too invested for your own good. Oikawa smiles down at you and rests a large gentle hand on top of your head. You watch with wide eyes as he towers over you, leaning down to speak with a saccharine tone.

You will your eyes to look away from Oikawa’s and look towards the pleading look the blonde man is casting your way. Your heart aches, and you look back up to your Sensei.

“Well he’s going home with you of course”

// this was so much fun to write, i wrote this on a whim because i saw the music video to katy perry’s song with zedd, 365! HEHE i’m so excited to write the second part (it’s in the workssss hah :*) it’s gonna be a little spicy but trust me i’m getting there ✨

#android au #android #haikyuu fic #haikyuu kyoutani #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #kyotani headcanons #kyotani x reader #science fiction #scifi au #anime #hq oikawa #hq iwaizumi #hq x reader #i love this au #sm #robot kyo can destroy me

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scatterpatter · 3 years

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OKAY SO

I have a Homebrewed Nintendo Wii that I play games on, and I store everything on an external, USB-powered hard drive. I've been using this hard drive for a variety of things since about six years ago when I got it for extra Wii U storage, messed it up by removing the partition, and fixing it years later in a trade school IT class. it's done its job pretty damn well, but as of late, I've had a problem with it: I made a bad rip of a Wii disc game (Super Monkey Ball: Step n' Roll) that crashed the software I use to play the game whenever I try to play that specific game.

this started a couple of months ago when I first ripped the game. the disc was incredibly scratched, and ultimately I don't know why I even thought it would work. the resulting rom file was broken beyond relief, and crashed any USB loader app I tried to open the game with. I proceeded to plug the drive into my laptop and delete this rip. (this will be important later.) I then get a non-damaged copy of the game, rip that, and try again; no change. figuring it must just be because I never booted the USB loader after deleting the initial bad rip, I delete this new rip as well, then boot the loader with the game missing, THEN rip it again, and... it's still broken. at a loss, I leave this apparently-still-broken rip on the drive. (I tested the second disc, for the record, and it does work normally. I don't trust this Wii's disc drive since it's nearly as old as I am, though, so I prefer using a USB loader for safety.)

cut to tonight. I'm ripping a bunch of Gamecube discs since I learned how to play those in my USB loader. I plug the hard drive into the laptop again. it occurs to me that I deleted some files earlier that day, so I go to empty the computer's recycle bin, and I see this. (file names and paths censored for security reasons)

now, I clean out my recycle bin fairly regularly, so none of the files from before tonight should be there at all, but that isn't what strikes me. what strikes me is the fact that both versions of Step n' Roll are there. on top of that, two MORE broken rips of WiiWare games were there too. already, that shouldn't be happening at all; I never put those on my laptop's hard drive at all.

but the I looked closer. look at the drive letters.

F. E.

these sneaky bastards were hiding on my external hard drive the whole fucking time.

obviously that didn't sound right, so I let my operations finish and disconnected my hard drive. the result:

all of the non-drive D folders vanished the moment I unhooked it.

this fucking external hard drive has a hidden recycle bin and I never knew it until now.

why.

#idk what to add but WOWZA

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aforrestofstuff · 4 years

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What's the stupidest thing the heroes have done. (+Garou.) Gimme the most crackhead fueled idea you can come up pls.

Okie dokie! Thanks for the request, anon! ❤️🧡

Tornado of Terror: She was really out of it one day and ended up flinging herself off a building, thinking she was using her powers to fly when she was actually falling to the ground at Mach 20 speed. She snapped out of it just before hitting the concrete, and floated to the ground like normal. The passerby thought she was just playing tricks, when in all actuality, she was just running on 5% brain power.

Silverfang: decided to adopt Garou.

Atomic Samurai: He often mistakes Bushidrill for Kama whenever Bushi has his hair down. Kami would walk outside, see Bushi washing his hair, and he’d ask the disciple a question relating to makeup or something Kama would know, and Bushi would turn around (in all of his hairy, mustache glory) and say in a stupid voice, “whaaaaat?”

Child Emperor: he’s done a lot of stupid shit purely out of sleep depravation, but the thing that takes the cake is the time that he almost started a robot uprising by programming an ai that came really close to having the emotional intelligence of a human. Luckily, he had a lot of precautions to make sure things didn’t get out of hand and he ended that shit before his lab went all Skynet on his ass. He was just really lonely and he wanted a friend, ok.

Metal Knight: he does a stupid thing every time he wakes up in the morning: being alive.

King: accidentally ruined his progress on one of the hardest games he’s ever played because he thought cleaning the cartridge with a wet dishrag and drying it with a hairdryer would be a good idea. Granted, he was 7 years old, but it was still tomfoolery.

Zombieman: nothing he does really has lasting consequences because he’s immortal, but he once ate a rock just to fuck around and it has been in his stomach for over a decade because that shit can’t digest. It was only during the homeless emperor fight that the pebble was set free, and now Zombieman has additional room for beer. Everyone wins.

Drive Knight: had to get an anti-virus software installed in his brain because he tried to download government secrets from a sketchy website via Bluetooth. He survived the robot-equivalent of a stroke but he’s recovered and is alright now. Unfortunately.

Pig God: swallowed a child accidentally. The kid is fine, but now they have ✨trauma✨

Superalloy Darkshine: the stupidest thing he’s done was when he first started working out as a skinny lad, he went for the biggest weights first and decided to do reps without having anyone spot him and broke both of his arms! Oh boy, did the depression really hit in those times.

Watchdog Man: the dumbest thing he’s done had to have been when he decided on the dog costume, not knowing it would immediately become his Brand. Now he’s the designated furry of the hero association and even though he’s not exactly mad about it, he just sometimes wishes he didn’t have to wear something so fucking itchy all the damn time.

Flashy Flash: raced an airplane as it was flying through the sky and ended up running into a tree, subsequently breaking every bone in his face.

Genos: convinced Dr. Kuseno to not perform any bug checks after getting a new upgrade. This was some years back. Genos ended up almost getting a stroke because some robo-stuff got all fucky in his brain and he’s vowed to never convince Kuseno to do any dumb shit like that again.

Metal Bat: Thought it would be a good idea to do that thing where you jump on an air mattress while someone’s sitting on the other end and the force catapults them forward, except that person happened to be Zenko and she ended up being yeeted out of a second-story window because Badd is pretty much a full-grown man and Zenko is a tiny precious little angel baby. She was fine, but now she’s got a cool scar to show for it.

Tanktop Master: Back when he wasn’t as ripped, he decided to do deadlifts one day but didn’t secure the weights correctly on the bar, so they rolled off onto his feet and he now has a limp. Dumbass.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: became a sex offender.

Amai Mask: Started a performance onstage without realizing he had a face mask on and came out looking like Shrek. Of course, he owned it and said it was part of the show but only after the press had speculated over it for like 2 years.

Okamaitachi: has a track record of falling in love with monsters/villains she’s supposed to kill. Luckily, nobody’s gotten hurt due to her lovestricken-ness during combat (yet).

Iaian: called his Sensei a poopyhead at age 12 and got the ass-whooping of his life.

Bushidrill: called his Sensei a poopyhead at age 37 and got the ass-whooping of his life.

Fubuki: was teasing Tatsumaki while they were both kids and told her that she was adopted. Little Tatsu got really offended and ended up unearthing their entire house in a psychokinesis fit, causing a lot of propety damage. To this day, their parents blame Fubuki for having the family almost go bankrupt while trying to fix it.

Saitama: thought he was doing a pretty good job of taking care of his cactus, so he got a pet fish to serve as a bit of a challenge. The little guy lived for 3 years before Sai accidentally killed it by feeding it some off-brand fish food, since it was the only thing Sai could afford at the time. Saitama legitimately went through a depressive phase after the death of his fish and refuses to get another one because nothing could ever replace his old pal.

Mumen Rider: was about to go on patrol as per usual, but forgot to lift the brake on his bike and ended up doing a reverse-wheelie, subsequently face-planting on the concrete. It was the 17th time he’s ever broken his nose.

Sonic: same shit as Flashy Flash because every ninja from that godforsaken village shares a single brain cell, and its dying.

Garou: back at the dojo, he got really angsty one day and decided to try and poison daddy Silverfang. Garou mixed dish soap in with Silverfang’s tea in a dead-serious attempt to commit murder (not really, he’s just dramatic [plus I’m pretty sure Silverfang ain’t gonna die via dish soap poisoning but I digress]) but Silverfang literally fell over laughing because the old shit thought it was a prank.

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patternsintraffic · 3 years

Text

My 100 Favorite Albums of the 2000s: #70-#61

I'm back with more albums that I love. Listing is fun! Who knew?

70. Rooney - Rooney (2003)

In the days of mp3.com, Rooney was one of the bands that I would stream during my Software Apps class in high school. I probably heard "Blueside" and "I'm Shakin'" a hundred times at barely-audible volume before this album came out. The sunny, bouncy melodies, synths, chord changes, and throwback lyrics are reminiscent of the Beach Boys or The Cars. I just love the carefree feel and youthful energy of this album, and the tunes are great. This is a quintessential California album from a verified California band.

69. Rock Kills Kid - Are You Nervous? (2006)

The only full-length album from Rock Kills Kid was just a few years before its time, which is a damn shame. When bands like Two Door Cinema Club came around in 2010 and captivated the indie rock world, few knew that Rock Kills Kid had been pumping out danceable alt-rock four years prior. "Paralyzed" and "Run Like Hell" should have been the songs of the summer. "Life's a Bitch" should have been a staple of high school mixtapes everywhere. Instead, this was a band that just didn't fit in with the musical climate of 2006 and regrettably fell off the map. At least we'll always have Are You Nervous?

68. Feeder - Pushing the Senses (2005)

Feeder have been a UK rock institution for 27 years now, releasing ten full-length albums over that span, though they’ve never made much of a splash in the States. My favorite Feeder album, Pushing the Senses, strays from the band’s signature guitar-driven power pop for a mid-career foray into the Britpop style popularized by Coldplay and Keane. The band received criticism for chasing the sound of the times, but their take on it felt genuine and sounded amazing. “Tumble and Fall” and “Tender” could stand toe-to-toe with any of the soft-rock output from those aforementioned bands. Feeder even let the guitars loose on “Feeling a Moment” and “Pushing the Senses,” two of the most undeniable singles I’ve ever heard paired on the same album. Coldplay and Keane have never reached such energetic heights.

67. Lifehouse - No Name Face (2000)

Lifehouse have become somewhat of a punchline over the years, as they’ve continued to release pretty standard and inoffensive alternative-rock fare, usually with one or two big singles coming from each album. It seems like most people enjoy a few Lifehouse songs, but no one is really a Lifehouse enthusiast. I think that the band’s best material comes from their 2000 debut No Name Face, and though their output since hasn’t made me into a true Lifehouse fan, I will always go to bat for this album. “Hanging by a Moment,” “Sick Cycle Carousel,” and “Breathing” are the songs most would be familiar with from early-2000s radio, and they are all excellent. There’s nothing particularly fancy about the rest of the album, as the songs don’t need any embellishments to shine. They are organic, earnest, and beautiful, and though I’m sure there’s some nostalgia involved I never regret revisiting them. Lifehouse might be kind of a stale name in music in 2021, but No Name Face shouldn’t be forgotten.

66. Acceptance - Phantoms (2005)

Until reuniting for Colliding by Design in 2017, Phantoms was the only full-length Acceptance album. It's not hard to see why this band continued to grow a cult following during their inactive years, as people tend to want more after an album as good as this one. It had the lyrics for the emo kids, the guitars for the rock kids, and the hooks for the pop kids. It's actually pretty surprising that Acceptance didn't make a mainstream splash in 2005, especially since this album was released on Columbia Records. A lot of that may have been due to the exceptionally poor choice to release "Different" as the first single. It's a great song, don't get me wrong, but there are so many upbeat tunes on this record that would have done a better job catching ears and piquing interest in the band. At least we finally got the follow-up album 12 years later, and the band have remained active since. Sometimes everything turns out OK in the long run.

65. Cursive - The Ugly Organ (2003)

I’m not sure what drew me to The Ugly Organ in 2003, at 15 years old. Listening to it now, it’s brash and angular, and not particularly accessible. I was just starting to stray from the music on rock radio at the time, and I came across “Some Red-Handed Sleight of Hand” and “Art Is Hard” online. I think there was something about the urgency in Tim Kasher’s voice, and the acidic way that he spit out the pointed and sarcastic lyrical content, that left me wanting more. It may be the cover art or the cello that permeates these songs, but something always felt a little creepy about them, like the band were performing in a haunted house. There aren’t many vocalists like Kasher, who seems to meld multiple levels of meaning into each line while drifting effortlessly from gentle singing to yelling to spoken word. This is a good one to dust off around Halloween. What a treat.

64. Long-View - Mercury (2003)

Long-View was a short-lived UK soft sock outfit that released one full-length album, Mercury. Nothing terribly surprising here - it sounds like an early-2000s UK soft rock album in the age of Coldplay and their contemporaries. The music is simple and often quiet, the vocals are smooth, and the tempos are mid. But despite it feeling like one of many on the surface, Mercury is charming and engaging. "Further," "Can't Explain," and "When You Sleep" have great hooks. The lyrics sound personal and conversational, and despite being cliche at times they feel poetic against the backdrop of Long-View's delicate instrumentals. An exemplary take on an oversaturated genre.

63. Augustana - Can't Love, Can't Hurt (2008)

After "Boston" put Augustana on the map in 2005, they traded in their indie rock sound for a set of rootsy, earthy anthems on their sophomore effort Can't Love, Can't Hurt. While the songs still sound like Augustana, there is a more classic, timeless quality to this album that has kept it fresh 13 years after its release. The slow build of "Twenty Years," with its swelling strings and piano leading the charge, was the kind of song I didn't know the band was capable of writing before this album. And "Sweet and Low" has one of the most sublime hooks I've ever heard.

62. Barcelona - Absolutes (2008)

This Seattle indie rock outfit is anchored by pianist and singer Brian Fennell (now of SYML fame). I had never heard of Barcelona prior to this album, and it took me by surprise. Fennell's vocals are captivating, winding through catchy pop melodies while deftly maneuvering from delicate to powerful. They pair with the band's guitar- and piano-driven arrangements to cement Absolutes among the best in the genre. There is a 2007 independent version of this album which is preferred by many who heard it before it was remastered and rereleased with an expanded tracklist in 2008. While I understand being attached to the version of the album you first fell in love with, I just can't agree with the opinion that the album is better without the standout tracks "Come Back When You Can," "Colors," and "The Takers."

61. Kill Hannah - Until There's Nothing Left of Us (2006)

Kill Hannah played anthemic goth-pop that belied their violent-sounding name. Until There's Nothing Left of Us is a triumphant, stadium-ready pop rock record that had the synths, grooves, and hooks to take the radio by storm in the early 2000s. If this album came out two years earlier, Kill Hannah might have been a household name. How did "Lips Like Morphine" not enrapture a generation of high schoolers? This is one of the many albums on this list that had absolutely all of the ingredients, but it somehow didn't add up to musical stardom.

#albums of the decade #best of the 2000s #top100 #countdown #nostalgia trip

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “For Peace.”

Some more stuff involving humanity and the Drev war.

WARNING: this may be graphic? It wasn’t meant to be that, but I just thought I should warn you there is blood involved.

She definitely had not intended come. She wasn’t a soldier, and the idea of the war made her sick to think about, she knew it needed to happen, but that didn’t mean she lied it. The Runi weren’t exactly known for their war practices. In fact, in their history war had only been talked about as a theoretical possibility based on the idea of outing a poor government structure, but since the rundi had never had a poor government structure, there was no need for war.

But this was different, the Drev had only recently managed space flight, and because of their nomadic clan-like life no one had assumed their planet was inhabited . There was no infrastructure, and with the volcanic activity…. Well.

They generally tried to avoid meeting new species when they were at this point in space travel development. However, the Drev were smarter than they first appeared. They had had the ability to go to space for a long time, but never bothered to test it because it just wasn’t important to their culture. When they finally had left their planet, they ended up running into a Tesraki ship, which was trying to requisition precious metals from one of their moons.

Contact had been made peacefully enough with linguistics experts from the GA appearing and easily figuring out the Drev language.

It was a simple thing, very straight forward.

But the Drev just couldn’t fight their baser instincts, and that was to make war. After a slight insult based on cultural misunderstanding, the Drev leaders had promised to turn their sights to the stars conquering and fighting where they went. The GA had made a decision to push to destroy the technology that would allow them to do such a thing, but based on atmospheric composition, and the way they had hidden their technology deposits, this was about more than carpet bombing their facilities.

They had to actually go in.

And that was determined to be harder than they intended. The Drev War practices may have appeared primitive, but their tactics were not. They had been losing the battle, and even with the augmentation to their army with human troops and technology, they were being pushed back every day.

Officers were threatening to pull back off planet and just wait for the Drev to leave before blasting them to bits, but Drev shield technology was actually rather advanced and would take more than a little work to destroy.

Now she was here, having landed in one of the desolate lava fields before being secretly transported by hovercraft towards the very back of the front line. They could have landed closer, but the amount of ash towards the front was unprecedented and there were warning against trying to fly in such conditions

Her arrival was kept quiet, as she was ushered into what they had dubbed the FOB (forward operating base). Humans in strange patterned uniforms marches past in groups carrying their strange explosive sticks their heads covered by helmets and their face by masks. Little flakes of ash were falling from the sky and coating the ground in a thick layer that covered her feet as she walked.

The soldiers themselves were smeared with the ash, and blended heavily into the background making it difficult for her to make them out.

Large tents had been set up, and she could hear the strange guttural chant of human voices from inside. A tent flap was pushed back, and she looked inwards to see ash stained humans sitting around fires talking and interacting with each other.

Guards stood on lone vigils at the corners of the camps.

They had made it some way onto the base before being met by a familiar face. The human admiral was looking somewhat worse for wear, his face was covered in a layer of stubble, and his skin was covered in a layer of grime. His eyes once so gleeful were cold and hard almost haunted.

“Chairwoman.”

“Admiral…. How goes the battle.”

He man turned motioning her further into the camp, “I’m afraid not very well. We had assumed based on their more primitive war practices, that this would be an easy fight, however with the thick clouds of ash visibility is drastically reduced, and our ranged weapons become…. Almost pointless. They are generally right on top of us before we know they are there, and in that case they have the advantage. Their tactics are swift and brutal, they don’t necessarily aim to kill for some strange reason, but to brutally incapacitate usually by taking off limbs.”

She felt herself grow uncomfortably sick, “They take of limbs?”

“Yes dismemberment seems to be their favorite war tactic if they can manage it, and because we can’t see through this damned ash, not even our drones can, they always seem to have the upper hand, we've been pushed back almost constantly over the past month, and our soldiers are in pretty bad shape.” he walked further into the camp explaining how things ran and how the battle was fairing.

From his accounts, though he did not say it.

Not well.

The line had pulled back, and there were only three bases in operation aside from this one. Communications were being stalled do the volcanic activity, and that included satellite communications. They had no GPS no radar, and the drones wouldn’t fly in such thick ash.

All together it was as the human had put it

‘a shit show.’

He motioned her to follow after him.

“There is something…. I think you need to see.” Nervously she followed after the human’s long powerful strides easily able to keep up on her own long legs, but finding she was nowhere near as graceful as the human.

She watched him quietly from behind noting the slight slump of his shoulders and the weary way in which he walked feet dragging through the ash leaving long trails behind him. Had the human been so droopy before?

She couldn’t remember.

She wasn’t aware that humans could wilt?

They made their way past a group of men heading back from patrol. They were covered in ash and conversing quietly amongst one another. Her translation software had only so far a range, but she thought she heard them speaking about dismemberment.

They walked past another set of tents before stopping by a more established building.

He motioned her to step inside with him, and together with her guards they walked inside. Greeting them was a troop of humans and a Tesraki wearing HAZMAT gear.

They were ordered to gear up in protective covering before stepping into a second room where they were hosed off from all the ash. Spinning tendrils of dark ash spun towards a drain in the floor until the outside of their suits were relatively clean.

He paused before the door turning to look back at her from behind the surgical mask he wore, “What you are about to see ...is the epitome of the cost of war.” With one hand, he pushed the curtain aside and they stepped into a long, dark room lined from beginning to end with dozens of mats spaced evenly over the floor, and on each one of the mats lay a body.

She froze in the tent staring suddenly caught by the sound.

Soft moaning.

Keening

And the horrific wheezing gasp for air.

Other humans wandered through the triage tent tending to their wounded with soft words.

The man’s face had twisted into an angry snarl, “Fo the past few months the ash has restricted our access to supplies. Our ships can’t land for fear of gumming up the engines. We have been unable to replace our lost equipment, and so have only rudimentary medicine in order to treat our wounded.” He stepped up a row of wounded shivering under emergency blankets faces covered in light layers of sweat.

“This will be the first supply run we have received in weeks and with it the ability to take some of our wounded back to where they can get proper medical attention. Infection has been rampant despite our best efforts. Without modern technology, it’s like we are living in the goddamned dark ages.”

“Did you not bring these supplies when you first started the campaign.”

The man sighed in frustration, “We did but we, ‘I’ was overconfident. Our first three outposts were overrun by those beetles and with it most of our medical supplies.” he motioned around the room, “Those you see here are the men and women who managed to survive despite proper medical attention.”

The Rundi chairwoman tried not to look, tried not to see the horror that was in front of her, but there was no use, there was no turning away from that which she did not want to see. She glanced down at the humans splayed on piles of blankets and shivering with fever. She didn’t know much about humans, but she was vaguely aware of their ability to fight off infection by heating their bodies to unusual heat in order to burn off the infection.

It was supposedly an unpleasant process.

The human paused kneeling down next to one of the bodies pulling a blanket over the chest of a shivering human, “We ran out of painkillers two days ago.”

She was unable to keep her eyes away falling on one of the humans to her side. What she saw nearly had her running form the tent in shock and horror. The human that lay before her…. Was missing both of its legs. She…. at least she thought it was a she, opened feverish eyes mouth opening and lips trembling before her eyes rolled back. Bandages dark with ash and stained with red were tied about the stumps of her legs.

She lay on the floor quiet and unaided by medical technology.

Technology they should have had

Her vision widened finally forcing her to take in the view around her to match a symphony of moaning agony, guttural animal sounds to signify their pain. Whimpers and groans and weeping that died away only to be replaced by more.

The pitiful wailing of the dying.

“We are losing men, and we are doing it fast. A good portion of what we originally sent to you have either died or are in states like this.” A moan from her side, and she looked down to find a young man missing an arm, a rag covering both of his eyes. A yellow liquid stained the cloth.

She felt sick.

“With the transport you brought us a lot of our people will be able to get off and get medical attention. We have people moving them now. If all goes well, most of them should live.”

“And…. what about these?” She asked trying to keep her mind of the scene. A human just to the side of her missing an arm and a leg lay moaning pitifully on the ground. One of the hazmat dressed humans sat next to him gently holding his remaining hand.

The human didn’t appear to be doing anything medically relevant, but gently using their thumb to rub slow circles on the palm of the man’s remaining hand. It seemed strange, but that simple motion seemed to calm the human.

She was greeted by the feeling of horrible sadness as she looked.

“These…. Well. They have graciously volunteered for something special.”

They had almost reached the end of the tent now when, looking down at the floor, something caught her eye. The rundi chairwoman pulled to a stop staring at one of the humans. He was laid in the shadow of the tent at a distance from the lights. A roll of blankets had been propped up under his head and the stump of one of his legs, or what used to be his leg.

It was the right leg, and it had been severed an inch or two above the knee. A rag wrapped around the stump of his leg was red with blood.

His breathing was ragged and labored coming in forced gasps against what must have been excruciating pain, his face screwed up in agony

But it wasn’t that which had caught her attention.

“I…. I know him.” She stammered, stepping forward, “I know this one.”

The agitation in her voice must have been enough to rouse the human, who opened his eyes bleary and out of focus.

Even in this dim lighting she knew those eyes, a shade of bright, emerald green.

The young man turned his head blinking as he tried to focus on her, on her voice. His lips quivered his hands twitched at his sides, “Chairwoman?” He croaked.

The admiral hurried forward kneeling next to the young man as he began to shiver breathing growing more ragged, “Shhh lieutenant, it’s alright.” With surprisingly gentle hands, the man adjusted the boy’s pillow laying one hand on his shoulder, again making that slow rubbing motion that had been demonstrated earlier, “Shh, just relax, don’t try to talk ok.”

She stared on in confusion, and the admiral looked up, “You know him?”

She nodded her head in horrified confusion, “He…. he piloted the jet that saved my planet from an asteroid. He was….. He was one of the first humans we met. I I could be wrong.” She stared onwards knowing she wasn’t wrong.

The man looked on sad, “Yes, he wasn’t supposed to be on the frontline. The atmosphere has too much ash, so all our pilots were thrown back into ground divisions at the rear of the line for administration. When the Drev pushed back they were all that was left, and were forced into combat.”

The admiral looked up at her hand still trying to comfort the young soldier, “We were-”

“Admiral.” The boy’s voice was thick, slurred straining. She didn’t know much about human language, but the way he said the word made the admiral respond, and he leaned forward quickly cutting off and turning his focus.

In those few moments his breathing had grown more ragged.

“Yes.”

“It ... hurts.” His voice came between bursts of air forced from his lungs, a hutch as the muscles in his abdomen contracted and released, “Please…. Make it…. Stop.” Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead and his head arched back. The rest of the body followed suit writhing in slow agony, the remaining foot kicking at the ground in a show of the most visceral agony she had ever seen.

She was sick.

The admiral leaned in using one hand to pin the boy to the ground to stop the writhing, the other hand to the side of his face, “Hey Hey, look at me…. Look at me. Shhh…. There we go.” the young man let go of the contraction on his neck and looked the admiral in the eye face still twisted in pain.

Little droplets of fluid rolled from the eyes and down both sides of his face.

The two humans sat on the floor together, one gently wiping moisture from the other one’s face. His remaining foot grew still and went limp against the ground tilting outward.

Speaking so softly she could barely hear the admiral continued, “You’re gonna be alright kid. The ash is clearing up, and we got a troop transport in. You can go back home, we will get you some painkillers, get some rest, and you can go home…..just a few more minutes.” He dropped one hand back to the kid’s shoulder patting it gently. He turned to look for one of the attendings when, A shaky, clammy hand reached upwards grabbing the admiral by the arm.

He turned to look down.

“I…. I said I would do it.”

His voice was forced, it seemed like every time he was asked to speak the pain only grew worse.

“You don’t have to lieutenant. No one will blame you.” “NO!.... I said…. I would… do it.” His hand quivered and then fell back to his side eyes squeezing shut.

The man kept a hand on his shoulder, turning to look at the chairwoman who had been forced to look away unable to keep eye contact with the scene. He motioned one of the other attendees over to him, and she took his place. With soft hands she slid next to the young man resting his head in her lap posing no more than a comfort to the human as he sunk back into his pained trance.

Murmuring softly and gently stroking a gloved hand through his hair.

Outside in the air though it was ashy and grim, she could finally breathe staggering to the side feeling as if she was about to fall over.

The admiral followed her.

“Why… why did we have to see that.”

The man’s face was stern and unyielding as he held a palm out to face the building, “Every last man and woman inside that tent was willing to DIE for you, for peace, and now….

Now they have volunteered to do it again.”

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