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bookandcranny · 4 years

Text

Shortwave Radio

Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon.

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

summary: Five siblings from the stars come to earth by invitation of their estranged little brother, who’s only request to them is that they take a road trip across the American southwest and try to learn to see this planet the way he sees it.

content warnings: dysfunctional families, carsickness, strong language, fear of abandonment, and accidental misgendering of a nonbinary character

length: about 7k words

also, have a playlist!

🛸🛸🛸

On a particularly sticky day in late July, a black minivan rolls up outside Gruber’s Convenience somewhere in the vague liminal world of the i-110 out of El Paso. Shimmering like a mirage the vehicle comes to a stop and five figures shuffle into the station. Working the counter is a greasy-faced teenager who calls himself Benj, though according to his nametag he’s Benjamin until the end of his shift.

If he weren’t intentionally ignoring the group that just walked in, resenting the loss of quiet and the cool air that just escaped with the chime of the door, Benj would notice a few things about them. For one thing, while they all look quite different, all five of them are wearing the exact same clothes: pale blue t-shirt, gray jeans, plain white sneakers, not a toe scuffed or sullied by the dust they kicked up coming in. They’re perfectly inconspicuous outfits, but too new, too deliberate in their banality.

The people in the clothes have much the same effect. They’re collections of ordinary, aesthetically pleasing parts assembled as if at random, almost uncanny at the wrong angle. Not supermodel pretty, but perhaps stock photo passable. One of them keeps touching things. Just, touching them. He trails his fingers over snack cakes and little pouches of corn nuts with an unreadable expression. Three of them are clustered together in front of the drinks fridge speaking in hushed tones.

The last one of the bunch is hovering in the corner making eyes at the shop’s resident mascot, Garfield, an uncreatively named tabby cat who’s taken to sleeping on a box underneath the AC unit. The cashier does notice her (he thinks she’s a her) if only because she’s kind of cute, in a straight-laced camp counselor kinda way. He’s already building up an idea of her in his head, every atom of it more false than he realizes.

The Christine or Sydney or whoever reaches down and gives the cat a poke, which turns into an experimental stroke.

“Mrph?” says Garfield, like cats do.

“Mrph?” parrots the... Liz maybe? No, not quite, he thinks. Garfield blinks at her, yawns. She withdraws, looking half offended by his indifference.

“Don’t take it personal,” Benj says. “He’s not very social.”

She looks at him for the first time and he reevaluates his earlier assessment. Eyes too pale, too far apart-- not ugly per se but definitely not worth the possible write-up he’d get for flirting with a customer.

“He’s the owner’s cat,” he babbles, scratching his chin and looking anywhere but at her. “Or so they say. Honestly I think he just showed up here one day and no one could get him to leave.”

Before she can reply, one of her matching buddies comes up to the register and dumps an assortment of snacks onto the counter. It’s a baffling, eclectic pile, but like any good retail worker Benj has long since learned not to examine anything too closely.

“Road trip, huh? Where are you guys headed?”

The radio behind the counter has gone all staticky. He fiddles with the antenna.

“Visiting family,” says snacks guy. His voice is soft and monotonous, a stark contrast as the guy’s built like a US SEAL.

Benj looks from face to face. “All of you?” He’s having a hard time believing any two of them are related.

He nods, once. A stiff, decisive shake of the head. The crackling of the radio is getting worse. Benj turns it off.

“Will that be everything, sir?”

Another nod.

“Herc, wait!” One of the man’s supposed relatives comes up behind him and shakes him by the shoulders. “Hercules, look at this.”

He slams a book down on the counter, one of the cheap paperbacks Gruber’s pedals between the condoms and the first-aid kit stuffings. The cover reads, “The Chest from The West” and features a heavily airbrushed model in a cowboy hat and unbuttoned flannel shirt.

“What am I looking at?” Herc asks.

“Get this too. I want to read it.”

“Why?”

He opens his mouth but whatever he’s about to say, Benj doesn’t really want to be present for it. He quickly scans the book and throws it cover-side-down into the bag. Let them work this one out on their own, hopefully somewhere else.

“Your total’s $29.75” He spins around to shake the radio, which is somehow now back on and blaring louder. When he turns back, the register is telling him everything’s been bought and paid for. Guy must be lightning quick with a credit card, he thinks.

“Huh. Guess you’re all set, man-- sir.” He hands them their bags. “Have fun at your family thing.”

He flashes the big guy a thumbs up. He looks strangely staggered by the gesture and replies haltingly, “Thank you. You also, have fun.”

“Come on, sibs,” the more energetic one chirps. “Cass? Cass, come on.” He drags his sister away from the cat, who’s just starting to warm up to her. “That’s you, remember? Let’s go.”

They don’t get any gas from the pumps outside. Benj is pretty sure he saw the testy looking one with the ponytail shoplift a bottle of off-brand cola, but he isn’t paid nearly enough to care. At least after they’re gone the radio starts working normally again.

Hercules drives, though it’s not so much driving as sitting in the driver’s seat and telling the van to go. Earth machines are simplistic and easy to manipulate. Slow though. Cass is riding “shotgun”, as is apparently customary for the navigator. Andromeda, Zeta, and Camelopardalis share the backseat, where the formermost is rehashing the same tired debate with the latter.

“We need to work out a better earth name for you,” he insists. “Myself, I’ve been doing some research and I’m thinking about going by ‘Andy’ from now on.”

“I’m not calling you that,” says Zeta.

Camelopardalis asks, “What’s wrong with the name I have?”

“It is a bit long,” Cassiopeia agrees. “A shorter one would help you fit in better.”

“Speaking of fitting in, something else has been bothering me. What’s your gender supposed to be?”

“My what?”

“You know, your gender. We all picked one.”

“It’s almost like you didn’t read the brief,” Zeta says, instigator that she is.

“It’s almost like none of you read the brief, that I took the time to write specifically to help you all acclimate to earth culture.”

“Zeta, don’t upset Cass,” Herc scolds.

“I’m not upset.” She turns in her seat to stare pointedly out the window. There isn’t much to look at, just miles upon miles of rolling desert interrupted by the occasional billboard or truck stop, all crawling by at a snail’s pace compared to the sort of travel they’re used to. Not that she’d recognize the analogy. She misses the cat.

Camelopardalis fiddles with their seatbelt. “Which one are you again?”

“I’m a ‘man’,” Andromeda recites. “Earth men are known for their physical prowess and carnivorous diet, they live in cave environments, and often congregate in packs called ‘fraternities’.” He waves the gas-station novel in the air. “I’m going to research their habits and perfect my persona. By the time I’m done with this I’ll practically be a local.”

“I don’t know… Zeta, what made you decide to be the other one?”

“Flipped a coin.”

“Women,” Cass informs them. “Can be most commonly identified by their long hair, fastidious hygiene habits, the use of traditional face paints to accentuate the eyes and lips, and by fleshy protrusions of the upper torso. Any of these traits can indicate an earth woman, though none are necessarily required.”

They throw up their hands. “How is that helpful at all then! Zeta?”

“What do you want me to do about it? I didn’t invent them. Hercules, are you sure these ‘snacks’ are safe to eat? They have a strange texture.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” He punctuates the point by reaching back and grabbing a cream-filled cupcake off the pile. He tears the plastic with his teeth and eats half of it in a single bite. He barely tastes the thing, but he’s hoping if his siblings follow his lead their mouths will be too full to whine at him.

“Yeah, Zeta, don’t be a bitch.” Andromeda opens a pack of mini donuts, albeit more gingerly, and pops one into his mouth.

Cass whips her head around. “Where did you learn that word?”

He holds open the paperback and points to a page.

Austin hesitated. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. What if I fall?”

Derek chuckled manfully. “Don’t be a bitch, city boy,” he teased. Then he placed his large, calloused hand upon the small of Austin’s back. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t ever let you fall.”

The navigator leans over the center console and tries to snatch the book away but he dodges swiftly, clutching it to his chest.

“That’s foul language, Andromeda Alpheratz.”

“Earthers use this kind of speech with each other all the time. It’s a sign of familiarity and affection. You guys need to be less formal if you want to blend in.”

“If it’s meant to be an insult,” Camelopardalis wonders. “Why would they use it to convey affection.”

“Because they’re brutish, unevolved lifeforms,” Zeta sneers. “‘Blend in, blend in’. The rest of you can worry about blending in with the apes. I’m only doing this for Perseus.”

“We’re all doing this for Percy,” Hercules says in a chastising voice that makes even Zeta shrink down in her seat. “So can we please agree to be somewhat civil and not make this trip more painful than it needs to be?”

There’s a murmur of general agreement and peace is restored, however temporarily. Camelopardalis clears their throat.

“I still don’t really understand why we couldn’t land directly at Perseus Nine’s coordinates.”

Cass huffs, blowing a dark curl out of her face. “For the last time, Percy specifically requested we partake in the human ritual of the ‘road-trip’ for this last portion of our journey. It’s the same route he traveled the first time he came to earth, and apparently holds some sort of sentimental significance. It’s important to him we experience the same pilgrimage. For some reason.”

She adds the last part under her breath, knowing full well the others will still hear her. They can hear one another when separated by countless miles of empty space, their voices resonating from star to star, clear as a bell. Compared to that, the close proximity of a rented minivan is stifling. There’s an uncomfortable intimacy to it, these crudely assembled physical forms pressed together, bloated and heavy with all the trappings of humanity. Sweat and road dust and gravity cling to Cass like an over-warm coat and she longs for the cool estrangement that comes so easily in the void of space. It’s tough to be a star-dweller away from her star.

“The reasons don’t matter,” Herc declares, and his word is as good as law here. He is the eldest of them, though the concept of seniority is abstracted somewhat by the literal millennia they’ve all lived through.

Percy is the baby, as well as the black sheep of the family, so to speak. (His actual moniker among their kinfolk roughly translates to “the dissonant note”, a scathing insult for those who knew what it meant.) Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon.

“At least we can check one more stop off the list,” Zeta quips. “What’s next?”

Cass checks her itinerary. “We are to visit one national historic landmark, one ‘tourist trap’-- whatever that means-- followed by a stop at ‘Diane’s Diner’, home of the world’s best pie. After that, we can head straight to the meet-up location.” She glances at the clock on the dashboard. “We’re a little behind schedule but we should make it right on time as long as there are no unexpected delays.”

An hour and a half of driving later, Andromeda throws up corn chips and mini donuts all over the back of Herc’s seat.

They pull over on the side of the road. The desert sand is just beginning to give way to sparse yellow grass, brittle from the sun. Herc steadies Andromeda, looking viscerally displeased as he finishes emptying out his recently manifested stomach.

Camelopardalis frets through the whole episode. “We’ve all been eating the same food, except for Zeta. If it’s poisonous, one of us will be next.”

“It’s not poison, it’s carsickness,” Cass sighs. “Honestly, I’m starting to think none of you even looked at the brief.”

“Zeta, look in the back for something to clean up with.”

“Why me?”

“We’re going to lose so much time…”

“Would you rather hold him?”

Andromeda retches.

“Do you think Percy would care if we skipped a couple stops?”

“Cassiopeia Sigma,” Hercules begins sternly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll figure something out.”

Fortunately they’ve happened to stop within walking distance of something called The Trinity Site, according to the map. Camelopardalis and Cass go ahead to check another stop off the list while Zeta and Herc clean up the van and make sure Andromeda isn’t actually dying. (How embarrassing, to be a quasi-immortal astral being only to perish at the hands of a tainted twinkie.)

They wander from the roadside, following the map and occasional signposts, and shortly find themselves standing in front of an ominous looking stone obelisk with a bronze placard affixed to one side.

Trinity Site: Where the world’s first nuclear device was exploded on July 16th, 1945

There’s more but Cass stops reading. Camelopardalis asks her to explain what the plaque means by nuclear device-- they’re familiar with nuclear power as a concept, fission and fusion, ideas not far departed from the system of energy exchange that sustains their natural bodies in the heart of their stars-- but goes pale when she goes into the relevant applications of said devices.

“Wonderful,” she grumbles to herself as she snaps a few photos of the monument with a disposable camera. “I’m sure Percy will be thrilled.”

“Excuse me.”

The pair turn to see a man in a colorful button-up and khakis and a woman with a day-old sunburn peeling off beneath the straps of her tank top.

“Boy are we happy t’see the two of yous. Couldja take our picture real quick?”

The woman holds out a camera, a significantly more professional piece of equipment than the one Cass is holding.

“Oh, sure,” Cass replies. She’s nervous as she takes it from her hands. She’s never encountered this sub-species of human in her research before, and finds it difficult to parse the woman’s peculiar dialect. Both of them are smiling, but they’re also showing a lot more teeth (and a fair bit of gum) than she thinks is normal. A subtle threat?

Nevertheless, she fumbles with the camera for a moment before managing to take a decent snapshot. The man wraps an arm around his wife’s waist and she slots herself in against his side.

“Ope, wait, let’s do a silly one to send to Marsha and the kids. Were my eyes closed? No? Perfect, you’re a doll. We’ll leave you kids alone now.”

“Sure,” she says again, feeling out of pace.

“My nephew wears his hair like that,” the man says without segway. He’s talking to Camelopardalis, they realize. “It’s very… hip.”

They touch their hair. They hadn’t given it much thought before, might not ever have if he hadn’t pointed it out. It’s nice, they think.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

His expression flinches into a puzzled frown. Cass smacks their arm.

“Sir! Thank you, sir.”

After they’ve walked away Cass gives him another jab for good measure.

“His hair was longer than the other one’s,” they complain. “And the chest was sort of fleshy. How was I supposed to know?”

“We’re lucky you didn’t cause an incident. Earthers carry weapons in this part of the world.”

They rub their arm. “I don’t know, they seemed nice.”

Still they give a fleeting glance at the plaque behind them and argue no more.

They return to the van, now blessedly puke-free. Andromeda is looking better too. They all pile in and almost immediately Camelopardalis misses the freedom of being able to move without touching somebody. It may be their imagination, but the car seems to be moving slower than ever.

“How was it?” Zeta asks, despite her obvious disinterest.

“Uninspiring,” is Cass’ reply.

The other nods and doesn’t force her to elaborate. “I wish I knew what Perseus intended for us with this… chore list.”

“It’s not important, we just do it.”

Herc is always a steady presence, but even he is starting to sound annoyed with repeating himself. Zeta, of course, can’t leave well enough alone.

“If we just knew what he wanted us to do or say we could do it and go back to how we were before.”

Cass snaps. “Maybe you should stop complaining and make an effort for once.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The car erupts into a heated four-way argument. Only Hercules resolutely abstains from comment, though his hands tighten into fists on the steering wheel. The fight doesn’t end in resolution so much as exhaustion. Everyone’s too miserable to keep hurling accusations and insults for the next hundred miles, and at length they lapse back into tense silence.

Zeta rests her head against the window, taking the arythmic rattle into herself, breathing it out in silent, frenetic melodies. She dislikes fighting with her siblings, no matter what they might claim to the contrary. It doesn’t happen often, or didn’t, but things have been different since Percy left home. The littlest star-child had a natural soothing presence to him, one that she’d long taken for granted. Earth is so noisy, she thinks. She strains to listen but she can’t hear a trace of him anywhere.

She tries to imagine what he’d say, if he were here.

“What are we even doing?”

Probably not that, but she already has everyone’s attention now so she figures she might as well keep going.

“I mean, we’re still behind schedule, we can’t stop bickering, Andromeda can’t even eat right apparently, and I’m pretty sure half of us didn’t even look at Cassiopeia’s brief.”

“Are you getting to a point?” Cass asks irritably.

“I’m just saying we’re all… bitches.”

“Zeta!”

“Get comfortable with it! We’re all bad at this. Me, you, all of us. So can we just stop blaming each other and have a truce in the interest of getting this over with?”

Cass opens her mouth, then lets it fall shut, sinking back into her seat. For a moment it seems they’re heading for another long awkward silence, when Andromeda sits up and points out the window with a sudden urgency.

“Look!”

Herc slows down and they see a billboard lit up in eerie green neon light, directing them to the next off-ramp.

Must see attraction! Visit the one of a kind Ancient Aliens Exhibit!

The star-folk look at one another.

“Is this what they call a tourist trap?”

“It seems likely.”

Andromeda is glowing-- in a very literal sense-- with excitement. “It’s an exhibit about us.”

“‘Ancient’? Speak for yourself, I’m still only in my six-thousands.”

Needless to say, they do stop at the roadside museum. Cass takes pictures aplenty and, to her surprise, actually enjoys it. Andromeda is disappointed to find there isn’t actually a display dedicated to their kind. Instead there are a lot of grainy photos of some squat, bug-eyed species called “greys” and diagrams of the Egyptian pyramids for some reason. He gets over it by the time they get to the gift shop.

By unanimous decision, they do not buy anymore snacks, though Zeta’s eye does linger on a cooler in the corner advertising “the ice cream of the future!”. Herc does however buy a number of souvenirs. (Rather, he convinces the automated register to record a purchase that didn’t technically take place, and bumps up the number in the bank account of one very nice tour guide while he’s at it.)

They leave with a mood ring, a handful of polished stones in a small velvet bag, a “gravity defying” purple yo-yo shaped like a UFO, and Camelopardalis sheepishly lays claim to a friendly looking martian figurine with bendable limbs. Overall, spirits are much higher by the time they make it back to the van.

“Hercules,” his meek younger sibling ventures. “Could I try driving? I’ve been curious about it.”

Feeling generous and more than a little tired of staring out at the road for hours at a time, he agrees. He shows Camelopardalis the basics and makes sure they know how not to veer off the road or into other drivers and then he climbs into the middle backseat and stretches out his arms so the siblings on either side of him can tuck in against him and rest. Eventually even the diligent navigator Cassiopeia begins to doze. It’s been a long day and none of them are quite accustomed to the burden of having earthbound bodies.

When Andromeda wakes up the first thing he registers is that it’s getting dark, the day reduced to a slim red band sinking over the horizon. The second thing is the yelling.

“What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I thought I could read the map myself--”

“What about you, navigator? What were you doing?”

“--didn’t mean to--”

“As if you’re one to talk! I can’t believe--”

“--and you were the one who--”

“Shut up!”

Hercules’ normally subdued baritone booms through the van. The windshield wipers begin swinging as if in indignation, while the passengers wince and cover their ears. Andromeda can’t remember a time when his brother’s frequency had felt so violent. The shivering resonance it leaves behind makes his teeth ache.

There’s a pregnant pause, then Cass slams open the door and begins to pace.

“Shit!” she yells at the empty air. They’re parked in a field somewhere, no sign of life save for the buzzing of insects and the rumble of a train somewhere off in the distance. Cass kicks at the ground and screams again. “Shit fuck bitch hell! We are so fucking lost! And so fucking late!”

Andromeda winces again and gets out to try and calm her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It is not! We’re probably missing the ceremony right now. Percy will never forgive me for this.”

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“I’m supposed to be the navigator!”

“Well, yes, but…” The words come out strangled. He touches his chest and realizes he’s breathing rapidly. His eyes are beginning to water as well. “I should’ve… I didn’t…”

Zeta hurries over to him. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick again?”

Without warning he doubles over and begins bawling.

“Hercules, do something! Something’s wrong with him!”

“Don’t… don’t… don’t…” he gasps and stammers.

Herc clutches his brother. “Don’t what? Talk to me.”

“Don’t fight,” he finally chokes out. “I don’t want to lose anybody else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Percy,” he sniffles miserably. “He doesn’t care about us anymore. He has earth now, and all his new earth friends, and we can’t even do this one thing for him. It’s my fault. I knew he hated when I called him a dissonant note and made fun of his earth music but I did it anyway. Now he probably hates me and all of us and this whole thing has been for nothing.”

The eldest braces his arms on Andromeda’s slumped shoulders. “Percy doesn’t hate us. He invited us here because he wanted to see us.”

“Herc’s right, Andromeda. Percy doesn’t have it in him to hate anyone.”

“It’s not easy, but he chose this. He chose earth. We have to respect that.”

Zeta grumbles, “And just what is so special about this stupid planet anyway?”

“It has cats,” Cassiopeia says quietly. Her sister glares but she stays firm. “Well it does. And… people.”

“Strange, silly earth people,” Camelopardalis adds, nervously fussing with their hair. “Confusing and contradictory and fascinating.”

“People who hurt each other for no good reason.”

“People who are kind for no good reason too.”

Andromeda wipes phosphorous tears from his eyes and takes out the rumpled gas-station paperback. “In this book Austin leaves his job as a big city lawyer to follow the cowboy he’s in love with.”

“You think Perseus traveled to earth for cowboy love?”

“It’s a possibility!”

Cass scoffs. “I honestly don’t think he was thinking that far ahead. You know Percy. He probably crash-landed without any plan whatsoever. Or, he probably thought he knew what he was doing, and then when he actually got there he was terrified. And then he probably didn’t want to say anything because he was afraid his siblings would think less of him once they realized he was actually just as clueless about earth stuff as they were. That would probably be really, really stressful for him.”

“Are we still talking about Percy?”

She makes a wordless noise of frustration and kicks up another patch of grass.

Andromeda puts an arm around her. “If… Percy was worried about that, I’d tell her-- him! I’d tell him that he shouldn’t be, because there’s nothing he could do that would make us stop believing in him.”

She exhales. “Thanks.”

“I was talking about you, Cass,” he whispers. “It’s you I believe in.”

“Thank you, I got that.”

“I just… miss him, I guess.”

Herc hums in agreement. “Barely a millennium old and he’s already grown up and gone completely terrestrial. This past century has been the longest of my existence.”

“Hercules, it’s only been ten years.”

That news causes him to make such a face that Zeta starts laughing. It’s the first time she’s so much as cracked a smile the entire trip.

“So… what do we do now?” Camelopardalis asks.

After a moment, Cass grabs the map off the dashboard and holds it open.

“A little more light please?”

They step up behind her and hold a glowing hand over the paper. Her brow creases in concentration.

“Alright, I think we’re somewhere around here,” She gestures. “And we need to be here. There’s no way we’re going to show up on time, but we can still show up. We owe him that much.”

They get in their seats, Herc back at the helm, and begin trying to reclaim the distance they lost with the unplanned detour. Cass breathes a sigh of relief when road signs start to reappear. A driver honks at them as they pick up speed and Herc steers closer and makes their radio start playing at top volume. Zeta opens the window and a cool night breeze tickles her skin. The stars are bright and beautiful above them, and looking up, suddenly home doesn’t feel so far away.

All at once they slow to a near stop.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?”

“Traffic,” Herc says like it’s a curse. “Looks like there was an accident.”

“Take this exit,” Cass commands. “We can cut through the next town and get ahead of it.”

So he does and soon they find themselves driving through the quiet streets of Kismet, Nevada. That is, quiet until Zeta catches sight of something out the window and yells, “Pull over!”

“What! What is it now!”

She points, and they see. The sign ahead reads, “Diane’s Diner: Home of the World’s Best Pie”. They pull in so fast they nearly end up colliding with a stout aproned woman who’s pushing a teetering hand cart across the lot.

“What do you maniacs think you’re doing?” she demands as they clambour out of the van.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Cass says in a rush. “It is just very important to my siblings and I that we get to this establishment.”

The woman huffs. “You’re a mite late then, I’m afraid. We’re closing up early tonight. Got a big catering order I have to deliver.”

Herc asks, “Are you Diane, of the diner?”

She laughs. “Close. I’m Maddie Finkle of the diner. Diane’s my mother’s name. It’s a family business. But what brings you folks here looking for Diane at this time of night? I don’t think I’ve seen your faces around town before, and I always remember a customer.”

“Do you remember a customer named Percy? It would’ve been years ago, but this place was very important to him. He’s our brother.”

Maddie’s eyes light up. “Why didn’t you say so! Of course I know Percy. And if you rowdy lot are his siblings, then I’ve got a message for you.”

“A message?” Percy hadn’t said anything to them about a message. Maybe this was his way of ensuring they actually made it to the last stop on his list.

“Well, sort of. Come, come, help me load up all this grub and I’ll tell you everything.”

Herc and Zeta go to either side of her and help push the wobbly cart to a truck with the diner’s logo emblazoned on the side. As they load the boxes, Maddie speaks.

“I first met your Percy when I was just a waitress, mama still working the kitchen. One day this kid walks in, looking as lost as can be, comes straight up to the counter and tells me he’s just fallen from outer space and could use some assistance.” She barks a laugh. “I didn’t go for the whole alien thing but that second part was a lot more believable. He looked a mess. I asked if he needed something to eat but he just said he needed a safe place to rest for a moment. He’d been on his feet all day, walking and hitchhiking his way clear across the desert.

“Of course I wanted to know where he was going that was so important, but he said he didn’t know for sure yet. Said he was following a melody, a song he’d heard from very far away that had drawn him to this place. I told him I couldn’t help him there. The only music we had in the diner was this old stereo system mama had put in when she first opened the place and it was long broken. Mama was too sentimental to get rid of the old thing and the repairman couldn’t do anything for it so broken it stayed.

“He asked me to show him so I did, figuring it couldn’t hurt anything. Then that kid walked up to the busted speaker and just like that it started playing again like it was new. I told him, ‘For that, I owe you more than a place to rest your legs. Stay in town for a while, let us put you up and get you back on your feet, or at least let me drive you to the train station so you can get where you’re going.’ But he refused, and before long he was gone again.

“Then, not a couple days later, spaceboy comes back traveling with this other kid, heading in the opposite direction. I ask him what happened and he says he was going one way but he changed his mind and turned around. He leans in like he’s sharing a great big secret, like we’ve been friends all our lives, and says, ‘I found it, Maddie. I found the song.’ Weirdest kid I’ve ever met! But they make a cute couple, him and that boy, and they’re some of my best customers to this day.”

They finish packing up the truck, Maddie leaning leisurely against the fender as she reminisces. Herc frowns, confused.

“Was that the message?”

“Yup.” She pops the P. “He just told me to tell you the story. Not sure why. I mean, it’s a good story, I think. But you already know all about it, right? You’re his family after all.”

“No, he never told us,” he admits softly.

“Huh. Weird. But then, he’s kind of a weird kid, yeah? I always wondered, is it all you aliens who talk in riddles like that, or just him?”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe his claims.”

“I didn’t the first time, but if your Percy’s one thing it’s… Perc-istent.” When no one laughs, she pushes onward. “Well, that’s all of it. We’d better get a move on, huh?”

“‘We’?”

“Sure, aren’t you folks on your way to Percy’s place too? I figured you’d be staying over, and I gotta get everything set up for the wedding tomorrow.”

A palpable shock ripples through the star-folk. “Tomorrow?”

“‘Course, what did you think all this was for?” She pats the truck. “I wanted to get everything ready ahead of time so we’re good to go in the morning. It’s not easy being the caterer and providing my lovely self as a guest on the same day, but I couldn’t let those sweet boys down.”

Andromeda slumps over, leaning on Herc for support. “Percy told us the wedding was tonight.”

The chef raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s been having a little fun with you. Nah, they’re doing some sort of get-together tonight since neither one of the bachelors wanted a bachelor party, but the actual wedding ceremony’s definitely not until tomorrow.”

“I’m going to end him,” Cass mutters under her breath.

“Hurry up now,” she says. “I’m sure the groom-to-be’s expecting you.”

The five follow Maddie’s truck away from the main drags, away from the buildings, the scenery becoming gradually greener as the road turns from asphalt to gravel. At last they find themselves pulling up in front of the house that Percy has come to call home. It’s a raised ranch, flanked by evergreens and patchwork plots of small white and yellow flowers that Percy’s fiance must have planted, and a tower of plastic chairs and tables covered by a tarp.

It’s a nice place, large and somewhat secluded, set apart from the noise of traffic or threat of nosy human neighbors. Percy’s sensitive to loud noise and, after all, still an alien living in secret amongst humanity. Yet as they get out and follow the caterer where she’s cutting around back through the garden, they’re struck by the sounds of laughter and music and lively chatter.

A group of earthers are gathered on the patio, smiling faces lit by a string of twinkling lights. A man with a guitar strums along with the music coming from inside.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Andromeda whispers.

“You think there’s a second Perseus Nine about to be married in this town?” Cass shoots back.

Zeta hisses, “Quiet, I can hear him.”

To his surprise, Herc can too. Above the noise, laced into everything he touches, there is a resonance, his baby brother’s unique personal frequency. To describe it as sound alone would perhaps be inaccurate; it’s a vibration, an echo. Percy is everywhere in this place: his whispers and his shouts, his twinkling laugh, but also the part of him that no human being can detect, the part of him that is still, and will always be, of the stars.

He must sense them too, because in that moment he appears standing in the doorway, bathed in its yellow light. His face breaks out in a glowing grin and he runs to greet them, bolting like a comet being pulled into his siblings’ orbit.

“You made it!” he exclaims.

Zeta snorts and allows him to throw his arms around her. “No thanks to you and your list of demands.”

“You brat,” Cass accuses. “You told us the ceremony was tonight.”

Percy tilts his head to look at her, his expression not half as guilty as it should be. For a moment she reels at the sight of him; the body he’s constructed for himself has aged since the last time they crossed paths. It’s subtle, the way his dimples have deepened into true laugh lines, and his hair has grown ever longer, though it also isn’t as tangled as she remembers. He is still himself, underneath, the light of his true being faintly visible beneath the skin.

“I was worried if I told you the real date you wouldn’t make it in time. You’re not used to traveling the human way. It can be messy.”

She grimaces. “You’re not wrong.”

“You’re actually here way earlier than I thought you’d be.” His smile falters, only slightly. “This is… everyone?”

Herc swallows. “The others…” he begins, but quickly finds he doesn’t have the words that should follow.

“Well, it’s not like I had enough chairs for all two-hundred-ninety-seven of them anyway.” He reaches out and squeezes his brothers tightly. “Hercules, Andromeda, It’s so wonderful to see you. Camelopardalis, Cassiopeia, it means so much to me that you came. I know it probably wasn’t easy. Zeta…”

She scoffs. “The only hard part was putting up with these bitches.”

Hercules interjects, “We shouldn’t keep you from your party. Go on, I need to get some things from the van.”

“You didn’t bring presents, did you?”

“It’s customary for weddings, is it not?”

Percy grins. “You’re becoming a real expert on earth customs.”

He shrugs and looks at Cass. “I just read the brief.”

Percy invites his family in, along with Maddie, who is perfectly tickled by the siblings’ awkward affection. After helping her bring in the food, Percy beckons over the man with the guitar.

“Adam!”

The man looks up. He has a boyish, freckled face and a head of dark curls that spill over his brow. He sets down the instrument and comes to slot himself against Percy’s side, thoughtlessly, as if that was always where he was meant to be.

“I’d like to formally introduce you to my fiance, Adam. And Adam, this is my family.”

His smile broadens. “Hey, great to finally really meet you guys. Percy talks about you all the time. Did you have a long trip?”

They look at one another for a moment until finally Herc shrugs and says, “Only about twenty-five trillion miles, give or take.”

The happy couple linger for a moment longer, sharing stories and talking about honeymoon plans. Adam is especially thrilled when Andromeda and Zeta begin to co-narrate an embarrassing tale from Percy’s childhood in the Alpha Persei Cluster. Eventually though the pair wander off together, leaving the star-folk to their most harrowing challenge yet: mingling.

“Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Camelopardalis.”

The guest, one of the couple’s mutual friends, goes a bit bug-eyed. “Wow, okay, that’s really cool. Kind of a mouthful though. Got a nickname?”

“Nick… name?”

“Like, something that your friends call you for short. My friends call me Dee, but my highschool nickname was Dent.” They point to a scar on the side of their head, just above their left ear. Their fair hair is buzzed short, making it easy to see. “Long story. What if for now I called you ‘Cam’?”

They consider it. “I think I’d like that.”

“Cool, nice to meet you, Cam.”

“Nice to meet you, Dee.” They hesitate. “Would you say you’re a man or a woman?”

Dee frowns.

“Nevermind! I’m so sorry, I just don’t understand the earth gender binary at all. Everything about it just seems so arbitrary and senseless.”

Oddly enough, their new friend perks back up at this.

“Honestly, same,” they laugh.

Andromeda joins shortly, having struck up a conversation with Dee’s partner who is deeply intrigued by his review of “The Chest from The West”. The three of them spend a while swapping book recommendations. Meanwhile, Zeta gets hit on by a slightly intoxicated young woman with an undercut and an eyebrow ring, although the star-dweller vastly misinterprets her none-too-subtle questioning about alien biology. Cass meets Adam and Percy’s pet dog, Chowder, and deems him as good a companion as the convenience store cat.

Herc catches Percy alone in the kitchen and the two have a long overdue talk. It’s clumsy but earnest, and when Herc mumbles something out about possible future family visits, Percy throws himself into his brother with such vigor that he momentarily forgets about gravity and starts to float off the ground.

“I’m sorry too, by the way, for the whole thing with the list,” he sighs. “It probably seems pretty stupid, I just kind of hoped I could get you to see this world the way I see it. Full of life and love and adventure.”

“And music,” he finishes, catching the way his gaze flits back to the patio. To Adam, singing softly and dancing with one of their friends.

He nods. “I thought maybe then you’d understand why this is so important to me.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see earth the way you do,” Hercules confesses. “But I don’t think it was stupid of you to try either, and I don’t think it was for nothing.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mood ring. The friendly prismatic face of a cartoon alien glints up at him. Perseus takes the gift with an understanding chuckle and slips it onto his pinky finger.

“No, not for nothing.”

Tomorrow, there will be a wedding. Percy and Adam will stand in front of their friends and family and exchange their vows. Adam’s mother will complain about them not booking a proper venue for just short of an annoying amount of time, Maddie will bring out a ridiculously tall tier cake that will taste almost as good as one of her mother’s pies, and for once Percy will not be the worst one on the dance floor.

Tomorrow, there will be a bright silver band around Percy’s fourth finger, neighbored by a smaller ring in the shape of an inside joke, and with all the weight of a promise.

#aliens #original fiction #writeblr #short story #original writing #road trip #me? posting my writing again? its more likely than u think #lgbt #my writing

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musings-from-mars · 3 years

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@nuts-and-dolts-week - Day 8: Bonus Day!

For Bonus Day, with some inspiration from the FS discord, I gave myself a little challenge to create a story that somehow integrates every prompt for Nuts and Dolts Week! And this is the result!

This has been such a fun event to be a part of, and not only that, this is the first ship week I’ve ever completed! That may not be a huge accomplishment but I’m still super happy 🥰 Thank you to Bio for running this event and to everyone who created content for it, you’re all so talented and sensational!

You can read all my other NnD Week submissions on AO3, maybe kudo and comment if you are so inclined~ Hope you enjoy, thank you so much for reading!

Nuts and Dolts Week 2021 Stories - MusingsFromMars on AO3

Tomorrow they would graduate from Beacon, but tonight, they would have one more picnic in the Emerald Forest.

With a basket full of food and treats in the crook of her elbow, Ruby walked along with Penny down the familiar hillside trail, hiking into the forest towards what they had begun to call Their Spot. The sun at this point was almost set, bathing the partly cloudy sky with a bright orange hue. An evening picnic might have been unusual to most, but to the couple of soon-to-be huntresses, it was perfect.

Since this would be the last time they’d have a picnic like this together, they both went all-out with their preparations. Penny had dressed in her favorite white flowery dress and sun hat, and even had cute sparkly pink lip gloss, eyeliner, and green eyeshadow (all courtesy of Belladonna Cosmetic Services). Ruby had gone even more formal, wearing a white button-up, black suspenders and bow tie, and a red skirt. Weiss had remarked to her that this was a bit much for a picnic, but Ruby assured her that this was perfect for the occasion. Weiss couldn’t be blamed for not knowing all of her plans, after all. In fact, no one else knew what Ruby was planning for this evening.

Tucked securely in her shirt pocket was a small velvet drawstring pouch. Inside it was a ring, Penny’s ring. Ruby had made it herself. Even though her area of expertise was weapons crafting and not jewelry design, she was happy with how it turned out. She even felt confident that Penny would love it, too. Ruby had made it with her in mind, after all. And tonight would be the night that she would give it to Penny and ask her to marry her.

Ruby felt oddly calm about her plan right now. She had imagined herself being really nervous and unable to keep quiet about her plan for long, but now that they were on their way to the very spot she would propose, Ruby felt confident and at ease. Maybe that was the effect Penny had on her. Ruby always felt more comfortable whenever Penny was nearby. It was as if seeing her happy and safe was enough to put everything in perspective. How bad could a problem be if Penny were there for her?

Once they arrived at Their Spot, Penny unfurled the blanket she’d had tucked under her arm, spreading it out over the grass. From here, the thick treeline blocked out the setting sun, leaving them surrounded by soft shadows and gentle warm hues from the dusk sky.

This was all routine by this point. Penny would lay out the blanket, they’d both sit down and open the basket, and Ruby would start munching away at a sandwich while Penny made some tea (using a kettle, the water they packed, and her ability to hold anything in her hand and superheat it, of course). Penny enjoyed making tea this way because it made it easy to smell the complex aromas. While Penny’s tech advancements still didn’t allow her to taste, she at least had made a breakthrough and could now smell things, and tea was one of her favorites. “I am brewing lavender chamomile,” Penny said to Ruby. “It is the tea we had together the first time we had a picnic here.”

Ruby finished her bite of sandwich and smiled. “I love how you can remember little details like that.”

“I remember most everything,” Penny said. “Though our first picnic is certainly easy to recall. It was a lovely occasion.”

“Besides us starting a minor forest fire with Weiss’ electric kettle,” Ruby recounted with a laugh.

“And that is why we use this method now.” Penny nodded to the kettle, holding its underside. “It is much less dangerous.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be trusted around hot surfaces,” Ruby said with a giggle, then took another bite of sandwich. “Do you…” She began, but recalled her manners and swallowed her food before continuing. “Do you remember our first date?”

“Of course,” Penny said with a grin. “The one you essentially had to force me to go on.”

“I didn’t force you, did I?” Ruby asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I was certainly nervous about raising the ire of General Ironwood,” she recalled. “But I am quite thankful you did convince me to go to the arcade with you, even if the General was cross with me.”

“You got so many tickets!” Ruby remembered.

“The patterns and rhythms of those arcade machines were not very sophisticated. They were easily exploited for maximum payout.”

“I still have that big plush frog we got as a prize somewhere,” Ruby remembered. “What did we call him?”

“Mister Bumpy Butt.”

“Mister Bumpy Butt!” Ruby said with a grin. “Because he had—”

“—bumps on his butt!” Penny finished for her.

“I still say he should talk to his frog doctor about that,” Ruby joked.

“Indeed, butt bumps could be a sign of underlying illness.”

Ruby snorted and laughed, leaning over and lying her head on Penny’s shoulder. “Gods, we’re so weird.”

“Yes, but I enjoy being weird with you,” Penny replied, smiling as she leaned her cheek against the top of Ruby’s head.

“As do I,” Ruby agreed.

As Ruby took another bite of sandwich, Penny’s kettle began to whistle, and she retrieved two mugs from the basket. One mug already had a few sugar cubes sitting in the bottom. That was Ruby’s mug, of course. Penny filled both with hot tea and handed one to her. No matter what kind of tea it was, Ruby always had to drink it with sugar (much to Weiss’ and Blake’s horror). She took a careful sip and hummed happily. “Perfect as always, Penny.”

“Why thank you,” Penny beamed and set the empty kettle aside. She cradled her mug with both hands and enjoyed the smell of the tea as steam floated from the mug and into the air. She watched as Ruby sipped her tea, then asked, “Do you remember about a couple years before we met properly in Vale, you had accidentally met me when I was still in development at Atlas Academy?”

Ruby’s eyes went wide, and she had to make sure to swallow her tea lest she choke on it before answering, “I almost forgot all about that!”

Penny grinned and nodded. “You know, my father almost deleted that conversation from my memory for fear of ‘contamination,’ but then figured he had advanced my software far enough to the point that my interaction with you might be beneficial. And it turns out it was!”

“How so?” Ruby asked curiously, sipping her tea a bit more carefully.

“I think back to that meeting, and the way I remember it, from that day forward I had so much confidence when meeting new people. I admit, it took me a while to really understand that I might have been, well...forward with new acquaintances, but I think because you, the first ‘stranger’ I ever met, were so nice to me, it made me so optimistic about meeting new people.” She smiled at Ruby. “And that’s why I have so many friends now. All thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me and my insatiable curiosity,” Ruby added with a giggle. “But that’s honestly really sweet. I’m glad I ran into laptop you all those years ago.”

“That laptop was not the most aesthetically pleasing chassis to inhabit. I mean, I had very little physical self-awareness at that point, but looking back on it…”

“Yeah, you’re way sexier now,” Ruby joked.

“Precisely!” Penny agreed wholeheartedly, once again making Ruby laugh.

The sun had fully set by now, and stars began to dot the dark blue sky. The daytime warmth still lingered, but a gentle breeze began to slowly whisk it away.

“Ruby, look at me.”

Ruby blinked and looked her way, surprised by the suddenness of her request. “Huh?”

Penny only stared at her in the face, not offering an explanation. A few seconds later, she smiled and nodded. “Yep. Quite similar indeed.”

“What?” Ruby asked.

“Your eyes,” Penny said. “They look so similar to the moon when it is dark out.” She looked over Ruby’s shoulder. “But I have never gotten to make a side-by-side comparison until now.”

Ruby turned and looked the same way and saw the shattered moon. It had been just behind her head from Penny’s view. Ruby giggled and looked back at her girlfriend. “You’re so sweet.”

Penny smiled wide, her green eyes practically glowing with happiness.

“You know,” Ruby began, leaning a bit closer to Penny. “I don’t think I could compare your eyes to anything.”

Penny tilted her head to the side a bit. “Oh? How come?”

“I’ve never seen anything like them. They’re just so bright and shiny and green.”

Penny blinked, then her cheeks glowed a faint green. “You mean my eyes are incomparable?”

Ruby hadn’t realized her own romantic turn of phrase, but she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, exactly! There’s nothing in the world quite like your pretty eyes.”

Penny smiled, then leaned forward and kissed Ruby’s cheek. “You are so sweet.” Then her eyes went wide, noticing something else behind Ruby. “Oh, the fireflies!”

Ruby gasped and turned her head quickly, and sure enough, the night’s first lightning bugs were beginning to emerge, darting about and glowing. More and more appeared, blinking in a constant array of light like a visual symphony.

“It has been so long since we have seen so many,” Penny said with delight. “Oh, I am so happy they appeared tonight. You know it is almost as if they knew this was our last picnic here, because at this time of year their numbers typically begin to dwindle due to the changes in weather…”

Penny was once again infodumping about insects and Ruby’s heart swelled with a familiar adoration. She wanted to kiss her so bad, but that would mean interrupting Penny as she talked about the temperature preferences of flying bugs. She held off her desire to tackle her into the grass and pepper her face with kisses until later. In the meantime, she set her tea aside and propped her elbows on her knees, all while watching those aforementioned incomparable eyes as they followed the flights of nearby fireflies as she continued.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that Penny’s voice began to trail away, and she turned to look at Ruby. “Oh, I have been talking for quite some time, huh?”

“Yeah, but I like listening to you talk about fireflies, Firefly,” Ruby said softly with a smile, still with her hands under her chin, still resting her elbows on her knees.

Penny chuckled bashfully. “They are just such fascinating creatures.”

“Hey Penny?”

“Hm?” Penny turned, her eyes meeting Ruby’s again. With the moon reflecting off her eyes, they almost seemed to shine.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Penny smiled gently.

Ruby reached out and took Penny’s hand in hers, then took a moment to look around. “Uhm, here.” She got to her feet, still holding Penny’s hand. “This way.”

Penny stood and followed as Ruby led her off the picnic blanket and onto the grass. They walked through the grass a few steps, fireflies floating about them as if used to their presence. Ruby stopped and faced Penny.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and despite the slowly falling temperatures outside, she was beginning to feel a little hot under her button-up. Here was the nervousness she expected to feel earlier, springing up just as she was about to do what this entire evening was leading to. She took a breath and fidgeted a bit with her bow tie.

“Are you okay?” Penny asked quietly, still holding one of Ruby’s hands.

“I’m...great,” Ruby said. It sounded like a lie, but it wasn’t. She felt anxious, sweaty, and absolutely fantastic all at once. “Penny, I… I have something to ask you. It’s important.”

Penny nodded, giving her her full attention.

Ruby took a breath and nodded. “Penny, when I told you that you are a real girl, I meant it. That day in that alleyway in Vale, I could see how unsure you were, how scared you were. And yet, when I assured you that you’re as real to me as I am to you, you believed me. I could definitely tell how happy that moment made you feel from how hard you hugged me, but...it made me happy, too. To know that I had said something to make you feel real…” Oh no, tears. Not now, tears. “And you believed me.”

Penny stepped a little closer and nodded. “Of course I believed you.”

Ruby smiled, but she willed herself to continue. “Then that day when I thought you were going back to Atlas. I was so scared because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to see you again. I ran to find you, and I confessed to you right then and there that I loved you, that I couldn’t let you leave because I knew that you wanted to stay just as much as I wanted you to stay. And…” She was losing her fight against her tears, one escaping and running down her cheek as a smile grew on her face. “I said I love you. And...you believed me.”

“Of course I believed you,” Penny said again with a soft chuckle. She lifted her hand and gently wiped away Ruby’s tears. “I have loved you since the day we became friends.”

Ruby nodded and sniffed. “So have I.” She wiped at her own face, doing her best to compose herself. She wanted to get this moment exactly right. “And now we’re here tonight, for like the hundred-dozenth time. And…” She stared at Penny for a second, taking in a deep breath. She let it out slowly, then reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out the pouch. Penny’s eyes followed as Ruby loosened the drawstring, flipped the pouch over, and let a ring roll from the bag and into her hand. It was a shiny bronze color, with red and green gems embedded in a zigzag configuration all around the circumference. Ruby pocketed the pouch and held the ring between her thumb and index finger. She looked up at Penny and saw her eyes were wide, as if she were slowly beginning to understand.

“Ruby…?”

“And now I’m asking you to marry me,” Ruby said, chuckling with a grin. “Can you believe that?”

“Ruby…” Penny covered her mouth with her hand.

Ruby got down on one knee, holding the ring up to her. Her nerves were gone, replaced only with a blooming joy in her chest. She will never forget the look on Penny’s face at this very moment. “Penny, will you marry me?”

Penny proceeded to tackle hug her to the ground. Ruby grunted and laughed as her back hit the grass. “Yes!” Penny lied on top of Ruby and smiled down at her. “Yes, I will marry you, Ruby!” She kissed her, and Ruby hummed softly and wrapped her arms around Penny’s neck, deepening the kiss. Her nerves were a distant memory now. Now she felt like she was floating just like the fireflies around them, with the love of her life in her arms.

After their kiss, they both found their way back to their feet. Ruby was glad to have held tight to the ring both during and after getting tackled, and she smiled at Penny as she took her hand. “Well then,” she slipped the ring onto her, a perfect fit. “Just call me fiancée.”

Penny grinned and hugged her again, not tackling her but still squeezing tight. “I love you.”

Ruby hugged her back, happily sinking deeper into the embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered.

After reveling in this embrace for a while longer, Ruby opened her eyes and looked up, seeing the Beacon tower in the distance. In a lot of ways, this place had changed her life. She had fulfilled her dream of becoming a huntress and had made friends that she’d forever consider family. But at this very moment, she felt the most thankful for having met Penny. If coming to Beacon had changed her life, then meeting Penny was what made it brighter. She would never forget the years she spent here, but when it came to her and Penny, they had countless more memories to make in the future, together as real girls, as wives.

#rwby #nuts and dolts week 2021 #nuts and dolts week #nuts and dolts #fanfic update #ruby rose #penny polendina

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kensboytoy · 5 years

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The Elimination Game

Title: The Elimination Game Fandom: Sonic The Hedgehog (2020) Pairings: Doctor Robotnik/Agent Stone Ratings: Explicit

When Agent Stone was first assigned to his new mission, he never imagined it would be with the Doctor Robotnik. He had only heard murmurings of the man in the darker parts of his training when shadows spoke about destruction and chaos. Being that he was new, Stone didn’t think he’d ever be working under someone with so much power. His drone tech was the reason why America didn’t bat an eye at frequent political attacks from other countries. Why worry when you had single-handedly had the best defense in your back pocket?

Stone had heard that the Doctor didn’t keep anyone with him for longer than a week. He spouted about their incompetence like clockwork and broke the lesser men and women down until they were forced to resign. This didn’t deter the agent in the slightest. He wasn’t wet behind the ears and fresh out of training. He had taken years to rise up the ranks. While on the outside he seemed dopey and the friendliest man on the street, there was a steel core protecting him from the hardships he had faced.

Killing people was never fun, but an agent did as they were told by their government without question. So becoming a personal assistant to a man who had aided war? Well, Stone had no qualms about it. It was just another Tuesday afternoon to him.

The mobile laboratory unit rolled up to the base and he, along with several other agents, stood at the ready. Quickly, the large door shot open to reveal the man of the hour, stairs popping out so he could stride down them to meet the new recruits.

Stone’s heart nearly jumped right into his throat at the sight.

[Read More or Read on AO3!]

Doctor Robotnik was an older gentleman - 50’s but with a rubbery and spry face that made him look younger than that. Dressed in all black with red trim, he looked like a gangly supervillain if Stone had ever seen one. The small black shades on the man’s face covered his observant eyes scanning the fresh meat on his doorstep. Robotnik’s finely groomed moustache ticked upwards as he smirked at the sight.

He would have these idiots screaming and out of his hair in a week.

“Well. You all must be the glorified babysitters that the government has decided qualify to assist me on my mission.” Robotnik plucked off his shades and tucked the tiny pair of glasses away in his coat’s inside pocket. “I’ve read every single one of your files and I know that you-”

The Doctor pointed a gloved finger to the agent standing beside Stone.

“You-”

Another agent, this time three bodies away.

“And you.” He pointed to the last agent that Stone couldn’t quite make out. “Are all dismissed effectively immediately.”

All three stared incredulously at the doctor and began to protest. Stone’s eyes fell to the Doctor’s hands and watched curiously as the madman ran his fingers along a hidden control panel in sequence. There was a soft mechanical whirr from the lab behind him and three egg-shaped robots ascended from the top of the trailer. The red lights of their sensors honed in on their threats and targeted the foreheads of the singled out agents.

“I suggest turning tail now before I make sure to wipe you from all databases, Agents,” Robotnik sneered.

Frustrated, each took their turn filing into line and heading back to headquarters. Stone felt relief at the fact that he hadn’t been so easily eliminated. It would have hurt his ego more than he would have liked to admit.

Doctor Robotnik laughed at the sight of the remaining agents, now a number he could count on one hand. He was amused that a few of them were quaking already. Fear was so delicious when it was palpable like this. His attention was promptly turned to the only man standing with a firm look on his face that hadn’t faltered as he singled-out his comrades. Impressive.

“You,” he cooed dangerously, stepping closer to Stone to circle him like a vulture to its prey. Robotnik scanned the agent’s vitals and noticed that he was an even harder nut to crack with his usual initiation tactics. “You seem to have the most brains in your ragtag group to not so much as flinch as your fellow flunkies are picked off.”

Stone simply nodded, eyes locked onto the Doctor’s to establish his rank to the peculiar man he’d be serving. After all, he was chosen by the government to aid him, but would the Doctor accept that decision?

“Are you in charge of these imbeciles?” Robotnik inquired, determined to get a right answer from Stone or send him packing.

“No, Doctor. You’re in charge.”

That made the Doctor pause, an inhuman smirk crossing his face and making it look almost cartoonish. Even with the mustache and the stubble, his face seemed to be made out of rubber with how it contorted and twisted.

“Seems at least one of you college drop-outs knows his place. Very good, Agent…?”

“Stone.”

Robotnik nodded to himself and stood back to his full height in front of Agent Stone. He pulled up his records on his control pad to skim through as he showed the rookies their new assignment. Of course he hadn’t read up on any of those weirdos before they came - why waste the time or brain cells on it? This man deserved at least the small fraction of a second it would take to consume everything about him - from search history to his track record working for the government. Robotnik bet he could break the man in a week.

Training for Agent Stone came almost second nature. He was quick to make detailed notes about how the lab operated on a daily basis. Robotnik didn’t leave much room for things he deemed to ‘slow him down’. This meant eating and drinking was solely through nutrient pouches he had on hand, Robotnik easily reaching for one to suckle on when his hands were busy. It appeared that maybe he had some childhood issues that Stone wouldn’t dare pry into.

However, Stone came to the realization that Robotnik’s lack of empathy for others may be playing into the fact that he treated himself like a machine. If you oiled it and charged it to the bare minimum, it would run. That was precisely how Robotnik operated. Stone couldn’t even think of a time where he caught the Doctor winding down for the evening or just relax.

It wasn’t until the week was over and Stone remained the only one standing did the Doctor even acknowledge him again.

“Agent Stone?” the crazed doctor spoked up, sitting in front of his flashing monitors scanning for the strange readings that had popped up during their small mission.

“Yes, Doctor?” the man piped up, perhaps a bit too eagerly. To be quite honest, he was pleased as punch that he was the last man remaining.

Robotnik swiveled around the man, circling him just as he had their first meeting. His clever eyes took in every detail of the seemingly average agent. It was getting to Robotnik that he hadn’t made this one break. He had ten more hours until his own mental deadline to send the man screaming and running back to his mommy. This was Robotnik’s true test.

“I want you to do me a favor, Stone. Go into that hallway over there and polish my Badniks.”

The command seemed unusual to Stone. Robotnik loathed when people touched his ‘babies’. This was a trap. He hid his smirk as he spoke up again.

“Would you like them shined enough to see your reflection in?”

Robotnik’s face soured.

“Yes, Stone. Hop to it!” He loudly clapped his hands in front of the agent’s face, who immediately turned on his heel to do just as he was told.

It was degrading work. Stone wasn’t about to sit there and complain about unjust labor practices. He was going to prove to the Doctor why he needed to keep him. It was more than just a pride thing. Agent Stone was beginning to grow fond of the asinine ramblings of this madman - no, of this genius - and he wasn’t ready to be dismissed yet.

There had always been a deep-seeded need for approval in Stone’s mind. Childhood trauma made it easier to break a young boy’s spirit faster than usual. Being around Robotnik was like walking on eggshells. No doubt in his mind that being Robotnik’s right hand man could cause Stone to lose a grasp on sanity or even a blow to his self-worth. However, what he was faced with now was a task. A task that would make any other simple-minded agent of his caliber to only do what they were told.

Agent Stone was determined to make Robotnik praise him just once. Once and he would know that he was capable of anything.

The cleaning didn’t take very long. He had made every note he possibly could previously about how Robotnik tended to the only things he’d let close to him. Stone knew that fucking this up would squander every chance he had in cementing his place here. This were like children to Robotnik. Cared for endlessly by fidgeting hands. Firmware upgrades were nearly daily with the doctor trying to outdo himself each time.

But Stone did not forget that these were highly dangerous weapons. If Robotnik so much as tapped the button on his controls, Stone would be wiped from history without a single thought. The scientist often reminded him of that fact. It wasn’t as if Stone was willing to test that theory. Doctor Robotnik had destroyed cities with these robots. Murdered people in cold-blood. While there was no records of him doing so, Stone could see the unhinged look in the dark corners of his eyes. Those beautiful orbs of creamy brown…

Snap out of it! he chided to himself.

These daydreams were starting to get out of hand and making Stone believe that perhaps he wanted more than just praise from Doctor Robotnik. Those chapped lips often looked inviting, especially as they twisted into a snarl as Robotnik barked out orders. The thrill of winding the esteemed scientist up was just so tempting. Stone knew when to reel back - the Doctor was easy to manipulate when trying to show off. Lines had never been crossed to the point where Robotnik would even notice that Stone was goading him to get so worked up.

What could the agent say? He liked a little bit of crazy with his coffee in the morning.

Talented hands waxed the sterile white shells of each Badnik nestled in the racks of the lab. These were the secondary machines that Robotnik continued to perfect his new technology on. Not just scouts but turrets. With a simple flick of a switch, they would circle around their prey and eviscerate them. He had seen the demonstration. It wasn’t pretty. So Agent Stone was very delicate while handling them.

It only took half an hour for them to look like tiny mirrors with how reflective they were. He smiled at his handiwork and tucked his handkerchief carefully into his pocket.

The Doctor was looming over him, body shaking as he too stared at the quality of the man’s performance. To chastise him for an impeccable job would be foolish. Anyone could call his bluff. But Robotnik was just a mere few hours away from losing his own bet. If he couldn’t humiliate the man here, this was game over. He’d be stuck with a government lackey for the foreseeable future. Robotnik loathed to be stuck with a babysitter from Uncle Sam. They questioned the legality of his actions too much for their own good. This black-suited brat would be no exception if Robotnik kept him around.

Doctor Robotnik’s hands clenched into fists as he leaned in, a hair’s breadth away from touching the edge of Stone’s earlobe. The sudden heat of the older man’s breath caused Stone to pause.

“You think you’re done, Agent?” the venomous whisper trickled into his ear.

Stone nearly lost composure. This was close even for Robotnik. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared straight ahead into the reflection of the pearly white shell to see the Doctor’s face close to his own. He could smell the aftershave and machine oil this close to his boss. It was heavenly.

“I’ve polished them to the best of my abilities, Doctor.” He swallowed dryly.

“With your fancy cleaners, hm? You know, they say a little spitshine makes these things more personal, Stone.” There was a wild look in his eyes as his grin began to tug at the corners of his lips. “My babies deserve a special touch, Agent. And you’ll provide them with that, won’t you?”

The realization began to dawn on Stone as he processed the words. Robotnik wanted him to polish these things with his mouth. A ping of arousal shot through Stone like white hot lightning zapping every nerve in his body. He fixed his posture and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket nervously. There were two choices: accept that this man was a nutcase who pushed things too far and leave right there or stay, clean these things with his own mouth, and call out Robotnik’s bluff. Stone knew that by accepting Robotnik’s orders, the labrat would have no choice but to concede and make Agent Stone his assistant.

Stone’s breath hitched for a moment as his body took the step forward on its own. His eyes fluttered closed as he got on his knees to stare at the Badniks eye-to-eye. They were more intimidating even with their sensors a low red glow. It felt like all eyes were on him as he began.

To be quite fair, there wasn’t an easy way to handle this. It would look silly either way but he would do it with finesse. His tongue darted from his mouth, wetting his lips just before he swiped up around the ocular unit of the robot. It swirled talentedly around, careful not to disturb the hibernating unit, almost as if he had a lot of practice doing things like this. Stone would admit to being trained for anything.

It was Robotnik’s turn to be caught by surprise. This… this wasn’t what he thought would happen. Most people would hightail it out of there at the absurd request, citing that Robotnik simply went too far in his power over them. He thought Stone to do the same. But he was a fighter wasn’t he? Despite the obvious heed into submission, Stone was gaining the upper-hand by baffling the scientist in his display.

He watched in sheer bewilderment as Stone continued to freely humiliate himself by cleaning each Badnik with his tongue. The agent didn’t falter for a second. He used that mouth like his life depended on him and stayed on each unit until every inch of surface had been met with his mouth. Stone could feel Robotnik’s stare burn into the back of his head, almost like he was pushing him to keep moving. Fueled by his determination and, well, his own arousal, Agent Stone diligently moved until each Badnik was cleaned with his tongue.

When he was finished, his mouth popped off the cold metal with an audible sound before he wet his lips again. There was a flush on his face as the reality of his actions sank in. Perhaps it felt lewd even to him.

A shaky, gloved hand reached out to catch his jaw. Stone stared up at Robotnik, puzzled by the sight. He was trembling, chest heaving now as his eyes visibly twitched. Stone was about to ask the Doctor if he needed him to fetch some water but then his eyes caught the very visible object pressed tightly against Robotnik’s slacks. His cock was hard. Painfully so, it looked like from just how much it was straining against the fabric. Stone’s eyes fluttered at the sight before his head sharply turned back up to Robotnik’s glowering face.

“How primitive, Stone,” the Doctor’s voice was barely more than a snide whisper. “Channeling your more carnal desires onto my machines like that. Are you perhaps… fantasizing it was something else?”

Stone knew the Doctor was projecting his feelings. It was an obvious tactic that the genius had used plenty of times. However, Stone enjoyed the filth pouring from his lips in such a precise manner that only Robotnik could successfully pull off and make it sound attractive. The agent stared at Robotnik carefully while still resting on his knees, practically just a few inches away from his cock.

“Yes, Doctor.”

That gloved hand moved to thread carefully in Stone’s well maintained hair and tangled harshly in it. Stone gasped softly as he was urged against Robotnik’s thighs. The older man was trembling with his own arousal overtaking him. Stone surmised that the Doctor had never done this before and was quite nervous. He’d have to celebrate the power trip in his mind later.

“Well then. Shouldn’t you do something about it, then, hm?”

Stone’s eyes flickered to Robotnik’s face.

“I only answer to your commands, Doctor. Acting on my own urges isn’t what I’m here for.”

The response made Robotnik shiver. Of course that stupid, pretty mouth would say precisely what he wanted to hear. It was almost unfair how well Stone knew him in just this short time alone. If he kept him around, Robotnik wondered what potential the agent could have. Maybe he was more than just some stiff in a black suit. Not like he could talk - his cock was obviously the main attraction at this current moment. He needed to let off all this steam that Stone had riled him up with.

“Then be useful and take care of my problem, Agent,” Robotnik hissed, shoving Stone’s face directly against his prick.

Agent Stone made quick work of unzipping the Doctor with just his teeth, eager hands slipping into the scientist’s boxers to fish out his prize for doing so well. He was surprised at just how well equipped the older man was. The length alone was nothing to sneeze at, but the girth was enough to make Stone’s heart flutter in his chest. Something like that would be tougher to handle than a Badnik. This would take some getting used to.

Stone was nothing but eager as he kissed the head of the uncut prick, lapping up a bead of precum at the tip before he wet the rest of his length for an easier time. The hand in his hair pulled him back up before he could reach the doctor’s sack, Robotnik needing him to get to the root of the matter. Eagerly, Agent Stone welcomed in his warm, waiting mouth with no protest. The taste of the older man was delightful. It was the only thing about him that seemed to be at all human.

Indeed, even a cold-hearted man like Robotnik adored the attention being paid to him. While it was for purely selfish reasons, he had never thought to do this with another person. That’s what robots were for! They could handle him with just enough durability to last a lifetime.

What the Doctor was quickly realizing was that flesh felt more fun. Being inside of that sweet mouth of Stone’s that always peppered him with eager responses was almost too much to handle. It was as if the Doctor’s circuits were shorting out. He’d be loath to admit in enjoying such animalistic behaviors with someone so beneath him, but in this instance, Stone was simply proving his worth to him.

At least that’s what the logical part was trying to convince himself.

Unable to hear the inner dialogue of the scientist’s mind, Agent Stone was simply focused on the task at hand. The Doctor was hard and he needed to resolve the issue. He tried not to get distracted by the cute way Robotnik’s face was contorting on its own as the older man began to buck needily into Stone’s waiting mouth. He merely took it as a sign to speed up the process. With his hands planted on Robotnik’s thighs, his hungry mouth fell lower and lower down Robotnik’s prick. It was easy enough to take at a pace like this, but Stone knew that he would have to make it all the way down to the base to drive his boss to the point of no return.

The way Robotnik’s hands curled in his hair felt so wonderful. He was trying his best to remain dominant, but his own arousal would be his undoing. Stone kept the smartass remarks to himself as he watched the Doctor slip fully into a more carnal state of need.

“I don’t have all day,” came the guttural growl. Stone’s head was unceremoniously shoved straight down to the hilt with some resistance from the agent. “That’s it, Stone! Now we’re making progress!”

Tufts of brown hair swung to the side of Robotnik’s face as he rhythmically started to fuck his new toy’s face. He was determined to achieve orgasm his way and caed very little about the comfort of Stone. The agent wanted to start this? Robotnik would finish it.

Which he was already so close to doing. This was an entirely new experiment that Robotnik didn’t even have a hypothesis for. All of this was purely acted on in the heat of the moment. The nature of its humanity would have normally disgusted the calculated man, but Robotnik was desperate. He needed Stone to prove himself to be a valuable asset.

The man was doing just that. His eyes were half-lidded as he took the Doctor’s cock in stride. He hummed happily, vibrations from the sound rattling his boss into further animalistic need. It wasn’t fair how well-equipped Stone was to handle all of these things tossed at him. Robotnik hated that handsome face looking so sweet as he took cock beautifully. It wasn’t fair how he had managed to get him so worked up in the first place!

“I would advise you to finish quickly, Agent Stone. I don’t have time to dilly-dally,” Robotnik mocked in his bratty tone.

Stone smiled to himself. He wouldn’t have the Doctor be any other way for him. It was pleasure enough to watch the great and powerful man come undone with a government lackey like him just sucking his cock. He pushed harder and persevered. Sweat dripped down his brow as he took the man’s dick like a champ. Those skillful hands slipped straight to Robotnik’s ball and gave him a reassuring squeeze that he would make him cum in no time.

Frantic, twitching hands pushed Stone further along. Robotnik could no longer sit idly by and let his orgasm be controlled by someone lower in the food chain. Roughly shoving the back of Stone’s head against the nearby wall, he had him pinned helplessly as he fucked into the younger agent’s mouth. He could feel a garbled sound being choked by his cock, Robotnik’s lust fueled at the sight of the squirming man. This was power. This was absolute control over another living being. Having machines was all fine and dandy, but having a human rely on you for common as air? The thrill of it delighted Robotnik.

Stone clawed at the man who had quite literally knocked the wind out of him. His eyes watered as he was deprived of a basic necessity. Robotnik eventually let him breathe, Stone greedily inhaling before his mouth continued to be used as nothing more than a glorified fleshlight. Losing control to the Doctor felt nice. For once in Stone’s life, he was letting someone take his life into their own hands to mold him into something better. This was his place. He wanted to be the assistant to arguably the most powerful man. Stone had won! No one had taken this indulgence with the Doctor before and now he could claim victory. All he needed was Robotnik to say that he was his and the deal with the devil would be sealed.

Robotnik, oblivious to such a simple request, only focused on his desire to achieve orgasmic bliss with this organic matter. This feeling was foreign to him that it was sending his nerves to do unspeakably odd things that he’d have to document later. The rational thoughts in his mind slipped away the closer to climax. His thrusts became more sporadic as he pushed harder and harder into the agent’s throat.

All at once, his body stopped. It felt like his legs had locked up, fingers as tight as they could be in Stone’s hair as Robotnik truly lost himself. Fire burned in the pit of his stomach as all the determination of ruining this man’s life slipped away.

His orgasm was unlike any he had ever experienced in his lifetime. It was powerful. So powerful that he nearly wept as rope after rope of hot spunk left him. Robotnik trembled at his release, finally letting go so Stone could gain some semblance of control back, which he used to hold steady and take every last drop. After all, he was determined to prove useful to the Doctor.

Once his load had been deposited into that waiting mouth, Robotnik stumbled backwards and frantically tucked himself in. He smoothed back his hair and straightened up to look presentable again. Loudly, he cleared his throat and looked to the agent still on his knees.

“Agent Stone?”

“Yes, Doctor?” Stone murmured, still in heavenly bliss from the sight of his flustered boss who had finally yielded to someone ‘lower’ than him.

“Tidy yourself up. You have paperwork to sign in my office.”

Agent Stone’s heart skipped a beat, a smile breaking out across his face. He had won the Doctor’s favor.

“I expect you there in no less than five minutes - Hop to it!”

Flustered, Robotnik turned on his heel to finish the government’s transfer request to him that had been sitting on his desk since the recruits’ arrival. Perhaps it was best to keep one of them around after all.

#Doctor Robotnik #Agent Stone #Stobotnik #Works of Oz #Robotnik

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split-n-splice · 5 years

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A totally-not-a-date chapter. Next and final chapter is...eheheh...explosive.

[Chapter Guide | Ao3 | FFn ]

Chapter 5 - Dodgy

If someone had told her yesterday that she’d be having fun in a day’s time, she might have laughed in their face. Fun just wasn’t something she had much of these days.

Given the establishment served booze in abundance and she was regrettably under the legal drinking age, Shego had to find her own unconventional way in. The risk was frivolous and made her a touch uneasy, but she was proud of herself nonetheless once she was inside where she turned her focus to searching for Dr. Drakken and his goons.

The casino was like some kind of adult’s Pizza Party-Torium, if the arcade was populated by slot machines and the playground was swapped for table games and a dazzling fountain. The joint was crowded and noisy, and with a funk in the air that made her nose scrunch just as it did at JP Bearymore’s.

Before second thoughts could undermine her resolve, Dr. Drakken had reappeared by her side to tow her by an elbow to where his crew had gathered.

The henchmen were found squandering resources on hypnotic slot machines. Without their jumpsuits, Shego wouldn’t have recognized the trio blending in among the guests. They greeted Dr. Drakken with warm regard despite his withering scowl, and the goons flashed impish smirks when they noticed Shego tagging along to his right.

She wouldn’t exactly call the blue man and his grunts friends, but she grew to enjoy the company of her unscrupulous new acquaintances over the evening. It was in the midst of the bunch that she concluded that for the first time in months, maybe all year, she was having fun – and she wasn’t even obligated to.

Though Shego was too reluctant to openly admit it, it might as well have been written on her face. Once she relaxed and rolled with it, visiting the casino turned out to be a blast.

What little she had on hand had her apprehensive at first to actually put her money where her mouth was, and she tried not to come off nearly as surprised as the goons when she fared better than them. From there, they egged her on – bad influences, the whole lot of them – but she enjoyed the attention when they gave it. Encouragement, cheers, and sore-loser boos from the crew, along with the nice sum of cash stuffed into the utility pouch hidden beneath a pant leg, made the mischievous evening worth gambling with her safety on the rogue doctor. She’d won some and lost some, but she still came out ahead with surprisingly more than she could earn from a whole week of babysitting.

As they were leaving the casino for the evening, crossing the packed parking lot, she almost wondered aloud why she’d never gone to one before. Then she remembered about the whole deal with the age restriction and ID check, not to mention the victimless crime was such a moral grey area that the head of Team Go would rag on her hard if he ever found out. Suddenly opposing him made gambling all the more appealing. It may just be her downfall that there were more thrilling things than money she was betting with.

No sooner had her bossy big brother invaded her thoughts did an arm land heavily around her shoulders, making her forget all about him. Shego would have shoved the tipsy man away if she weren’t in such an amicable mood herself for a change, and she even tried to glare up at Dr. Drakken, but his big crooked smile as he bantered with his goons made her forget to frown.

Whatever trouble she was getting herself into, at least she was enjoying it in the moment. Betting on the strange doctor might not be so bad.

A hoot from one of the henchmen was enough to pull her attention off the blue man beside her. “I like this one, boss!” shouted the drunken goon as he stumbled ungracefully backwards towards the getaway car. “Can we keep her?”

If she weren’t in public, she might have sent a fireball at his heels to remind him she wasn’t their new pet. She almost did anyway – because screw secret identities.

There was a low chuckle from the man beside her then. “I sure hope so,” Dr. Drakken muttered contentedly, and Shego wasn’t sure if he was too buzzed to realize he wasn’t speaking loud enough for the henchman, if he was addressing her alone, or if he was just thinking out loud.

He cleared his throat suddenly and let go, perhaps finally realizing that he’d hung on for too long or that putting an arm around the dangerous young lady in the first place was trying his luck by crossing a line. Either way, Shego took the chance to sidestep to put some much-needed space between them.

“Anyhoozeydoozey, there’s karaoke tonight at the restaurant across from the lodge,” he announced, making a peculiar attempt to entice her as he battled the grin off his face. “Why don’t you come to dinner with us? My treat.”

It was late enough to be thinking of dinner?

Shego looked up, discovering to her dismay that the sky was slipping into twilight. Street lights were already on. She bit her lip to stifle a curse and force back a twinge of guilt for not meeting the boys when she should have. But it was too late now. Way too late. Bedtime too late.

She was already doomed to be lectured later for putting off her responsibilities. So, reluctant to go home once again, she gave Dr. Drakken a nonchalant shrug. “I could eat.” She was famished anyway.

“Splendid. Now – who’s the designated driver again?” he called out dumbly to his bumbling henchmen as they all gathered around the rig. He grunted his dissatisfaction when they glanced between each other, offering him no answer.

Of course all four of the men had indulged, unwittingly drinking themselves a bit silly, though the henchmen silliest of all. Shego meanwhile had been too preoccupied and cautious to join in, not to mention under-aged. Thankfully the chief was aware enough of the fact that he himself may be just a touch too tipsy to get behind a wheel.

So Shego rolled her eyes and held out her hand for the keys. Dr. Drakken studied her open palm for a moment before shrugging and tossing them at her.

As the driver for the evening, she announced she had reign over the radio. Before anyone could even think of singing along to the Top 40’s, one of the henchmen pleaded loudly, “Save the singing for the microphone!” To which she responded with a small blast of lukewarm plasma, shot over her shoulder at him to give him a mild zap.

Maybe being stuck in a car full of intoxicated criminals should have had her ill at ease, but she was remarkably comfortable with it. After the fiery warning, they remembered uphold a healthy respect. Given she’d already put three in their place yesterday, there was really only one she felt any need to worry about anyway. Which – as long as he didn’t brandish a gun again – she was certain she could handle him if he came to be a problem.

The restaurant was certainly no quieter than the ride had been, but there at least she excused the clamor as it wasn’t directly in her ears. The joint was busy and a tad rambunctious, but a table for five was found near a stage that had the rogue doctor twisted in his seat to fixate on.

Burgers were ordered and there was a round of beer that completely missed Shego, but she didn’t mind being left out as the youngest of the henchmen, somewhat of a runt, was seated conveniently next to her and didn’t mind letting her sneak a sip when curiosity got to be too much. She decided to stick to her soft drink after all.

Karaoke made it hard to eat when her focus was continually drawn up to the stage, and she had to wonder what sick satisfaction the grinning Dr. Drakken found in watching it unfold. Some performances were dares and others were premeditated, but just watching strangers go up on the small stage to sing their hearts out made Shego cringe inwardly with secondhand embarrassment.

When a pair of henchmen went up eagerly for a duet, Shego was inclined to duck her head, borderline ashamed to be associated with them. She leaned over to the goon beside her, whose name she hadn’t yet caught, and wryly wondered if they were lovers or brothers. Not that it mattered to her either way, but he confirmed them to be siblings goofing off.

All but physically booting his men from it, Dr. Drakken was keen to take the stage next and that was somehow even worse. Inhibitions lax from alcohol, the blue man was enthralled for his turn in the limelight, whereas Shego was undeniably mortified to be seen in his company now that the tipsy imbecile was swaying on the platform, his jacket tied around his waist and dress shirt having come untucked. His face was flushed an odd shade of purple and he beamed from ear to ear.

As per his request – or rather, command – his henchmen took the music choice into their own hands to surprise him.

When the tune began, Shego found it too hard to nibble uncomfortably at her fries anymore. She heaved an apathetic sigh before hiding her face in her arms on the table instead, anticipating the worse case of second-hand embarrassment yet. She couldn’t watch him crash and burn. She even considered walking out to spare herself, but a gross curiosity kept her anchored.

The henchman beside her elbowed her gently, snickering, “You’d be surprised. The boss ain’t that bad.”

Shego shook her head in her arms. There was no way some dopey mullet-head could pull off We Didn’t Start The Fire. She straight up refused to believe it.

But then he began reciting lines in time with grainy filtered audio, without a stutter or slur. She was staring incredulously up at him by DiMaggio. The brazen doctor threw himself into it with humiliating vigor, doing a little jig on the spot to top it off. She was torn between watching the grinning fool and looking for whatever monitor was feeding him the lines, further bewildered to realize he must have been belting it out rapid-fire from memory as he didn’t spare a single glance to the aid. If he slipped up, she didn’t notice.

Realizing the restaurant had fallen otherwise quiet – cripes, people were listening to him – she felt a new wave of discontent. She didn’t notice she was gawping until the henchman beside her lifted her chin to shut mouth, and he was brusquely shoved out of his chair in turn. She wasn’t sure what to make of the blue man before, and she was even more unsure now.

“How?” she hissed to the henchman climbing back into his seat next to her.

The goon shrugged and answered as if it were obvious, “He’s a mad genius.”

“But is he human?” She recalled being asked earlier if she was human, so maybe…maybe he wasn’t. It was something to ponder. She didn’t have long to entertain the ridiculous notion.

A henchman now seated on her other side spoke up. “We wonder that too sometimes,” he admitted in a chuckle.

As the song came to an end, Dr. Drakken’s hazy stare fell painfully obviously on her. She was still frozen in place when it was over, little doubt in her mind he was something special, but what remained to be seen. The doctor only glanced away for a moment to acknowledge the applause he received, and then beckoned her forward with a finger and a smirk that grew into a devilish grin.

She didn’t have a chance to dismiss the summons.

Suddenly she was being hoisted off her feet by the henchmen on either side of her and deposited on the stage.

“You’re up, missy,” Dr. Drakken cooed, chuckling deviously as he gestured her toward the spotlight.

Eyes flying wide, she planted her feet to resist, but the henchmen’s hands were at her back, pushing her toward their freak ringleader. “No – I don’t – I don’t sing,” she hissed in protest.

“Balderdash. Everyone participates on karaoke night,” he insisted, a little too inebriated at present to realize he was pushing his luck.

Shego strained to control herself, grinding out, “Not me. Watching you guys is enough participation.”

His guiding arm behind the back turned into a hold around the waist to keep her from evading the dreaded spotlight. If he hadn’t crossed a line before at the casino by leaning on her for support, then he sure as hell was now. “Oh, we can find something for you,” he assured, almost pleading. “Don’t be a pill.”

The spell was broken. Shego wasn’t charmed anymore.

Dr. Drakken was something alright – he might be a lot of things – and right now one of those things was a jackass.

Without a second thought, she elbowed him hard in the stomach. “I said no!” she spat as the winded man doubled over, and she made a hasty getaway before his goons could dive for her.

Once outside, Shilo broke into a run.

Only a couple blocks away, she slowed to a stomp, until finally she threw herself down on the curb to let the cool night air sap the rest of the flustered heat from her face. She ran her fingers through her unkempt hair, breathing deep, and picked out some tangles as she glared ahead at the quivering leaves of the trees across the street.

Skipping town with the strange doctor didn’t sound quite so appealing now. She didn’t exist for anyone’s entertainment, and she shuddered to think of what else might be expected of her. Boundaries would definitely need to be set, and if he couldn’t accept her terms, then she’d just have to bust him, because she wasn’t to be toyed with.

At this very moment though, she wasn’t sure what trouble she’d just gotten herself into by acting out against the man. If he was really a seriously bad guy like he claimed, then she couldn’t put it past him to do something brash and terrible and villainous.

Shilo hugged her knees and contemplated which direction was home. She still wasn’t looking forward to seeing her family tonight, but she’d just have to accept that as the inevitable. At least there, she could rest easy with the knowledge they wouldn’t murder her for noncompliance, or enact vengeance in some way, or do anything else purposefully harmful.

She sighed heavily and picked herself up, arms wrapped around herself as she weighed her options – assuming there was ever an option to begin with.

If striking the man was a deal-breaker, then she didn’t need to serve under someone who expected her not to fight back, especially if fighting was in her job description. She hoped that wasn’t the case. Back home, she would only continue to be restricted and heavily burdened and kept on a short leash – probably even shorter than ever, should they catch wind of her recent transgressions. If Dr. Drakken’s promises turned out empty, she could always go home to make amends. A little rebellious stint wouldn’t hurt.

Apologies tasted terrible, but somehow the other option was even less savory.

She wasn’t ready to go home tonight, but she wasn’t ready to accept any deals either. Shilo’s feet were heavy as she carried herself back to the diner anyway. She decided going back inside would be pushing her threshold for humiliation, so she found herself a place to wait: the passenger seat of the SUV. She couldn’t be sure if she was relieved to find it unlocked or not.

Amidst the monotony of waiting, the last thing she wanted was for fatigue to catch up to her, but that was a losing battle. She found it hard to fight to stay awake, watching the passenger mirror for Dr. Drakken or the goons to come stumbling out, but her heavy eyelids slipped shut and she was out for the count before she knew what hit her.

Next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake. She blinked blearily at the dash and stifled a yawn.

“Sheesh, you’re a lightweight,” came a voice from the darkness nearby that was becoming too familiar too quickly. He barked laughter. “Half a beer and you black out!”

Her reply was almost automatic. “It was only a sip,” she grumbled, as if that helped her case.

She blinked away the fog as she got her bearings, and she came to the rapid realization of exactly where she was – and who was next to her – and it came back to her like a blow to her own stomach just what she’d done do him earlier. As of yet there seemed to be no consequence, but she was too on edge by other factors to be relieved, let alone care she wasn’t dead yet.

“Dude!” she hissed in alarm, involuntarily ducking to hide. The windows were tinted, it was dark, and there was no one in sight – but that didn’t alleviate her distress. “You can’t just be showing up in front of my house like this! Are you trying to get me in trouble?” she complained. Maybe this was it – how he got his payback – by getting her grounded – nevermind that she was nineteen. That was underhanded.

Dr. Drakken scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were a rebel. Was I mistaken?” he wondered wryly, taking a moment of smug satisfaction at her panic. “Just say the word, and you can forget all about curfews and being put in the corner,” he reminded. She was silent, but she wasn’t going anywhere yet. “Well, Shego? Are you ready? I can keep driving.”

“This again?” she retorted in exasperation, snapping her glare back at him.

“Yes, ‘this again.’” The lights of the dash glinted off his spectacles but the knit of his brow gave away the impatient scowl he fixed her in.

Shego groaned and rubbed her eyes. She was distantly relieved he didn’t seem to be too mad at her for earlier, but the relief left her quickly. “Not yet,” she said, turning her miserable gaze upon her dark home. The only light on was the porch light. The illuminated clock on the car radio told her it was half past midnight, which wasn’t as late as last night, but it was late enough. She hoped everyone was asleep this time since no one was storming out to confront her yet.

She unwillingly popped open the door, watching for lights to flick on in the house and feeling more reluctant than ever to go inside. She couldn’t shake the instilled dread of what was awaiting her. More of the same-ol’ same-ol’ drudgery and bullshit rules and smothering. So even when she slipped out, déjà vu crossed her mind as she once again debated on jumping right back in vehicle.

She turned to face the driver, giving herself another moment to act on a whim and never look back.

“I can’t hang around forever,” Dr. Drakken warned as she hesitated there. “Through the weekend at the most, but then I’m out of here. So make up your mind soon.”

Arms crossing, Shego cocked her hip and raised her brow at him. Given the pressure, she wasn’t so sure if she wanted to give him the satisfaction of getting back in his rig now. It was technically only Friday now, so she still had a few days if he’d just be patient. “You got what you came to Go City for, so why stay?” she wondered. “You’re starting to look desperate.”

Dr. Drakken looked her over with an analytical stare. She swore she saw him grimace in the dim blue glow of the dash.

He gnashed his teeth as if chewing on his words before grunting. “So I have a new objective!” he spat out, almost defensively so. His mask was cracking and something less than confident was showing through. He was starting to blather. “I have a good feeling about you, and I can see how you’re not sure about me, but realize you can betray me just as easily as I you. You’re not the only one taking risks here.” His fingers drummed on the wheel.

Shego narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m the objective,” she gathered.

“Affirmative,” grumbled Dr. Drakken. She saw him swallow and frown deeper.

Acting on a whim, she didn’t give herself time to think twice. She should have known better. She climbed back into the rig, even though she knew she wasn’t leaving tonight, and she was kneeling in the passenger seat before she could consider how badly this could backfire or any consequences at all, but momentum alone wasn’t enough to carry her through it.

The startled driver jerked back when she grabbed for his jaw, and he made a noise of annoyance as she made the man face her. She had meant to seek affirmation some other way – affirmation he wasn’t a creep – affirmation she wasn’t the objective in some convoluted sleazy trick – but she didn’t even come close to so much as willing herself to land a chaste peck before she halted. She wasn’t sure what sort of reaction she’d expected, but the doctor was leaning away against the door, pushing her back to keep her at arm’s length with his palms at her shoulders. A grimace twisted his face. It served as a clear enough answer, but cold feet and a rebuff weren’t what gave her pause now.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting an advance, and he wasn’t expecting her to snatch his spectacles off his nose either. Shego she still gripped his jaw in one hand as she studied his face in the half-light.

“You’re familiar,” slipped out of her mouth as her attention was drawn to the scar beneath his eye.

“Funny. I don’t get that often,” he said coldly.

She still wasn’t sure what to make of him. Maybe she’d never know. Maybe she should let it be a mystery. For now, at least.

Dr. Drakken coughed into his fist. “I see we’ll have to discuss boundaries and appropriate conduct later,” he uttered tersely, a small quiver of unease in his voice as he carefully removed her clutch from his face. He plucked his glasses back from her fingers.

The sudden pang of rejection was uncalled for, and it almost incited her temper, but instead it fanned the heat of humiliation in her face.

Shego withdrew abruptly, cheeks hot and palms clammy as she awkwardly scrambled backwards out of the rig. She hoped she wasn’t blushing too noticeably, because the failed advance on the weird man definitely made up for not joining in for karaoke. There were worse outcomes, so she decided to count her blessings.

“Um…goodnight,” she muttered sheepishly in lieu of a farewell.

He nodded. “You too.”

Almost as soon as she’d shut the door, the engine revved and off into the night he went, leaving Shilo alone to her flustered thoughts on the curb.

She drew a deep breath to soothe herself, but it didn’t do much good. She might still have her family to face, but at least she was a little more sure now that the doctor’s motives might be sketchy, but at least they weren’t sleazy. He’d had his chances to take advantage of her or do any number of contemptible things if he’d wanted. It wasn’t much evidence, but it was enough for her to put a little faith in the man.

Whatever brand of evil he was selling was a little more appealing now.

A smile spread across Shilo’s face as a flicker of excitement lit in her and began to burn.

Even if the rogue doctor never amounted to more than a mediocre crook, he still offered her a way out, a way that went against everything she’d been obligated to defend for the past four years. Just the knowledge that she wouldn’t have to strike out alone was encouraging. Her talents, her cursed powers, were wanted , maybe even needed, for something bigger than local hero work now, and if he really had his weird little heart set on taking over the world, as she knew plenty of villains were – well, then, that was all the more challenge.

This could be fun.

That rebellious little fire was snuffed out to a dormant state the instant she recognized a telltale melodramatic throat clearing behind her. She didn’t mean to spin around quite so fast, hair whipping around her shoulders. Her startled gaze landed on Milo, who’d been hovering just behind her, and she glared harshly at him as she drew upon anger to override any embarrassment or surprise.

“How long have you been standing there?” she snapped urgently.

The eavesdropper scoffed and crossed his arms. “Long enough,” he sneered. “Tramp.”

Shilo raised her warm hand in threat, but he didn’t back down. “Have you forgotten what it feels like to be slapped by me already, or do you need a reminder?” Oh, how badly she longed to wipe the look off his face.

“Beat on me all you want, I’m still telling Dad about your secret boyfriend.” As if their father had any say in the matter.

She recoiled nonetheless and played it off. “Uh, ew? As if. The guy’s got a mullet,” she dismissed with an uneasy scoff. She shoved past him and tried to ignore the mocking kissy faces he made after her.

“Just wait until he finds out! He’s gonna love this,” her ropy brother jeered after her, bouncing at her heels as Shilo strode across the lawn to the porch.

She restrained another impulse to smack him, and considered a well-aimed kick below the belt might shut him up longer. If he pressed his luck any further, she just might. “My friends are none of Dad’s business,” she seethed quietly. What was the worse he could do at this point? Kick her out?

Milo dropped his voice as well as they neared the house. “Oh, yeah it is – you know the saying! His roof, his rules,” he said, and Shilo mouthed the mantra along with him with a roll of her eyes. Their father could be such a hard-ass at times, even Milo was whispering to avoid his wrath tonight.

“Well, Dad won’t have to worry about it for long,” she whispered back gravely. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“About that—,” Milo piped, only to clam up suddenly.

Just then, Hugo stepped in front of her, taking up almost the entire doorway with his broad shoulders, barring her entry. He’d obviously been standing just inside, probably also eavesdropping as best he could from his hiding place. “You were serious?” he uttered, mouth agape and eyes huge. “You’re actually moving out? With that – that guy?” He gestured toward the road incredulously.

“Not just a guy – a man!” hissed Milo in a rising pitch. “At least as old as Dad! I think I saw grey hair.” He looked to Shilo then and shrank back in disgust, shuddering with a finger pointed down his throat even as he chuckled.

Her face was scorching hot and she had to clutch her fists lest they see her palms sparking. She was on the verge of losing her cool. “You are so far off, it’s not even funny,” she defended, though she knew she wasn’t convincing. “He’s only in his twenties.” Mid to late twenties, but they didn’t have to know that detail.

Her lavender sibling was still appalled. “And you smooched! Nasty!” he blurted. Interesting talk coming from a freshmen actively aiming for first base.

“Did not!” Shilo spat at him, and gave him a rough shove that almost knocked him down. This was worsening by the second, and she could do little more than hide behind a hand until her hulking brother cleared the doorway, which didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon.

“You what?” Hugo just about boomed for the whole neighborhood to hear. The overprotective head honcho of Team Go stepped onto the porch, pushing up a sleeve of his pajamas as his look of alarm gave way to a hostile glare. Shilo trying to push him back into the house was about as effective as trying to push over a tree of equal girth, which was to say impossible for the likes of her.

“Look, whatever you’re thinking, stop thinking it,” she demanded, almost pleaded.

“That’s a predator if I’ve ever seen one,” Milo retorted in exasperation, definitely not helping the situation.

“Come off it. There’s nothing going on,” she fibbed. “He’s cool. We just talked – about music and stuff.” Put on the spot, her lies were transparent.

“Whatever he’s promising you, don’t buy that baloney for a second,” warned Hugo, and she winced.

She was buying it and they knew it, even if they didn’t know what it was yet.

Her big brother took her by the shoulders to stand her upright and she strained to glare around him to the open door. “Shi, I would love nothing more than to support you even if I don’t always agree with your decisions, but be reasonable – you can’t move in with a stranger you just met and who we’ve never even met. It’s – it’s just not right,” he said, harsh tone faltering back to concern.

“I said that I’m moving out, not that moving in with him,” she spat, anger at his assumptions growing ever hotter. Even if they were probably spot-on.

Hugo shook his head but persisted. “I don’t like what’s going on. You’ve been out past midnight two nights in a row, and you even failed to show up for lessons with the twins. They were crying because you let them down.”

Shilo batted his big paws away and took a hasty step back. She didn’t like stab of guilt she felt, but she disliked head games even more.

At the sound of a familiar hum drawing closer and distant gleam of black, she felt a confidence boost. “You’ll just have to tutor them yourself, because I can’t take much more of you guys,” she snarled vehemently. “Have you ever stopped to consider I might be leaving because you’re such a control freak?”

The herculean man flinched back, sputtering objection, “I’m not trying to control you!” Typical thickheaded Hugo, he willingly forgot ever pressuring her into forming a superhero team to fulfill his own daydreams, or that he was in part to blame for sticking her with raising twins because it was such a woman’s job, to the point she’d been practically a stay-at-home mom since the age of fifteen. He seemed to forget as well that because of his secret-identity obsession, Shilo only had a small handful of acquaintances she might call friends, who she only got to see in school, none of which she’d hung out with since graduating, and it was his alliance with Global Justice that was to blame for the curfew and a buddy system she wasn’t the only one failing to abide by.

When Hugo reached out to grab her again, she took a hasty step back to dodge him. “We all have wants and desires,” he said coolly as if to pacify, but he was floundering, “but we need to put our commitments first. You didn’t even call to say you wouldn’t be coming. We were worried about you!”

His protests grew louder as she backed away down the steps. Creeping into view, she could see the familiar black vehicle’s cautious approach. Dr. Drakken had circled the block. Was it just to stalk her? She shook her head, deciding at this point, she didn’t care if he was. She’d rather be in the company of that stalker than here right now. He was a blessing in disguise.

“You’re telling me who I can and can’t see, what I can and can’t do, and what and when you want me to do things that should be your responsibility too. Sounds a little controlling to me!” Shilo spat up harshly at her brothers, namely Hugo. She turned on her heel to jump down the last two steps. “I’m done – consider me gone. Have a nice life.” Whether it was an empty threat or the real deal, she’d decide later, but the stunning effect bought her precious time.

Not daring to give her brothers a chance to stop her, to pull her back, she broke into a run, sprinting across the lawn before they could react or call out for her. She darted into the street, and Dr. Drakken had barely slammed on the breaks when she grabbed the door and threw herself inside.

When the young men on the porch recovered from their surprise and began to chase after her, Dr. Drakken burned rubber without exchanging a word or even a glance, only taking the hint to get them out of there lickety-split. He sped down the vacant neighborhood roads and only slowed once he met traffic, but her brothers were left in their dust.

“Why’d you come back?” Shego demanded coldly as they fell into line with the lazy stream of traffic. She leaned her head against the window, dismally staring out at the darkened storefronts.

“Well, it’s not because I missed you,” snorted Dr. Drakken. “I just thought maybe you could use a second chance tonight.” He cast a look over to her and grimaced, probably because she hadn’t picked up anything in the time he’d circled the block. He might as well have never dropped her off at all. All it did was stir up trouble. He stifled a groan. “But I see you’re not ready yet,” he noted. “Are you still unsure?”

“I’ll grab my stuff tomorrow when everyone’s gone,” Shego promptly answered. She rubbed her temple miserably, a headache beginning to rag at her. “I just need get away tonight. You can just drop me off anywhere. I’ll find somewhere to wait it out.”

Shego wouldn’t admit it, and she didn’t thank him, but she appreciated he didn’t take the suggestion.

#it always sounds better in my head #let's pretend i chose that song for irony reasons and not bc i ws listening to it at the time #12:30 at night is a good time to just *drops this here and pterodactyl shrieks away*#Drakken #Shego #Devil Wears a Suit and Tie fic

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welcometophu · 5 years

Text

Into the Split: Arrival 1

Twinned Book 3: Into the Split

Arrival 1

[ Previous: Missed Fortunes | First | Next ]

After two years of being on their own, all mornings have a pattern. Nikolai wakes up before Seth, spends a few minutes in the quiet before he wakes his boyfriend so they can can scrounge for food and eat. Showers or bathing are a rare luxury, and almost never warm; usually they just change into something that feels cleaner than what they wore to bed the night before. Then they pack, because if they don’t get moving, they’ll never arrive.

“How much further do we have to go?” Seth shoves his bedroll into his bag, grabbing Nikolai’s dirty clothes along with his own to push on top of that.

Nikolai digs into his own bag, finding the carefully sealed pouch with the neatly folded worn map inside. He spreads it out on the table, circles the red dot with his finger. He draws a line from there to where he thinks they are now, and taps the map before repeating the line in reverse. “About two days,” Nikolai says quietly. It’s his best guess, and after all this time it seems both too long and not long enough. He has to qualify the estimate. “That’s if we don’t run into trouble with finding some kind of unexpected civilization. We’re far enough out that it should be easier, as long as we take care to avoid the outskirts of the cities. Most of the people who live out here would really rather stay away from others.”

“Until we run into a survivalist with a locker full of loaded shotguns,” Seth mutters. “Or someone who sees a shadow near us and thinks we’re being followed by an actual Shadow and shoots first before checking to see if we’re actually a danger to them.”

There’s a lot of panic out here; Seth’s not wrong.

“Usually you’re the positive one,” Nikolai points out. Normally, Seth talks about how they both can pretend to be nothing more than human, at least for the five minutes to get past someone who isn’t actively hunting them. Or how they can just avoid all the houses unless they see something marked as safe, or definitely abandoned. He’s not usually this defeatist.

Nikolai wonders if it’s his fault, because of the new dreams he’s been having.

Seth drops his bag on the floor, sits down on the cot. He pushes his patched glasses up his nose. “I’m tired,” he says quietly. “We’re nineteen. I’m pretty sure our adult life was supposed to be different than this. At least that’s what I thought when I was eight. We were supposed to have lives, Nikolai. You and me, together, living some dream that involved more school than we wanted, and drinking too much, and finding jobs and a home and building a family. Now we go camping to survive, instead of because it’s a fun thing we do with our parents. I can barely remember what it was like before the Split. Now I think I’m lucky because humans don’t like to go out in the wilderness and camp for fun anymore. So if we let them keep to the protected roads and their cities, while we stick to the outer areas, we’re safe.”

“Plus there are sniffers.” Those may or may not be an urban legend, but Nikolai’s not about to take the chance. He remembers taking a road trip with his parents when he was little, and the car drove under these low machines that his dad said took money for them to drive. He imagines the sniffers are something like that on the big highways, only looking for Shadows and Talent instead of charging a fee. Not to mention that the major highways are gated, and while anyone can get to the back roads, access to fuel is limited. “Besides, we don’t know how to drive. And we have been literally running for our lives since we were sixteen.”

“We weren’t always alone.”

Nikolai settles on the cot next to Seth, leaning close to him. “No, we weren’t,” he says quietly.

The group was partially gutted in the early years after the Split, but up until a couple of years ago, they were still six strong. He shudders at the memory, and there’s a soft warmth around him in response, a calming ease. Nikolai closes his eyes and lets himself sink into Seth’s emotions; he can feel the shared hurt sharp around the edges, despite the calm. Nikolai whispers the same thing he’s said every night since the fire, whether he believes it or not. “It’s possible that they’ve made it to Havenhill without us.”

Havenhill. It almost sounds like a myth at this point.

Seth reaches for Nikolai’s hand, curls them together, palm to palm and fingers entwined. “Two more days?” he asks.

“Maybe three, if we need to slow down.” There are always things that seem to get in the way. Hunger included. Weather sometimes. Although it’s currently nice out, for March, which is good. In the northeast it could go either way, and Nikolai really doesn’t want to end up stuck outdoors, hiking in the middle of a surprise snowstorm.

“Are there any more safe places marked on the map?” Seth asks. “Or are we sleeping outside in the cold tonight?”

Nikolai’s spent enough time reviewing the final days of their trip that he doesn’t need to refer to the map for that question. “There’s another abandoned campground along the way, but it doesn’t look like it has cabins, and it’s in the middle of a survivalist complex,” he says quietly. “There’s an old main road that runs past two good places, and according to the notes I have, it’s still guarded, but it’s also the most direct route to Havenhill.” He’s going based on information that’s been passed from Talent to Talent, as they all seek a place that supposedly doesn’t exist. “We’re going to need to pass through Unity—the old school there is supposedly abandoned, and we might be able to find a place to rest there. We need to skirt around Valiant, though. It’s on the border of the Albany spread, and it’s a risk. There might be protected farms in the Unity area, too, so we’ll need to watch out.”

“What you’re saying is if we’re not in the trees, we might be exposed to people who will hunt us,” Seth says flatly. “We have to run the gauntlet to get to Havenhill.”

Nikolai nods. “If we don’t want to travel north, almost into Vermont, then yes. And I don’t think we want to risk getting too close to Bennington, either. It’s nothing like the Albany spread, but it’s still a place where humans have collected and put up walls.”

“Fine.” Seth unwinds his hand from Nikolai’s, pushes himself to standing. “Someone around here is a sympathizer—that food wasn’t stale. We should take some of it before we go, because who knows when we’re going to get another chance.”

Nikolai carefully folds up his map, puts it back into the waterproof pouch he’d scavenged from another cabin, years ago. Everything gets tucked neatly into his bag—each item has the perfect place and he’s not willing to risk the map by putting things in haphazardly. He’s glad that the dirty clothes are in Seth’s bag; they’re going to need to find a place to stop and wash them soon. He feels like the Shadows could smell them coming, if they had a sense of smell. Hell, humans might be able to smell them from a distance at this point.

Even a bath might help, if they can find a swimming hole that’s not overwhelmingly cold, or a river that has more depth than a trickle over the rocks.

They put the cabin back to rights, leaving it as clean as when they arrived. The food is a selection of canned and boxed items, some wrapped as if they came from one of the cities, some handmade and packed in old plastic boxes. Nikolai picks out a selection of homemade bars that will be filling without being heavy, then adds a box of granola and a tin of evaporated milk, along with two cans of beans and another two of peaches. It’s the best they’ve eaten in a long time.

The weight is divided between their bags, then they head out, walking carefully along the water rather than following the old, abandoned road nearby.

It’s always eerie in places like this, where the houses lie empty all around them. Neither Nikolai nor Seth trust a house just because it seems abandoned—not after early encounters with security alarms that were somehow still active, or traps set for unwary Talents who might stumble upon the place. It’s worth trying, sometimes, if they’re willing to spend the time checking to see if it’s safe. And in the long run, most of the homes are abandoned from when people moved closer to the cities, inside the protective walls.

Humans thought that if they shut out Talent, they could shut out the Shadows as well. Nikolai knows that the Shadows are far more likely to prey on Talent, but in a pinch, they’ll eat anything. He wonders how brightly lit they keep the cities in order to stay safe.

From the few he’s skirted close to, he suspects the answer is very, very bright.

The sun peeks through the trees as they walk, warming the air enough that Nikolai strips off his gloves and hat and shoves them into a pocket, and by mid-afternoon, it’s warm enough that he takes off his entire outer jacket to push into his bag.

“It’s almost enough to make me think spring is coming,” Seth comments, pushing his glasses up on his nose. They’ve broken again, and after the last attempt at a repair, they hang awkwardly across the bridge of his nose. Nikolai has a feeling that they aren’t the right prescription, either, from the way that Seth tends to let him read the maps and signs.

He wonders if Havenhill has an eye doctor and a way to get new glasses. That would be a true miracle.

“What’s that?” Seth touches Nikolai’s arm, pointing. There’s a place ahead where the trees widen, where the small river itself grows as well. Nikolai thinks that this river is feeding a larger body of water.

“Looks like a lake.” Nikolai twines his hand with Seth’s. “And a bath, I’m thinking.” When Seth, makes a face, Nikolai squeezes his hand. “You have two choices. Either wear your dirtiest pair of underwear in, and you can carry it to dry after, or go in naked. We’re washing off, Seth. We reek, and it’s halfway to warm today. Who knows when we’ll get to bathe next?”

“If Havenhill exists, maybe they have plumbing,” Seth mutters. “And hot water. Why did we hate baths so much when we were kids? We didn’t know how good we had it.”

“Hey.” Nikolai squeezes again, and Seth stops. When Nikolai cups Seth’s face with his palm and leans in, Seth comes up to meet him. Their lips brush, light and warm, and Nikolai smiles against Seth’s mouth. “When we get to Havenhill, I will join you in a hot bath for an hour,” Nikolai murmurs. “But we take the chances we get, right? Just think about how nice it’ll be to have clean skin.”

The river flows past old abandoned properties, and for a moment Nikolai thinks about exploring the house they are closest to. The river cuts through what must have been the backyard, but the windows of the house are broken, the back door open and off its hinges. It looks as if no one has lived here in a long time, other than perhaps some animals. From the looks of it, he doubts there are any traps. Anything good is probably gone by now.

Still, the back yard is ringed in trees, hanging heavily over the aging dock that juts out into the lake. Nikolai tests the wood carefully; while boards squeak, it seems stable, and the overhang gives them some small measure of privacy here.

Once in the lake they’ll be partially exposed, but from the near silence, Nikolai doesn’t think anyone’s left in the area. He leaves his bag on the shore, close to the end of the dock, just in case it isn’t as stable as he thinks. He leaves his cleanest clothes nearby for after he dries off, and grabs a couple of pairs of his and Seth’s underwear and shirts to wash them quickly at the edge of the lake.

A wave of calm slips over him, and when he glances back, Seth’s heading for the house. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Nikolai calls quietly.

“I don’t feel anyone nearby.” Seth speaks normally, unafraid of being heard. “And I want to get a blanket or something for after we get out. There’s probably something that was too heavy to carry, or too big to take to wherever people have squeezed into in the city. I’ll be careful, in case someone left a surprise behind.”

Nikolai has tried to imagine what the interiors of those cities are like now, with the entire population squeezing into such tight confines after abandoning the suburbs. It doesn’t sound comfortable.

He nods and waves for Seth to go, then finishes quickly washing clothes and laying them on the dock in the sun.

He jumps into the water as he hears Seth returning, the cold shock making him shiver as soon as he’s in. His teeth chatter when he breaks the surface, and he gets his feet under him. It isn’t deep here—maybe up to Seth’s chin, he thinks, and about mid-shoulder for himself. Nikolai pastes on a grin, tries to keep his teeth from clattering. “Come on in, the water’s fine!”

Seth finishes spreading out what looks like an old patchwork comforter, leaving another holey blanket in a puddle next to it. He crouches at the edge of the dock, leaning down to trail his fingers in the water. “Liar.”

“I’ll warm you up,” Nikolai offers, and Seth grins.

When Seth leaps straight at him, Nikolai doesn’t try to get out of the way. He goes down beneath the cold water again, but this time with Seth in his arms. They break the surface together, and Nikolai kisses Seth, luxuriating in the warmth of his mouth.

For a moment—just this one sweet moment—he can pretend that they have the future he expected. The one that was supposed to happen, before the Split.

The water is cold, so they don’t linger too long, washing quickly before they get out and wrap up in the blankets on the dock. Everything smells a little musty, and Nikolai tries not to think what might have started growing in (or eating) the blankets. It is warm enough that they can sit for a while, as the sun beats down on them.

They should be moving, Nikolai knows this. But they’re always moving. Havenhill is a lure, and Nikolai wants to find it—if they can find it—as soon as possible. But at the same time, relaxing is unusual, and it feels good to just… sit still. Except for that one cabin they stayed in when it snowed, Nikolai can’t remember the last time they were able to just rest and pretend that the world is normal. Maybe this place is safe enough.

He tilts his head against Seth’s. “Do you think we should get back on the road, or should we stay here tonight?”

Seth shifts slightly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“What?” Nikolai prompts.

“When I went inside the house, I realized that someone’s been through here recently,” Seth says quietly. “Not in the last few days, but not all that long before. There were dishes that had been used, a can of beans eaten but not scavenged after being left empty on the counter. I know it looks like a mess from the outside, but there aren’t any animals living in there. No one’s living here now, but this house is on some kind of a path, and I have no idea if it’s Talents or humans using it.”

Nikolai grumbles under his breath, slowly shrugging out of the blanket. His underwear’s still wet, so he strips out of it to put on dry clothes, then ties the underwear to the outside of his pack while it dries. “Fine,” he mutters. “So we move on. I’m not sure we’ll get all the way to another safe house tonight, though, so be ready to stay outside if we have to.”

“We’ve done it before.” Seth’s expression is clouded, though, and Nikolai knows why. It’s winter. That’s why they stayed in that one cabin for so long—it wasn’t safe to keep going. One surprise snowstorm could kill them.

“You don’t feel—”

Nikolai shakes his head before Seth finishes the question. “It’s not necessarily a perfect sense. My family were Weather Witches, not me,” he reminds Seth, although it’s hardly the first time it’s come up. “But no, I don’t feel a storm brewing.”

“Good, then we should be fi—”

Seth cuts off at the sound of a loud shout, a sudden rise in voices, and a crash of something breaking roughly through brush and branches. He grabs Nikolai, and Nikolai grabs back.

There is absolutely no way that that’s a good kind of sound. The only question is what kind of bad it’s going to be.

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#welcome to phu #welcometophu #into the split #phu twinned #twinned #its arrival

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population-of-me · 7 years

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Beneath a Blood Moon

Fic-let - ‘Kindnesses and Gifts’ Fandom - The Lunar Pack + The Corvidae (Crossover) Character(s) - Stealthia + Ashumel Word Count - 1541

Kindnesses and Gifts

When first Stealthia had arrived in England, had found her brother and begged sanctuary, her heart had been as ripped and ragged as her paws, her injuries festered, her broken bones crooked and needing resetting correctly. She had been damaged internally and externally, physically and mentally, hurt in ways visible and invisible. Myst had taken her first to Pagan for his skill at healing, and then to Kerrith, and Kerrith without question had taken her in, opened his heart and his home to her. Hours she had spent during the daylight, while he slept alone in his basement rooms, and she had lain curled in his study, or in front of the fire in his library, losing herself in the written word.

He had, she discovered, collected books on every subject imaginable. He had read them all; there was not a one that she had picked up that did not have notes in tiny lettering in the margins, nor a subject she could broach that he could not suggest further reading upon. He owned rare works on the supernatural, preternatural, and the natural world. He had written much of his own, also; his many observances, essays and studies in his beautiful cursive script, detailing everything from bestiaries to histories. He collected works by authors and poets, from the famous and infamous to those who were obscure even in their own times, and were not so much forgotten by history as had never shared even a passing acquaintance with it. Yet not for lack of talent.

Oh, those books, the smell of them, the feel of the paper beneath her fingers, the sound of the pages turning, and the fire hissing crackling and popping in the hearth as she read. All and any of those things could take her immediately back to that time of healing and recovery, those days, the ones where Myst had not been able to visit, or she had wished for solitude, for no company other than the books.

And during that time, she had found references to those she had known as the First Ones. References, and then a tale. And then, oddly enough, a tape. An old music cassette with no words written upon it. She had placed it into the machine in Kerrith’s study, and suddenly the room had been filled with the song of the First Ones. And Stealthia had remembered.

She had known of the First Ones since she was not much older than a pup, but as myth only, snatches of tale, of gossip, pieces of rumour, half believed. Years and years later, she had heard the song of a pair of Ravens in the frozen forests of the north. She had known then, with no shadow of a doubt that their existence was real, and it was their song she heard. That song. It was all. It could be nothing else. It had, in a few notes, taken her from her world, from her bleak and miserable existence, and had told her of creation, of the world that was, and of other worlds, other places, better places. It had bridged the gap between life and death. Most importantly of all, it had rewoken the magic in Stealthia's soul.

One night, just like that, the male Raven had failed to return. His mate sang one last song for him, and then she had fallen silent, and Stealthia had never heard her again, had never again, until that very night, heard the song of the First Ones. It was the absence of their song that had made her feel once more the absence of all that was good in her life, and it was the memory of that song that had given her the courage to run, and to run until she was far away, and safe.

The tape, the music, it called to her. It urged her to dig deeper, to read more. She did as it suggested. She learned of the Between, of the place of dust and nothingness. She placed the pieces together, and worked out where it was that the Raven had gone to, and what it was that had occurred. She read, and she learned. And finally she had known that she should reach out to the First Ones. To the Ravens’ people. She did not know why she should, and yet she did not question the impulse. She was a wolf. To live in the now, to exist in the moment and to follow nothing but a scent in the air, it was as natural to her as the breaths she took. She did not require a reason to act. The knowledge that she should do so was enough for her.

Stealthia laid out whiskey and tobacco, and she began calling to them, to the First Ones. Each evening at dusk she placed her gifts, her bottle of whiskey, her pouch of tobacco, and several shiny objects, upon the top of Kerrith’s porch, and each morning, as dawn painted the sky, she played the music, and she sang with it. She learned the most basic of the melodies that the song contained, and she sang it to the skies. Each evening, when she went to replace her gifts, those she had left the night before were gone. Stealthia never saw the First Ones come and take them, and yet she knew that they had done so. She knew too that they heard her sing their song.

And then, one night, just like that, he came. She had taken the tobacco and whiskey to the porch, had reached up to place it in its usual place, and when she turned back, he stood beside her.

It is not possible to approach a wolf such as Stealthia without detection, and yet he had done so.

"Will you walk with me?" Stealthia asked him. "I will tell you what I know of your people, and I will tell you what I know of my own. I will share with you my song, and I will hear yours if you wish to share it with me. We shall smoke and drink together beneath the sky.” Such things were not done indoors, but outside, she knew. "I know you collect the stories." She said. "Mine are probably poor in comparison to some you have heard, but they come from the heart.”

“It would be an honour." He told her. She retrieved the gifts, and passed them to him, and he touched his hat before he took them from her hands. She neither drank nor smoked, yet Stealthia knew that they would share the tobacco and the whiskey, both, before the night was out.

The were-wolf and the Crow left the house together. They walked east until the house was far behind, and dim and distant in memory compared to the story they wove between them. They walked and they talked, and the story became a song which they sang together that he might commit it to memory, and Stealthia knew that when next she heard the song of the First Ones, the one that they sang now would be woven somewhere within its rich tapestry.

The sky began to lighten ahead of them. The darkness lifted from it, and dawn began to stain it a soft and dusky pink. Kerrith’s house was silhouetted against the brightening horizon. Yet still they headed east and Stealthia knew that they had not turned around, nor had they changed direction. He saw her questioning look but he laughed and placed his finger against his lips and Stealthia knew then that the time for stories was over for her, for this night at least, and that she would get no explanation.

It is not possible to confuse a wolf such as Stealthia as to her whereabouts, and yet he had done so.

Perhaps, Stealthia thought, they had walked all the way around the world. After a night in his company, the notion did not seem such a strange one. She laughed with him, and then she bid him a good day and turned her face toward the house. But before they went their separate ways he placed his hand upon her chest, above her heart.

"A gift." He said, and the final bit of Stealthia, the piece that had been missing that she had not been able to find, no matter how hard and far and long she had searched, returned to her, and finally, finally, she was complete again. She turned to thank him, but in the time it had taken her to recognise what it was he had done he had disappeared.

It is not possible to lose a wolf such as Stealthia without her knowing you have gone, and yet he had done so.

Where he had last stood she saw a single black feather, and she stooped to pick it up, to twist it between her finger and thumb so that she might admire the iridescent colours that ran along its length, brought to gleaming life by the first rays of early morning sun.

Stealthia raised her hand in a silent farewell, and, floating on the gentle breeze as if in answer, his song drifted down to her.

It remained with her forever.

#Tales of the Lunar Pack #Beneath a Blood Moon #Stealthia #Ashumel #Kindnesses and Gifts #Corvidae #First Ones #Werewolf #Crow #Bisexual Character #Gay (FxF) Character #Lesbian Character #original characters #very original writing #Sweet and touching story #Short story #Fic-let #Fic by Danny Darke #Crossover Fic

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saintheartwing · 3 years

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Invader Zim: Breaking Dawn, Part One

In honor of Invader Zim’s 20th anniversary, I’m going to begin posting up my big “toast” as it were to Invader Zim and so much else. Here’s the story, presented totally as originally written.

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I dedicate this to 630kila, and to all the inspiration she has given me over the years. Cassie...this tale I dedicate to you. You gave me so much...much more than you ever realize, and I only hope one day I'll be able to repay you for all your kindness, all your friendship, all your creativity. You helped make me the artist I am, and I will always, now and forever, be eternally grateful for that. Thank you for giving me a chance to fly. I hope you, like the dear readers pouring over this, find this action-packed meta-fictional tale a fitting tribute to your work.

PROLOGUE

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The green-skinned being awoke with a start, the bed soaked in sweat as he floundered around atop a thick white blanket, panting and heaving as if he'd been climbing a mountain instead of enduring a strange and surreal dream. His skin was made up of ever-so-tiny scales, almost miniscule to the naked eye, and he had a set of spiky antennae that had stiffened from the shock of his dream.

"What...what was all of that?" The vaguely reptilian, vaguely Insectoid being said in the Irken tongue, his "home language", slowly rising off the bed, looking around the room. Was he still dreaming, he wondered? Was he still that odd being he'd been in the dream?

No...white rose in the flowerpot by his bed. That was the same. Poster of the high Consular urging others to "Live for the Empire" to his right. That was the same. Normal silvery walls and-

Wait. His body. In the dream he'd been...

"Okay...head. How's my head?" He began to feel his head with his gloved hands, still panting slightly. "...totally round...right, round. Round is good. And no hair. Antennas? Good, still spiky. Hands...three claws...not five digits, claws. GOOD, GOOD." He murmured, pacing around the room. "Wait. WAIT."

He stiffened suddenly. In the dream he had been...

A Vortian? Him and a Vortian woman? And with the sister of the one who headed the resistance? That was so ludicrous it was almost laughable. It wasn't physically possible! How ridiculous! How absurd!

"...just to make sure..." he murmured, undoing the belt and loosening his pants to look down and inside...

From outside the room, a giddy almost whooping cry of joy was heard. And so the Senior Communications Officer of the Massive, exited his room to head to his station. He had work to do. Tallest Red and Purple had sent for further workers on the ship...he was supposed to be their mentor, get them acquainted with what they were to do since they sure as hell weren't going to babysit people they didn't care about.

...

... "Okay...deep breaths." Jayd the medic thought to himself, spreading his arms down in a stretch as he closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths through his mouth. He was lost in his own thoughts, his own world, oblivious to the others in the hallway. Within tubes connected to his hands shifted strange tiny glittering things, moving from his hands to his PAK. "First day of work. You can do this. You're chosen. Special. You will do this. YOU WILL DO THIS. You're going to be the best medic here."

"Okay, you've heard that "Senior" is a little bit...weird. But he's 421 years old. He's your taller. He's been doing this since before you were a fetus growing in a smeetery tube. You can do this. YOU CAN DO THIS."A white-robed Irken with a vaguely fern-like set of antannae murmured as he nervously scratched his cheek with a claw. Feyr had never been on the Massive before, his "boss" had been the head Consular himself. This was all strange new territory.

"I hate my life." The service drone Maht muttered. It didn't matter if he was being forced to carry drinks on Irk or on the Massive. Demeaning work was demeaning work. How had he fallen so far? Whilst the others were still learning to SPELL THEIR NAME, he had been trained to conquer galaxies! That is, until the recoding...

Why, WHY had those dead janitorial drones ruined everything? He could have run. Why had he changed his mind? Why had he stayed with them until the last of their life ebbed and he was left to take the blame for their death?

"Yes, I hate your life too, inferior service drone." Dite the Elite said in a still, subdued monotone. He...she? It was so hard to tell. There was a faint flicker of amusement across the Elite's masked and armored face.

"Idiots. Locked in their own worlds. Are they even aware of what duties they face?” Communications Officer Xeil inwardly groaned. Their first day of work and they were as frightened as smeets. They were Irkens! "Show some backbone, you skaatel!" She thought furiously, wishing SHE had psychic powers like the interrogator Feyr did.

The last one remained silent. Quiet. But an air of unmistakable amusement surrounded her as the guard smirked quietly, the first to turn as the doorway to the main control center of the Massive opened. The Tallest's glorious visage displayed upon the monitor as an Irken typed away at a computer console, standing up instead of sitting. He was a male Irken, who had very soft-looking green eyes and the outfit of a Communications Officer with his mask the same "Kelly Green" color of his chest and pants, though his arms and "shoulder" section were of a darker, more conservative shade of green. He wore a belt around his waist with several pouches, and upon seeing them, turned to the Tallest.

"These are the new recruits to our workstaff, my Tallest." He said, saluting.

"People we don't know or care about, meet person whom we barely care about who'll be showing you the ropes. We're off to go eat chips." Red said calmly, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

"And lots of cheese." Purple added as the feed was cut, the communications officer smiling gently as he spread his arms out.

"Well, it's good to see you all here! Call me "Senior", after my title. I'm Senior Communications Officer of the Massive."

He pulled down his face mask to show off his considerably bright and white smile. "And I want you to consider me...your safety net."

BREAKING DAWN, PART ONE

I started this little "blog" on the day after the War of Light began. And I just want to admit it freely: I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I couldn't do more. Sorry that I didn't try harder. So, so sorry that I was selfish, and put my own personal desires before doing what was right. I had a chance to stop this early, and I didn't take it because I didn't know any better.

I will carry that guilt with me forever. If I had only brought it to Earth sooner, then...

But it's too late for that. The coming of the Darkening Skies cannot be prevented, only confronted and beaten. And I'll do what I can.

I doubt any Irken would read this. They're too busy trying to fight for their lives. But if you're a human on Earth, you need to know how this happened, and why you have to find them, the ones who carry the rings.

I suppose I should begin the way all good stories do.

In the beginning...

The planet and capital of Irk. Tall, highly-developed, and above all, sickeningly pompous. The very planet could be summed up to it's core, it's spirit, by this city alone. It was not hard for the onlooker to see why: every single building that wasn't a skyscraper seemed to be packed full to the brim with Irkens, almost looking like metal sacks ready to explode from the inside, a smell of deep-fried food and heavy machinery tainting the air. The skyscrapers that impaled the dark orange-red sky above were the most noticeable thing: they radiated an arrogance, a desire to show off just how high and mighty they were, a challenge to the heavens...

Towers of Babylon. And with everyone speaking the same language.

"I! ME! MINE!"

"No, it's MINE!" A tall, armored insectoid-esque creature snapped, purple eyes glaring as he yanked the data pad from his near-identical "brother" of sorts, the only difference between the two being a color scheme in their armor that befitted their eyes: one was red, the other, as aforementioned, purple.

Guess what their names were. I'll give you a hint. They're named after colors.

"Fine, fine. YOU read the news." Red said in a condescending tone, tossing some nachos into his mouth and eagerly chewing with his mouth open and as loud as possible to drown Purple out as the Tallest of the Irken Empire, glorious co-leader along with Tallest Red, spoke to their Senior Communications Officer as their grand spaceship the Massive came to a halt over the Capital City of Irk.

"We're running out of gas and need to stock up for 24 hours. So this means shore leave." Purple said. "We don't really care what you do with the 24 hours. Just so long as it's off the ship, this is the one time of the year where we don't have to look at you or listen to any of you and get to do...stuff. Private stuff."

"Uh, yes, sir, absolutely, I'll alert the rest of the crew that it's that time again." Senior Communications Officer of the Massive insisted, snapping to a salute as the Assistant Communications Officer also saluted as well, nodding firmly.

"We'll not fail to have fun SIR!" Xeil shouted in her usual slightly grating tone.

"Oh, I LIKE you. Have I said that before? I'm saying it now." Purple told her, nodding as the feed cut out from their private rooms, leaving Senior and his assistant to turn to the others. Grinning broadly, Senior pulled down the mask cloth that covered his mouth beneath the space that would have been his "nose" had he been a human, and whistled with his gloved three-clawed hands, a button being brought over to him from a drawer by a coffee machine located by a radar graph.

A shiny RED button with little confetti painted on it. He immediately pressed it, and immediately wild and raucous music belted out from tiny speakers built into the device, Senior and the others racing through the ship, getting the word out.

And that word was...

"PAAAAAAAAAARTYYYYYY!" Feyr the Consular cheered as he gripped a horn-headed, grey-skinned alien prisoner by her arm and twirled her around, dancing with her across the cell she was stuck in and patting her on the head. "Shore leave at last! I'll be back in 24 hours to talk to you about those hidden weapons caches. If you feel like talking, good...I'll bring a souvenir, I think you'll really enjoy an embroidered pillow." He explained, pink eyes glittering like gems as his fern-like antennae stood up tall.

"Whatever." The Vortian prisoner mumbled as Feyr let go of her, waving cheerfully as he closed the cell again, heading down the small prison wing and past the Medical Bay, a black-eyed Irken in medical armor with a large red cross in front of his chest was rubbing his hands together, strange tubes stuck into them going back into the metallic vaguely backpack-like thing upon his, well, back! This was called a PAK, the life support system of an Irken, a "Swiss army knife" of goodies, and it was evidently feeding something vaguely glowing into the hands, which slightly pulsed with light.

"Heading down into town, Jayd?" Feyr asked in his high-pitched, almost feminine voice.

"Well, yes." Jayd said, grinning broadly. "I think some balloons and streamers and little chocolates will do wonders for the patients I'll be getting in the upcoming year. I know Tallest Purple really likes the use of them when I put some Adhesive Medical Strips on him after he gets into those scuffles with Tallest Red."

"Chocolates?"

"No. Balloons. He really likes sucking out the helium. Ya think maybe THAT'S why his voice?..." Jayd wondered, scratching his head as they made their way out of the medical wing, heading for the elevator.

"Always that odd...sound." An orange-eyed guard of the Massive murmured, arms folded as she put her jetpack backpack back on, the bulky thing making her grunt as she strained under it's square-like shape and weight. It looked almost like a Tetris block. Yes, she did, in fact, know what Tetris is, the same way some of the Irkens knew what a Swiss Army Knife was.

Irk had conquered, pillaged, ransacked and raped many a planet. But one planet they stayed away from because it was host to their greatest failure, their greatest threat, their greatest annoyance. This being named Zim had caused the death of two Tallests, plunged Irk into darkness, blown up an entire planet simply by scratching his behind, and did so many other things that if I were to put them into a list, it would stretch out of the room you're in and into a nearby hallway.

What was this planet? Earth. And out of morbid curiosity, there had been those who had found themselves secretly drawn to Earth...interacting with Earth...promoting Earth culture on a black-market that was growing in power through the Empire. Food recipes, clothing, entertainment, surprisingly, 32% of the Empire seemed to think Earth culture wasn't "totally inferior".

Speaking of one such member of the 32%...

"I'm walkin' on Sunshine...woaah-ohhh! I'm walkin' on Sunshine...woaah-ohhh! And tryin' to feel good!" Senior Communications Officer of the Massive said cheerily as he shook his booty through the air, bouncing it around, the rounded-square-shaped communications chips in the side of his head not relaying instructions from the Tallest or the mighty Control Brains, the power behind the throne, oh no. It was all Katrina and the Waves as he danced around the room, getting his belt on, ready to spend, spend, spend and get all the newest Earth music he could find.

It might have been a flaw in programming. Quite possibly, yes. The Irken PAK provided personalities to the Irken race from the moment of conception in the Smeet Factories, organic bodies filled with the whole of Irken Knowledge and traits that would, over time, cement where said smeet would be placed in an occupation.

It was possible that his PAK was defective, that he was in error in liking this music. A bit of code that might have jumped, or gotten jumbled...

Or perhaps it was simpler? After all, the personality chosen for him had been one of friendliness, concern, an eager-to-help and eager-to-please identity that was perfect for one in Communications...why wouldn't he like something that made him feel like patting people on the head?

A definite answer might not be easy to find, but the end result was simple: Senior loved Earth music, loved the way it made him feel, the way it seemed to flow through him, and it made the hard work on the Massive so much easier. He suspected his wards, to whom he was their safety net, had their own ways of coping with the jobs they had. Well, this was his,begun on his first shore leave after being exposed to it in a back alley in the capital.

Adjusting his silvery belt buckle, he plucked the white rose from the vase by his bed...his good luck charm, which always greased the wheels for him, somehow, in some way. When he had it on him, the Tallest never made him do "The Electric Chair", or unusual favors. Nobody ever yelled at him or acted insubordinate. He'd found it in an alley on Irk, that same alley he'd first heard Earth music and had followed it like the scent of bread lures those to a bakery.

Taking the white rose tenderly in his gloved hands, he tucked it safely in his "Kelly-Green" shirt and sauntered out of the room, continuing to sing. "Walkin' on sunshiiiine...walkin' on sunshiiiiine..."

He almost bumped into service drone Maht, who blinked purplish eyes back at his taller, a tray held in his gloved hand. "Maht, you don't have to bring that, everyone on the Massive will be concerned only with stocking up, not with asking you for a drink-"

"Every time I'm off planet, someone asks me to fetch them something. I'm just saving time." Maht said in his submissive, dejected one, eyes closing quietly as he pinched the space between his eyes with one gloved hand. His Taller's very soft green eyes gazed upon the many stains upon Maht's maroon uniform and rubbed his chin.

"Look, uh...what if you stay with me the whole time? I'll shop where you shop, and keep anyone from asking you to go peel them a grape or something." Senior offered.

"Oh, sir, I...I can't ask you to do that..." Maht murmured nervously, blushing deeply as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"NONSENSE, c'mon." Senior insisted, bringing him along, patting him on the back and yanking the tray out of Maht's hand, tossing it backwards onto the floor as Dite, Elite Guard of the Tallest rolled it's eyes, ignoring the two as it looked it's reflection over in the mirror of a nearby bathroom with an open door leading to the hallway. Yes, everything in order except the mask. A black-gloved hand reaching down to a red belt, past a secondary PAK upon his chest...a hand that was then held a mechanical-esque pentagonal mask over the Irken's lower face, the mask attaching itself via clamps. Dite was, at last, ready.

Indeed, all of them were. Making their way through the short-range teleporter system and the various little ships housed within the Massive's Docking Bay, Senior piloted a small shuttle down to the planet's surface, heading for the central shopping district. There were eighteen dozen stores selling useless junk and souvenirs alongside various convenience stores and, more importantly, surplus warehouses. It was to one of the back alleys located behind one such warehouse that Senior intended to reach today.

"23 hours left." Senior informed his little group. "Maht and I are taking a trip to Warehouse 13 and 14. I'd like all of us to meet back up at the food court in the East District. And remember..." Senior tapped the communications chip on the right side of his head, nodding at them all. "You can reach me through this via your communicators, you all know my frequency."

"Don't go talking to any skaatel you don't know." Xeil added cheerily with a bit of a giggle.

"The term is "off-worlder"." Feyr said with a cold growl. "Not "off-world filth", they are not all so inferior."

"Of course you'd say that, it is your job to get close to them, Consular Feyr." Dite mused with a faint laugh in his, or perhaps her, voice as he waved a claw in a circle by his head in a "you're crazy" gesture before they all headed off to get shopping, Senior walking by Maht, who's normally sunken features had actually begun to show some real hope.

"I almost never get any time to relax." Maht said. "Thank you for doing this for me, Senior sir." Maht said again, shaking Senior's hand vigorously as they walked through the crowded streets of the capital city, Senior pointing at a nearby bar.

"Shall we go get YOU a drink for once?" He asked the service drone as they headed inside, pushing open a door with a very large and intimidating Irken skull insignia painted onto it in paint that was deliberately made fresh every single day to add a touch of class to the appearance of the bar.

Regrettably, "Barbone's Pub" had music blaring so loudly it was impssible to hear one's own thoughts. Sitting down at the bar in some stools, Maht and Senior sipped some of the few things most Irkens liked about Vortians: firewhisky. Pictures of the Tallest through the ages, be they Gor, Arnor, Spork even Splorchhammer, were proudly displayed, circling the bar above various signs that said things like "We Don't Bother Calling The Medics" and "The Most Endangered Species: Anyone Who Pisses Us Off". A bit of a harsh contrast, seeing the Tallest displayed in brave and noble portraits placed above insultingly violent proclamations below.

One such sign caught Maht's attention as he read it over. "The year was 1865, our land burnt to the ground, everything was lost, I took my stand. I rode through fire and rode through fog, Irken flag within my hand, fighting for the Empire, fighting for my Land...FTW?" Maht blinked. "Who's FTW?" He asked a brutish-looking guard that gave him a look like he was gum underneath his shoe.

"Who's asking?"

"Nobody special." Maht said immediately.

"I am." Senior wanted to know, looking the thick-bodied, brown-eyed Irken over. The man was obviously used to violence. Why was he speaking to an Irken who looked like his first name should be "Nazi"? Simple: the jerk was looking down on one of his wards. Nobody did that. NOBODY. He didn't even let the Tallest get away with that. Granted, that got him in trouble and made him get punished, but still...

"It means "F—k The World"." The gorilla of an Irken explained calmly. "You're clearly from off-planet. How many times a year are you actually on Irk? Seeing all that happens? You...I swear..." He shook his head back and forth, the other residents of the bar looking on nervously, others in anticipation. "Idiots flyin' up there in your little ships, removed from how life REALLY is down here. Thank the Tallest there's still people standing up for the old ways, the rest are filthy melkremar, traitors all! Off-worlder culture, PAH!" He spat on the ground at the mere idea of it.

"Yeah! Earth culture, PFFT! Vrik na tshanti!" Another Irken agreed, waving a mug of beer in the air. "Those offworlder-loving traitors waste their time wearin' cowboy hats, watching cartoons and playin'...TETRIS."

"TETRIS!" The whole bar spat on the ground.

"Maybe we should make like a tree and LEAF." Senior whispered to Maht as the gorilla of an Irken sneered at Maht, who was quivering nervously.

"Y'know I s—t out a turd that was bigger n' you this morning." He told Maht. "Question is...do I beat the s—t outta you right here and now for sidin' with someone that's so obviously a melkremar, or do I let it slide?"

"You are drunk, sir. You're saying things you don't even realize you're saying." Maht muttered In the old days he would have kicked the drunkard squarely upside the head and taught him a lesson. But now...

The brute reached for Maht to rip his arm off. Senior immediately grabbed the man's hand, slammed it down onto the table and pulled out something from a holster in his belt...an Earth weapon. Something he bought for several reasons. One, it had been a two for one deal. Two, whilst most Irken armor was resistant to plasma, it was NOT resistant to melee-esque weaponry, or metallic bullets. And three, and of this he was sure...when he shot people with it...

BANG!

It hurt a whole lot more.

The Irken screamed and bellowed, waving his shot-through hand in the air, gasping in horror as Senior put the gun in the holster, waving a dismissive goodbye as he led Maht outside the bar. "I'd go call a Medic now if I were you. Break tradition." He called back cheerily, heading for Warehouse 13...

Unaware that the "rose" tucked away, hidden in his shirt was slightly glowing for a moment, a repeating rhythm beginning to fill Senior's lack of ears as they reached the warehouse, Maht looking over various surplus bags of gumballs, his favorite snack, his taller situated across from him, examining large blocks of cheese.

Life.

Senior blinked. First the rhythm, now he was hearing a word. What was that word? It sounded like-

Life.

"Did you hear something?" Senior inquired, looking at Maht, who blinked in surprise back at his commanding officer.

"No, why?" Maht wanted to know, confused. "Do you want me to hear something, sir?"

"No, no, it's fine." Senior insisted, waving his hand in the air as he put several blocks of cheese in a shopping basket, as gold as the walls around them in the stylishly-lit warehouse.

Life.

Okay, that time he knew what he'd heard. "Life"? Where was it coming from?

He then noticed it. A glow on his chest. Eyes wide in surprise, he ran for the nearest bathroom before anyone could notice, locking the door behind him, gazing down at the glowing region of his shirt, his heart. Realizing what it most likely was, he reached into his shirt, removing the white rose as it pulsed with strange light, bathing him in warmth...

Life.

"Did you just...speak?" He asked. "...look at me, I'm talking to a rose..."

I am more. I have watched you for some time. You're not as bad as the others, little bug. No, no. Within you...lies a concern for the lives of others. Thus, I am choosing you, now at the moment of the Great Dawn...choosing you to be my avatar. You'll simply have to do.

"Have to...do? BUG?" Senior asked, an offended look flickering across his face.

The other Entities have begun to make their appearance, and all will choose their avatar. I who stand for Life, am choosing you. You shall fight for me for the sake of your kind. And if you fail, your people will die.

Senior's eyes widened as the rose suddenly transfigured into a large, white lantern, brimming with power. He held it up, transfixed by its shimmering light, awe and wonder filling his eyes. The words were frightening, and yet there was no cruelty, no menace behind them. The being that spoke through this lantern was trying to be kind, a parent explaining an important but solemn duty to a child.

I want to prevent that. No matter how I DESPISE your kind's actions...I do not want you dead...any of you. Certainly not at the hands of the other Entities. So I ask you now...do you wish to save your world? Your people?

Light began to sift out of the White Lantern, light of so many shades, spilling out and swirling around the Irken communications officer as he found himself flooded with something...a power the likes of which he'd only tasted before, briefly, as he listened to the songs that filled him with joy. In a few moments it was as if his eyes, so long held quietly tight, were being pened. He, who had been dead so long, was finally alive...

"...what...are you doing? This...this feels wonderful..." Senior whispered. "I...I'm alive. I'm alive. Will...will I feel like this all the time if...if I help you?"

EVERYONE will feel like this.

"...yes..." Senior gasped happily, brimming with joy. "Oh, yes, YES!" He cheered. "I'll do it!"

And with that, the White Lantern shone like a brilliant star, transforming into a million points of light that seeped into Senior's body like a mist, the Irken feeling the presence of a being fare more magnificent and above any Irken as a star was above a grain of sand. Now he was host to the protector of Life.

Host to Sude, last of the Seraphi race...his new lord and God.

Destiny awaits...

#invader zim #action #adventure #fanfiic #Senior #superhero #superheroes #fanfiction

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maverickpackaging · 4 years

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Everything You Need to Know About Bag-in-Box Packaging

Bag-in-box has impressed a major segment of the population and quite successfully replaced the other packaging solutions available in the market. It has a strong bladder-like structure made of several metallic films or other plastics embedded in an uneven fiber case.

Bag-in-boxes are used by the companies to transport juice, wine, or other liquids and even act as singles for the semi-automated machines. Initially, an extensive procedure was mandatory, but now the manufacturers make this packaging via FSF (form seal fill) technology.

To know about the history, uses and advantages of bag-in-box, please check out the rest of the discussion now.

History

The first bag-in-box liquid packaging was invented in the year 1955 by an American chemist for transporting and dispensing battery acids securely. This invention revolutionized the packaging industry to a great extent, and the concerned chemist and his team gained a footing in the hall of fame.

Uses

Bag-in-box is noted for having a series of commercial applications. The most common one is to supply syrups to the soft drink cascades and to distribute condiments such as mustard and ketchup in bulk to the hotel industry, especially the fast-food outlets.

Bag-in-box technology also managed to retain its original application – the transfer of sulfuric acid for filling the car batteries in dealerships and garages. As described further, this particular packaging has been implemented to sell wine.

For the commercial syrups, the customers have to open one part of the box, connect a compatible tube to the fitment on the bag, and pump the contents out carefully. The fitment has a valve which opens only when pressure is applied from the tube. This keeps contamination at bay.

In case of boxed wine, the tap is already fixed to the bag, so all one has to do is find the location of the tap on the box.

Advantages

Bag-in-box packaging has attained widespread recognition probably because it is inexpensive, thus, can be afforded by all. It also does not harm the environment because the contents in between 1.5 and 1000 liters are always labeled. The material is lighter than the plastic alternatives, so, have a proper carbon footprint.

Aseptic Package

Bag-in-boxes have lately been utilized extensively to pack dairy products and processed fruits in the aseptic processes. Aseptic packaging is considered beneficial because the products require no refrigeration and last for a prolonged period (up to 2 years at least).

The key is to fill the product in the bag without exposing it to external environmental conditions at any stage. So, there is no possibility of germ infestation. The bag is again irradiated. If planning on investing in bag-in-box, stand up pouch machinery, or any other flexible packaging solution for that matter, please make sure to rely on an authentic provider. He/she must assure quality products for a reasonable price.

#bag-in-box liquid packaging #stand up pouch machinery

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nichromepackaging · 2 years

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Prevent liquid spillage with Nichromes Bottle Filling Systems

The consumption of liquid products is continuously increasing in the market which has made the awareness of liquid packaging a rising concern amongst the consumer as well as the sellers. But with Nichromes Automatic Liquid Filling Machines, you can get an efficient, accurate and quick bottle filling system. Automatic systems are more dependable in terms of accuracy, hygiene and output even for plastic or glass bottle filling.

Considerations for Liquid Packaging

Even prior to the product hitting the shelves, packaging and processing equipment must ensure that the product is free of contaminants and spoilage before consumption.

While the products are kept safe from contamination and spoilage after primary and secondary packaging, liquid products need to be protected before the packaging process itself.

It is important to make use of effective packaging systems integration to ensure that the products remain protected at all times during the packaging process. When it comes to liquid packaging lines, this includes the use of reliable liquid filling machines and the right packaging equipment designed especially for the particular product.

Nichrome’s industry-leading capabilities are showcased in its Bottle Filling Line for liquids.

Nichrome’s Liquid Packaging Solutions

Nichrome’s first technological innovation was in liquid packaging a long time back in 1977. In response to the Government’s demand for cost-effective indigenous milk packaging, Nichrome designed India’s first indigenous milk pouch packaging machine.

Nichrome offers a wide range of liquid packaging machines – including bottle filling machines, oil tin filling machines, and ghee jar filling machines – that can be used to package a diverse variety of liquids. For liquids ranging from free-flowing to highly viscous – Nichrome has innovative packaging solutions for all! Nichrome possesses decades of experience and considerable expertise in dealing with the varied properties of different liquids – whether foam-generating liquids, lumpy liquids, liquids that require nitrogen flushing, liquids that have to be temperature controlled, flammable liquids et al. Nichrome also has the ability to customise solutions as per specific client requirements.

Nichrome’s Bottle Filling Line for Liquids

The automatic bottle filling system from Nichrome is an integrated packaging solution that can pack liquids in SKUs ranging from 100 ml to 200 L.

This automated bottle filling system has a diverse range of applications including food and beverage liquids such as flavoured milk, water and buttermilk, soft drinks, energy drinks; non-food liquids such as shampoo, perfumes, handwash; oil and viscous liquids such as ghee, ketchup, chocolate sauce etc.

Being an efficient integrated system for bottle filling and packaging, Nichrome’s bottle filling line includes the following components:

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shobhitrathore · 4 years

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U.S. Energy Drinks Market – Opportunities & Forecast, 2020-2027

The market report is a historical overview and in-depth study on the current and future market. The report also offers a basic overview of the market size, share, leading players, top regions with major countries data, and a detailed segmentation description. It investigates and assesses the current landscape of the ever-evolving business sector and the present and future effects of COVID-19 on the market.

The major players in the U.S. Energy Drinks Market include:

Red Bull GmBH

Monster Beverage Corporation

RUNA LLC

GURU Energy

PepsiCo, Inc.

The Coca-Cola Company

Xyience, Inc.

National Beverage Corporation

Taisho Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd.

Key Drivers of the U.S. Energy Drinks Market:

The U.S. energy drinks market is experiencing strong demand due to the increasing awareness of physical fitness and interest in buying healthy products among the youth population. In addition to this, a busy lifestyle and more buying capacity of consumers play an important role in the development of the energy drinks market in the U.S. Moreover, the increasing popularity of energy drinks due to its ability to offer stamina, instant energy, and mental stimulation is one of the major factors propelling the growth of the U.S. energy drinks market size. Furthermore, the rising availability of energy drinks on e-commerce platforms and extensive promotional marketing strategies adopted by manufacturers are projected to propel the growth of the U.S. energy drinks market share in terms of revenue.

The emergence of the COVID-19 pandemic will positively influence the energy drinks market in the U.S., especially in 2020. The outbreak of coronavirus is encouraging the consumers to enhance their immune system to fight with the diseases, which will boost the demand for energy drinks. Moreover, with the strict lockdown, the consumers are stocking the essential food, beverages, and products to avoid going to the grocery store every other day. On the other hand, the negative effect of energy drinks on health, including dehydration, heart attack, anxiety, and sleep disorder on caffeine's excessive consumption, will hamper the market growth. Also, rigorous government regulations and the availability of substitute products, including fruit juices and smoothies, soft drinks, green tea, and more, are the prominent factors hindering the growth of the energy drink market in the U.S.

Segmentation of the U.S. Energy Drinks Market:

The major regions covered in the report are North America, Europe, Asia-Pacific, and the Rest of the world. It also contains regional volume and revenue of the forecast period. Moreover, it helps the reader to understand accurate data on volume sales according to the consumption for the same years.

On the basis of product, this report displays the production, revenue, price, market share, and overall growth rate of each product, primarily split into:

Alcoholic

Non-Alcoholic

On the basis of product type, this report displays the production, revenue, price, market share, and overall growth rate of each product type, primarily split into:

Organic

Non-Organic

Natural

On the basis of packaging type, this report displays the production, revenue, price, market share, and overall growth rate of each packaging type, primarily split into:

Plastic Bottles

Glass Bottles

Metal Cans

Others (Sachets, spouted pouches, and tetra packs)

On the basis of end-user, this report displays the production, revenue, price, market share, and overall growth rate of each end-user, primarily split into:

Kids

Teenagers

Adults

Geriatric Population

On the basis of distribution channel, this report displays the production, revenue, price, market share, and overall growth rate of each distribution channel, primarily split into:

Online Platforms

Convenience Stores

Supermarkets

Vending Machines

Others

About GMI Research:

GMI Research is a market research and consulting firm which provides bespoke industry & market research to help businesses in making the toughest business decision. We know the significance of accurate data; that’s why our analyst use a tailored methodology to study every market in detail because one size doesn’t fit all. We not only cover the traditional well-established market but also focuses on the niche market and markets in the emerging economies, where getting data and information is a challenge. This factor makes us a pioneer in the emerging market research space. Our syndicate reports cover multiple industries across various regions and countries.

Our in-depth market reports help propel your business with all the data, strategic inputs, and competitive intelligence to move ahead even in the most uncertain times. Featured in the ‘Top 20 Most Promising Market Research Consultants’ list of Silicon India Magazine in 2018, we at GMI Research look forward to help businesses stay ahead of the curve.

#U.S. Energy Drinks Market #gmiresearch

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scenitroute · 7 years

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Happy holidays @gloomdraws!! I’m your secret santa this year for @undertalesecretsanta!! I hope you like this little story. I was going for some nice feels.

Sorry I’m posting this so late in the day, I hope you didn’t get anxious! Happy holidays and happy new year!!!

Frisk kicked up the thin layer of dusty snow that had fallen the night before, pouting slightly. It wasn’t the thick snowfall they had hoped for, that stuck well and made for the best snowballs and snow forts. Still, they thought, watching their breath come out as white puffs in front of their face, it was pretty nice.

“And just what are you doing out and about kid?” A voice called to them. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping ‘ole King Asgore with some decorating?”

Frisk smiled, trotting up to the door of Gerson’s little shop and new home above ground. The old monster was sitting outside on his small porch, bundled up against the cold so that only his face remained exposed. He grinned down at Frisk as they approached. “Whatcha got there?”

In Frisk’s hands was a square package, prepared by Toriel before they’d left the house. They held it up to him, knowing he’d recognize the smell as one of Toriel’s own pies. As expected, the monster’s eyes widened happily, and he took the box, peeking into it. Somehow his grin grew wider as he inhaled the warm scent of the treat, and he ruffled Frisk’s hair with a mittened hand, displacing their earmuffs. Frisk quickly adjusted them.

“Thanks kid for bringing this by!” he laughed. “Smelling it now, I don’t know if it will last long at all! I may have to ask her to make me another huh?”

He winked as he said it, then shivered. “It’s nice to have seasons these past few years, but I might think about traveling somewhere warmer before next winter.”

He scowled a little, then stood up, heading towards the door. “Then again, I’m too old to keep moving around!”

Laughing again, Gerson opened his front door, and Frisk could feel a warmth from inside that felt produced by magic. “I’m going to put this away before it freezes in this air,” he said. ‘I will see you tonight?”

Frisk nodded excitedly and the old monster laughed. “Right then! I’m sure you have plenty to do until then kid. Don’t be late!”

As he retreated inside, Frisk waved, and set off again.

It had been several years since the barrier had fallen, freeing monsterkind from the underground caverns and tunnels they had been trapped in. The monsters had worked very hard to make a home for themselves. This would be their first Giftmas where every monster finally had a solid place to call home in the village. Thanks to a lot of help from neighboring towns, where the humans who lived there had offered plenty of help with building and supplies. The towns were becoming an example to the rest of the world, and the past year for Frisk had been an especially happy one as ambassador for the monsters who had become their family.

Close friendships had been made with many of the humans. When the monsters decided to hold a party in the center of their village for Giftmas Eve it was quickly agreed that their new friends would also be welcome.

Alphys pushed blue curtains back to peek outside her front window. The glass was frosted around the edges, and she curled her fingers into the fabrics to keep them away from the cold panes.

She sighed a little, looking up at the cloud filled sky, and snow began to fall. Letting go of the curtain she turned around, pulling her sweater tighter around her. Undyne was sitting at their new dining table-

”An early Giftmas present!” She had laughed when Alphys asked about it’s sudden appearance. They both had ignored the splintered scraps of their old table in the trash outside.

Undyne finished lacing up her boots, looking up at Alphys to give her a disparaging look. “Can’t we just build a fire and stay in tonight?”

Alphys handed her an extra scarf, pulling her own coat down from it’s peg. “We promised to help set up in the square,” she reminded Undyne.

The former captain sighed. “It’s only getting colder.”

They finished bundling up and Alphys stopped Undyne before opening the door. “W-wait!,” she said, smiling. “I almost forgot…”

She scrambled a little box out of the closet behind their front door, pulling a couple of plastic pouches from it.

“I found these at the human store last time I went, they should help!” Undyne watched curiously as she opened the plastic pouch, revealing two smaller cloth pouches inside. Alphys handed them to her.

“T-they should activate automatically,” she explained. “But the clerk told me it would help t-to shake them up. Try it out!”

While Alphys opened the second pack, Undyne, confused, started shaking the pouches. After several moments she felt heat coming from the little cloth bag.

“Woah!” She exclaimed, a grin forming across her face.

Seeing her pleased expression, Alphy’s own smile widened. “Put them in your pockets,” she instructed. “They’ll las the rest of the night.”

“You are the best babe!” Undyne laughed, stuffing the pouches away. She gave them a quick squeeze in her pockets, relishing the warmth, then reached out to pull the scientist into a tight hug. “Thanks Alphys.”

The lizard monster blushed deep red through her yellow scales as Undyne pressed a kiss to her forehead. Feeling a little as if she no longer needed them, Alphys hurriedly stowed away her hand-warmers into her own pockets and together the pair left their home.

As more and more monsters arrived in the center of town, the busier Grillby’s diner became. The building glowed from inside from strings of soft golden lights. The front entrance stayed open for people to come and go, but stayed magically warm inside. Sans the skeleton sat at the counter, watching with amusement as Frisk tried to hang a string of glittering tinsel on the highest branches of the tree Papyrus and Undyne had brought inside. Standing on their tip-toes, Frisk could still only reach about halfway up the tree, and when they lost their balance, catching a face-full of pine needles before swaying away from the branches, Sans chuckled.

“Need a lift?” he asked. Frisk heard a soft Ping! and was slowly lifted into the air with their garland. Delighted, Frisk laughed, and quickly went to work.

Papyrus, who had been looking through a box of ornaments, turned with a star-shaped tree-topped in hand. His eye sockets widened, seeing Frisk floating around the top of the tree, giggling. He glared at Sans.

“OF COURSE YOU WOULD FIND THE LAZIEST WAY TO HELP SANS!”

Sans only shrugged, focusing on keeping the human child up in the air. As they finished, Papyrus handed them the star. Frisk placed it, carefully adjusting it so it would stay, then gave Sans a thumbs up. With another soft Ping! the magic around their soul fell away, and they fell too, right into Papyrus’s waiting arms. They clapped excitedly.

Papyrus held them, looking around the diner. “WELL FRISK, IS THERE ANYTHING LEFT TO DECORATE?”

In fact there were very few things inside Grillby's establishment that had not been covered with some kind of decoration. Ribbons, garlands, wreaths and ornaments hung all around the room, from the walls, tables, chairs, and even the jukebox in the corner. The machine was belting some holiday tune that Asgore (who was fairly decorated himself between his colorful sweater and small sparkling ornaments hanging from his horns), hummed along to as he helped Grillby to set out trays of food for everyone.

Frisk indicated to Papyrus that this should be enough, and he set them down on the floor again just as Toriel arrived. They ran to her right away, and was enveloped in a warm, tight hug.

“Hello my child!” she said smiling. “Are we ready for our guests?”

Frisk nodded, bobbing up and down on their toes.

“OH, HAVE THE HUMANS ARRIVED?” Papyrus asked, and Toriel confirmed.

Everyone very suddenly straightened, looking both excited and just a little bit nervous. Following Toriel, and already in their coat, Frisk walked outside. The center of the village was a round clearing with a fountain in the middle. Several shops lined the center, and many were open and decorated like the diner to offer their wares and warmth to monsters and humans alike. People had already started wandering around, greeting monsters they knew and exploring. Many greeted Frisk as they stepped into the warmth of Grillby’s, the exclaimed excitedly about the decorations.

Monster Kid appeared on of a group of human children, laughing and playing. “Frisk come on we’re going sledding!”

The evening grew darker, and the party quieter as people made their ways home. Alphys and Undyne were tucked into the same side of a booth, drinking hot tea and laughing. Grillby wiped the counter while talking with Sans. Papyrus was enraptured with a family of five who was describing their own holiday and it's traditions (“SANS THEY CELEBRATE FOR EIGHT WHOLE NIGHTS!”).

Frisk wished their friends well and watched as they left. The snow was still softly falling, and had added a couple inches to the ground throughout the night. They stifled a yawn, unwilling to think about turning in just yet. Instead they sat in the open doorway, listening contentedly to the chatter and music coming from behind them as they looked out into the clearing.

Snow blanketed the fountain and the statue in its center. It was illuminated from the lights on all the shops and shops surrounding it and from the base of the fountain itself. Frisk found themselves staring at the happy faces of the human and goat monster children portrayed by the statue.

A soft hand lightly patted their shoulder. Frisk looked up, smiling at Toriel, who crouched down next to them.

“It has been a very long day Frisk,” she said. “Everything is cleaned up for now. Would you like to wish everyone goodnight?”

Frisk nodded, and lingered in the diner a while longer, giving extended goodbyes and “see you tomorrow”s and long hugs to their family.

As they walked home, holding hands with Toriel, Frisk thought of nothing else but their activity filled day.

#undertalesecretsanta #gloomdraws #undertale #undertale fanfiction #my writing #gift fic

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chemorygunko · 7 years

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5D Business Ideas

5D business ideas

So as the world and economy are moving, shifting and changing, many of us are starting to question how we make money.

We realise we HAVE TO make money to survive in the 3D world, but for many of us, we can’t stomach doing exactly what we did before, and we’re looking for alternate options that allow us to transition to a more 5D way of being…. and allow us to survive the transition financially.

Cos really, we are not much use as soldiers if we’re starving, freezing, and/or dead ;) LOL :)

But what if you can’t transition to a more 5D way of business?

Yes, there are some businesses that won’t allow for more 5D approaches, but that doesn’t mean you can’t change your business practices :)

You could lower your prices.

You could offer clients a discount, or a chance to pay late, or forgo charging interest.

If you’re flush enough, you could even forgive the debt of some your debtors and take the pressure off them. Chances are that if they haven’t paid you, they haven’t paid others either.

You could offer to do some pro bono work for people or organizations that really need the help.

You could sell unused or redundant stock and donate the proceeds to a charity that will use the funds properly.

Or you could give that stock away to a group that could resell, reuse or repurpose it.

You could use your marketing and PR streams to raise awareness or funds for issues and charities near to your heart - or you could arrange a fundraiser.

One really cool project example I did back in my marketing days, was to get my boss to match the book donations of staff, and the collection was given to a underprivileged school library.

I was also involved in projects like collecting old computer devices to donate to kids in needy schools. People never know what to do with old devices…. so you pick them up, format them and you have a machine that a needy child can learn on. It doesn’t need to be perfect - it just needs to be functional. And it reduces the load of electronic waste going into dump sites.

Or you could do something cool like arrange for instructions on something - like building a home out of old soft drink bottles or tyres - to be printed and distributed to those in need.

Or you could stretch yourself and give up a bit of profit that you’re making, and CREATE a few extra jobs on your staff - even if they are temporary or casual jobs.

And importantly, you can keep money moving.

There’s a great parable of a traveller who stops in in a town one night - a town hit by economic hardship.

He arrives at the hotel in a blustering storm and asks the innkeeper for a room for the night. He pays and goes upstairs to warm himself.

The delighted innkeeper realizes he can pay his butcher’s bill and runs off to the butcher to pay his bill. The butcher gladly accepts and runs off to the local lady of the night to settle his tab.

The lady in question owes money to the innkeeper, and she dashes off to settle her bill with him. He gladly accepts - just before the guest comes down the stairs and requests a refund, because he won’t be staying for the night anymore.

Nobody made any money…but the movement of money settled the debts, took pressure off, and lightened the load of a whole bunch of people.

When people are scared about lack, they tend to hoard - money is no different. But if we have a chance of moving the economy upwards again, it will be because we keep the money moving.

It’s hard to trust in that process at first, but the practice is worth it. And when you are okay with money flowing, you will find that what you need flows to you as well.

Okay that’s more about bigger businesses that may have less flexibility, but anyone can apply any of these.

Now onto the 5D small business ideas...

The point of these is not to be business plan or lay it out in detail - it’s to give you direction. Ideas. Ways to think about it.

Haridressers…. this is a fascinating one, cos your hair becomes very important on the journey at a stage. So, for example, I’m not allowed to cut my hair.

Hair is an extension of the nervous system, and each strand becomes a tendril of connection into the morphic field - so longer hair gives you better information, cos there’s more surface. That’s why spiritual types always have long hair and lean towards it.

So on the first level, hairdressers start battling with how badly people treat their hair, and what that shows about the person’s development. On the second level, they battle working with the actual chemicals - and the use of those is dictated by what the client wants.

A 5D workaround would be to offer a completely organic hairdressing service - masks made from oils and egg and other foodstuff ingredients, for example. And limit coloring to only coloring with henna - as organic and pure as you can find the henna.

You can offer elements like braiding and styling and cutting as well, and you can eliminate hair products. You can also cater to the growing number of woman who are opting for no shampoo.

You could also offer treatments hairdressers usually won’t - like helping moms with lice. Man, even when I was flat broke, I would have gladly paid someone to help me with Jelly’s lice. And she got them more than a few times.

You could also offer head, scalp and shoulder massages, and you could combine the hairdresser and beauty salon with a healing element, like acupressure or crystals, or even just inviting the ladies to come in and offload. So talk therapy while you have your hair done or get a massage.

The same could apply to a beauty salon or nail bar - completely organic with a talk therapy element.

Scrubs made from rough salt and crushed eggshells - you have no idea how amazing this makes your skin feel afterwards.

Hair removal with honey based waxes. Threading to avoid the use of wax for eyebrows, so you limit HOW MUCH you throw away. Foodstuff based masks, organic oils for massages etc.

Completely avoid chemical based stuff altogether... the rule becomes, you only put on your body what you would put in it. With the exception of henna of course lol :)

Another completely organic service you could offer is organic cleaning services.

So instead of using harmful chemicals, you use old fashioned solutions like baking soda (bicarbonate of soda), lemon and vinegar. Coconut oil and other oils.

This would be great for targeting daycares and moms with young kids who want a cleaning service. You could also sell the cleaning products in DIY kits - pre packed little sachets of baking soda etc, already measured out for people.

If you’re into crystals and crafts, you could make spiritual art pieces.

So, for example, little packs of crystals, in specific numbers, with instructions on how to stick them up in designs like crosses, stars, or to use them create crystal grids of power.

There’s also an option for spiritual clothing and fabric items…. you could embroider or design important spiritual symbols onto them - hidden and visible.

Or you could work crystals into the designs, or into hidden pouches on the clothing. I mean, how awesome would it be if every item you put on had some spiritual element to it?

Other options for products are things like carved candles, blessed candles, holy water and holy oil. Many people want access to these items but don’t know how - and don’t trust themselves enough - to make them themselves.

There are a lot of people out there creating “we’ll do the work for you” style events and resources, but as people grow, what they will really want is resources that educate them how to work on themselves and others.

So if you’re thinking educational, aim to arm and empower people with tools they can apply in many situations - there are more than enough of the people catering to those who want to be spoonfed.

Speaking of spoonfed - premade meals, ready to heat meals and school lunches that are real, healthy and organic is an option too.

As is a coffee or tea shop with homemade stuff, maybe a cannabis smoking garden, and large table-style seating for people who want to find company, or need to have a real healing chat with the owner and staff. So all the staff double as healers and can sit down and chat with clients…. coffee with soul ;)

You could also look at ideas like delivering fruit and veg, or healthy lunches, to offices in your area. People often buy junk food for a lack of a better option. so give them an option - and make it easy for them to choose that option.

Speaking of education…. schools for kids who live alternate lifestyles or kids that aren’t vaccinated. Where parents have opted not to vaccinate, they don’t qualify for public schooling or government assistance…. this doesn’t mean they don’t have to go to school though. Affordable schooling for these parents will be a winner in years to come.

So for this, you could become a registered homeschool academy, for example, where you have a curriculum provided by a homeschool provider already, but the rest of the school is lived by 5D standards.

Organic, vegetarian and vegan meals, classes on spirituality and even religions, crystals and healing. These can be taught 5D style - so no exams or tests for these classes you create yourself.

You could cater to ADHD kids where the parents don’t want to medicate, for example, as well as offer real guidance and communication skills to kids - 5D style. Also give them spaces to explore all religions, modalities and practices.

Another great area is tiny homes and alternate lifestyle communities… people will want to start living together in communities again. Moving away from the big homes and sprawling space. Living more simply.

If you are a writer, please use your writing ability. Now - at the level you’re currently at.

You spend a shit ton of time on the journey thinking you aren’t worthy, aren’t good enough, doubting yourself as a healer, and doubting that you have anything of worth to contribute - but you forget about contrast.

We have high standards, and most of us are aiming for God level. That’s a VERY high benchmark.

But if you look at us compared to (contrast) other people, then we are more advanced than most.

This is where contrast steps in - you can really “talk to” the people just above and just below you on the development scale - so we need teachers at every level. Someone like me, I teach the teachers, but there’s only a limited amount of people like me needed.

The people below have a much wider market to work with, because there are way more people at that level. And we need teachers at every level - enough to cater to the amount of people at that level.

So when you write, write from your level of experience, and cherish that. You’re only writing about it to coalesce the info, and because you’re moving on from that stage. Leave the info behind for the people coming after you.

When you’re on the journey, ideas often seem to conflict and contradict each other for a while, with one idea replacing the next. But later on you’ll see why you needed all that understanding in single, bite sized pieces, and how it all ties together in one coherent thread.

Don’t be afraid to show that your thinking has changed - and don’t be surprised when people are shocked at the 180s you do. I’ve lost more than a few friends along the way - and business as well. But you will be well glad you took this risks later on, once you see how it all fits together.

We’re the transition team - and what we do is pave the way for the coming stage and age.

It’s our job to figure out how to put this new way of being into the existing world, to match the new desires arising in people, and to help the world evolve.

And we’re receivers for cosmic information…. so if you have an idea, share it.

There is place for more than one business in the world, of all the necessary types.

The information we’re getting now in shifts is info for everyone - we’re moving towards unification and a sharing economy. So share the ideas please - you’ll only be rewarded with more ideas.

Light, peace and harmony, Amara xo

#5d #3d to 5d #lightworkers #lightworker #lightwarrior #Lightwarriors

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