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staycalmandhugaclone · 2 months ago

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Reprocussions

Part (1) of the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Did the first series of cuts to my taglist - you don't reblog or comment, I don't tag - that's how Tumblr works, my dearies.

Warnings: Emotions. That's a warning in itself. Dread, arguing, guilt, regret, feeling overwhelmed. Also a touch of profanity. Also racism style prejudice. Oh, and some Hunter thirst.

WC: 3,874

Mando’a translation

ori’buyce, kih’kovid – all helmet, no head: someone with and overdeveloped sense of authority

Kamino was, at its core, a failed science experiment; what few inhabitants still clinging to life above tumultuous, unforgiving waves doing so purely from a futile denial of the impending ruination already evident in the violence of the oceans that overtook nearly the entirety of the planet’s stormy surface eons prior. That destruction was predestined; a simple consequence of climate, but what befell those inhabitants in the centuries that followed could be blamed on no one but themselves; driven to the edge of extinction not from natural catastrophe but from some ill-conceived need to eliminate traits arbitrarily deemed undesirable, altering the very code of their existence first through selective breeding, and then through artificial splicing until natural reproduction was not only deemed obsolete in their strive toward perfection, but became biologically impossible.

Perfection is the great myth of social naivety, offering aspirations veiled beneath the façade of a motivation that, in truth, results only in the inevitable collapse of will as goals prove eternally beyond reach. This toxic mentality, however, persists far longer than the spark of brilliance crushed beneath its unreachable expectations, but that illusion of perfection is infectious, destined to poison any subjected to its ideals not only with feelings of crippling inadequacy but also in granting false justification for prejudice against those labeled lesser through simple consequence of genetic expression.

I hated how that mentality had seeped into not only so many of the clones they’d created, but into myself as well, tainted by those beliefs not through direct correlation, but from a nearly equally unjust bias toward the clones themselves. Had I never met Hunter and his brothers, I’m not sure I would ever have truly noticed, but, after living with them and witnessing firsthand the cruelty their squad was subjected to because of it, each reg I saw instantly filled me with a distrust that brought with it a bang of guilt. It wasn’t every reg. I knew that. But it was enough to leave me torn between that guilt and the nagging reminder of just how damaging granting them the benefit of the doubt could be.

It was because of that bias that I refused to leave the medbay of the Vigilance for even a moment; not while Hunter was still bedbound and Crosshair needed to make frequent visits to continue monitoring the progress of his eyes. Admittedly, the term ‘bedbound’ was rather fiercely contested… particularly by Hunter, himself.

“No! You’re on med-leave for at least another week!” I was shouting again. “I don’t care if those orders came from the damn Grand Chancellor, himself!” I’d been doing that a lot lately, whether in response to Hunter’s increasingly frustrated demands to be released or toward the ship’s staff insisting that I let them relieve me for a while. “It’s barely been four kriffing days since you were in hemorrhagic cardiac arrest!” It wasn’t healthy. “You’ve barely even started physical therapy!” I knew it wasn’t healthy.

“Because you won’t let me out of this kriffing bed!” He snarled back.

“Two weeks is the minimum recovery time for an injury like-”

“For a nat-born! Not a clone!” He interrupted. I still couldn’t look at him without seeing how pale his skin had been when I’d found him.

“You died!” The emptiness in those captivating eyes. “I barely managed to bring you back! Any other medic would have given up long before I did!” The terror I felt any time he was out of my sight, that fear that I might miss something critical; I knew it wasn't healthy… but I couldn’t risk seeing him like that again…

“Then get your head out of your shebs before we get do get stuck with some ‘other medic’!” He snapped, and my entire body froze with a sudden chill, muscles locked as the air stilled in my lungs. “You give them reason to think you can’t be objective with us, then there won’t be a damn thing I can say to keep some ori’buyce, kih’kovid from pulling you.” It wasn’t a threat. Despite how his voice dropped into that frightful growl, I knew it wasn’t a threat. He was begging me.

My teeth ground together, nostrils flared with barely controlled, shallow breaths. I said nothing as I turned and left. No words would come to me, nor did I have any confidence in my ability to force them past taut lips even if they did. I told myself it was rage that left my ears ringing, that sent a nauseating tingle dancing beneath my skin and prickling my fingertips, but I knew it was nothing so kind as that, nor so simple.

I thought of that night hidden away with Tech in the cockpit, how he’d teased me for admitting that I had nothing beyond him and his brothers; what that would leave me with if I was ripped away from them. Sick… Maker, I was going to be sick…

Clones did heal faster than nat-borns… but something about forcing them back into a war zone after so little time to recover… It wasn't fair… In so many aspects of life, clones were treated and viewed as lesser; granted fewer rights, spared little consideration for basic needs or comforts, awarded no thought toward self-autonomy… Forcing myself to adhere to those unjust standards ground against the very core of my being… but Hunter was right… If I pushed too far, if I was called out and removed, they'd be subjected to those same rules with far less compassion.

Despite the size of the Star Destroyer, it seemed impossible to find a breath of solitude, constantly dodging patrols or maintenance crew or janitorial workers; so, I walked. I’d barely glanced at the mission brief before lashing out, balking at the departure date looming in a mere three days, but it seemed a shockingly straightforward reconnaissance objective: confirm the presence of a droid factory that had supposedly just begun construction, and, if the reports were correct, plant enough explosives to level it before the thing could become a threat. Simple…

It wasn’t hunger that drew me toward the mess hall. I knew they’d be there, most of them, at least, and, though I wasn’t ready to actually speak with them, emotions still too raw to even feign some appearance of calm, I needed to see them. Tech’s arm no longer needed the support and protection of the sling, a fact he took advantage of before I’d properly cleared him, and he’d assured me that he’d tended both Echo’s shoulder and Wrecker’s knee while my attention was focused on Hunter and Crosshair, a kindness that only deepened my own growing sense of inadequacy even as I’d forced myself to offer my gratitude.

In the sea of nearly identical faces, my men screamed their defiance both through stature and in the striking contrast of their darkened armor amidst the white and gold of the 212th. It was because of that contrast that I was surprised to note an additional figure beside them; beside Wrecker. He dwarfed the man, an illusion that was only further accentuate by Crosshair and Tech's towering frames seated just across from them. Still, I found myself tensing, shoulders drawing back as my teeth ground, lips just hinting at a scowl, but I froze before taking that first step toward them. Smiling… Wrecker was smiling.

While I couldn't see their expressions from where I stood, Crosshair had his chin nestled atop his palm, elbow lazily hiked up on the table, an air of impatience screaming from how his head hung down toward a shoulder, more resigned than annoyed, and Tech appeared to actually be just as engaged with the reg as Wrecker. That guilt returned in force. They were talking; laughing… and I’d been so ready to assume the worst…

I studied them for a moment longer, gaze lingering on the gleeful face of the reg as I absently noted the faint scar bisecting one of his eyebrows. This wasn’t me… This neurotic mess, jumping to respond with violence before even granting a chance to speak… That man was no different than the troopers Emmy gave her life trying to help… His broad grin only twisted that bitter taste of shame and regret deeper into my chest, tightening some unseeable noose. It felt like something was about to snap, muscles locked so taut they threatened to shake.

Air fleeing me in a sharp huff, I turned on my heel and all but fled, boots clicking loudly against the harsh metal below in rushed strides just shy of running. Cody once warned me of how traumatic events could alter the dynamic of a group. I wondered, suddenly, why he knew that. It felt odd to think that the Kaminoans might have chosen to include such concepts in whatever glimpses of psychology they might have included in their training programs, but his words had held none of the hesitation of one speaking only through thin fragments of forced studies, the details of which had long since been forgotten. I wouldn’t doubt that his General was surely well versed in such things, but the Commander’s words held a weight far greater than what might be found through secondhand allusion. Had he seen the consequences of some similar horror? Watched the fallout helpless to stop it? What would he say to this? How might he judge the depth of my connection – my dependency – to these men? How quickly might he replace me?

I knew Hunter was right. There was a balance between what care I was allowed to give and the merciless demands of the GAR, and if I faltered too far in either direction, I’d lose them…

Hunter’s eyes snapped up as I reentered the room, body tensing where he stood just a few careful steps from his bed, and I watched that initial panic of being caught flare into a defensive glare, but I didn’t allow myself to sink back into what fears had fueled my earlier outbursts rebuking his every attempt to push himself; I didn’t allow myself the freedom of even acknowledging that fear, that whisper of doubt that I was still missing something; I couldn’t.

“I’m ordering a stress test.” I stated before he could bark out whatever argument clearly churned behind taut lips. Instantly, that tension fled him, powerful shoulders sinking beneath a hesitation that only further emphasized how apparently unreasonable he’d believed me to be, and I had to let my gaze fall to the now empty bed beside him to keep that realization from breaking me.

“If the scars hold and you don’t start bleeding out again, I’ll clear you for duty.” I didn’t look at him as I said it, and the silence that followed was anything but kind. I had to keep myself from fidgeting, jaw ground.

“… Doc…” The quiet sympathy in his voice only pulled me nearer to the edge of breaking. Wrenching a quick, deep breath into my lungs, I snatched my datapad and rapidly typed in the order before I could talk myself out of it.

“You deserve better than this…” I barely whispered it, rage and despair twisting through the words. He called my name, and my throat seized against the ball of tears straining to escape.

“I'll get you some clothes.” I said stiffly and, before he could respond, before he could further justify the cruel reasoning behind his rushed return to the battlefield or offer some softly murmured reassurance that I couldn't risk letting myself believe, I turned away, steps once again tapping loudly on the hard floors. Three days… we had only three days before being forced to fight again... It was wrong…

I’d brought him a comfortable shirt along with his shorts for the stress test. He elected not to wear it. Whether that choice stemmed from a hope to flaunt how quickly his wounds were healing or something far less innocent, I wouldn't let myself think too deeply on it - straining to keep my gaze on the datapad in my hand instead than the wealth of power illustrated by his every stride.

Hunter’s hair was tied up in a messy bun rather than loosely held back by that faded bandana, revealing elegant lines of muscle sweeping from his thick neck down to broad shoulders honed to frightful perfection from years of ruthless fighting, from racing across battlefields with heavy weaponry held at the ready, from driving fist and blade alike through enemies made of flesh and metal and every combination in between. He’d gained nearly ten kilograms in the time I’d been with them, and that boon had only added to the lethal effigy of raw power before me; added to the very real danger he represented. That power scared me, once… but that was a long time ago.

“Pain level? Say anything less than three and I’ll throw a damn weight vest on you.” I threatened, speaking as though I wasn’t fighting to keep my gaze from following every drop of sweat as they slid down the valleys carved between abs accentuated by dark, coarse hair that narrowed in such a cruel invitation between the V is his hips before vanishing beneath the waistline of his shorts.

“Three.” I could hear his smirk, jaw tensing against the way my lips threatened to pull into a grin of my own even as I pointedly rolled my eyes at him.

“Any difficulty breathing? Stiffness or pressure or-”

“Pretty sure one of those fancy scanners would have started yelling at me if my lung was collapsing again.” He drawled, turning toward me with a knowing look. He’d been running for nearly an hour, and the man was barely winded… Still, I couldn’t silence that fear… that certainty that there was something…

“Alright…” I finally murmured, hand reluctantly reaching out to flutter over the controls. His attention didn’t waver as he gradually slowed to a stop, chest swelling with barely quickened breaths. There was a sense of defeat sown deeply through that single word that forbade me from meeting his eyes for a long moment, studying the readout of his vitals one last time before making myself look at him. “If anything feels off – if the pain gets worse or you feel short of breath, I swear to the Force, Hunter, you need to tell me.” It was supposed to be an order, but the desperation drowning me left it anything but, and the softness in the way he sighed my name robbed me of even a sliver of denial that he hadn’t noticed as he slowly crossed the room.

“I will.” He could have mocked me; could have dismissed my fears with overly confident boasts and promises, but he didn’t, and that granted a far greater comfort that he could possibly know… Still…

“I don’t like this…” I barely whispered it, finally letting the weight of that terrible dread tug at the corners of my lips, shoulders sinking with a helplessness neither of us had any hope of fixing.

“I know.” He murmured. For just a moment, his shoulder tensed, arm just beginning to move before he forced it still, and I mourned the loss of that touch he hadn't allowed himself to give, the warmth of his hand stolen from me for fear of wandering eyes and over-eager rumors.

My gaze fell, lingering for just a moment on that hand, on the ridges of veins and spiderwebs of scars, on the memory of the dizzying contrast between the roughness of calluses stretching across palm and fingertips alike, and how gentle I knew his touch to be.

“Someone stays with you.” That, at least, carried some hint of authority as I drew a shaky breath before looking back up at him. “I don't care what happens, someone stays with you at all times.” The patches of bare skin where the electrodes had gone refused to let me forget how still he’d been between those horrid moments when his body had seized beneath the flood of electricity meant to restart his heart. The bruising had already begun fading from his chest, but I’d never be able to forget how stark the outline of my palms had looked, how dark the mottled purples and red were in those hours after bringing him back…

He let out a quiet huff at my order, head tilting down slightly to better hold my gaze.

“Yes, ma’am.” My lips pursed slightly at that teasing lilt, and I had to fight back the threat of heat spreading up my neck at the low rumble of his voice.

Drawing a deep breath, I finally turned away from him, attention falling back to my datapad to clear him before I could find some excuse not to.

“And you’re wearing a chest brace.” I added, cheeks burning at the quiet chuckle it drew from him.

“Alright.” He hummed through that little smirk that sent my heart racing, brow hitching slightly. “Anything else?” My jaw jut forward against the smile toying with the edge of my own lips.

“Give me a sec, and I’ll think of something.” I shot back, arms crossing my chest with a heatless glare, but he only responded with another soft laugh.

The following day passed in a blur; endless paperwork to finish, a shocking amount of supplies to restock, as well as overseeing what precious few hours of physical therapy I could force each of them through before we were scheduled to leave. Nearly each of them, at least. Wrecker's knee had some lingering stiffness, but that faded with minor warmups. Tech's arm was still notably weak, but he assured me he'd already tested for nerve damage, and I had no reason to doubt him, resigned to merely monitor it over the coming weeks. Crosshair had spent much of the time aboard the massive flagship in their gun range, and he had no qualms with proving just how thoroughly his eyes had healed. But Echo… Echo had vanished under the guise of “requisitioning" materials to finish building his new legs, an occasional message our only reassurance that he was still onboard.

I shouldn't have been surprised to note the missing supplies during my final check of the Marauder's medbay, but the little pang of disappointment was there regardless. The night cycle had nearly begun, and the thought of sinking in-between warm sheets and warmer arms taunted me as I reluctantly noted the missing bacta and bandages, and started wearily back to the hanger's storage room, empty box cocked against my hip.

Night had little meaning in space. It was a label meant only to grant some illusion of familiarity; a place-keeper for the sake of simplicity despite the fact that “night" had a thousand different meanings on a thousand different planets. What days or weeks spent in the in-between of hyperspace were usually used to gradually adjust perception to match the cycle of one’s destination.

The Vigilance, however, had no destination. If she neared a planet, it was for the sake of a brutal onslaught void of any consideration toward night and day. Men died in the darkness just as easily as in the light. So the Vigilance rotated between an imagined night and day solely because such a thing was expected, but, in truth, it made no difference beyond a simple shift change to those sentenced to remain in that liminal existence. Solders still marched through halls on patrol amidst maintenance crews and cleaner bots and all manner of workers striving to keep the vessel ready to fight at a moment's notice, and they spared me little consideration as I wove between them, just another cog churning within the Republic’s war.

“It was a trick question.” My attention snapped up, surprised to find a clone standing a few meters away just within the door of the supply room, a tentative smile on his youthful face. I nearly glanced behind me, but there was no mistaking who he was speaking to.

“I… didn’t ask a question.” I replied hesitantly, mind struggling to make sense of the odd interaction as I studied the man before me. His left brow was split from some barely visible scar, and his nose was ever so slightly askew, but his eyes were free of that haunted distance that had become far too common among the more war-hardened soldiers.

“Droid poppers.” He said as though that might explain everything. A moment later, I finally realized that it did, eyes widening, and his lips pulled into a broad grin, shoulders shaking with the faintest hint of laughter. My mouth opened, but I was too surprised to fathom a response.

“Jester.” He offered stealing a few slow steps closer., and I couldn’t quite hide the wince, but he only laughed harder.

“Feel like I might owe you an apology for that.” I offered with a sympathetic chuckle.

“Well, I did have a couple more… exciting names I would have preferred, but…” he shrugged, “I kind of earned it.” The ease of his aloofness was a stark balm to the heaviness of the past several days, and I readily welcomed that lightness with a smile of my own.

“I don’t think that was a trick question.” I belatedly retorted, instantly earning an animated eyeroll.

“But it was definitely meant to make me look like a damn fool.” I couldn’t help but snicker, nose scrunching with a knowing smirk.

“Just be glad I sent you to Wrecker instead of Tech.” He let out a heavy huff at my response.

“Tech was there.” He stated flatly, and I let out an unapologetic snort. “I think he’s going to try to make my entire batch repeat basic chemistry…”

“But now you know how to make an incendiary grenade from spare parts.” I teased. His shoulders dropped, brows furrowing above a fond glare.

“Yeah. Several ways, in fact.” He drawled, earning another bout of laughter from me.

“He’s… really nice.” Jester’s voice fell into a near whispered, expression softening with a touch of remorse.

“Yeah,” I murmured quietly, “He really is… They all are.” I added, but the skeptical look he shot me drew a knowing chuckle even as I tried to suppress it. “They are.” I pressed. “Just… need to earn it, first.” His gaze fell at that, jaw shifting stiffly as that remorse grew.

“I tried to apologize… He wouldn’t even let me finish.”

“Words… don’t really matter much to him.” I explained gently. “You reached out… And since Crosshair was there and you don’t have any black eyes, I’m assuming you did it respectfully.” He let out a quiet huff.

“Thanks.” He whispered after a brief moment of silence. I didn’t have to wait long before he continued. “I needed some sense knocked into me… would have preferred you do it in a less embarrassing way, but…” His eyes rose back to meet mine. “Thanks.”

“Let’s not make a habit of it.” I replied, words quiet before drawing a deep breath and glancing back at the still empty crate. “You got out of it last time, but, since you’re here, how about you help me pack for our next mission?” That beaming smile instantly returned to his lips as he eagerly started toward me.

Next Chapter

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real-life-pine-tree · 8 years ago

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Leo Will Never Know: Star Students (2/?)

In an alternate timeline, Yugi indirectly prevented the events of Arc-V from ever happening. But how could this small change have an impact on a few selected people? A spin-off of the Arc-V Aftermath series. Based on the hilarious comic by @justanotherotakuandartist. Co-written with @violetganache42.

A few days later, Michael and Ray went to a domed building to take their entrance exams and passed with flying colors. Upon heading to Duel Academy and Chancellor Sheppard introducing himself to the students, they learned what ranking they were based on the colors of their uniforms. Ray and Michael both got Obelisk Blue, much to her disappointment because now she has to wear a uniform that reminds her of Kaiba. They headed towards their dorms when they learned there are two dorms: one for boys and one for girls.

In the girls' dorm, as soon as Ray arrived in her room, she took off her uniform. It was a blue jacket that looked too much like one of the jackets Kaiba usually wears. She knew it was mandatory to wear it, but why would she wear something that reminds her of the one person who ruined her life?

She then had an idea on how she can still wear her uniform without having it to remind her of him. She searched all over her room for some bleach, scissors, and a sewing kit. Several minutes later, she discovered that the girls' dorm building had a laundromat, which was perfect for her to bleach her trench coat. She placed it in the washing machine and poured the chemical in to white it out and then in the dryer to clean it.

A couple hours later, she took it to a tailor room she stumbled upon earlier to readjust it to an appropriate length; while growing up on the streets, she learned how to sew so that she can make clothes for herself and Leo, so her skills will definitely come in handy. Using a nearby mannequin for reference, she placed the white jacket on it and measured where she believed it should stop, having settled on around the waist. She took a marker and lightly made a mark on the jacket as reference on where to cut; after removing it from the mannequin, she used a pair of scissors to cut the flared ends off.

The blue trimmings weren't affected by the beach, but it still help made the trench coat stand out, so she trimmed them off the now-detached ends. She aligned them on her work-in-progress jacket, and with careful and precise dedication, sewed them in place.

After spending so many hours working, Ray finally finished with her modified uniform, consisting of the white sleeveless jacket with blue trimmings, a blue miniskirt, and blue boots. As she spent her first year at Duel Academy, all the female Obelisk Blue students couldn't help but admire what she was wearing.

"Nice uniform," an Obelisk Blue student named Alexis Rhodes said. "Did you make that?"

"I sure did," Ray happily answered. "I couldn't stand wearing a typical uniform, so I had to make some adjustments."

"You have to show me what you did," Alexis happily said. "It looks more fashionable than these old jackets."

Later that day, Ray showed Alexis how she made her custom uniform, who was given permission to use the latter's trench coat as an example. She gave her the full tutorial, from bleaching it to cutting the ends off at the waist area to sewing the trimmings back on the newly-changed jacket. Several more hours later, Cyber Angel/Girl user was astonished with the results, commenting on how it made her appear more feminine.

"Not bad," Alexis commented, checking out her reflection in a mirror. "This uniform is more fitting."

"Thanks," Ray said. "I had to learn how to sew clothing, so I know how to modify outfits."

"Well it does look amazing," Alexis said. "Is it alright if I tell some of my friends about this?"

"Sure," Ray answered.

That same night, Alexis informed her friends, Jasmine Makurada and Mindy Hamaguchi, about the modified uniform she was shown how to make. Pretty soon, after learning how to do it themselves, it became a widespread trend among the female students all over the school. Even the faculty and the non-Obelisk Blue students spotted and took note on the different jackets that have quickly become popular.

"Wow Ray," Michael said during lunch. "A lot of students really like your modified uniform style."

"Thanks," Ray said. "Although I didn't think it would become a trend. I originally didn't want to wear something that reminds me of Kaiba."

"Well you better get used to the trend," Michael said. "I heard there's a Slifer Red junior student who wants to wear that kind of uniform for his senior year."

Ray wasn't expecting a Slifer Red student to get inspired to wear a similar outfit to the ones going around campus. She asked what his name was and Michael said it was Chumley Huffington. It should be simple enough; since the non-Obelisk Blue jackets weren't as long as the old trench coats, all she's got to do is bleach it, with the trimmings still remaining red.

"I'm surprised the other students are interested in my custom uniforms," Ray remarked.

"It's not just the students," Michael clarified. "Nurse Fontaine likes the style too. You might have started this because of your past with KaibaCorp, but I think you unintentionally changed the uniform policy of this school."

The onion-haired teen was right. Due to the skyrocketing popularity of Ray's custom uniforms, Chancellor Sheppard made the official decision to have them implemented as part of the school's dress code; the students were also given the liberty to wear variations of their attires. Aside from this surprise, her and Michael's first year at Duel Academy went well.

Their second year had another group of students joining the current ones; they included Slifer Red students Jaden Yuki and Syrus Truesdale, Ra Yellow mathematician Bastion Misawa, and Obelisk Blue "elite Duelist" Chazz Princeton, who was initially selfish and egotistical. So far, not a lot happened to them, other than seeing the new students going on misadventures including the risk of expulsion, the Abandoned Dorm, Jaden and Syrus' tag team duel against the Paradox Brothers, an escaped dueling test monkey, the summoned spirit of Jinzo, a duel against Harrington Rosewood (captain of Duel Academy's tennis team) for Alexis' affection, a duel giant, a Tarzan-esque student named Damon, a copycat duelist who stole Yugi's deck and mimicked his mannerisms (much to Michael's embarrassment), a love-struck Zane Truesdale fan switching her feelings towards Jaden, and the school duel against North Academy. The second half, however, affected them more because a threat was looming over Duel Academy: the Shadow Riders.

During this fiasco, Ray had come across Chazz during a chance encounter near the lake. Needless to say, the former Obelisk student was surprised.

"You're Ray Akaba!" Chazz exclaimed.

"Yeah," Ray said, puzzled by his behavior. "Can I help you?"

"You're that girl who changed the uniform policy!" Chazz said. "Please use your special sewing skills on my uniform!"

Ray was rather embarrassed about being praised like that. Her simple decision to alter her jacket to not remind her of Kaiba has made her become a legend among the students for over a year. She took a look at Chazz's uniform, which wasn't school-related, but was allowed to wear it as long as he followed the rules. In fact, nonuniforms have also been made as an exception during the uniform policy change. His grayish-purple shirt, dark blue jeans, and brown shoes were fine, but his dark gray trench coat was tattered at the ends. Was that why he needed his help?

"I'll see what I can do," Ray said.

"Thank you, Ms. Akaba!" Chazz said as he took off his trench coat and gave it to Ray.

Because of her legacy, Ray was given her own sewing kit as a thank you gift for creating an extraordinary change. As she was about to fix up the tattered ends, she noticed there were a few rips on the sleeves. Where did Chazz get this coat in the first place? Was it part of the clothes he got during his stay at North Academy? Regardless, she knew he was going to love the results once she's finished.

Meanwhile, Michael strolled by the Slifer Red dorm as part of his personal tour of what the other dorms are like. He was still having a hard time accepting that this was where some of the students were staying for the next few years…although it does have a neat view of the ocean. As he gazed upon the dorm's structure, a familiar voice called from the balcony. He eyes shifted in the direction of where it was coming from, leading him to notice it belonged to Jaden. How did he not notice the Elemental HERO user until just now?

"Whoa, is that a dragon?!" Jaden had called out.

Michael glanced over at his Odd-Eyes Dragon card; since it was the only dragon he has, it obviously was what Jaden was referring to. The Obelisk Blue teen still had his tendency to leave Odd-Eyes out of his deck and bring his friend along with him all the time.

However, Michael quickly realized there was no way for Jaden to see that card all the way on the ground. "How did you...?"

"I can see him standing next to you," Jaden explained, walking over to the onion-haired teen. "And from the looks of it, he seems pretty protective."

Michael asked himself how it was possible for Jaden to see Odd-Eyes. Can he also communicate with Duel Monster Spirits too?

"You can actually see Duel Monster Spirits?" Michael asked.

"Sure can," Jaden cheerfully answered. "Sure is fun to see them."

"I can't actually see them," Michael admitted. "I can only hear Odd-Eyes speak to me through his card."

"There's a difference?" Jaden asked.

"There is," Michael answered.

"Then maybe we should hang out some time after this whole Shadow Riders thing is taken care of so you can tell me more about this dragon of yours," Jaden suggested, putting his arm across Michael's shoulders. "Whaddya say?" He winked with a huge grin on his face.

Was this Jaden's way of flirting? Sure looks like it and it made Michael surprised yet a bit uncomfortable. It was obvious he had feelings for Ray, making him straight, but what about Jaden? Was he homosexual or bisexual with a male preference? Then again, it would be nice to befriend someone from outside of the Obelisk Blue dorms; hopefully, Jaden will understand that he already has a crush on his childhood friend.

"Sure," Michael said. "I can tell you all about my experiences with Odd-Eyes."

"Sounds pretty sweet to me," Jaden said. "Maybe you can also tell me where you got those cool green highlights."

Back at the female Obelisk Blue dorm, Ray finished sewing up the last rip on the left sleeve, completely fixing Chazz's trench coat. Her kit had similar colors, but they were in different shades; while teaching herself how to sew during the past decade, she also developed an extremely keen eye that can tell which hue matches the piece of clothing. Luckily, the tailor room had some fabric in the exact colors she needed. Despite the mini search she went on, she made the entire jacket look brand new again.

At that moment, Ray had a sudden idea. What if she could start a mini-business during the remainder of her school years? There were probably other students who need to repair their uniforms. Maybe she could help out with that. She made a post-it note reminding herself to return Chazz's trench coat and set up flyers promoting free uniform repairs first thing tomorrow morning.

There was a knock on the door, leading Ray to inform the person that it's unlocked. That person she spoke to turned out to be Michael. Needless to say, what he said was rather unexpected as soon as he entered the room.

"I love you, Ray Akaba!" the onion-haired teen declared.

A light tint of pink quickly formed on Ray's cheeks as she stood frozen in place. The pen she used to write the reminder slipped out of her hand and fell on the floor just as she was about to put it away when she heard those five words.

"Michael?" Ray asked. "Why did you- MMPH!"

Her question was cut off with a kiss from Michael, but it was more of a running kiss. He had dashed towards her to connect his lips with hers, only for them to fall down to the floor in the process. Fortunately, their kiss wasn't broken and she eventually gave in before they engaged in a loving make-out session. Ray's right hand landed on the back of Michael's head as she entangled her fingers through his silver strands whereas her left arm wrapped itself on his back, using her left hand to lightly grip onto his shoulder and embracing him.

Some time later, the two had to part for air, but their arms were still wrapped around each other. "What's...going on?" Ray asked, having a hard time speaking due to Michael giving small kisses on her neck. Her grip on his hair tightened as he did so.

"Turns out that Jaden kid is attracted to guys," Michael explained between kisses. "It made me realize you're the only person I love."

Ray was flummoxed by what Michael said, and those pecks on her neck made it difficult to understand what he means. She soon deduced that he ultimately admitted his sexual preference to Jaden when they met. Simultaneously, she also began to see how cute her childhood friend really is.

"Well you do have cute hair and nice eyes," Ray admitted, ruffling the onion-shaped locks.

"So does that mean...?" Michael asked.

"I guess we're officially boyfriend and girlfriend," Ray admitted. "But..."

"I told you, we have nothing to worry about," Michael repeated. "Leo will never know."

#Arc V Aftermath #yugioh arc v #Zarc (arc v)#Ray Akaba #GenesisShipping #ZarcRay #Leo Will Never Know

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satoshi-mochida · 8 years ago

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Some games on sale this week for the North American PSN’s Golden Week sale(full list/prices):

Aegis of Earth(PS Vita)

Amnesia: Memories (PS Vita)

Aquapazza(PS3)

Arcana Heart 3(PS3/Vita)

Atelier Escha and Logy Plus (PS Vita)

Atelier Sophie (PS4/Vita)

BlazBlue: Central Fiction(PS4/PS3)

Blazing Souls Accelate(PSP)

Catherine (PS3)

Chronicles of Teddy (PS4)

Code: Realize (PS Vita)

Croixleur Sigma (PS4/Vita)

Deception IV: The Nightmare Princess (PS4/Vita)

Digimon Story: Cyber Sleuth(PS4)

Digimon World: Next Order(PS4)

Dragon Quest Builders (PS4/Vita)

Dragon Quest Heroes(PS4)

Dungeon Travelers 2 (PS Vita)

Exist Archive (PS4/Vita)

Fairy Fencer F: Advent Dark Force (PS4)

Fate/Extella (PS4/Vita)

Final Fantasy XV (PS4)

God Eater 2: Rage Burst(PS4)

Gravity Rush Remastered (PS4)

Gravity Rush 2 (PS4)

Hakuoki(PSP)

Hakuoki: Stories of the Shinsengumi(PS3)

Hakuoki: Warriors of the Shinsengumi (PS Vita)

I Am Setsuna(PS4)

Lost Dimension(PS3/Vita)

Megadimension Neptunia VII(PS4)

Mega Man 8(PS1 Classic)

Mega Man Legends (PS1 Classic)

MegaTagmension Blanc + Neptune VS Zombies (PS Vita)

MeiQ: Labyrinth of Death (PS Vita)

Mind Zero (PS Vita)

Nier: Automata(PS4)

Nights of Azure(PS4)

Norn9 (PS Vita)

Odin Sphere Leifthraiser(PS4/PS3/PS Vita)

Omega Quintet(PS4)

Oreshika: Tainted Bloodlines (PS Vita)

Persona 4 Golden (PS Vita)

Persona 4: Dancing All Night (PS Vita)

Power Stone Collection(PSP)

Record of Agarest War Series Bundle[also available seperately](PS3)

Root Letter (PS Vita)

Rune Factory: Tides of Destiny(PS3)

Saint Seiya: Soldiers’ Soul(PS4)

Shiren The Wanderer: The Tower of Fortune and the Dice of Fate (PS Vita)

Sorcery Saga: Curse of the Great Curry God (PS Vita)

Star Ocean: Integrity and Faithlessness(PS4)

Steins;Gate (PS3/Vita)

Steins;Gate Zero (PS4/Vita)

Suikoden II(PS1 Classic)

Suikoden III(PS2onPS4)

Superdimension Neptune VS Sega Hard Girls (PS Vita)

Tales of Berseria(PS4)

Tales of Zestiria(PS4)

Tecmo's Deception: Invitation to Darkness (PS1 Classic)

The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel (PS3/Vita)

The Legend of Korra (PS3/PS4)

The Misadventures of Tron Bonne (PS1 Classic)

Tokyo Twilight Ghost Hunters Daybreak: Special Gigs (PS3)

Valkyria Chronicles Remastered(PS4)

XBlaze Code: Embryo (PS Vita)

XBlaze Code: Memories (PS Vita)

Ys: Memories of Celceta (PS Vita)

Zero Escape: Virtue's Last Reward (PS Vita)

Zero Escape: Zero Time Dilemma (PS Vita)

#Atelier Series #Digimon #Final Fantasy #Tales of Series #Zero Escape #long post

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ohdeargodnotyouagain · 7 years ago

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I’m An Aspiring Writer...

She sat down at her cheap ply board desk for the third time tonight. That was only after doing the dishes, the laundry, all of her closet organization and brushed her teeth twice. Lara Pendleton bit her bottom lip, staring at the blank document on her computer monitor in front of her. Her mouse arrow blinked at her almost hecklingly at the lack of motivation. “Come on, Inspiration. This has never been an issue before. Right when I need you the most?” The monitor’s glow was practically drowned out by the darkness around her. Personally, she had thought that writing in the dark helped her concentration but her need of glasses was making her think otherwise. Turning in her chair she looked at the board beside her. All of her ideas, story snippets, and little pieces of notebook paper with terrible drawings of scenery on them fluttered with the breeze of the ceiling fan. On the bottom row of the board, in strips cut from magazines were potential offers circled in red market. “Any one of these could really get my name out there.” She muttered to herself, then changed her gaze to the ideas she thought about writing about on a similarly clustered board. She sighed tiredly, “Except I have about twelve percent of an ounce of inspiration and I procrastinated way too long.” “I need to free write.” Lara licked her lips for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She clinched her fists and immediately released them, staring down at the keys. “Okay,” The word was through grit teeth, “Let’s think first, and give me something to write about.” Again the chair turned with a little squeak, the chair was older than the desk that wobbled if not half held up by the many bookcases in the room. After a rather disastrous game of darts with the idea sticky notes, she sat down again in her rapidly deteriorating leather chair. The keyboard glowed ominously in the dim. She could hear crickets starting to chirp outside the window beside her with the blinds firmly shut. Her cat was somewhere lounging on a stack of books that had almost given up on being read one day. Lara shifted in her seat, reaching out her hand a bit blindly. Fingers gliding over the pieces that felt almost soft they were so well read over. “I just need a scene, or an idea.” She almost sounded quite sure of herself. “Just grabbing notes and see what fits.”

She picked up the first one she had mixed into order after she pulled them down, not bothering to look while she was doing it. She read it aloud to herself, “An Atlantean-like race, hidden for centuries, finally loses all its knowledge. They have to get it back. Hero is a girl.” She sighed, dropping it in exasperation. “My first idea is fish people. Off to a great start aren’t I, Cobbler?” The cat sneezed as acknowledgement. Pulling herself up to the keyboard she started to free write. Putting it down on paper, digital or not, would help her get into the mindset of a better idea than this one.

The city was growing busier every day. For political reasons, this was a good thing in favor of the Ra’Hel Clan- who had been in power for the last several centuries. But a bad thing, for the crown princess that hadn’t slept the night before. Ceyda, crown princess and this very night was to be sworn in as Queen. She had reached the age that her great ancestor had achieved the thrown, and thus had set the age for all future leaders of their Clan, and if that Clan was in power, their entire kingdom. Ceyda rose slowly from her bed, eyes heavily lidded and hearing the noise of the visitors from all across the sea- the great Pearl of the Ocean and the landwalkers- though they would never see it, Atlantis.

She steeled herself to uncover her view of the city. When the waters were calm and the Earth did not breath fire, the waters were perfectly clear and she could see all the way to great divide’s drop. It was breath taking, but she had to pull herself away. There was much to do for preparing for the coronation. Ceyda had large tails to fill.

She read over it again with a roll of her eyes, then in a mocking tone, “Ceyda had large tails to fill. Why does it have to be about mermaids? It’s overused and I can’t even make them scary mermaids because this is supposed to be family friendly.”

Lara bit her lip, spinning her chair around once. Her fingers flipped through a few books that lay on her desk, then fished through a few stacks of papers until she found her phone. Her lock code being increasingly simpler by the year, she brought up a dial pad. “I need an opinion.”

She hit the number two key on her phone, then the speaker phone button. The brightness contrasted with the monitor light and the room was brightened. The screen was a picture of a young man and her on a hike. Covered from head to toe in dirt and grinning like morons, two dogs sat between them looking as proud as their master’s. Jake was a mountain man who had wondered his way into the city long enough to meet her. They had been best friends since the terrible office job back in her hometown a few years ago. After a few dozen misadventures with him, she had ended up halfway across the world from where she had started from. He was more than likely the only one she trusted for advice among her small group of friends she kept. “Why are you calling me at two in the morning your time?” He answered when she was almost certain it was going to be a voicemail message, but she could tell he was grinning when he spoke.

She winced to herself catching sight of the computer clock, wondering what time it was wherever he was at the moment, “Oh, you know me, burning the two o’clock oil. Expresso is stronger than I remember. I thought I was going to get your voicemail again. Where are you?” His voice crackled with static as he shouted over wind hitting the receiver, “Where do you think? Hiking! What’s going on?” “I’m trying to write something. And I think the beginning is terrible. Atlantean fish folk and a lost treasure basically. What do you recommend? Scrap it?” She shifted the phone now it was between her ear and her shoulder. “No! Never scrap! Keep it and turn it into something else!” He yelled and she turned down the volume. “You’ve probably got a great start. Just keep building on it until you’ve got something. Nothing great comes easy.” Something sounded like it collided with him for a moment and her eyebrows raised at the silence that followed. “Don’t break anything important.” She warned softly, hearing him dust himself off. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Tree got in front of me. You need to see these things yourself! But add mountains. Always add a mountain! And a dog! People love dogs-.”

She laughed, “Alright, I’ll try to add mountains with my fish people… I might come see you… as soon as I finish this story.” He went to say something else but she told him in quick session, “Love you, don’t die, bye.” And ended the call before he could ask when that would be.

Lara sat there for a moment longer, plugging her phone in beside her computer. “Keep going. Add a mountain.” Another few moments later, a new piece of paper was in her hand from where it used to be on the wall, “A spy going down a ski slope is an overused trope.” Lara sat back in her chair, trying to think of how a ski slope was possibly be interesting and what had been in her head when she had wrote that down. Jake would definitely like it though when she sent him a copy. “I could make it funny maybe…” She murmured to herself, trying to put herself in the scene.

The cold would be bitter she’d imagined; but the view would be fantastic. Towering mountains in the distance that were just slightly blurred by sleet- the entire world being a winter wonderland almost. She pictured herself looking down one of those same looming giants, seeing how steep the drop was. “What if someone was chasing me too?” She shivered at the thought and searched around for another note. Something to help her with what might be chasing her? What was chasing her? Who? “A baking group of grandmothers?” She snorted a laugh, grinning at the note. “I’m a spy, sliding down the mountains while people chase me- with guns. And it’s actually grandmothers because I stole…” She waved the paper to herself like a fan, “Their recipes!” Lara slowed down a moment, “That’s going to be really hard to work into the story.” But it gave her inspiration. Moving back up to her desk, she looks at the papers beneath her.

She hadn’t been on legs long enough to know how to run, let alone how to slide down a mountain with them. Ceyda bent down while she sped down the path toward the slopes headed down the mountain, bending low enough to scoop the shield off of one of her enemies. The jump over the edge was terrifying, but forced herself forward while bullets carved their way past her body- barely missing in almost a comical way. The fall was even worse than she imagined- but she put the shield underneath her knees just as she hit the snowy embankment and had the ride of her life. Behind her she could hear yelling and she dared look behind her.

The women from before. When she had first broken into the hide out, against her better judgement but all the information lead here. There were three women, older than god himself discussing their plans for the pearl- the ungodly power they now held between them. It wasn’t a question for her to chase her but she had a small hope they’d think her too insignificant to bother with. Now they were behind her- flying through the air like demons made out of smoke and bone. Their voices cracked and screeching. Her father had been right, their evil was beyond her in every way.

The pearl bounced around in her bag, flinging itself with almost a musical tinking every time she hit a limb or rock. But she had it. She had the pearl- the world would be safe for another few moments. They closed in on her and she swallowed, shutting her eyes and wrapping herself around the pearl as the makeshift slid hit a rock- and sent her soaring. Three pairs of claws reached out and she took a breath. The world would be safe for another moment. Another moment she’d be here in this moment- another moment she could be with Wilo. If her father knew she had been with a deep dweller like him there would be true hell to pay. It was funny- how of all moments her last thought would be about him.

Lara practically grinned at that. She liked dramatic scenes for some reason and if one asked her was probably her most favorite part of writing. There had to be a way to make this blend together. Her cat rubbed against her leg after a pile of books oozed itself onto the floor next to another stack that had met the same fate. Though she would never tell anyone, not Jake and certainly not a future editor if she ever got that far, that she had a romantic side too. She took another note off the wall that fit perfectly with that. “A royal ball, dancing and music. A romantic meeting of leaders.” She put all the notes she had in a row, reading through them one more time. “Now this is going to be interesting.” Lara brushed her hair out of her face, tying it up off her neck and pulled her keyboard closer to her.

Wilo was waiting at the end of a wide double staircase that lead to an lower floor, a room that had been designed for the royals to enter only for tonight. The party was grand and in her opinion, overly lavish for their kind. But now the long tables were cleared and open for their people to arrive. This event was open to everyone and many danced with their children and longtime partners. Wilo stood waiting, hands clasped behind his back tightly. He had been given permission by her father, the first of his kind too to be allowed inside their walls. His breath was calm, but his eyes shut trying to remain that way. Deep dwellers were people of the wilder oceans where they had not claimed for themselves. But her opinion of their worth had changed, as much as everyone’s had when they had been the deciding force in this war being won.

He had been the deciding force in her battle and now he was here. He had a guard with him who nudged him from checking the timepiece he had on him. Wilo grunted at first and then a sharper nudge sent him looking at his man, then in the direction he was looking. The young outlaw prince’s jaw dropped when he saw her- taking each step with enough grace to make him wonder if he was truly awake. Ceyda was already a breathtaking woman in his eyes, but this made him think of her as a queen- his queen. He cleared his throat, “Enjoy the party.”Wilo told the guard next to him, stepping toward the stairs to meet her at the last step. “Good gods, I must say my lady, the Queen will be here in a moment and I don’t think I could part ways with you. She’ll very upset with me.”

Ceyda shook her head, “You came.”

“Why not? I wasn’t uninvited by helping you save the world was I?” Wilo offered his arm to her and she took it as they entered the main door of the ballroom together. It was very Victorian influenced from their brief days above ground.

“No. I don’t think this place would be the same without you.” She looked up at him, “You will stay, won’t you?”

“Oh, good lord.” She sighed, reading it over again. That was a god awful romance scene if she ever read one. But she couldn’t help wonder if it was just the thing something like this needed. It was an adventure story and why shouldn’t the hero get the man in the end?

Those were three big scenes that she could work with. Now all she had to do was fill in the blanks between them to make something fluid. It wasn’t long, but it would do to give her an outline to fit the story to. The plot was quick to jot down after rereading her work. This was almost as good as something she might send out one day as an actual description. It would keep her on point too to have this nearby while writing the entire thing out.

‘An Atlantean race of people, long forgotten by those who walk above the surface of the water, has lost their greatest treasure. All of their technology, knowledge, and culture documented on a sacred pearl by ways surpassing our knowledge is a highly coveted artifact. On the night of the king’s ball, where he was to retire and his daughter to take his place, the pearl is stolen underneath their noses. An ancient order of evil that they had thought died out long ago is now back and ready to take their positions as rightful leaders of the world have left their calling card. The three sisters of power hold the secret to defeating this evil- but no one knows where their loyalties lie. The princess, after her men die from trying to take back the pearl, goes herself- using dark magic to allow herself to walk both on land and sea. She discovers a plot to not only use the sea to not only end her people but all those on land as well. With a few unlikely friends; a scientist from deep inside a research base in the mountains, and a deep ocean dweller (sworn enemies of her shallow water people) named Wilo, she is able to defeat the power of three and the order they control. She returns to her people, now queen. She is saddened though, missing those she had been with on that adventure. The princess is a hero, and as she turns to her deep ocean dweller companion there. They dance together at the ball when it is interrupted by a new threat no one saw coming.’

“I’d read it.” She shrugged, printing it out and sticking it to the side of her monitor as she began to write. Her keystrokes gaining speed as she worked through the story. Sometimes acting out some of the scenes to round out the edges of writing them. It had been hilarious when she had tried to use an arm chair to help her picture skiing away from attacking evil grannies. Cobbler had voiced his concern as she practically yelled with joy when she had found the answer to a difficult kink in the plot of exactly where Wilo was going to wonder across her path. Lara puffed a piece of hair out of her face, reading the last few sentences of her work. Birds had replaced crickets and somewhere between the ball and the grandmother trying to sell the princess’s love interest a poisoned banana- she had gotten a cup of coffee to help her through the last few lines. Sunlight was shining through the blinds, spreading warmth through the room where she turned them open from where she sat. The hanging plant in the corner of the room, almost forgotten, perked up at the new brightness. Lara took a deep breath and read the entire thing to herself, a now completed piece of work. One of the first of its kind for her. She saved it again, probably for the fifth time since she had finished editing. Then backed it up for good measure. A copy went to Jake with a sentence instead of a title. “I’m an aspiring writer, and at least it’s not my other sci-fi book.” She sent it and did a few more small changes before forcing herself to say it was done. She knew it would be another month if she kept up with the tweaking- and she didn’t have that kind of time. Lara read over Jake’s insights that came surprisingly quickly back to her and sent the final copy to the company that had asked for a new fiction pieces from writers like her. She would never get anywhere if she never took the step of actually sending in her work.

Weeks went by and she wondered if it had been worth anything at all as she still kept writing what came to mind. It was a bug to write, something that constantly kept you up and busy. Could she try rewriting this piece again if it wasn’t chosen and try something better? Should she scrap it and try another idea mixed with the myriad of others. Maybe it was even time to clean out the idea board and start over. With a sigh she sat heavily back at her desk in her makeshift office- a long stretch of the day job had made this moment almost like heaven. Cobbler tried to sit on her keyboard before she gently shooed him to a shoebox with his name on it nearby. First e-mails, then another cup of coffee, not espresso, and then on to the next piece. There had to be something she could inspire someone else with- something that someone could feel like they could relate to. Her e-mail page finally opened in front of her, Cobbler settling into the box beside her with a purr. 1 New Message “RE: Congratulations Ms. Lara Pendleton! We have selected your…”

#sabinemorans #my work #copy right #whatever #cassanderswork

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hellogreenergrass · 8 years ago

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Signy Island - Week Six

18th January

Snowing again. And windy. And generally a bit Polar. Despite these clear signs that today should be an inside day, a day where you hide in your heated laboratory and bask in the technological and mechanical advances that have allowed humans to house themselves on a remote Island in the full force of the Southern Ocean. Wondering if you should put a jumper on, not because you are cold, but because it would make you feel even cosier. Or whether you should treat yourself and put your tea in the thermal mug with the Tardigrade on it that your (very considerate) friends brought you. The advantage being that you could have a large supply of hot tea on your desk without having to strain yourself to go to the kitchen to make another when you inevitably forgot about it and it went cold. Such luxuries are afforded on inside days, all the while the Polar winds whirl outside, forcing the seals into the ocean and birds back to their nests in order to wait it out. This was today.

But I didn’t do any of this. I gamely dragged myself and Iain, to be my field assistant, out into the field to drill 88 soil cores spread over hilly and coastal, weather lashed terrain. Each point to be sampled was 100m away from the other, in a grid nearly a kilometre wide and long. This sounds straight forward enough, especially when planning such things on maps. In reality, one point may be at sea level and another 100m away could well be at the top of the cliff. Or in the case of one point, over the edge of a cliff on a steep and disintegrating bank of moss and scree roughly at an angle of 60 degrees, sometimes more. I’d set out the grid on my own a few days earlier, and whilst I followed my GPS over the edge of the cliff where it indicated the next point was to be, I wondered if maybe I should go back to base and rope up. I decided not and plunged forth, immediately regretting my decision as I downclimbed what turned out to be an unreversible move. It was later pointed out to me that when one is in a situation where they think, “maybe I should do this thing, like rope up and abseil, or call base and let them know what Im doing”, then that is probably the thing I should do. But I styled it out with an ingracious amount of bum sliding, swearing and a heart rate of at least 250bpm. Safe to say Iain and I found an alternative route, approaching the point from the ground up, rather than giving ourselves over completely to gravity and the God’s of misadventure.

Despite the appalling conditions we had a great day out. Iain is good company and made a dull job brighter, if not the weather. In part because of the large amount of innuendo about large penetrating rods into moist substrate….trust a Glaswegian.

20th Jan

I bum lifted today! No, this was not a crude endeavour you filthy minded so and so you. Nor is it innuendo, (well, sometimes it is around here) but is in fact what we call chick counting when the penguins are still sitting on them. Because you have to lift up penguin bottoms. You see, much more delightful than what you were thinking! I was Stacey’s field assistant for the day and we needed to count the Chinstrap chicks over at Cummings and the Moyes Corrie area on the West Coast of the Island. It’s beautiful around there, and the high winds that still hadn’t dissipated from earlier in the week, only added to the drama. Big waves crashed over icebergs in the bay, the mist continuously rose and lowered it’s skirts, so that every few minutes another part of the view would be teasingly revealed or tucked away. I find that clouds and mists on mountains give a good sense of scale, as if we innately equate a cloud with a certain distance. They belong in the heavens, and we on Earth, and mountains are where they meet. Us tiny specks of biology in comparison to either.Or maybe thats just the romantic in me.

Cummings Cove is also home to the Cummings Hut. A battered and bruised relic of early polar adventures, that was all the lovelier for the brow beatings that Antarctica had furrowed upon its walls. It is essentially a roof planted on short, thick stone walls, with the door attached to the roof and slotted into the allocated space, as if the whole structure came as one piece and just needed a few feet of stone to raise it up for head clearance. It felt very Alpine. The roof has recently been replaced, and just the other week Iain and Matt came out to replace the chimney vent. And on this trip Alex painted the front door to match the fascia. Its now a bright blue (Cuprinol Beach Blue in fact!) and alongside the roof and gables that are ‘BAS Green’, a sort of pale sage, it looks quite fetching. Inside, the hut contains a worktop the length of one side with an array of tinned and dried food stuffs: namely a worrying amount of processed cheese in tins, several butts of drinking water and the Tilley lamps and Primus stoves of yore that furnish all our huts. Along the other side are two bunks with fleece skins over the mattresses for warmth and a mound of down sleeping bags of varying ages, sizes and perfumes. A small Perspex window looks out from the rear gable over the cove and the dozens of fur seals that live there. We stopped briefly, leaving Alex to stock up the first aid kit and finish the paint work, before heading out to count the penguins.

To get to Moyes Corry and the majority of the Chinstrap colonies that we needed to see today, we hiked up the short but steep scree and snow slope that makes the Southern edge of the bay and Cummings area. At the top, the ridge was greener than expected (for a ridge) and on closer inspection showed a multitude of colours and textures in the diverse array of moss and lichen species present. This was Cryptogam Ridge. Naturally. (FYI: Cryptogam is a plant with no true flowers, cryptogram on the other hand is code breaking). Down the cliff from here was our first colony and out of 35 nests this year, only 2 chicks have made it this far. In previous years there have been three colonies at this spot, but today, only one. And this one doesn’t appear to be having a good year. Stacey and her colleagues suspect the combining doom of climate change and the El Nino to be the indirect cause.

Next we had to ascend a small peak and then traverse across its Southern slopes of perilously placed scree, before shuffling our way down the final descent – a 50 degree slide of snow, ice and loose rocks. Remember that here in Antarctica, the South facing slopes are the ones kept shaded and cold, not the North face! A mile more and we arrived at the biggest colony on todays survey list: A few hundred nests of chinstraps. I gloved up, armed with a spray can of blue sheep dye to mark the nests we had checked off, and got lifting! Taking a cluster of nests at a time, I offered my right hand in a distracting sacrifice to the understandably furious pecks of the parent penguin, whilst lifting its tail up and counting the chicks beneath. Sometimes there was nothing, sometimes an egg, but usually it was a grey fluffy mass and sprawling wings that stares blankly at you with the blackest little eyes, like beads of onyx dropped into a mound of silvery fuzz. The chicks vary in size, from the recently hatched that are smaller than my palm, to the huge and frankly ridiculous chicks that are near the size of their parents. All the more ridiculous as their parents are still sheltering them, but as they are so big now the parents are lifted clear of the ground and balance atop a massive fluff bundle. So I repeat this process for the best part of 200 times: bend, lift penguin, get pecked and hit (flippers hurt!), shout out the number to Stacey and then spray the rock adjacent blue. Sometimes the nests were at the bottom of the cliff, so I would scramble down to the surging waves, slipping on the rock as my boots – now weighing a few extra Kg with congealed penguin shit – struggled to take grip on the frictionless schist rock. Shit on schist.

At the final colony, we looked down into a wen that was flanked by hundreds of meters of soaring cliff. Stacey pointed out the nests of sea birds that I had overlooked, too distracted by the view of a Moe Island. Moe is essentially a mountain in the sea, and a spectacular feature of Signy. The island stands maybe a mile offshore, perhaps less, and the bulk of it is a mountain peak. Although the whole island cant be more than a kilometre or two in diameter. There is a brief plateau on one side, before the land gives way to a sheer cliff into the sea. Today it was snow capped and what had been huge waves crashing the beach at Cummings, now looked like sloshing ripples lapping at pebbles under the mass of Moe. The cool thing about Antarctica is that latitude has already done the work of altitude. We may live at sea level, but to all intents and purposes it’s the same as being a few thousand meters up in the mountains of Europe. So smaller peaks that we would not even consider a mountain back home, are very Alpine. Both in topography and climate. A hill of 50m above sea level has more in common with the high mountain plateaus of Northern Norway than anything at the same level back in the UK. Stace and I both stood in silence taking it in: Just beneath us a flock of Cape Petrels floated in the sea, hundreds of them bobbing like black and white flotsam in the swell. Our view stretched to the horizon and it was exhilarating knowing that there was nothing but open ocean for thousands of kilometres, and in fact if we set sail from here and just let the winds take us, we wouldn’t make land fall again until we hit the South Orkneys from the other direction. Such are the currents of the Southern Ocean, circling around and around the continent. I felt so very very lucky to be here.

#antarctica

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