#playing an amnesiac is so wack

[burnorgetburned]

Through scrolling through sad madoka posts I was reminded that some people may not have seen this gem:

“Save the world, save one girl - what's the difference? You might have all the power you could ever ask for, but some things remain difficult.”

I’m not sure if many people here have seen this, but it’s a quest (a sort of open text-based game where all players vote on the decisions that the character executes) where you play as Sabrina Vee, a weird confused amnesiac that knows all of Madoka Magica, side materials and all, for reasons that are explained in-story.

It’s fix-it story where the main character has great powers, which solves little of her problems because her problems can’t be solved with violence. “It’s always about the people” is repeated over and over as a main theme, and it shows.

literally the name of the quest means “System Breaker”. That’s exactly what it’s supposed to do: break Madoka Magica’s cruel Witch-based system without ascending anyone into lonely nonexistence.

tons and tons of discussion about the themes and characters, with people who absolutely adore them.

all characters are treated with warmth and respect. So much respect. You’ll get people having multi-page wars about how to gently break information bombs to every single character, but that’s only because they care so much. They do not want to mess this up.

The players care so much that they have their own wiki.

HAPPINESS and FLUFF without downplaying the suffering faced by the characters in PMMM. Because the story is itself based on addressing their pain!

Not a single person has died yet. The player character has managed to even befriend (and spare) Oriko and Kirika, who are reoccurring characters.

Homura gets someone she can trust with everything. She gets to be real friends with everyone again, she gets a support system, Sayaka sees her as a mentor. She gets so much kindness and sympathy and admiration and. and. I love Sabrina, guys.

actually everybody gets a support system. Especially Mami Tomoe.

lots of mystery and speculation. Is it Post-Rebellion? A wack timeline? Is Sabrina actually a witch/Walpurgisnacht/dewitched Ultimate Kriemhild Gretchen/a stack of Clara Dolls in a trench coat?

… Can you solve de-witching? (The author is a physicist, he has internal rules for magic).

and it’s all well-written.

Please check this out. It’s so much fun, it loves the characters so much, and there are many, many hilarious hijinks throughout both the story and the quest discussion pages themselves. If the discussion itself looks too long for you, there’s a Story-Only mode that lets you read only the story parts. And of course you can jump in and help Sabrina when you’re all caught up!

[renatedagmarmilada]

NO HELP Poetry..

assertive women's groups

 out of the depths I cried

to you oh Lord for help

 you answered my prayer fear no more

I managed a visit one time only

 there in a poor community hall

the WOMEN gave me all the answers

 always talk straight don't be afraid

say exactly what you mean

 women are people too you have rights

though it often seems as tho' you don't hide

 come again next week we'll help you

What do they want with you HE asked

 I've seen those two women again and again

those assertive women who are always straight

 I try to emulate these strong english sisters

though I still look like a little brown mouse..

THE CULTURE LEECH

 yesterday I received a death threat

they cut into my tv transmission

and said because of my friendship...

 I am a pacifist

we are everybody's friend

we help where and when we can

 I enjoy learning the culture of others

it is interesting and educational

that is my only real crime

 I do not take sides

but only look at each case

but this is not new

 once before I had a death threat

they cut into my tv transmission

then it was the opposing side

 bully boys never change

they have no nationality

they have only an inferiority complex

 with which they ladle out death threats

especially to those unable to defend

can poetry be such a danger?

  "CRUSHING YOUR BRAINS" quote.

> 

> the liberation had come

> held her belly tightly protecting

> two red officers wacked her skull

> air resounding with swinging  rifle butts

> baby due in one week

> 

> a bone splinter in her head

> gave her headaches all her life

> no doctor here ever asked why

> except Steiner refugee doctor from home

> just another female moaner

> 

> for months now the lab unbidden

> squeezes my skull daily painful hours

> never another preminition you will have

> and your I.Q down the drain

> the excuse mother's headaches

> 

> laser all, you'll never talk

> eighty students please attempt all the moves

> our lab rats will derange you long range

> now what do I know about whom?

> no different to then.

 Upstairs you know

> 

> why do they allow it from above

> this crushing of my brain nightly

> usually reserved for retarded

> another night's onslaught completed

> the country is filled with haters

> we are gentle quiet peace-love people

> 

> America will back us they sneer

> they darn't do otherwise

> go on then get out flee

> the english are finally out of control

> it is to see how far we can take evil

> Canada gives corridor-permission over there

> 

> They're trying to destroy your brain

> so no one will believe you perhaps

> we've twisted in endless lies

> I am a teacher and highly respected

> B.B.C. Horowitz has the lab file now

> Upstairs have all suddenly become amnesiacs

> 

> but why all this crippling

> all this destroying and all this tainting

> manufactured and real two personas

> on street level on our streets

> everyone knows and everyone speaks

Ø  they lasered their car they all say....

 THE SIN EATERS

> 

> Research uses outlawed plays

> research barely known as weapons

> mother interpreted for von Braun

> at the northern Usedom

> told much before they here crippled her

> awesome power is always theirs

> they knew I knew much and say little

> 

> Let's reverse our twenty years of crime

> the breaking of International Laws to cover

> spin doctors, sadists one and all

> get americans to help us out

> use these techniques barely known

> as weapons more deadly unseen used

> they lied to Presidents and Statesmen

> such power and no fear have they

> 

> no one will know till next century

> they laughed using the old boys

> we are a quiet careful people

> as I have sat painted many deaths

> previous today I saw them one by one

> deathly pale walking into extinction

> into the invisible lab of horrors

> for which they paid and crowed

> those men in our navy coats

> it will be..as we scapegoat

THE WOULD BE MAGISTRATE

> 

> as a girl at my church school

> the Head was a Judge

> 

> I never wanted to be a model

> nor a nurse, nor a priestess

> I didn't want to be anything really

> except a wife adored and loved

> a mother cared for and respected

> 

> aritists just are and don't need titles

> but I did want to be a magistrate

> for thirty years people heard

> I want to be a magistrate one day

> 

> finally applying the evil lab replied

> let her go through the motions

> no advancement in this land

> didn't bother too much with the form

> but then remembered at the interview

> just how much it was my wish

> 

> so it is time to pack our bags

> here where they had welcomed us

> here where they had poached us from others

> here where corruption is covered

> and never a breath of scandals

> here they don't let us be o nothing

> not even healthy beings

> 

> but how unhealthy

> a country with no scandals

> with such an excellent security law!

AGE HER BY NUMBERS

> 

> perfect health she has

> China teacher she is

> can't get into China without

> 

> seventy seven students no less

> received the order, age her

> in our very special excess therapy

> 

> it's outlawed everywhere but here

> blighty employs fundis and indies

> and they don't like normal women

> 

> gt grandmother Bertodi married at 32

> had 19 healthy clever children

> to the postmaster of 20

> 

> seems our genes got their goat

> twixt men and women no friendship

> love affairs only sexuality is theirs

> 

> since twenty five eleven last year

> months they laser squeezed arm arteries

> so they now pain like an old old woman

> 

> that's like having a lorry sitting on your arm

> with so many other tricks to age

> they try them one by one and all

> 

> the end result is death and crippling

> all with a tidy medical certificate

> telling all we offered for torture

> 

> see how much she can take ....

 NO HUGs>

> why England I had to ask my new mother?

> 

> on our way West my girl

> we passed through many terrors

> some so terrible forgotten it seems

> better not spoken of except in whispers

> 

> the mother was like mad with trauma

> till I was in my teens

> whispered nightly of the liberation

> over and over and again

> 

> the thing which struck us about the British

> when there on the Elbe the Russians appeared

> the Americans rushed kissed and cuddled

> whilst the english stood by hushed

> as we watched huddled...

> 

> we are a dignified people of old

> seemed they were more like us

> and daily now mutters angrily

> this is not the country we came to anymore

> ever an anglophile, she feels betrayed....

> 

THE SKULL

> 

> they've punctured my skull in several places

> so if I fall it will crack!

> 

> someone with a name like Phillip does this first

> do you know a Phil?

> 

> and they've laser-squeezed my brain nightly

> there a spaces now

> 

> do you know what that will mean when you are old

> now the nights are the problem

> 

> does this have any useful purposes was asked

> along with knotting veins?

> 

> so for why do you do this was asked

> told Germans shouldn't ask..

> 

> so now though I don't have headaches

> they will have put on my file I have head pains..

> 

> paintings and poems are not in the skull

> they are all life about us

> 

> crack as many skulls as you want

> science wont kill art though it tries...

> as it kills....

 MRS CHERWINSKA

> 

> Mrs Cherwinska was a widdow

> she was over seventy and typical

> of our quiet Slovakian people

> 

> small and slender

> quiet and decent

> she couldn't even speak German

> 

> in the flat next door in old Bratislava

> mother was at the Ministry interpreting

> Mrs C. as usual, shopping dusting cooking

> 

> returning home mother called to check

> no answer came from the widdow

> bad times these best check in person

> 

> all they had taken were the brass door handles

> and a mirror as nothing else glittered

> the doctor stuffed her with cottonwool

> 

> it was all he could do as she bled to death,

> morphine was no more

> at least it was not on the streets for her

> 

> it was a whole platoon of liberators

> Malinovska's Army all prisoners set free

> the President told my mother

> 

> in the flat they found the old lady

> she didn't even speak German

> the liberation had come

> 

> she died the same day.

> messages were sent to the Kremlin

> leave them to liberate was the answer

> 

> even the little, blonde four year olds.......

 WHERE ARE YOUR TAXES

> 

> have you ever checked your taxes?

> broken down as Research does humans..

> never to be returned..

> 

> you paid more millions than you can guess

> just to kill two Sheffield artists

> it's called overused on something used for a long time

> maime and destroy a third

> murder an old refugee journalist

> cripple a child genius on the violin

> cripple a heroin and torment

> 

> destroy well over twenty british families

> that is the woman boss alone

> and doesn't take into account the murders

> 

> the murders are uncountable

> like the hairs on your head

> 

> 

> for YOUR taxes they employed

> five deranged germans

> at least we didn't kill they add - true

> we are really like Auschwitz today

> goodness only knows how many fundis

> spite as you can't even guess

> 

> and ofcourse

> we can rely on the yanks

> 

> so now the Prince can play...

My Siberian  Summer Love

 For hours flying on arrival across land and sea,

searching for this paper friend waited to see

there the bears and wolves, where are you, twixt curses

don't leave me at the airport standing with butterless bread  

late, hadn't told me he'd lost his abode here in Peter's bog

 Car broken down again as normal for dear sweet Leonid

no flowers, no welcome, no sweet words, my brother is here

(his brother married man told me he adored me, but not he)

how did you recognise me he barked, how not my sweet

after the numerous pics you have sent to me, been here long

 insisted we walk the Palace Gardens IMMEDIATELY

the sun shines there even at two a.m. as eyes grow sleepy

but my Kazakhstan love is very strong, not me, eventually

to a bed near the Palace to be woken at the crack of dawn

cock crowing bearing food gifts, I didn't need a farm my dear

 should I tell the dear man I am only small, make him aware

we 'll sit by the lake, sternly he commanded to my stare

This is not early, no one needs to rest, this is Russia's best

His voice boomed across the lake, drinks for my lady

as the rain poured onto the royal swans and golden onions

 jerked down the umbrella nearly knocking off our heads

beheaded by the Palace? Murmured, this is so romantic 

blazing June, we must immediately go, count every tree

his grandfather a white general, his family taken to Gulag

doctor and geologist, born in a shack on a lone, windy hill

 a better heart you could never find, but gets little right

plays his accordian with skill, style and panache to dance all night

made me laugh day and night, english teacher, tourist guide

has lost everything drives taxis now,

so to old blighty I returned

but only because it's so difficult to get out, and in

  over there!

[oh-atlas]

i was tagged for this forever ago by @mollymaukerie​ and then i DIDNT do it, but i’m doing it now and will probs just use this template for reference for infodropping about characters in the future. just because i know you all have so many great ocs, i’m tagging @darlingicarus, @cityandking and @mollymaukerie back ;) (also beware i’m fixating on an old and COMPLICATED character of mine)

━━ character information • Rishta Aello-Argyros

&. basics ↳ name: ahiya zatura / cashia / rishta aello-argyros ↳ age: 29 ↳ race / ethnicity: winter eladrin / summer eladrin / unaligned.  ↳ gender: cis female ↳ pronouns: she/her ↳ sexuality: asexual lesbian ↳ special abilities: blood magic, linguistics, knifework, stealth, getting into situations she shouldn’t, communicating with gods

&. associations ↳ color(s): blue & white / black & red / red & white ↳ animal(s): songbird  ↳ themes / words: blood, books, restraints, choice, lack of identity, roses ↳ season: winter and summer &. background + family ↳ birthplace: solaris ↳ titles and jobs: noble / assassin & war weapon / runner for the mafia, diplomat ↳ family: baldran (father)†, vallana (mother)†, zinna (stepmother)†, thero (brother)†, daevan (brother)†, ferro (brother)†, inaxina (sister)†, sylrie (sister)†, adwynn (sister)† / daughter of the goddess emla / daughter of melodia agyros & valentha aello

&. personality + morals ↳ personality traits: impulsive, intelligent, sharp-witted, calculating, empathetic ↳ fears: losing her sense of identity once more ↳ liked traits in others: intelligence, honesty, honor ↳ disliked traits in others: manipulative, cruel, violent &. interest + favorites ↳ favourite foods: baked goods and tea ↳ favourite weather: overcast ↳ favourite animals: mostly cats; they’re quite ↳ hobbies / interests: baking, linguistics, reading, history. 

&. other relationships ↳ current romantic partner: Artemesia Vasilissa (Modern AU) ↳ closest friends: Lelenia

[deepseawritings]

The Long Road (part 1/2)

In Scar's opinion, there had never been a more appropriate time to use the expression raining with a vengeance. Normal raining, even torrential rain, was nothing like this. This was like a flood. Water came pouring down like a waterfall, drenching you to the very bones and making it nearly impossible to see anything further than a hand span away from your face. It didn't help that sun had already set.

He had no idea of where he was. Okay, that wasn't exactly true. He knew he was in Limansk, but he didn't exactly know where in the city he was. He would check it on his PDA, but Scar wasn't one hundred percent sure the water would not damage it. That supposing he could decipher the display on the screen under such deluge. He could sort of see the indistinct shape of a big building looming ahead. That meant refuge and a roof to sleep until the raining stopped, or until morning. Whichever came first. Scar just hoped it wasn't too irradiated or worse, crawling with Monolith troops. He'd had enough of Monolith for the rest of his life.

It turned out to be a familiar looking building. He'd been here before. Still, that didn't save him from stepping into the overflowing pond on his way to the entrance. Fuck, he was now drenched to his socks. At least this time there was no barbed fence barring the entrance to the building. Once on the inside he now checked his PDA. There was someone else here, another person. He supposed it would be a lost bandit or a renegade, Monolith always went in groups. Scar didn't even bother turning off the flashlight, he just went in search of the bandit. He would kill him and then find a decent spot to sleep.

#

Strelok was tired. Not just a physical tiredness, but an emotional one as well. His life had been such a rollercoaster in the last weeks: becoming amnesiac, being tasked to basically kill himself, recovering his memory, going to Pripyat and facing hordes of Monolith bastards, infiltrating the CNPP and destroying the C-Consciousness. And that was the condensed version. If it was up to him, he would just lie in a ditch and sleep in the grass. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that forever.

A small group of Monolithians spotted him this past morning and took great exception to his presence. The persistent sons of bitches had been chasing him from a distance since then. Nothing like the occasional sniper shot aimed at him to motivate Strelok to run faster. Then came the rain; thick, persistent rain. At least it would serve to shake them off his trail, or so he hoped. Anyways, he could always be ambushed by another Monolith group here in this city. In deserted urban spaces it was always a possibility, and his unfamiliarity with this place put him at a disadvantage.

The sun was setting. Soon it would get dark, well, darker than it had been all afternoon long. Strelok decided to take shelter in a big nearby building, some kind of institute or something similar. He would find a place to spend the night, and spare himself the torture of walking around in the dark, under heavy rain, in a city he'd never been in before.

#

Scouring the building was an eerie experience. Scar almost expected to stumble into someone wearing the Clear Sky uniform every time he turned a corner. It was like chasing ghosts.

He'd been as loud as possible, trying to lure whoever was there out of its hiding place, but no luck so far. He started to think there was nobody else in the building and his PDA was faulty. Then he finally heard a faint noise coming from one of the dark rooms. Good, at last a clue to follow. He readied his rifle, and then went into the room. A jarring impact rattled him when he collided against someone at the door's threshold.

It was not a bandit. And his face was unmistakeable. Strelok. The man looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. They stood there, looking at each other, not daring to move. Strelok's gaze went from confused to startled realization. He narrowed his eyes and moved his gun, the intent to shoot Scar plainly written in his face. Nevertheless, Scar was quicker. He wacked Strelok up the head with the butt of his Vintar, and Strelok fell down like a sack of flour. Well, that had been unexpected.

Deciding to play it safe, Scar took all of Strelok's weapons (including the knife) and tied his hands with a spare bandage, because there was nothing else around he could use. What was he going to do with him?

He could finish his assignment and kill Strelok, but it was pointless now. Besides, he didn't work for free, and there was no Clear Sky faction anymore. Lebedev and the rest were dead; or, if they were unlucky enough to survive massive amounts of psy damage, they would now be part of the brainwashed forces of Monolith. Killing Strelok now would achieve nothing. So he wasn't going to kill the stalker, at least for now, but neither could he let him go free. He'd already seen that Strelok didn't have any qualms about trying to shoot him in the face.

He gave up on thinking what to do with his captive. Strelok was unconscious and tied up, he wasn't going anywhere. Scar moved him to a corner of the room, tied his feet as well just in case, and then lied down on the floor to sleep.

#

The first thing Strelok noticed upon waking up was the throbbing pain on the side of his head. Ouch, he must have hit his head really hard. Then he remembered the night before. Scar had found him! He opened his eyes and there he was, sleeping just a few meters away. He had to flee. Then he noticed he couldn't move freely and Strelok panicked. His hands and feet were tied! He squirmed, trying to slip free of his restraints, but it wasn't working. Fuck!

"Stop it." Scar grumbled. His thrashing must have woken him up. Then he proceeded to calmly check his PDA and eat a loaf of bread, like having Strelok tied up at his feet wasn't worthy of more than a passing glance. Eventually, he finished and regarded Strelok with a strange expression on his face.

"And what now? You kill me here or do you prefer to make me run for a while before shoot me in the back?"

"Don't be stupid, if I wanted to kill you, you'd be already dead." Scar answered him while he picked up his backpack and Strelok's confiscated weapons. "I'm going to untie your feet. Don't make me regret it, ok?" The mercenary warned him.

If looks could kill, Scar would have dropped dead in the spot. However, the mercenary didn't seem very impressed with Strelok's hate filled stare. He was sorely tempted to kick the bastard in the face, but that would only worsen his situation.

It was a miserable experience for Strelok. He was made to walk all morning in front of Scar, hand still tied because the mercenary didn't trust him unbound. Smart of him. He remembered all too well how the mercenary relentlessly followed him across the Zone, hunting him like an animal. It was because of him and his damned Clear Sky friends that Strelok ended up amnesiac. And if he remembered correctly, it was also their fault that Fang died. Yes, Strelok would not doubt to jump at him and try to kill him if he wasn't tied and unarmed.

The day was oddly peaceful in the ghost town of Limansk. The most dangerous thing they encountered was a cluster of whirligigs in the middle of the road and a heavily irradiated construction site, but otherwise nothing worth worrying about. They should have known that peace didn't last long in the Zone. At some point Strelok's old Monolith chasers caught up with them. And they brought reinforcements. They fell upon them like an avalanche, shooting at them, while a pair of snipers shot from the balcony of a nearby building. At least none of them had a Gauss Rifle. Scar bodily dragged him behind a rusted car.

"Stay put and don't try anything stupid." The mercenary warned him.

He took up his Vintar and focused on taking out the snipers. The mercenary shot twice and then changed his focus of attention to the approaching Monolithians on the other side of the street. Strelok tugged with his teeth at the bindings on his wrists, loosening the bandage enough to move his hands a bit. After some more twisting, he eventually got his hands free.

The mercenary was completely focused on killing the Monolith troops, with his back to Strelok. If he was quick enough, this was the perfect opportunity to take something out of the mercenary's backpack. Like for example, one of his weapons. He could see the shotgun poking out, so he decided to risk it. He really hoped Scar hadn't bothered to unload his weapons, otherwise this would prove useless.

Strelok yanked the shotgun out in a fluid movement. Of course, Scar noticed it. He turned around, furious. Strelok went beneath the vehicle and rolled to the other side. Right after emerging from beneath the car, he came face to face with a surprised Monolithian. He fired his shotgun and the man stumbled back, a dark red stain expanding on his chest. Thank God it was still loaded. Strelok shot him again, just to be sure. The Monolithian fell to the ground with a dull thud. He saw another one further away go down with a bullet in his head, courtesy of Scar and his Vintar.

He ran to the nearest tree and hid behind it, then surveyed the street. The reason he'd taken his shotgun back was to kill Scar, but it was actually more advantageous to have the mercenary alive and helping him kill those angry Monolithians. So for now he would not turn against him, at least not until the Monolith guys were all dead. Strelok gunned down one of them that got too close to where he was hiding. A bullet sailed inches away from his face, courtesy of yet another sniper, and Scar made quick work of him.

The usual cacophony of a gunfight was suddenly drowned by a hellish chorus of menacing growls and barking. A pack of wild dogs poured in from an adjacent street. It wouldn't be a great problem if there were only blind dogs since those were cowardly beasts. The problem was the half dozen pseudo-dogs leading the pack.

#

The dogs came out of nowhere, or so thought Scar. The pack of beasts quickly swarmed up their improvised battlefield, lured in by the smell of fresh blood. Scar made good use of his enemies' distraction and shot down one of the Monolithians, who'd been too busy shooting at the dogs to remember he was in the middle of a firefight. Scar saw another Monolithian on the ground, being torn apart by the dogs. His raw screams were one of the worst things Scar heard in a long time. It was a horrible way to die and Scar actually thought about gifting him a quick death, but his screams soon turned into low, wet gurgles and then stopped.

However, not all the pseudo-dogs were feasting on the dead, a couple of them were chasing someone else. Strelok. The stalker was running like the wind, coming back to Scar's position. He trained his Vintar on the pseudo-dogs, but judging by Strelok's reaction the stalker thought he was aiming at him. One of the pseudo-dogs lunged against Strelok and Scar shot at the beast. The stalker's astonished face was priceless.

While Strelok finished off the injured pseudo-dog, Scar jumped on top of the rusted car's hood to get away from the dogs swarming him. He shot at them, spraying blood and fur on the asphalt. Some ran away hurt and yelping, and some continued growling and trying to jump after him. Meanwhile, Strelok finally arrived there and jumped on the car as well. They were face to face, eyeing each other warily. However, they had more pressing concerns right now. Like the furious, vicious dogs trying to rip them to shreds.

By silent agreement, they started shooting at the beasts at the same time. Strelok killed the ones closest to them with the shotgun, while Scar took care of the pseudo-dogs with his rifle. Perhaps the pseudo-dogs were mostly chewing on the fallen Monolithians, but Scar didn't want to risk being jumped by one of them later on. He shot down most of them, but two were still missing. Strelok stopped to reload the shotgun, so Scar took out his pistol, a Martha, and killed the blind dogs still circling around the car.

Like summoned by his earlier thoughts, the remaining two pseudo-dogs appeared around a corner. Scar emptied the pistol's magazine on one of them. The other jumped at Strelok while he was still reloading and dragged him down the car. The stalker rolled around, trying to evade the mutant's vicious attack. The first one wasn't dead either. Instead of reloading the pistol, Scar grabbed his rifle and finished off the pseudo-dog. Then he focused his attention on Strelok. He saw the stalker trying to hit the mutant with his shotgun like it was melee weapon, in a desperate attempt to get away from the pseudo-dog. That only enraged the animal. The beast got him by the leg and shook its head, tearing into the flesh. Strelok screamed in pain.

Scar shot at the pseudo-dog once, twice, thrice. Finally, it died. He jumped down the car and approached Strelok. He dragged the animal's carcass off of the injured stalker and caught a flash of fear on Strelok's eyes when he saw him, rifle still in hand. He kicked the shotgun out of his grasp, just in case he got any funny ideas.

"What am I going to do with you?" The stalker only meant trouble and headaches, Scar was sure of that.

"If you're going to kill me, make it quick." Strelok hissed between pained groans.

The stalker's leg was a disaster. Pieces of torn fabric clung to the wound, soaked in blood. The bite wound was a ghastly sight, the flesh torn by deep tears and lacerations that bled profusely. Strelok could count himself lucky if the bone wasn't splintered or crushed. It definitely was easy to feel sympathy for him right now.

Scar ignored his earlier question and fished around the backpack for a medkit, one of the military issued packages. Strelok's trouser leg was so torn he didn't need to rip it to treat the wound. Scar cleaned the wound as best as he could, but that wasn't enough. It hadn't stopped bleeding and probably needed to be stitched. He could try to just bandage it, but he knew it wouldn't do much. The only good news was that the bone didn't seem damaged, as far as he could tell.

"Why are you doing this?" Strelok asked him, clearly confused.

"Because I'm a fucking saint, obviously." Scar deadpanned. It was an excellent question. One he couldn't really answer. He still didn't know if it was out of gratitude for not turning against him while they fought, or if it was a rare act of compassion or what.

"Need to take the Urchin off before I bleed to death." Strelok said with urgency.

He fiddled with the containers on the belt and took out the artifact. Scar put it in the backpack, taking great care to not prick himself on the spiky surface.

"That will help but this still needs stitching." Scar warned him.

He had some experience dealing with bad wounds, but he was far from being an expert. At least it wasn't the first time he stitched someone. Strelok passed out soon after Scar started the process. It was for the best.

#

Time became a blurred haze for Strelok. His last coherent memory was getting attacked by the pseudo-dog, and then Scar showed up like a knight in shining armour. Except in such scenarios, one usually didn't fear the saviour could blow your head off as well. He vaguely remembered Scar cleaning his wounded leg and trying to stitch it closed. After the pain came the darkness, and then all sense of time went out of the window.

Whatever else he remembered, it had a dreamlike quality to it; he couldn't be sure they weren't hallucinations induced by the pain or the blood loss. Someone carried him around, his head against a hard backpack; lying on a lumpy surface that smelled musty...

He awoke to rumbling thunder, reddish light filtering into the darkness. Strelok sat up startled, he had to find a refuge if he wanted to survive the blowout!

Wide awake now, and aware of his surroundings, he realised he was already indoors. He'd apparently been sleeping on a ratty couch, covered with a dusty and moth-eaten blanket. He supposed all this must have been the mercenary's doing. It was quite difficult to wrap his mind around the fact Scar had taken care of him and, most probably, saved his life. Which made him wonder where was said mercenary now. The light filtering through the windows was redder with each passing moment and the emission would soon be deadly.

"I see you're awake." Scar's voice startled Strelok. When he surveyed the room before, he hadn't noticed the mercenary sitting quietly in a shadowed corner.

"How long did I sleep?"

"You were out of it since yesterday afternoon."

A horde of questions danced in Strelok's mind, most of them starting with Why, but the mercenary had already proved he wasn't going to answer those truthfully.

"Thank you, I guess," he finally said. The words were heavy and bitter on his tongue.

They sat in silence, enduring the trembling ground and thunderous noise that always accompanied the emissions. Strelok blindly played with the frayed blanket, tugging at the threads until they unravelled. It was difficult to see much in the hellish red twilight, but at least this time Strelok didn't see ghostly figures attacking him. He hated those illusions. Eventually, the thundering faded and the sky cleared again, like that terrifying interlude never happened.

"Are you going to tie me up again?" Strelok broke the tense silence.

He could try to fight him, but he was unarmed and his wounded leg was a liability. The odds were definitely not in his favour.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" The mercenary asked him in return. Strelok remained stubbornly quiet. "Look, if you agree that we're even and don't try anything funny, you're free to go. If not..."

Scar's answer surprised him. He wanted Strelok to forget about the past? The blowout had definitely messed him up.

"Are you out of your mind? You and your Clear Sky pals made my life hell, killed one of my best friends and are the reason I ended up with amnesia for weeks!" Strelok sputtered enraged.

"For me it was just a contract, nothing personal." Scar told him, like that absolved him of any responsibility! "Clear Sky honestly thought you had to be stopped for the good of the Zone. Doesn't matter now. In case you haven't noticed, there is no more Clear Sky. Because of you, they're either dead or under the thrall of the Monolith."

They could all rot in Hell for all Strelok cared. Fang was dead. Strelok remembered how he had to flee for his life as Scar chased him relentlessly. He would never forget the panic he felt when they caught up with him in the CNPP and the mercenary fired that Gauss Rifle against him. And more recently, Scar hit him on the head and tied him up like a prisoner waiting for the execution. Except the execution never came. Instead, they fought together against Monolith and rabid dogs. And then he saved him from that pseudo-dog, and patched him up. It seems he even had taken care of him when he could just have left him to die. Ugh, why had he done that?!

"So what's your answer, are we even?" Scar asked him

"Alright, we're even." Strelok spat out, angry that he was forced to accept this. Strelok wasn't fit to run away or fight against Scar right now, and he supposed the mercenary's recent actions sort of made up for some of his past transgressions. Sort of.

The mercenary said nothing, he just looked at him intently. It was unnerving, those impossiby clear eyes seemed to pierce right through him. It sent shivers down Strelok's spine. He didn't know what Scar was searching for, but eventually he nodded.

#

After reaching such agreement, Scar told Strelok he was free to go if he pleased, and gave him his weapons back. The stalker eyed him with suspicion, and declared that he preferred to stay close and keep an eye on him, as he told Scar, because he didn't trust him at all. Apparently, he still expected Scar to shoot him in the back from afar. Fair enough, he didn't trust Strelok much, either. He would have sworn Strelok had been bitterly sincere when he agreed to bury the hatchet, but perhaps he'd been wrong and the stalker wanted to kill him in his sleep. Or perhaps Strelok didn't want to admit that, in his current state, he would probably need help to walk across the city and its obstacles.

Travelling together was mostly a silent, tense and awkward affair. They traversed Limansk at a slow pace, the city was difficult to navigate, especially if one wanted to avoid radiation hotspots, the odd Monolith patrol and bandits roaming around. It didn't help either that parts of the city were almost inaccessible, or some were even fenced off with barbed wire.

"Where are you actually headed?" Strelok asked him out of the blue.

"Someplace where I can drink and get a job. Like the 100 Rads."

"I thought mercs stuck together in Wild Territory, killing stalkers and terrorizing the scientists. That's what they do best, isn't it?" Scar could say that Strelok's bitterness surprised him, but that would be a lie. Besides, what he said was sort of true.

"I guess. The same way one could say that what stalkers do best is risking their lives stupidly and dying." Strelok didn't seem to appreciate Scar's quip very much, judging by his disgusted huff.

After that, a dense silence stretched between them. It wasn't until a good while later that Strelok broke it again. "So why won't you go back to Wild Territory? Did you kill someone of your own faction or is it something else?"

This question was missing much of the venom from before, so he decided to answer him instead of ignoring his question.

"Honestly, I just don't care. I'm getting too old to go back to an endless fight with Duty over a handful of railways and warehouses." That was true, there was nothing he missed from Wild Territory.

"Yeah, that place sucks big time. Mercs have lousy taste setting up base." Strelok chuckled. He looked oddly endearing when he wasn't frowning at him all the time.

They lapsed into silence once again. Thankfully, their brief exchange seemed to have defused the tension somewhat. The relative peace was broken once again that same evening, when Strelok saw a fruit punch anomaly between two buildings. The detector pointed there was a lone artifact lost in there, and of course Strelok wanted to get it. Scar couldn't understand why he wanted to hobble around an anomalous acid pool to retrieve a Bubble. Must be an instinct of all stalkers, to gather artifacts even if they had to risk their necks to retrieve it. In his opinion, it was much easier to just loot artifacts from your victim's belongings, or getting one in payment for killing said victim.

None of them noticed they were being observed. The chimera seemed to appear out of nowhere, leaping with deadly grace. Scar was thrown to the ground, ears ringing from the harsh impact. The chimera then pounced away and Scar finally could breathe again, now that he wasn't being crushed by the mutant. He knew the chimera would either leap at him once more and crush his neck in its mouth, or play with its prey by slashing him with those sharp claws. He desperately searched around for his Vintar, but it had fallen far away from him. The Martha was all he had right now. Except that wasn't one hundred percent true.

Surprisingly enough, Strelok came to his aid, shooting at the chimera with his SIG and attracting the mutant's wrath. A terrible clicking sound could be heard when the weapon jammed. The chimera leaped towards Strelok the moment he stopped shooting at it. Luckily, he evaded the attack, but his leg gave out on him and he fell to the ground as well. In the meantime, Scar got his pistol out and then he fired all fifteen rounds, one after the other, right into the mutant's back. The resistant bitch wasn't dead yet, but at least it was limping. It turned again towards Scar, and Strelok took it down with the shotgun. At long last, the chimera died. Both Strelok and Scar lay on the ground, panting in pain and exhaustion.

"I hate chimeras." Strelok declared from his spot on the ground. Scar couldn't agree more.

#

It must have certainly been a curious sight, Strelok pondered, a mercenary and a loner travelling together, both injured and tired. It sounded like the set up to one of those terrible jokes Ghost liked so much.

They continued their way until the sun started to set. Scar insisted that the tunnel that would lead them out of the city was close, and if they kept going they would be out of Limansk that same night. Yeah, Strelok heard about that passage. It led to the fucking Red Forest. He would sooner shoot himself in the foot than prance around Red Forest past nightfall. Scar was free to go on, if he wanted. However, he reluctantly agreed with Strelok. Probably because after being almost crushed by the chimera, he wasn't feeling so great either. They decided to find a place to set camp and rest, and maybe they would feel better in the morning.

Nevertheless, the houses they checked out turned out to be completely unsuitable. One was a giant nest of rats, better to stay the hell away from it. Another was so collapsed it was impossible to enter. And the other one was too radioactive, the dosimeter going crazy once they were inside. The last one seemed fine until Strelok noticed a faint distortion in the air. One bolt later the room was like an oven when no less than four burners started spouting fire. Scar just muttered "like that damn tunnel in Wild Territory", and it brought a small smirk to Strelok 's face. He remembered that place all too well, Kruglov almost got them both roasted in there.

The tunnel out of Limansk was their last option. It was just there, so close, and it offered good cover. It would be definitely better than staying out in the open or, God forbid, actually going to Red Forest. Strelok sincerely hopped nothing tried to get in from that side. Limansk was no walk in the park, but he remembered Red Forest being a radioactive hell full of Monolithians, zombies, bloodsuckers and home of at least one vicious psy-dog. He was pretty sure a pseudo-giant wouldn't fit in the tunnel, so that was something he didn't have to worry about.

The inside of the tunnel was full of old vehicles and the occasional pile of debris where the walls had started to fall down. They found the remains of a campfire between two rusted cars, the ashes cold and brittle. Well, that meant no one had been here in a while. It was a spot as good as any to pass the night. Strelok sat down and proceeded to change the bandages on his leg, while Scar searched the cars for anything that could be of use.

"Find anything good?" Strelok idly asked him, suppressing a wince of pain when he tied the bandages around his swollen wound. It would be a godsend if they found more medkits or bandages.

"A loaded Makarov and a bottle of vodka." Scar showed him his bounty. So no, nothing good. Nevertheless, he supposed it was better than nothing at all.

The vodka was always good. Perhaps they should have saved it for later, to deal with the radiation in Red Forest, but sometimes you just need a drink. They sat side by side, reclined against the decaying wall, sharing a bottle of vodka in silence. If someone had told Strelok a week ago that he would ever be this close to Scar willingly, and without trying to gut him, he would have never believed it. And yet, here he was. He blamed the vodka.

Although Strelok had to admit having some company was almost nice. Almost. He still wanted to strangle Scar most of the time, but Strelok would keep his word. They were even for now. However, he didn't know why he helped him before, with the chimera. He could have just finished off the mutant after it killed Scar. Yet somehow that idea didn't sit right with him. Maybe it was because Strelok was a good person deep down. He hoped it wasn't because of any misplaced feelings of gratitude, because... A blood chilling screech rang in the distance, shattering his train of thought. They looked at each other in alarm. After a few seconds, when no unknown mutant or dangerous beast appeared, they relaxed slightly. Whatever that was, at least it wasn't close to them.

"What the hell makes that noise?" Scar asked before taking a long gulp of liquor.

"I don't know, and I don't think I want to meet the creature." Strelok scratched his neck, trying to forget how that sound froze the blood in his veins and made him want to scoot closer to Scar.

"You could invent a story and scare the rookies like everyone does." The mercenary suggested.

"I think there are enough tall tales floating around." He remembered many scare tales being told around campfires, especially in the rookie's camp. The majority of them were nonsense, and the ones that were true were vastly exaggerated after several retellings.

"Did you ever hear that one about some kind marsh creature similar to bloodsuckers, which can imitate voices and then drag you underwater until you drown?"

"Yes, it was a popular story amongst Clear Sky, even though their base was on a fucking swamp." Scar chuckled. He looked different when he did that, kinder. "I remember a fellow merc that used to swear there was an electric chimera roaming in Dark Valley. He said he fought against it, a monster that electrocuted its prey when it jumped at them. Bullshit."

From that point the conversation evolved into sharing some of the most outrageously fake stories that circulated in the Zone. Neither of them noticed it was the first time they carried on a wholly civil conversation for more than a minute. At some point, long after the vodka ran out and Scar closed his eyes, Strelok fell asleep against the mercenary's shoulder. He felt Scar putting his arm around him, but maybe he dreamt that part.

#

He awoke to total silence, yet Scar felt uneasy. Something wasn't right. However, he saw nothing unusual. His right side was unexpectedly cold, Strelok wasn't leaning against him anymore. What a shame, he'd felt so nice and warm pressed against his side.

The dim light of early morning painted some strange shadows on the tunnel walls, but nothing seemed to move around. Then he heard it, the wheezing sound and unnatural grunts. It sounded like a bloodsucker. They needed to get the fuck out of here. He elbowed Strelok to wake him up.

"Yes, I hear it." The stalker whispered, already awake. "Where's it coming from?"

"I'm not sure." He strained to hear better, but the sounds on the tunnel echoed weirdly. "Red Forest end, probably."

"I knew it." Strelok grumbled. Yeah, he could harp about how much he hated Red Forest all he wanted, once they were out of here.

Scar got up, ignoring the pain radiating from his stiff back, and helped Strelok up as well. The stalker gathered his backpack and went towards the exit to Limansk as quietly as possible. Scar followed behind him. The tunnel did indeed distort the sounds, but for a moment he believed he had the mutant just at his back, growling and grunting, prepared to attack. Scar halted and turned around, dreading what he might find. There was nothing. The noises echoed further down now and then stopped, like the mutant had gone away. He wasn't fooled, not even for a second. He observed the dark corridor intently and spied a pair of bright eyes in the distance. Shit, he hoped the bloodsucker hadn't seen him. Scar slowly backed away, paranoid that the mutant would attack him from behind the moment he turned away. Then he heard voices coming from the other end of the tunnel. That got his attention. Was Strelok saying something?

"And you said we wouldn't find anything worth it at these hours!" It wasn't Strelok talking.

That raised all kind of alarms in his mind. He would bet good money on bandits. God damn it that was the last thing they needed! He was too far away to hear everything they said, only the loudest words or sentences got to him. Scar crept closer, hidden in the shadows and readying his Vintar, waiting for the right moment to shoot.

"... it's better to rob the dead Yashka."

He was finally close enough to hear all they said. There were three bandits aiming their pistols at Strelok.

"First I want to have some fun. Don't you want to?"

He saw Strelok posture become rigid at such idea.

"S'not my type."

Scar watched the scene unfold through his scope. He followed the first guy's movements, ready to shot.

"Whatever Gleb, they all look the same from behind."

Scar pulled the trigger and observed with satisfaction as the bullet went through the bandit's head like it was a rotten watermelon.

"Fuck, this little shit wasn't alone!" The other bandit, Gleb, shot blindly in Scar's direction. He had a frightening accuracy, the bullets ricocheting uncomfortably close to him. Scar tried to gun him down, but he missed the shot.

The remaining bandit seemed to doubt between joining Gleb in his target practice or getting rid of Strelok. Making good use of his indecision, Strelok got his knife out and slashed the bandit's hand. The injured bandit screamed in pain and surprise as he dropped his pistol.

Amidst all this chaos, an invisible, hissing presence rushed past Scar, going directly to the thick of the action. All that noise had attracted the bloodsucker.

The mutant became visible and slashed at the face of Gleb the bandit, whom in turn emptied the pistol's clip shooting at the air, since the bloodsucker turned invisible once again and evaded the attack. Scar shot down the bandit while he was distracted by the mutant. Meanwhile, Strelok had managed to kill the other bandit, and now was nervously trying to locate the bloodsucker. Scar went out of the tunnel, also searching for the bloodsucker.

"Where the hell were you?" Strelok yelled at him. The grunting and hissing sounds came one moment from their right, next from the left. The bloodsucker was circling around them.

"I was trying to prevent the bloodsucker from following me," Scar replied.

"What an excellent job you did." The stalker deadpanned.

The bloodsucker growled and materialised before Strelok. He opened fire, making it stagger. Scar also turned around and shot at it. The damned thing still didn't die. It turned invisible once more and began their little dance around them again. The bloodsucker attacked Scar, catching him unaware and clawing at his right side. Strelok fired his SIG and half the bullets missed the target. The damn thing moved too quickly. It took yet another round of this weird choreography, with both Strelok and Scar shooting madly at it, until the bloodsucker dropped down.

"You alright?" Strelok asked while poking the mutant with the barrel of the rifle, making sure it was dead.

"Yeah, it only sliced my jacket." He liked his jacket, damn, but better to have holes on the coat than on his body.

Scar heard Strelok mutter something that sounded like "figures, the lucky bastard," and it brought a small smile to his lips. One of the bandits had been wearing an oversized trench coat, so Scar just took it. The bandit wouldn't need it anymore, and it was in better condition than his now slashed jacket. Of course, first he ripped out the faction patch on it; he wouldn't want to be mistaken for a bandit.

At long last they went into the tunnel and crossed into Red Forest.

Author’s note: well,  here it is, the longest fic I've ever written (at least for now). I'm splitting this in two parts, I'll post the second one in a few days.

EDIT : Second part here

[ipushedthewrongbutton]

Skyrim is such a fun game??? But also surprisingly emotional

it’s been more or less since the game came out that i played it. I don’t even know how many years but long enough for me to not remember anything but the literal first scene, so i decided, since we’re in quarantine and all, this would be the perfect time to start over and finally at least finish the main quest.  back when i first played, my english wasn’t great so i didnt understand upgrading or taking random quests from random npc’s so i mostly went along where the lil white arrows told me to go.

NOW THO, i can upgrade weapons, gear, i can actually understand alchemy and enchanting, i can do as many useless quests as i want and i have the internet at my disposal in case i was too stoopid to figure out the next step myself.

Started out great, clicked the wrong button while picking a name and so instead  of pressing the backspace button, i confirmed my male breton’s name as Prisoner, for the rest of the fucking game. He looks like a sweetheart tho who’s always confused, thin and wiry, ponytail, can’t grow a beard to save his life but he has a scar under his eye. He’s amnesiac, was arrested at the border, has no fucking clue what he was doing there.

I didn’t wanna think up a backstory, hence...

I immediately decided, fuck it, i ain’t fighting this civil war, I’m a breton, y’all nords do whatever the fuck u want. And i stayed with that. I briefly thought about choosing a side depending on whose point resonated with me more. Turns out, neither point is entirely valid. One side has no respect of history and culture, the other side is racist. So Prisoner was neutral for the entirety of the game. Neither Ulfric nor Tulius got any attention from this homie.

What did receive attention tho was the main quest and boi, i know everyone hates chosen one stories. And they’re right. But man, i love chosen one stories. And my baby boi is the dragonborn and he’s like ?????? And everyone is like “you defeat dragons and you are the hero everyone waited for” and my dude is like ????? Ok??? Sure?????? And he just goes to places and helps as many people as possible on the way. 

Fuckin, the best thing was sideplots happening BY ACCIDENT. Prisoner goes on a quest to murder a shitty orphanage keeper, goes to tell the kid who commissioned him, he feels pretty okay about it. Then he gets The Letter. “we know” with a black handprint. And the shit that left my body at that moment, could’ve started a new nation. I mean, i had a 35 damage weapon at that point and i had slain my, what, fifth dragon at that point so i wasn’t worried about dying from assassins but THE INTIMIDATION WORKED. 

LITTLE DID PRISONER KNOW that this would be the biggest emotional rollercoaster in the goddamn game, no lie. Being the chosen one, sure. Defeating dragons that will cause the apocalypse, no pressure. Become thane of a city, aight. But THEN I GET KIDNAPPED IN MY BRANDNEW HOME AND I WAKE UP IN A SHACK WITH A LIL LADY TELLING ME TO KILL ONE OF THREE PEOPLE. THE FEAR I EXPERIENCED... but then they recruited me, and they’re all really cute colourful characters and we’re assassins and we’re the black brotherhood and we kill people for a living but we’re a Family. And my baby boi character had yet to experience anything like that. Sure the greybeards are mentor-ish but Prisoner never lived up on High Hrothgar amongst the old dudes. The blades did a roadtrip thing which was fun but then they kinda just squatted in their new headquarters and sent Prisoner on his merry way. But this, they had a sleeping place and a dining hall and a lil garden and the werewolf man gave me insulting nicknames and there’s a little girl who says she’s a vampire and to this day, I’m still not sure if she was telling the tRUTH OR NOT. 

AND THEN, AND THEN, the whole emperor thing happens, right, and that’s fucking hilarious. Prisoner with a chef’s head, i was cackling like a madman. And then AND THEN, THE BETRAYAL. ASTRID SAYS there’ll be a surprise up on the lil walkway bridge thing. And then there’s no one. AND THEN THERE’S SOLDIERS TELLING ME THEY’RE AMBUSHING HQ. AND I LOST. MY. SHIT. The thing wouldn’t let me fat travel either because the soldiers kept chasing me and i thought i was gonna have to ride Shadowmere all the way to the other side of skyrim, hysteric and worried about mY FAmILy. AND THEN i arrive at hq and there’s on of them PINNED TO THE TREE and like, guys. Guys. I was crying and full on immersion, i was like “nobody leaves here alive”, it was horrific, I didn’t do any of the stealthing, i just ripped them apart with my draugr greatsword, i already leveled up to the point where i cut my enemies’ heads off, it was glorious. It was so emotional, seeing werewolf man get killed, HE GAVE ME INSULTING NICKNAMES OKAY, and then finding Nazir and then hiding in a fucking coffin with a corpse who’s then like, trying to sooth me??  it was so emotional and i was crying tears of goddamn grief, i was Prisoner and Prisoner was me. The line between fantasy and reality: gone. I had spent HOURS upon DAYS on this game at this point, there was no going back.

hoo

..

So then i killed the emperor, and the reacting of the land was “...hm?” And i killed the general captain dude personal, like, optional my ass, i was gonna murder that shithead optional or not.

So i bought a house. In whiterun. It’s called breezehome (that’s not a choice) and I instantly decided if i ever get my own place, I’m calling it breezehome. I really hesitated about getting a house, since Prisoner is a nomad and constantly on the road, plus, has a “””””home””’”’” with the blades and other places in other quests. But then i decided it takes too much frigging effort to get all my loot sold cus all the pawnbrokers are pawn broke (HAH) and i can only sell them like a few gems and that’s it. And i needed a place to store all that shit, plus, i was going nuts from my collection of keys on my person aaaaaand i needed like a drawer to chuck em all in. And so that’s what i diiiiiiid. I later got the place in solitude too to finish the thane quest there but i literally only used the mannequins in the basement for my brotherhood and nightingale outfits. Which i both have worn literally once and then i just went with my guild outfit. 46 armor is good fuckin armor and the best i owned the entire game. Added some fire resistant shoes and suddenly dragons were super easy to defeat. I also found dragonbane somewhere, i literally only used it to wack dragons when they run aground. Otherwise i switched between a bow and a greatsword, both with the power of stealing health. Glorious. I was invincible. Well, with that and the power of Strategically Running Away. 

I thought it was weird my guy never got the choice of being a leader of literally anything. I mean, thane is an honorary title so you can do whatever you want and not get shit for it, like the privileged fucks we all are, but arch-mage when i only entered the school like last week? Head of the thief’s guild after going on 2 assignments, one of them being the chasing and murdering of the previous one? Never got the choice, was just like “you’re perfect for that” and me “‘I’m LITERALLY the least qualified person im this entire province!” Also i has a flute on my person at all times, bard’s college never taught me how to play it, the bastard’s, all they did was send me on errand in dusty cAVES. AT LEAST IN ASSASSIN’S CREED YOU HAVE TO CHASE THE SHANTIES IN ORDER TO PERFORM THE SHANTIES. 

Then the husband thing.

I knew there was an option to get married and adopt. I don’t want kids, in game or out. But i am disgustingly lonely (especially after the massacre of the black brotherhood) in game or out, so i looked it up and SURE ENOUGH, SAME SEX MARRIAGE IS DELISIOUSLY LEGAL IN SKYRIM, OH BLESSED DAY. Things i learned with this: i cannot handle flirting. It was cute and Prisoner and Falkar are adorable but I CRINGE, A LOT. 

Honestly, the most i personally had with this was envisioning Prisoner finally leaving for Sovngarde (after putting it off for as long as possible) and giving his final goodbye to his brand new husband like, caressing each other’s cheeks and holding each other’s shoulders, “i promise I’ll be home again soon” “and if you don’t, i will find you in sovngarde” “keep the hearth warm while I’m gone” “keep your sword sharp, you always forget to redo the enchantments” “‘don’t neglect the companions just because you wanna housewife” just sacharine as. Fuck. They were in bed togeher the night before, just talking about useless shit and holding each other t was very PG. And then after defeating Alduin, Prisoner finds himself back in Skyrim, relieved that it’s all fucking over at long fucking last, and he climbs on Shadowmere’s back, tired, and rides back home. When he arrives in Whiterun, tired and weathered, he spots Falkar just returning from a mission, he’s also travel weary and just unlocked the door to breezehome. He spots Prisoner and Shadowmere entering through the gates. They pause, they look at each other like they’ve been apart for years instead of days. Falkar drops his back, Prisoner gets off the horse and suddenly they’re running towards each other, till they smack together and they’re just holding each other, it’s the best hug ever. 

Aaaaand that’s kinda where i left it. I have more companion missions but i physically can’t get myself to do them because i feel the story is over, there’s no point. I can also still pick which side of the civil war i wanna take but it would be extremely out of character now.  it’s weird, i feel like crying again. I invested so much time in this story and these characters with so little effort. Cus usually, writing my own stories, it takes effort to develop and build them. Here, all i had to do was make choices and kill the bad guys. And I don’t want to say goodbye even though i feel like there’s nothing more to add.

[renatedagmarmilada]

assertive women

assertive women's groups

 out of the depths I cried

to you oh Lord for help

 you answered my prayer fear no more

I managed a visit one time only

 there in a poor community hall

the WOMEN gave me all the answers

 always talk straight don't be afraid

say exactly what you mean

 women are people too you have rights

though it often seems as tho' you don't hide

 come again next week we'll help you

What do they want with you HE asked

 I've seen those two women again and again

those assertive women who are always straight

 I try to emulate these strong english sisters

though I still look like a little brown mouse..

THE CULTURE LEECH

 yesterday I received a death threat

they cut into my tv transmission

and said because of my friendship...

 I am a pacifist

we are everybody's friend

we help where and when we can

 I enjoy learning the culture of others

it is interesting and educational

that is my only real crime

 I do not take sides

but only look at each case

but this is not new

 once before I had a death threat

they cut into my tv transmission

then it was the opposing side

 bully boys never change

they have no nationality

they have only an inferiority complex

 with which they ladle out death threats

especially to those unable to defend

can poetry be such a danger?

  "CRUSHING YOUR BRAINS" quote.

> 

> the liberation had come

> held her belly tightly protecting

> two red officers wacked her skull

> air resounding with swinging  rifle butts

> baby due in one week

> 

> a bone splinter in her head

> gave her headaches all her life

> no doctor here ever asked why

> except Steiner refugee doctor from home

> just another female moaner

> 

> for months now the lab unbidden

> squeezes my skull daily painful hours

> never another preminition you will have

> and your I.Q down the drain

> the excuse mother's headaches

> 

> laser all, you'll never talk

> eighty students please attempt all the moves

> our lab rats will derange you long range

> now what do I know about whom?

> no different to then.

 Upstairs you know

> 

> why do they allow it from above

> this crushing of my brain nightly

> usually reserved for retarded

> another night's onslaught completed

> the country is filled with haters

> we are gentle quiet peace-love people

> 

> America will back us they sneer

> they darn't do otherwise

> go on then get out flee

> the english are finally out of control

> it is to see how far we can take evil

> Canada gives corridor-permission over there

> 

> They're trying to destroy your brain

> so no one will believe you perhaps

> we've twisted in endless lies

> I am a teacher and highly respected

> B.B.C. Horowitz has the lab file now

> Upstairs have all suddenly become amnesiacs

> 

> but why all this crippling

> all this destroying and all this tainting

> manufactured and real two personas

> on street level on our streets

> everyone knows and everyone speaks

Ø  they lasered their car they all say....

 THE SIN EATERS

> 

> Research uses outlawed plays

> research barely known as weapons

> mother interpreted for von Braun

> at the northern Usedom

> told much before they here crippled her

> awesome power is always theirs

> they knew I knew much and say little

> 

> Let's reverse our twenty years of crime

> the breaking of International Laws to cover

> spin doctors, sadists one and all

> get americans to help us out

> use these techniques barely known

> as weapons more deadly unseen used

> they lied to Presidents and Statesmen

> such power and no fear have they

> 

> no one will know till next century

> they laughed using the old boys

> we are a quiet careful people

> as I have sat painted many deaths

> previous today I saw them one by one

> deathly pale walking into extinction

> into the invisible lab of horrors

> for which they paid and crowed

> those men in our navy coats

> it will be..as we scapegoat

THE WOULD BE MAGISTRATE

> 

> as a girl at my church school

> the Head was a Judge

> 

> I never wanted to be a model

> nor a nurse, nor a priestess

> I didn't want to be anything really

> except a wife adored and loved

> a mother cared for and respected

> 

> aritists just are and don't need titles

> but I did want to be a magistrate

> for thirty years people heard

> I want to be a magistrate one day

> 

> finally applying the evil lab replied

> let her go through the motions

> no advancement in this land

> didn't bother too much with the form

> but then remembered at the interview

> just how much it was my wish

> 

> so it is time to pack our bags

> here where they had welcomed us

> here where they had poached us from others

> here where corruption is covered

> and never a breath of scandals

> here they don't let us be o nothing

> not even healthy beings

> 

> but how unhealthy

> a country with no scandals

> with such an excellent security law!

AGE HER BY NUMBERS

> 

> perfect health she has

> China teacher she is

> can't get into China without

> 

> seventy seven students no less

> received the order, age her

> in our very special excess therapy

> 

> it's outlawed everywhere but here

> blighty employs fundis and indies

> and they don't like normal women

> 

> gt grandmother Bertodi married at 32

> had 19 healthy clever children

> to the postmaster of 20

> 

> seems our genes got their goat

> twixt men and women no friendship

> love affairs only sexuality is theirs

> 

> since twenty five eleven last year

> months they laser squeezed arm arteries

> so they now pain like an old old woman

> 

> that's like having a lorry sitting on your arm

> with so many other tricks to age

> they try them one by one and all

> 

> the end result is death and crippling

> all with a tidy medical certificate

> telling all we offered for torture

> 

> see how much she can take ....

 NO HUGs>

> why England I had to ask my new mother?

> 

> on our way West my girl

> we passed through many terrors

> some so terrible forgotten it seems

> better not spoken of except in whispers

> 

> the mother was like mad with trauma

> till I was in my teens

> whispered nightly of the liberation

> over and over and again

> 

> the thing which struck us about the British

> when there on the Elbe the Russians appeared

> the Americans rushed kissed and cuddled

> whilst the english stood by hushed

> as we watched huddled...

> 

> we are a dignified people of old

> seemed they were more like us

> and daily now mutters angrily

> this is not the country we came to anymore

> ever an anglophile, she feels betrayed....

> 

THE SKULL

> 

> they've punctured my skull in several places

> so if I fall it will crack!

> 

> someone with a name like Phillip does this first

> do you know a Phil?

> 

> and they've laser-squeezed my brain nightly

> there a spaces now

> 

> do you know what that will mean when you are old

> now the nights are the problem

> 

> does this have any useful purposes was asked

> along with knotting veins?

> 

> so for why do you do this was asked

> told Germans shouldn't ask..

> 

> so now though I don't have headaches

> they will have put on my file I have head pains..

> 

> paintings and poems are not in the skull

> they are all life about us

> 

> crack as many skulls as you want

> science wont kill art though it tries...

> as it kills....

 MRS CHERWINSKA

> 

> Mrs Cherwinska was a widdow

> she was over seventy and typical

> of our quiet Slovakian people

> 

> small and slender

> quiet and decent

> she couldn't even speak German

> 

> in the flat next door in old Bratislava

> mother was at the Ministry interpreting

> Mrs C. as usual, shopping dusting cooking

> 

> returning home mother called to check

> no answer came from the widdow

> bad times these best check in person

> 

> all they had taken were the brass door handles

> and a mirror as nothing else glittered

> the doctor stuffed her with cottonwool

> 

> it was all he could do as she bled to death,

> morphine was no more

> at least it was not on the streets for her

> 

> it was a whole platoon of liberators

> Malinovska's Army all prisoners set free

> the President told my mother

> 

> in the flat they found the old lady

> she didn't even speak German

> the liberation had come

> 

> she died the same day.

> messages were sent to the Kremlin

> leave them to liberate was the answer

> 

> even the little, blonde four year olds.......

 WHERE ARE YOUR TAXES

> 

> have you ever checked your taxes?

> broken down as Research does humans..

> never to be returned..

> 

> you paid more millions than you can guess

> just to kill two Sheffield artists

> it's called overused on something used for a long time

> maime and destroy a third

> murder an old refugee journalist

> cripple a child genius on the violin

> cripple a heroin and torment

> 

> destroy well over twenty british families

> that is the woman boss alone

> and doesn't take into account the murders

> 

> the murders are uncountable

> like the hairs on your head

> 

> 

> for YOUR taxes they employed

> five deranged germans

> at least we didn't kill they add - true

> we are really like Auschwitz today

> goodness only knows how many fundis

> spite as you can't even guess

> 

> and ofcourse

> we can rely on the yanks

> 

> so now the Prince can play...

My Siberian  Summer Love

 For hours flying on arrival across land and sea,

searching for this paper friend waited to see

there the bears and wolves, where are you, twixt curses

don't leave me at the airport standing with butterless bread  

late, hadn't told me he'd lost his abode here in Peter's bog

 Car broken down again as normal for dear sweet Leonid

no flowers, no welcome, no sweet words, my brother is here

(his brother married man told me he adored me, but not he)

how did you recognise me he barked, how not my sweet

after the numerous pics you have sent to me, been here long

 insisted we walk the Palace Gardens IMMEDIATELY

the sun shines there even at two a.m. as eyes grow sleepy

but my Kazakhstan love is very strong, not me, eventually

to a bed near the Palace to be woken at the crack of dawn

cock crowing bearing food gifts, I didn't need a farm my dear

 should I tell the dear man I am only small, make him aware

we 'll sit by the lake, sternly he commanded to my stare

This is not early, no one needs to rest, this is Russia's best

His voice boomed across the lake, drinks for my lady

as the rain poured onto the royal swans and golden onions

 jerked down the umbrella nearly knocking off our heads

beheaded by the Palace? Murmured, this is so romantic 

blazing June, we must immediately go, count every tree

his grandfather a white general, his family taken to Gulag

doctor and geologist, born in a shack on a lone, windy hill

 a better heart you could never find, but gets little right

plays his accordian with skill, style and panache to dance all night

made me laugh day and night, english teacher, tourist guide

has lost everything drives taxis now,

so to old blighty I returned

but only because it's so difficult to get out, and in

  over there!