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felixfeliciswriterblog · 4 years

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Snapetober 2020 - Day 18: Falling

This was inspired by my main Snape x OC Severitus fic. Snape is married to another teacher, Skyrah, who also happens to be Voldie’s daughter.

Notes: references to sex. This isn’t a smutty fic though (sorry to disappoint). It’s more of a rom-com, angst mix.

Length: 2849 words.

SEVERUS SNAPE AND THE VARIOUS ARTS OF FALLING

Severus was sitting on the leather armchair opposite Minerva’s, separated by a circular table. On it, there was a chess set, a bowl filled with Honeydukes’s toffee and two cups of tea. The players had gathered a small fan club that showed so much interest one would think the final Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Cup match was taking place, rather than a regular wizard’s chess match.

“Severus will win,” said Filius, standing on a stack of books.

“It wouldn’t be the first time Minerva’s beaten him when all hope seemed lost,” countered Albus.

Skyrah didn’t agree nor disagree with either of them. Her eyes were focused on the position of the pieces, envisioning possible moves and its consequences. She barely heard her husband teasing Minerva, with that arrogant expression and matching tone of voice.

“I’m afraid you’re losing your touch. Your mind used to be sharper.”

“You all used to be quieter, too,” snapped Minerva. “It’s impossible to concentrate.”

Her excuses amused Severus, who took his mug to take a sip and, thus, hide his smirk. It didn’t hide the shrewd glint of his eyes. His face, however, creased into a deepening frown when he saw Skyrah whispering to Minerva.

“But why would I–”

“Trust me, Minerva. I’ve watched Severus play against Harry before. I know his weaknesses.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at Skyrah. “Have you just told my opponent what to do?”

A cheeky grin was the answer he got. The more Severus stared at her, the more the grin broadened as if her lips had touched some swelling solution. Insufferable witch.

“If you heed my wife’s advice, you’ll be cheating,” he said, eyeing Minerva. “You wouldn’t go against the values of your ‘noble’ House, would you?”

“Considering you spent almost ten minutes discussing a move with Filius, I believe Godric Gryffindor himself would allow me to ‘cheat’, as you put it.”

“I didn’t follow his advice in the end.”

“It still wasn’t fair play. I’m entitled to listen to Skyrah. Bishop to C4.”

The men in the room were left with identical puzzled faces as the piece advanced.

“Bishop to C4? I had figured you would have seen that was exactly what I wanted you to do. It doesn’t benefit you. In fact, it brings me closer to victory,” said Severus matter-of-factly, looking at Skyrah in search of answers.

He had never played against her. She preferred to watch him and Harry and offer the boy some advice when it was clear he was stuck. Since Harry’s skills couldn’t compare to Severus’s, he allowed it. With that said, the advice Skyrah offered Harry was certainly wiser than the advice she had just offered Minerva. It could only mean she was pretending to help Minerva while silently teaming up with him, couldn’t it? Not that insufferable, after all.

“Your turn, Severus,” replied Minerva, grinning so slyly one would think she had more Slytherin in her than she let on, when, in truth, she was utterly confused and had simply pinned her faith on Skyrah.

If Severus hadn’t been a Slytherin himself, he would have believed her confidence. He saw straight through her, though. Yes, Minerva, trust my wife, Severus thought with a crooked smile, taking another sip.

“King to B5.”

Minerva resisted the urge to cover her eyes, already picturing one of the black pieces kicking off her white king like the black king was doing with her bishop. She regarded the remaining pieces and took a sip herself, hoping they wouldn’t notice how nervous she was getting. Severus beat her the last time they played. Another defeat wouldn’t do her reputation as a chess player good.

“Bishop to…” Minerva trailed off, seeing Skyrah was subtly shaking her head. “Pawn…” She received a nod and watched as Skyrah made a C-shape with her fingers, only to dissimulate by tucking a lock of hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear. “To C...” Skyrah adjusted one of her shirt cuffs visible under her outer robes, holding out four fingers in the process. “Four. Pawn to C4.”

“What in Salazar Slytherin’s name…” started Severus. It hadn’t escaped him that Minerva was nodding her thanks at Skyrah. Advice on one move, he could tolerate. Two moves, though? Even if she intended to secretly help him by misleading Minerva, he wanted to win by himself. He didn’t fancy his wife intervening more than necessary. “Skyrah, if you are so keen on chess, we can play later. This is between Minerva and me.”

Skyrah raised an eyebrow at him. “Afraid you’ll lose if I help her out?”

“Not at all. Minerva and I began the match. We should finish it,” he said, ignoring her question on purpose.

“And you will… with some help. Filius appears as excited as me to join the match. What do you say?”

“I’m in,” said Filius, not waiting for Severus’s opinion.

“It’d be the fairest solution, Severus, considering you and Filius have already acted as a team. The same can be said about Minerva and Skyrah,” Albus approved, putting a toffee into his mouth.

It wasn’t like Severus could say no to the headmaster. He grunted, and sneered, and inwardly cursed Skyrah for being so charmingly meddlesome, and the rest for accommodating her. After discussing with Filius, Severus ordered the king to kick off the other bishop and grinned triumphantly. Minerva had already lost three turns ago. Now she would move her pawn and it would give him and Filius the chance to checkmate.

Or so they had assumed until Skyrah spoke.

“Queen to B3.”

Filius gaped.

Albus clapped.

Minerva almost bounced in her seat.

Severus stared at the chessboard unblinkingly. Skyrah’s been playing against me all this time.

“I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Obviously, Filius, neither of us did, or else we wouldn’t be facing our upcoming defeat,” hissed Severus. It was a good thing the Hogwarts staff was used to his temper.

“There must be a way to get out of this one,” insisted Filius, touching his beard pensively.

Amused, Albus unwrapped a second toffee and said, “I’ll be greatly surprised if you do.”

Fortunately for Albus, looks, however deadly they looked, couldn’t kill. Otherwise, Filius and Severus would have finished him off already.

The men’s team began discussing possible strategies in vain. The more the minutes ticked by, the more frustrated Filius got. Severus should have been as annoyed as him. He was, at first, but then he realized how brilliant Skyrah’s initial advice to Minerva had been, letting him think his victory was nigh and even helping him achieve it when, in reality, Skyrah had forged an alliance with Minerva and was already thinking ahead and taking advantage of his overconfidence. He banished his feeling of irritation to the point he couldn’t help but stare at her and her self-satisfied smirk in silent admiration, with his mouth half-open, threatening to curve into something akin to a smile.

“They’ve won. We can only move the king to A5,” concluded Filius, getting a distracted nod from Severus, who was too busy thinking about how kissable Skyrah’s lips looked, wondering if a kiss from her would taste of toffee. Had Albus been the only one to eat some?

“Queen to B5. Checkmate,” concluded Minerva.

Accepting defeat, Filius shook hands with both witches and congratulated them on the entertaining match. Albus did the same.

“You didn’t tell us you play chess, Skyrah,” he added.

“I don’t often play it. Even as a kid, I preferred exploding snap. That doesn’t mean I’m bad at it.”

“That is evident,” claimed Filius. “Queen to B3. Magnificent. Simply magnificent!”

“Is Severus okay?” asked Minerva.

Simultaneously, their heads turned to him. He was still wearing that awe-struck expression on his face. Skyrah had seen it on him on numerous occasions.

When she put her hand on his cheek on their wedding night, and kissed it.

That one time she pretended she hadn’t become aware of his presence while she sang to herself in their garden in Cokeworth.

When she gave him and Harry a small History lecture while visiting a muggle museum.

After he made her laugh with his sarcastic sense of humor.

The few first seconds after discovering her patronus matched his.

In the afterglow of sex.

It was the first time that he looked at her like that in front of his colleagues.

“I thought you’d take it badly,” she said, approaching him.

“Mmh?”

“Your defeat.”

“Ahh… Yes. Me too,” he admitted, back to his senses. Out of embarrassment, he didn’t even glimpse at Filius, Minerva and Albus.

“So you aren’t angry even if I took Minerva’s side?”

“No, although I am confused,” he admitted, rising from his seat. “What, pray tell, motivated you to do such a thing? I had figured you’d choose to be part of my team, considering you took my surname. I thought you had until it was too late.”

“I wanted to get even, childish as it may sound.”

“Whatever for?”

“This morning you took the last brownie we baked,” she reminded him, poking his chest for emphasis.

“Allow me to object to your statement. Reading the recipe the house-elves lent you plus measuring the ingredients hardly counts as anything remotely close to baking.”

Nor did the stolen kisses and teasing touches he received throughout the baking process. Not that he’d say that out loud.

“It was the first time I attempted to make brownies. I didn’t want to spoil them.”

“You two made brownies?” asked Minerva, covering her mouth to hide her smile.

Albus and Filius appeared intrigued and surprised respectively.

“Is it funny?” asked Severus in a tone that told her it wasn’t the time to tease him.

“We would have never guessed you have a sweet tooth,” Filius answered for her.

“My wife does.”

“Nonetheless, you ate the last brownie,” Albus pointed out, eyes twinkling.

“I swear by the four Hogwarts founders, if any of you tells our colleagues, or Merlin forbid, a student, I will–”

“Oi, Severus! Don’t finish that sentence. Your reputation will remain intact,” Skyrah assured him. “If you ask them kindly, they won’t tell because they respect you. Besides, nobody would believe them even if they swore on it.”

That, fortunately, was the truth. Filius, Minerva and Albus still got a menacing look from Severus. Skyrah put her hand on his cheek to stroke it and draw his attention back to her.

“It’s a pity you aren’t in the slightest mad at me,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. “I really enjoyed myself that time we had angry sex. I was hoping to repeat it.”

Oh, Circe. Yes. He had enjoyed himself too. A lot. The make-up sex that had followed had been glorious as well. At the memory alone, he had to bite his lip to hold back a faint moan. But then he remembered they were being observed and had to overcome his urge to laugh at himself. By Merlin! He had just fallen into her trap. The chess match had never mattered. She had only cared about him later making her scream his name in pleasure while she scratched his back with her nails and he gripped her hips almost painfully. Her Horned Serpent Slytherin mind never failed to surprise him. He found the way it operated so fascinating that he was starting to feel as giddy as if he’d just had two glasses of Superior Red, the kind of wine Lucius liked to serve.

Her master plan had failed, though, for rather than having angry sex he felt like meticulously worshipping all her body. He wanted to take his time, be gentle and caring and vulnerable with her, touch her heart and soul, and pleasure her until she was physically drained. He would make her fall in love with him all over again as she was doing to him with that smug grin of hers he so craved to wipe off her face with a long kiss.

Before he could reply, she added, “I have to go to my office now.”

“Why? You finished planning next week's lessons before having lunch. I thought we could go to our quarters and… relax.”

“I’d love to, but Fred and George Weasley were prowling along the corridors past curfew last night, plotting only-Merlin-knows-what. I had to put them in detention. I’ll meet you in our quarters in about an hour and a half, all right?” His ears, covered by his hair, began to blaze after she sealed the deal with a kiss on the tip of his hooked nose. “I love you, even if you eat my brownies.”

“Our brownies.”

“A-ha! You admit it! I also participated.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You still tolerate me quite well.”

His heart stopped beating for a moment. Once again, he was amazed by her, hypnotized by the way she teased him and joked with him and beamed at him. She gave his cheek a final caress and nodded at Filius, Minerva and Albus as a goodbye, promising to play chess with them more often.

If she had looked back before shutting the door, she’d have caught Severus bringing his hand to the place her palm had been, with the silliest grin Albus, Minerva and Filius had ever seen on his face, exhibiting his uneven teeth.

“He reminds me of someone...” murmured Minerva low enough Severus wouldn’t hear her. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been louder. He was unaware of anything other than his fantasies, some of which were more innocent than others, and his racing heartbeat. “Have you caught sight of Mr. Longbottom drooling over Ms. Lovegood in the Great Hall lately?”

Filius snickered.

Holding a laugh back himself, Albus advised, “Don’t let Severus hear that comparison, Minerva.”

It wasn’t until Filius and Minerva left the teachers’ room – the former under the petition of a Prefect and the latter to grade a pile of assignments – that Albus put a hand on Severus’s shoulder, bringing him back to reality.

“You are falling in love. Terribly fast. Deeply.” Severus opened his mouth, to say what, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like denying the truth worked when Albus was involved. Anyway, Albus interrupted him before Severus could defend himself, his tone nostalgic, “It is an exhilarating feeling, isn’t it? I am happy for you.”

“...However?”

“You are playing a dangerous game, one more complicated than wizard’s chess, with rules imposed by her father. He didn’t choose you as her spouse for you to love her. In fact, I dare say it was for the contrary.”

“What do you suggest? I can’t stop myself from feeling what I feel for her.” In a lower voice, he confessed, “I don’t want to. I’ve never felt so… alive.”

“I would never ask you to stop loving someone. I’m asking you to be extra-careful during Death Eater meetings. The smallest mistake could give you away. It would put you both in peril.”

Severus gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. What kind of torment would Voldemort put them through if he decided that Severus wasn’t adequate for Skyrah anymore? Severus could very well suffer Skyrah’s ex-fiancé’s fate: death. Or worse. Voldemort could spare his life if he had other plans for him, and Severus would have to see how Voldemort forced his daughter to marry a fiercely loyal Death Eater and ask them to deliver him an heir. The thought alone sickened Severus.

“The Dark Lord doesn’t suspect us. He never will. Skyrah and I are adept at Occlumency and know what is at stake. We play our roles well.”

“I trust you,” assured Albus, squeezing his shoulder. “I know you will do the right thing. The wizarding world depends on you, the world in which you will rear your future child.”

Severus shut his eyes momentarily, getting a sudden flashback to the morning he swore he’d make sure their baby girl grew up in a safe world, only to lose her that same day. It still hurt. They hadn’t really tried conceiving ever since. Not yet. They were too afraid of going through something similar while still grieving the daughter they would never hold.

“I fear Tom may start thinking you are testing his patience. It’s been about six months since you got married,” continued Albus. “Poppy could run fertility tests on you and Skyrah to make sure you aren’t unsuited to the task you must fulfill.”

“My wife and I are perfectly capable of conceiving a child. We only require more time.” Albus stared at him as if he intuited there was something Severus was keeping secret. “If that is all, I’ll go to the Greenhouses. Pomona mentioned she has herbs that the students could use in Potions class.”

Albus nodded and watched as Severus headed for the exit.

“Severus, one last thing.” With a lifted eyebrow, he turned to face Albus. “I expect you to save me a brownie the next time you and Skyrah decide to make some. I’m sure Minerva and Filius would appreciate it, as well. Christmas is around the corner...”

.............................................................................................................................

A/N: I probably wouldn’t have been able to post this on time if it had been betaed, so I apologize for any possible mistakes you may have encountered. I did my best.

If you liked it, you can read the main fic here: AO3, FFN.

Have a nice day, y’all! And thanks for taking the time to read this little fic :)

#snapetober #snapetober2020 #snapetober day 18 #severus snape #severus snape x oc #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #filius flitwick #snape x oc

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tisfan · 5 years

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Say It Again

Square: B3 - Deaf Creators: @tisfan & @27dragons Title: Say it Again Warning: None Rating: Teen Characters: Bucky, Tony, Clint, FRIDAY Tags: temporary deafness, tech doesn’t solve everything, caretaker Tony, dyslexia, ableist language and self-hatred Summary: Bucky loses the ability to hear… and learns something new about himself... Warning: This fic contains some mild amounts of cultural ableism, particularly in Bucky’s views on himself, not being able to read. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19396732 Word Count: 3397 Posted for @winterironbingo

Bucky always seemed smaller, somehow, in the infirmary, than he did in the rest of the world. Presence. Tony knew something about that; people were constantly shocked by how much shorter Tony was than they’d imagined, and, to some degree, how much less loud in a personal setting than a professional one.

The fact that he had lifts in the Iron Man armor probably didn’t hurt, either.

Bucky had come awake very suddenly that morning; the damage from the fall, combined with being at ground zero of a non-nuclear explosion had sent him into a coma for several days. Not unexpected, and while nerve-wracking, Tony admitted that sleep was the best thing for him. Let the serum heal the damage, just as soon as the medical trauma teams finished closing up the wounds.

He’d… laid there for a long time, not answering anyone. Eyes opened, looked around the room, and then closed again. He didn’t entirely seem… aware.

Around noon, he’d finally given medical something they could work with. He’d pointed metal fingers at his ear, and then shook his head.

His hearing was gone. Entirely, though the medics were confident that the serum would heal the damage in time. They didn’t, however, have any idea how long that would take. A few hours? A few days? A month? No clue. Ears, it turned out, were finicky and fussy constructions.

But other than that, he was in great shape, only a few bruises and nicks left to highlight where the worst of the damage had been, so they were cutting him loose.

Which left it to Tony to take care of his boyfriend. That was a switch; usually it was Bucky hovering at Tony’s side as he laboriously and without the serum healed from his injuries, or hacked his way through whatever bug had run rampant through the building.

Tony had whipped up quick app for Bucky’s tablet -- as long as he was within range of the Compound, anything anyone said to Bucky would be displayed on the tablet’s screen, in a discreet little bar at the top of the screen, where it wouldn’t interfere with the rest of the tablet’s function. “Here you go, babe,” he said, demonstrating the functions. “I’m pretty sure I can make it work outside of FRIDAY’s range, but the native voice-to-text translators are... lacking.”

Bucky stared down at the tablet, then back up at Tony’s mouth, back down to the tablet. He hadn’t said anything, at all, since the med techs turned him loose, even though nothing was wrong with his vocal chords. He scowled at the tablet again, then, very slowly, tapped out Thank you, and showed it to Tony. Followed by a scribble of Bucky’s normally terrible handwriting -- he’d been left handed before the accident, and Hydra hadn’t cared about his penmanship -- you talk too fast.

(more below the cut)

“You already knew that,” Tony pointed out, grinning. “I’ll try to slow it down a little for you. Is this better?” It felt like talking through molasses, honestly. “You know you can still talk, right?”

Bucky nodded. Medtex md me. Fezl weird.

Tony squinted at the message, then nodded. “Okay, as long as you know you can. Whatever makes you more comfortable. They said you should take it easy for a while, so... What do you want to do? Play chess? Watch a movie? We can put in something you’ve already seen, turn on the subtitles.”

Bucky stared down at the block of text that Tony had spewed out, even talking slower, he tended to say at least four times as many words as strictly necessary. Movis good. Die Hard? Unlike Steve, who complained constantly about the gunfire scenes in various action movies, Bucky’d always seemed to enjoy them; everything from Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy to Indiana Jones and back, the more ridiculous, the better.

Die Hard was not a Christmas movie, even if some people insisted it was, but they’d started it as a tradition around then, and sometimes Bucky would ask to watch it in July anyway. It might not be a Christmas movie, but Tony knew something about comfort films.

“You got it, sugarlips. You want to get it set up and I’ll get us some snacks?” Especially since Bucky had been in a coma, healing, for a couple of days. He was bound to be hungry; IV nutrition just barely sustained him. Something calorie-dense -- nachos, maybe, with meat and veggies and cheese, protein and fat and carbs all at once, and at least a nod toward nutrition. And some cookies for dessert.

Tony put it all together, a heaping platter of food and a selection of drinks, and carried it all back out to the movie room.

For a while, it was just them, and then Nat came in, wearing old leggings with holes in them and an oversized sweatshirt that Tony was pretty sure belonged to Steve. And then Steve joined them. And Bruce. And Clint.

And of course, everyone talked.

Bucky spent more of the movie scowling at his tablet than he did watching the film.

Tony nudged him. “Okay?”

Bucky nodded. Then, taking advantage of what appeared to be yet another Steve-against-gun-phyics argument, said in a voice that was probably meant to be a whisper. “It’s a lot.”

Tony glanced down at the tablet, which was scrolling text across the top in a continuous marquee, one line for Steve’s rant, and another for the movie, and a third of Clint arguing with Steve. Tony grimaced. “Sorry,” he said. “You want to do something else?” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to underscore his question.

Bucky nodded. Wrksp? Can just watch u

Tony nodded quickly. “Yeah, absolutely, we can do that.” He set aside the various dishes and bottles piled on their laps and then helped Bucky to his feet. “We’re just going to go somewhere a little quieter,” he told the others’ curious looks.

“He’s deaf,” Clint pointed out. “It doesn’t get much quieter than that.”

Tony made a face. “I can still hear you, birdbrain.” He curled his hand into Bucky’s. “Come on, Buckaboo.”

Being deaf was not at all like what Bucky had thought -- if he’d even given it any thought at all before it happened, and he was pretty sure he had not.

First off, it wasn’t pure silence, if there could ever be such a thing. Bucky’s serum had enhanced most of his senses, turned them up to eleven, as Peter Parker had once explained it. He could hear breathing and heartbeats and the pulse of blood through a person’s veins, including his own. So, silence was a concept, not ever a reality.

Even being deaf, apparently, wasn’t no noise.

It was just senseless noise.

His head rang like a bell, constantly. Like a headache, with no pain. What he “heard” was the audio equivalent of the shimmer of sunlight on too-hot pavement. Directionless. Meaningless. Noise.

But it wasn’t silence.

There were some sounds he could still, sort of, hear. Gunfire. Someone yelling. It didn’t mean anything, out of context as it was, but he could hear it.

So, that was good, at least. He didn’t have to worry about not hearing someone who was shooting at them.

Not that Steve would let him back into the field, even if Bucky wanted to, while he was operating impaired.

Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to.

He relied on his hearing, the way a person moved in the space around him. Several times, recently, Tony had startled him, badly, just because he came up behind Bucky, out of his peripheral vision, and Bucky-- couldn’t sense him coming.

The shop, at least, was nice.

There was always noise -- Tony talking to his projects, the fabricators, FRIDAY, the bots -- but very little of it required Bucky’s attention at all, once he’d gotten FRIDAY to stop putting up song lyrics. He really did not care about the tribulations of Bon Scott.

Tony didn’t slip as seamlessly into his work as usual, coming back every ten minutes or so to check on Bucky. “Did you get enough to eat? Need a drink? A blanket?”

Bucky couldn’t decide if it was nice, or infuriating. It was very easy to get lost in the not-quite-silence. Like slipping away, sometimes it would take someone a moment to get his attention. So, it was nice to be reminded that he wasn’t… quite as alone as he’d felt.

On the other hand, he was the goddamn Winter Soldier, and if he needed a blanket, he could bloody well get one.

“Reminds me,” Bucky said, and that was always so strange, talking. He knew he was talking, he could feel everything working just the way it was supposed to. He didn’t feel like he was drunk, or slurring, or anything. He just couldn’t hear it. And he didn’t know how loud he was being. “Of being the Winter Soldier.”

Tony blinked, startled, and tipped his head to the side curiously. “How?” he asked, or at least, that was the shape his mouth made.

Bucky gestured at the space around his head, like that meant anything. “I’m here. And there’s a wall of --” he tried to lower his voice, the pinched expression around Tony’s eyes a subtle clue, maybe, that he was talking too loud. “--nothing. Around me. Like, I’m here, but I’m not… important? Or I don’t understand. They would talk, near me, of course. But it never mattered what they said.”

Tony’s face got tight and pinchy, and he sat next to Bucky, reaching for Bucky’s hands. “You matter,” he said, very slowly, like it was very important that Bucky be able to understand him. “I love you.”

Bucky watched Tony’s mouth moving, memorizing each twitch of lip, the way his teeth moved, closing around the sounds. “Say it again.”

“I. Love. You.” Tony punctuated that with a light kiss, just a brush of his lips across Bucky’s.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, and his throat ached and it had nothing to do with whether or not he could talk, or hear. “Love you, too.”

He closed his eyes, felt Tony under his hands. He hated having his eyes closed, it made everything feel even further away than it was when he couldn’t hear it. But sometimes he just needed to not-- be.

God, his head hurt. Reading had always made his head hurt, for as long as he could remember. “Sometimes the best thing about bein’ the Winter Soldier was that I didn’t hafta read,” Bucky said, speaking into the blackness.

Bucky felt Tony freeze for a moment, felt the vibrations of Tony’s voice, for a brief moment -- no more than a few words, before he remembered that Bucky couldn’t hear him. Tony moved, leaning closer, and he was nuzzling gently against Bucky’s cheek, his breath warm as it spilled over Bucky’s skin.

Bucky stubbornly kept his eyes shut for a few more moments, not wanting to try to read, or figure out, or… anything. Waited there, in the darkness. Heart thudding in his chest; he could feel the way it tripped, beating faster than normal. His blood pressure was probably through the roof, honestly.

What if it never comes back?

Finally, he sighed, opened his eyes, looked at Tony. Wondered if Tony was going to scold him for trying to ignore everything. Or something. Bucky wasn’t sure. The whole not-being-able-to-hear thing was giving him the serious creeps. Like he was always… missing something.

And that he might never get it back.

Tony was looking at him, forehead creased with worry and confusion. He opened his mouth, then shook his head a little. He opened his hands like a book, then made a comically exaggerated yuck face, tipping his head and raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I swear, I dunno how you all don’t have headaches, like all the time, stupid squirmy shit,” Bucky said. “First thing I did, when I moved in, back-- you know, back when it was JARVIS. He read everything to me, right in my ear. It was great.”

Tony’s lips moved, slowly repeating squirmy. His frown deepened, until Bucky felt the urge to reach up and smooth it away. And then all of a sudden, his eyes widened, and he said something that Bucky couldn’t read. And then started chattering a mile a minute, so Bucky could only interpret maybe one word in five. “--believe-- --help-- --so much-- --better--”

Bucky scowled down at his tablet, then “What’s sldexic mean?”

Tony stopped, and the scrolling letters paused, thank god. He turned his head, saying something to FRIDAY, and the monitor Tony had been working on flickered and cleared, the schematic replaced with a single word in a typeface -- font, they called it now -- Bucky hadn’t seen before. It was... heavy, like the bottoms of the letters weighed more than the tops, the lines there thicker, and it didn’t stop the letters from wriggling around, but it slowed them down, anchored them in place. DYSLEXIC, the word said. Underneath, a new line of text unfurled, in that same weighted text. A disorder that creates difficulty in learning to read or interpret words, letters, and other symbols.

Tony was watching Bucky closely.

“Slow,” Bucky said. “S’what my teacher tol’ Ma. I wasn’t-- I mean, I’m not. I ain’t… I ain’t dumb. I can read.” He felt that familiar shame, that what had been so easy for everyone else, Bucky had labored over and laughed around, and gotten out of by being charming. And… by a sticky fingerprint on a flashcard that told him that one word, the one he kept getting wrong. Was building.

Tony nodded, shook his head, made a face. “You’re damn smart,” he said slowly, carefully. “It’s not intelligence. It’s how you see the words. The letters...” He made a wriggly gesture with his hand. “Move.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Of course they moved. That’s what words… did. They moved around, like they were playing musical chairs and Bucky could catch them, sometimes, and pin them to the page, enough so that he got the general idea of what he was looking at. But mostly, he just hadn’t bothered. Shooting a gun made… sense. “Well, yeah?”

Tony shook his head. “They should not,” he enunciated. “They should stay still.” He pointed at the monitor. “Better?”

Quieter. More still. Like he could pick the whole word up. Which, yes, better, but the fact that something had to be changed, just so Bucky could deal with it-- “Something’s wrong with me,” Bucky said. It wasn’t a question. Something had always been wrong with him, but hell, he was just a dumb gun, he didn’t need… except now he couldn’t hear, and apparently he couldn’t read.

And he was alone inside his head.

His eyes burned and then words disappeared in a sudden wash of blurry tears.

Tony’s arms were around him, holding him close, voice a subtle vibration against his chest, hands stroking soothingly over his hair.

Maybe it was that soft touch, or the way Tony’s voice was nothing but more wah wah in the wall of nonsense noise that flooded him, or just, realizing how big the gap was that separated them. Tony was a genius. A genius, and everything that came with it, and Bucky was not. Not even as good as a whole person anymore, and he didn’t deserve Tony.

And he couldn’t hear himself talk, so the whole story came flooding out. How he struggled so much in school, and hearing that there were places for kids like him. Hospitals for kids that weren’t right in the head. And so he learned. He got his sister to read to him, and she was two years younger, but he could get away with being loud and trouble because he was a boy, and she’d read to him and he’d memorize it. No one had to know.

Tony’s hands tipped Bucky’s face back to look up at him, brushing away hot tears. “You are smart,” Tony insisted. “Bruce is not dumb because he needs glasses to read. You are not dumb because you need help holding the words still. And I love you.” He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, to Bucky’s nose.

“Okay,” he said, because what else was he going to say? Tony obviously didn’t believe that Bucky was an idiot, even if Bucky felt stupider and slower than he ever had in his entire life. And maybe, maybe he could figure this out, cover it up, learn-- there were sign languages, weren’t there? Clint used them sometimes, when he didn’t feel like putting in his hearing aids. Bucky could learn that, maybe.

Something.

Tony wouldn’t stand for it, if Bucky decided to just… give up.

He let Tony’s gentle, exploratory kiss brush over Bucky’s mouth. “Say it again.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

A week after that breakthrough, Bucky was learning ASL -- mostly from Clint, but supplementing with actual lessons, otherwise he’d mostly only know long-range weapons tactical words, and how to order a pizza, and a week after that, he was back in the field.

Friday could translate Bucky’s sign into words when the team needed it, and the new font meant that Bucky was back on comms, with FRIDAY scrolling necessary information on his HUD.

Three weeks after that, Bucky had surprised Tony with an impromptu waltz around the shop, being able to feel the music rhythms in a special headset that Tony’d been working up. It wasn’t the same as being able to hear, but it was something, at least.

And every night, before bed, Bucky would ask him, very seriously, “Say it again.”

And every night, Tony would tell Bucky, as many times as he wanted, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He signed it as he said it, occasionally dipped into other languages, but always came back to the simplicity of English, and punctuated each declaration with a kiss.

“Love you, too, peaches,” Bucky signed back. He talked less than he used to, signed more. Tony missed the sound of his voice, sometimes, but tried not to mention it. Things were better, so much better, than they had been the first few weeks.

When Tony was woken from a sound sleep to Bucky’s cry, he was utterly shocked. Bucky didn’t make… involuntary sounds. Not anymore.

He was sitting up in bed, clutching at his head, and whining.

Tony sat up as well and put a hand on Bucky’s back, rubbing in small circles. He didn’t bother trying to talk, not while Bucky wasn’t looking at him. He turned up the lights a bit, though, so they could see to sign, if Bucky decided to tell him about it.

“Oh, god,” Bucky said, a whisper, barely a sliver of sound, and then again, louder. “Tony--” He stared up, eyes wide in the half light. “Tony, say something.”

“What is it, sweetheart? I’m right here.” Tony signed as he talked. He didn’t know as much ASL as Bucky had learned, yet, but it was hard not to pick it up, surrounded by it so much.

“I-- I can hear you,” Bucky said, almost reverently, like an old fallen sinner who’d just found God. Again. “Tony, I… Tony, I can hear you.”

“What?” Tony’s hands faltered. “You can? You can hear me?” He caught Bucky’s face in his hands. “Really?”

“I can hear you,” Bucky repeated. “I didn’t--” he started crying, almost silently, little hitches of breath and the tears rolled down his cheeks. “I got used to it, I thought that was, it was just always… I got used to it.”

“Hey.” Tony pulled Bucky into his arms, tucked Bucky’s face up against his throat, rocking gently. “It’s all right, sweetheart, it’s okay. We didn’t know when, or even if. It wasn’t going to change anything important.”

“Scared me,” Bucky admitted. “Woke up… there was a noise, and I woke up. I didn’t even know… what was happening. Oh, god, Tony, I missed you-- so stupid, I missed your voice, all the time. The way you laugh. The way you say--” He looked up again. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” Tony kissed Bucky’s lips, his cheek, his jaw, and then nuzzled at his ear. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Love you, too, peaches,” Bucky said. “God, I missed that. More than anything else.”

A/N: https://www.dyslexiefont.com/en/typeface/

Dyslexia, as a disorder, became more widely known in the United States in 1944, the year after Bucky Barnes fell from the train. For quite a long time, it was still thought of as being a lack in education, rather than a disorder. Bucky, having gone to school in the 20s and 30s, would have been classified as Learning Disabled and treated accordingly. (Not well.)

Divider Line by the way, Tumblr, I hate you. Give me my damn line back.

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martincooneyart · 5 years

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Difficult as this is for me to comprehend

This is martincooney.com post number 333

And for some reason it seemed an appropriate moment to take stock of exactly what MC.COM is really all about. After all, it all started way back when in the spring of 2013 as I recall, and at the time I don’t remember pouring too much extraneous content into the website, other than to document the life and times of a 21st Century Stone Banker Mason turned Stone Carver and Sculptor.

Three hundred and thirty three posts, ten thousand tagged-titled-and-hyper-linked photos, and dozens of videos later; the question begs, ‘just what is all this about, Martin?’ Well, let’s take a look at the stats, see just what people have been looking at and maybe we will find out.

TOP 30 POSTS

As of August 12, 2019

1. Home Page Archives 17,159 2. About Colorado Yule Marble 2,653 3. Death in Pisa: The Camposanto Gravestones 837 4. An Afternoon in Casoli; Tuscan Village of Art 356 5. Pontremoli, The Heart and Soul of Lunigiana 265 6. Borgo a Mozzano, a Gothic Line, and a Glorious San Rocchino: In Pictures, The North West Tuscan Way, Tour 22 247 7. About My Marble Bowls 246 8. Ode to the Italian Barbershop 242 9. ‘Pareidolia’: The Genius of Giuseppe Arcimbolo, and the Art of Seeing What’s Not There 204 10. The Marble Quarries of Carrara 194 11. San Rocchino Pool, Home Page 194 12. Green Man Solar Fountain, Home Page 190 13. Death in Pisa: The Camposanto Sarcophagi 181 14. Lunigiana, Valley of Enchantment 178 15. Postcard from Viareggio 176 16. Death in Pisa: The Camposanto Statuary 174 17. The Horror of Sant’Anna di Stazzema 171 18. A Very Good Friday in Pisa 165 19. June in San Rocchino, Provincia Di Lucca, Tuscany 163 20. Trouble in Carrara. The Marble Quarries: My Solution 134 21. About My Curvilinear Reductionist Sculpture 132 22. ABOUT The Maiden Collection 121 23. Mysterious Montereggio, Village of Books: In Pictures, The North West Tuscany Way, Tour 18 117 24. Pt.3) Enter the Fantini; First New Colorado Yule Marble Quarry Portal in 100 Years, 1942 to 2018 116 25. Beached Boat, Home Page 116 26. Camaiore, Market Town Extraordinaire: In Pictures: The North West Tuscan Way, Tour 5 116 27. Paradise Found at Bar Avio, Pietrasanta, Italy 114 28. Farewell to Pietrasanta 112 29. Uncle Bud’s Hut Trip: Part 2, Footloose in the Land of Giants 105 30. Pisa, The Camposanto Statuary: In Pictures: The North West Tuscan Way, Tour 1

103

Now I do realize that while these numbers are tiny by internet standards they mean a lot to me, for I am always flattered and happy when people take time out of their busy day to click onto martincooney.com, but now, after so many years have elapsed since my debut on the internet in 2013 that I find that I have amassed over 350 illustrated posts and informational pages. Add that to the 10,064 hyperlinked photographs, plus the dozens of short videos and vast scale of this homespun website slowly wields into view.

Given the wide, and at times admittedly scatological nature of martincooney.com, even a cursory glance at the the above table makes it abundantly clear as to which two huge subjects dominate traffic: Colorado Yule Marble, and The North West Tuscan Way – or in other words, my circular journey from Pisa to Pisa, encompassing the Marble Quarries of Carrara along the way.

And although this would perhaps have come as something of a shock to me back in 2013, it now seems only natural; as each day more and more people from across the planet tune into a slew of posts, some of which were actually written several years ago, and some just the other day.

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youtube

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Perhaps given my rather unique position regarding hands-on knowledge gained by carving so much Yule marble; combined with my researched knowledge of the quarry’s long and storied history; together with a first-hand and well documented three month sojourn in and around the Carrara marble quarries; it is perhaps not surprising that these two topics would combine to dominate MC.COM. But you know what? I like it.

I like being able to not only impart valuable information to an inquiring public – especially when the audience is spread around the globe. But more than anything I like to offer up solutions based upon my particular insights to problems whereby I essentially see people quite often agreeing, while going round in circles, in that everyone claims both love and concern for the environment, the culture, the wildlife etcetera, but no steps with genuinely new solutions, except me! The answer lay in a way of carving called Direct Method – a means in which many artists use to carve impromptu sculpture. But I have pushed the boundaries way past such hit and miss applications to the point whereby by Direct Method may be utilized on an industrial scale in order to produce high quality hand carved marble bowls for instance; from what would ordinarily be deemed mere quarry waste. But that is another subject, and one I deal with at length in many posts under the category of The Story of Colorado Yule Marble. Please click on the tab above if you wish to catch up with events so far.

I am convinced that if everyone fully heard everyone else out then we would be well on our way to solving deep seated problems that only appear to be growing worse with each passing year. But I honestly feel as though such seemingly impassable obstacles can and will be addressed one day – and sooner rather than later. What I propose is to simply utilize all of the marble we have already quarried, and then make sure that all new marble is quarried in such a manner as is taken out up at the Yule quarry, whereby extraction rates of 70 to 80 percent are routine, and all the marble quarried is put to use in one manner or another.

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youtube

This video appears on the excellent and informative coloradostonequarries.com website………link produced by Aspen 82 Published on Jun 1, 2016

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It is one thing to read books, watch videos and generally talk the talk. It is another to step into the belly of the beast and take a good long look around, as I did in order to take the pictures you see above and below. Don’t worry – I took supreme caution when navigating the quarry roads, as by then I had been driving in Italy for long enough to know to give way to any and all oncoming trucks. But it was towards the end of the day, and no one seemed too bothered, and so on this occasion I had plenty of time to take a good look around and truly asses the situation.

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What I discovered was that contrary to the Yule quarry’s tight little mile wide seam – some two or three hundred feet in height – the scene awaiting me from the vantage point central to the whole proceedings was quite breathtaking. For instead of the giant mountains of marble that I had imagined from a distance, the valley was actually comprised of mainly sandy rubble, with the marble appearing in thick seams, though a lot of it appeared cracked and generally distressed. And so in other words, these highly skilled quarriers were tasked with removing much in the way of plain ordinary dirt simply in order to get at the good stuff – hence the 75 percent accepted percentage of waste, as mentioned in the Business Insider video above.

But what is waste if it is all used one way or another? Then such quarries will simply be creating new space, and all that sand will be neatly sifted and sorted, the rocks and boulders sorted and sold. Even dirt has a price! Then, imagine just what spectacular homes these worn out seams would make. And that is just one idea of many that really needs to be discussed if we are not to close perfectly good quarries, and let the out-dated ones remain.

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Carrara and Yule – Yule and Carrara, just what have these two fabulous marbles have in common, and what sets them worlds apart? That would seem to be the question on everyone’s lips as this upstart newcomer to the international marble scene continues to stir increased interest across the globe.

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Well, essentially what sets them ‘world’s apart’ is two-fold: firstly, it is a mater of size. To put it simply, Carrara marble quarries are so vast that they are often mistaken for snow-capped peaks by visitors to the nearby Mediterranean coast. So huge is the spectacle in fact that the quarries and their adjacent waste piles that they can clearly be seen from space.

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Now, contrast and compare, above and below.

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That tiny little white dot next to the Yule Marble Quarry above; well that is it, all of it, as framed by Google Earth below.

~ ~ ~

Yep, that’s it, the whole thing – there is no more. This mile wide seam is just about it. It does however stretch for about three miles under the surface, but as the vein slopes at roughly 30 degrees the marble dives deeper and deeper under the Rockies as it goes.

~ ~ ~

And so, quite the contrast, eh? On one continent we have vast marble mountains that look like snow – in the case of Carrara. And over here in America – in the case of Yule, we have snow-capped mountains that look like marble, and a tiny little speck of marble that looks like snow.

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So how can this be? How can Carrara be simply here-there-and-everywhere, while Yule on the other hand may only be found perched on the side of one obscure little creek, 9,300 feet above sea level in the Colorado Rocky Mountain Elk Range?

Turns out there is a very simple explanation. Whereas Carrara was formed by what is termed ‘Regional Metamorphism’ as Africa’s tectonic plate squeezed itself onto and over its European neighbor, the marble was formed by a huge limestone layer being slowly crushed and churned into marble – the heat therefore being generated from the resulting friction created as continental plates ground together.

Yule marble however was formed via Contact Metamorphism whereby a relatively small fleck (in comparison to Carrara) of Leadville limestone found itself engulfed by a huge mantel of molten magma, whereby it was crushed and churned at vastly higher temperatures in a process that turned practically 100 percent of the limestone into 95 percent pure white calcite marble. A marble so pure in fact that it is now becoming renowned, prized and quite exalted for its incredible luminescence, thoroughbred markings, and truly incredible structural properties. Which is why Yule is now being named by many within the marble industry as ‘the most desirable, sought after and expensive marble in the world’ Which may come as a surprise to many, and cause alarm perhaps for others.

Well, the truth is it needn’t – cause alarm that is – to anyone. For the vast mountainous Carrara marble quarries can surely feel no real competition from such a minute speck of (dare I say it?) superior marble from half a world away. For that is what it is in relative terms; a speck. But what a speck, if you don’t mind me saying.

~ ~ ~

From my experience there is practically nothing you cannot do with Yule – even the well-seasoned old blocks of stone that I salvaged in order to create my 67 piece Collection Series – the links to which are found in the various menus above and to the right of your screen.

This isn’t to say that Yule marble isn’t without its, shall we say moody side. I am only speaking from the position of a Direct Method carver, with but a couple of forays into carving from the cube, as we say. Even the unlikeliest of rough blocks can yield the most gorgeously delicate sculpture. And although much of my Curvilinear Marble Sculpture may appear extraordinarily delicate I can assure you that quite opposite is the case, with many of the larger bowls and sculptures spending several winters outdoors throughout many Colorado Rocky Mountain seasons.

~ ~ ~

But getting back to the quarry (don’t worry, clicks on my sculpture will make the top 30 one day, you’ll see), what I really would like to do is set the record straight in several regards, mainly pertaining to the exceptional environmental credentials that I see taking place up at 9,300 feet in the Rockies. But to put it very briefly, Yule has a long and storied history in this valley, and much of it has been a struggle in every sense of the word. Many fortunes have been lost and lives ruined, even as the stone itself graced some of the finest homes, government buildings and monuments in the land, including of course the Lincoln Memorial.

But still, even as the stone itself gained notoriety for its unrivaled quality – which is why it was chosen for so many civic projects – it was losing money. At one time the Yule marble finishing mill was the largest of its kind in the world, but alas it wasn’t to be, and for 40 years the quarry lay shuttered and closed, eventually filling with millions of gallons of water just for good measure.

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Courtesy of Marble Museum, Colorado

~ ~ ~

The fact of the matter was that, brilliant as this new super white, extraordinarily durable marble is – it turns out to be located in one of the toughest places in America from which to extract it. In other words; it was the very nature of the land that both created such marvelous marble that made its harvest too prohibitively expensive in practice. Quite the quandary.

But that was then, and this is now – for if every cloud has a silver lining this historic quarry now stands to gain massively from not only all of the technological advantages gained in recent decades within the quarrying industry, but it actually got to wipe the slate clean and start all over again.

This time however, and for the first time in a long and proud history stretching back over 125 years, two huge factors now loom large in that, perhaps for the first time ever, the quarry would appear adequately financed in order to quarry the marble in exemplary fashion.

In one fell swoop new owners Colorado Stone Quarries first act was to ditch all existing equipment and bring in the very best, very latest and I am sure the most expensive quarrying equipment on the market. Next was to bring in the Italians. Not just any Italians by the way, but long-standing marble quarrying experts from guess where? Yep, Carrara! Where else?

~ ~ ~

Courtesy of Marble Museum, Colorado

photo Ron Bailey

Mr. Enrico Locati Luciani

photo Ron Bailey

~ ~ ~

And there you have it really – the difference between Yule and Carrara could not be starker in one sense, and yet so similar in others. So much so in fact that Red Graniti, parent company to Colorado Stone Quarries, has re-branded their top quality marble block “Calcatta”, and “Calcatta Lincoln”. High praise indeed when you think about it. According to various spokesmen associated with the company such exquisite marble such as found in the tiny Yule Creek is rare: very rare indeed. Whether they will ever grudgingly admit that Yule is not only the equal of Carrara but its better, well that may never happen, and I don’t blame them. But I will go on beating the drum for Yule as I really think that it is a quite spectacular stone well worthy of its semi-precious status and proud title as Colorado State Rock.

~ ~ ~

And here I’ll leave you with one final thought: Yule is but a Beautiful Jewel when compared to most, if not all other marble quarries. And just like any jewel it is by definition very rare indeed. As an example I point to the pictures above and below, where we see what is being billed as Europe’s largest marble quarry (which must make it the world’s largest I would assume), located and recently opened in Greece. What you will notice here perhaps is not only the uniform looking quality of the marble, but there is just so darn much of it. But what you should also notice is how little appears to be lost to waste, and therefore presents somewhat of a textbook case for replication across the marble industry – and indeed, dare I say it, across the Carrara marble region?

As I have explained here and in many posts and pages across martincooney.com, the way that Yule marble is being harvested, with harvest ratios of 75, 80 even 90 percent, such numbers I would imagine, are surely enough to please even the most ardent environmentalist to re-assess their objections, I would have thought.

For what have we once the quarry is exhausted and the seam quarried? Empty space lined with marble – what a fantastic living situation we could create for the modern day troglodyte! Fully equipped, well appointed marble apartments, with a view. I can see it now.

~ ~ ~

Birros Marble Quarry 4, Pirgon Quarry, near the village of Drama of Northern Greece

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And so now, after around 350 posts and pages, I suppose I have found purpose in explaining to whoever may wander in to martincooney.com, just what the essential differences – and similarities – are between the world renowned Carrara marble, and its new, tiny, top quality rival from across the pond.

And even by reading this short post, watching the videos and taking in the pictures, I am sure that you will agree that you now know more on the subject than you ever did before?

Or perhaps you never even thought about Yule marble, or even Carrara for that matter; but don’t you find it all pretty fascinating? Course you do. I do, as you can see; and so stay tuned to martincooney.com and I will surely keep you informed, entertained and hopefully much wiser regarding the connections, similarities and contrasts between Yule and Carrara marble.

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MARTINCOONEY.COM: What’s it all about? Stats Reveal Carrara and Yule Rule the Ratings

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thanks for visiting martincooney.com

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MARTINCOONEY.COM: What’s it all about? Stats Reveal Carrara and Yule Rule the Ratings Difficult as this is for me to comprehend This is martincooney.com post number 333

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apriumjam · 6 years

Text

Satsuriku no Tenshi Light Novel Volume 1 - B5

Satsuriku no Tenshi - Until Death Do Them Part - B5

Story by Makoto Sanada, written by Chiren Kina, illustrations by Negiyan, translations by me.

If you want to help out with translations, feel free to contact me!

Prologue | B7 | B6 | B5 | B4 (Part 1 / Part 2) | B3 (Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4) | Zack’s Memory || Index

With a terrible vertigo, Ray gets off the elevator. As she takes deep breaths to calm herself, she’s suddenly aware of the strong scent of antiseptic.

(Is this a hospital…?)

Her blurry vision slowly returns to normal, revealing that the current floor is utterly unlike the floor she had been on previously. It’s like an extremely clean hospital, and reminds her of the floor she had woken up on. But the atmosphere is different. That floor didn’t give her even the slightest impression of vitality. This floor feels as if someone was just recently hard at work here – it feels alive. Taking a single glance at the ground, she can see that every single tile shines brightly from having been freshly polished – someone has obviously recently been cleaning.

But, because the light isn’t on, it’s very dark.

The single source of light she can see is at what appears to be the reception desk, where a large computer gives off a pale, cold light.

As if drawn in toward that light, Ray briskly walks toward the desk.

Behind it are numerous tall glass shelves, filled with various medications arranged in a peculiarly tidy manner. Small lightbulbs shine upon them from within the shelves, almost as if they had been placed there for display purposes. The medicine bottles shimmer beneath the light.

On the computer screen is a slideshow of eyeballs scrolling past, one after another.

(I feel sick…)

There is a small analogue clock near the computer. Ray has no way of telling whether it is day or night, but the time has stopped near eight o’clock.

(So I guess it’s eight…)

An image of a clock surfaces within the girl’s mind. But it isn’t the clock she sees right in front of her right now – it’s a wall-mounted clock with a cute little bird motif.

(Is that the clock in my room…?)

That’s the feeling I get, but I can’t remember…

And for some reason, when she tries to remember – she feels afraid.

(Anyway, I have to find a way to get out of here, before that thing finds me…)

She’s certain that if he finds her again, he’ll kill her. She completely lacks the confidence that she’ll be able to escape should he chase her again.

(I wonder if I can find a map or something of this place…)

Gulping, Ray begins opening various drawers.

However, she’s unable to find anything that might tell her about the building. Instead, she finds various patient charts, likely containing information about the patients’ data and symptoms. Unfortunately, the handwriting is no better than chicken scratchings, and Ray is unable to read them.

(Looks like there’s nothing here, then…)

Feeling rather disappointed, Ray leaves the reception area –

And that’s when she sees someone tall leaving one of the examination rooms, heading straight for her.

(…!)

She doesn’t know who that is. But she instinctively feels that she must run away. Alas, the moment she begins to flee, that mysterious person grabs her dainty arm and calls out to her.

“Wait, Rachel! It’s me.”

The slightly urgent tug on her arm prompts Ray to turn toward him, even as she forcibly tries to pull her arm away.

(He said my name…?)

“Rachel, have you forgotten me?”

“…Eh?” Ray’s eyes widen a little. Unlike that man from before, this one has a gentle face.

“Listen…I’m the one who examined you. Don’t you remember?”

(…Examined?)

“I’m your counsellour!”

In that moment, the sound of a bell resonates in Ray’s ears. It’s certainly the same sound she heard when she first opened her eyes.

“You’re…the doctor who examined me…?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m your physician, Doctor Danny.”

(Doctor…Danny…)

That name sounds familiar. And, dimly, she can remember some kind of counselling session.

That’s right…the doctor that always looked over me in that counselling room…wore a white lab coat…and had glasses…

The man in the faint memories called back to her looks quite similar to the man standing in front of her right now.

“…Doctor Danny…my counsellour…”

Ray repeats those words as if to revive more of her memories. However, despite the fact that she’s able to recall the appearance of the counselling room, she’s unable to clearly remember the face of the psychiatrist who had examined her.

…But…I’m sure that it was Doctor Danny.

“Rachel, you seem a bit scared. Well, I suppose that’s to be expected…this place is quite scary, after all. But relax. I’m most certainly your doctor. …Right?”

As if to calm her, Danny smiles gently at her.

(…I feel as if during our sessions, he would always smile at me like this, too…)

“…Okay, doctor.”

As she faintly remembers that smiling face, for an instant, Ray feels as her strength is about to leave her – and she finally looks at Danny with the same empty eyes she had had when she had awoken.

“Ah, you’ve remembered me. And…it’s good you’re all right. You’re smart, though, so I figured you would make it this far.” Danny sinks into silence. His expression morphs into one of severe brooding as he stares into her tranquil blue eyes.

“…Doctor, why are you here?” Ray finds his expression somewhat suspicious, and can’t help but pose this question.

“I…before I realised it, I found myself here. I can’t find the exit, you see, and I’ve been here for quite a while…but there’s no one else here on this floor except for me anymore.”

Danny answers her after what seems to be a bit of thought.

(No one else…)

Thinking back on it, there had been no one on B7, either – and B6 had only housed that grim reaper-like man.

“You know, doctor, I’m really scared…I was even chased by something earlier, too… What is this place…?” Ray asks, her small shoulders shaking. That insane laughter still reverberates through her ears. It had sounded like something out of some terrifying movie.

“Rachel, the one who was chasing you was most likely…a serial killer. This place is kind of scary, you see – it seems to be some kind of game for them. The murderers give chase, and kill whoever they manage to catch… I’ve heard the ones being chased are called sacrifices.”

“…Sacrifices?” Ray recalls the broadcast she had heard in the elevator when she had been going up to B6. Though she hadn’t heard it properly, she feels like she had heard that word.

“I don’t really know the details, either. Anyway – let’s go. If possible, I’d like to survive this place with you.” Danny takes the girl’s slightly cold hand and smiles gently at her.

“Yeah…”

(Is doctor a sacrifice…too?)

An angel, or a sacrifice?

Those words, that had seemed like magic, surface in Ray’s mind as she gazes at the doctor’s somehow nostalgic smile.

▲▽

After that, the two of them walk in a silence so deep and profound, they might as well be beneath the sea.

Danny walks briskly and surely, like he knows this place by heart – even though neither of them can see the end of the hallway. There is not the slightest bit of hesitation in the man’s actions.

“Doctor, have you been trapped here for a long time?” Ray asks, looking up at Danny’s face. Truthfully, the man is so calm that the word trapped seems to be inaccurate, and she feels rather uncomfortable in his presence.

“I guess you could say that… Rachel, are you worried you won’t be able to leave?”

“I think I’ll be all right if I’m with you…” Ray says this a bit breathlessly. Though, truthfully, she doesn’t feel that way – she merely has the unconscious feeling that this is what she must say.

“That’s true. Even if we aren’t able to get out, so long as we leisurely spend time together like this, something good might happen. Something good for you, as well as for me. Ah, I’m truly happy that you came, Rachel.” Danny glances toward her as if an idea has suddenly occurred to him.

“…? Yeah…”

(Was he…always like this?)

She tries to remember her counselling sessions with him. But she can’t recall even a fragment of what she had talked to the doctor about or why she had come to him for counselling.

After a while of walking down that dark hallway, the two of them come to an enormous pane of glass blocking the rest of the way.

“…A dead end,” Ray murmurs with a sigh. Framed behind the glass, she can see the hallway continue on; it’s like looking at an exceptionally strange painting.

“Yes…we can’t go any farther. Since this glass is very sturdy.” With a slightly troubled expression, Danny knocks on the glass a couple times.

“I see…”

(…Because, he’s been locked up for a long time, right?)

And as that thought surfaces in Ray’s mind –

“It seems that the two of us are locked up here together, huh?” Danny says pleasantly, gazing through the glass.

“…Eh?”

It could be a joke to relieve the strain on Ray’s mind. But that statement seems far too unnatural.

Because, just a while ago, he said he wants to leave this place with me…

“…Come, Rachel. I’ll take you to that room. The door is unlocked.” Turning his gaze away from Ray, whose brows are furrowed in consternation, he points toward a door they had passed when they had been walking earlier.

▲▽

“A special patient once stayed here.”

In the room is a single pure white bed, its frame composed of stainless steel. The bed is surrounded by a tall enclosure. While it appears clean and tidy, there is a scent in the air that reminds Ray of blood. The two IVs arranged near the bed still have some sort of liquid inside them.

(This is…?)

Near the pillow is an emergency button. However, as the girl looks closer, she notices that the button has already been pressed. Not only that, it even has a small crack in the centre.

“Have you met this patient, doctor?” Ray asks, staring at that strange crack.

“Yes. But she died shortly after I arrived here.”

“Why?”

“An illness.”

“She wasn’t being treated?”

“I…am a psychiatrist. I can do nothing but give my support to those whose minds are ill.”

(A sick mind…?)

Was my mind sick…?

Surely it must be something like that – though she cannot remember what occurred before she came to the hospital. That’s why, in this moment, Rachel can only think of herself as a completely normal girl.

“…Doctor, what did I come to you for counselling for?”

“You really can’t remember, Rachel?” The doctor stares intently at her eyes, as if he’s been torn from something desperately important to him.

“…No.”

“I see. Then I’ll have to remind you immediately… More importantly, take a look at this. Try to read it.” Looking a bit eager now, Danny points toward the writing on the wall.

“Do you know your own wish?

“Do you have something you desire?

“If that is your instinct, then fighting against it is meaningless.

“For if it were not, you would not be here.

“Every wish has a price.

“Do not break the rules.”

“Do these mean anything…?” Ray recalls the other words she read on the lower floors. They were all like this – written in white chalk.

“Yes, probably. I only noticed this recently, but there must be some rules for this place. After all, that killer didn’t follow you here.”

(…Rules…)

A flash of realisation overcomes Ray as she thinks. Certainly, the door for the elevator to B5 is now open. So if that man was still chasing her…surely he would have already caught up to her by now. But it seems as if he has no intention of pursuing her.

(Is that because that’s one of the rules…?)

“Then, what about the ‘wish’?” Ray asks as she thinks.

“Who knows? I guess everyone has their own. But…yeah. I…want pretty eyes. My right eye is bad… I don’t like the colour, either. If I had eyes like yours…I’d be overjoyed.” Danny’s answer comes quietly, as he looks down at her pretty face, yet with some vestiges of immaturity.

(He doesn’t like the colour…?)

As Ray looks up at Danny’s right eye, she sees that it certainly doesn’t seem to shine very brightly; however, it still looks like a normal eye to her.

I wonder what he means when he says he wants pretty eyes…

As suspicion begins to cloud her mind, she notices a small window out of the corner of her eye. Seized by some strange sense of anxiety, the girl runs to the window. There’s no light. No matter how hard she looks, she can’t get any sense of depth of what lies outside; in fact, she can’t see anything at all. All she can see are several scratch marks, as if someone has torn at the material with their nails with all their strength.

“Rachel, do you know what these marks are?” Softly coming closer to her, Danny begins to trace the markings with his finger.

Ray shakes her head slightly.

“…I’ll give you a hint. A patient made these marks. …Now, do you understand what they mean?”

(What they…mean?)

“…No.” Her reply is quiet. No matter how much she thinks, she can’t come up with an answer.

Seeing her puzzled expression, the doctor looks somehow satisfied. It’s almost as if he’s pleased that she doesn’t know the answer.

“Then that’s fine. You don’t need to know the meaning of these marks.” He smiles with his usual, soft smile.

“Do you know the answer, doctor…?” Ray asks quietly. His manner of speaking implies that he does.

“No, and I don’t want to. More importantly, let’s go find the exit.” As if dodging her question, the man simply produces a beaming smile, and grips Ray’s hand as if to lead her away.

(…Ah.)

However, in that moment, Ray’s eyes land on another set of markings on the wall – they look like words.

“Doctor, I have the feeling there’s something written over there.”

Shaking his hand off, the girl runs to the other wall.

“…lp…help me… I’m sca…

“There…three… …I’m…only one he…

“…’re coming...kill m… …only…one…”

Most of it is covered in dust, so Ray can’t read it completely. She lifts a hand to begin wiping the dust off.

But in that instant –

“Stop! You’ll get dirt in your eye!”

Until now, he’s been so calm and gentle – but now his expression has completely changed as he shouts those words. Grabbing her arm roughly, he tears her away from the wall.

(…?!)

Doctor, that hurts.

Despite wanting to say that, Ray keeps her mouth shut. Somehow, it doesn’t feel as if she can say that right now. Danny’s facial expression is wildly different from earlier – until now, he’s been able to seem completely normal.

“Rachel, take care of your eyes. Because they’re so beautiful that I can’t help but want them.”

He speaks as if scolding her, gazing at her blue eyes as if they might be unpolished raw gems. Her eyes are reflected in his own.

“But, there’s something written…” She speaks hesitantly, unnerved by his insistent speech, as she glances at the wall once again.

“It’s surely just the patient’s boring whining. Just a regular person’s complaining.”

“You can read it, doctor…?”

“No, one of my eyes isn’t good…but it’s definitely something useless. Now, Rachel, your eyes must be a bit worn out now. How about you take an afternoon nap in my room?”

“A nap, now?” she asks quietly, confused by his usage of the words afternoon nap.

“…You’re right! That was silly of me. You’re so smart, Rachel!” Once again, he smiles sweetly, evading her question.

“…Is it noon?” Feeling somewhat distrustful of his attitude, Ray asks once again.

“Hmm, if you think it’s noon, then it must be noon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been here for so long that I can’t tell what time it is. Come along, Rachel, let’s go to my room.”

▲▽

Danny pulls Ray down the hallway somewhat forcibly. Tugging her down a bend in the corridor, he makes his way to a room at the very end of the hall.

“I found this key shortly after I arrived here.” And, taking a small cardkey from his lab coat, he opens the door.

(It looks like that other card…)

Ray is immediately reminded of the card she picked up after she buried the bird. It had opened the door for the hallway that lead to the elevator.

I wonder if his key could open the special patient’s room, too…

“Is this an operating room…?” Whilst thinking, the girl looks around the room from where she stands in the doorway. It looks precisely like an operating room. Against the walls are cold, stainless steel shelves, upon which are numerous sorts of tools and utensils. When Ray concentrates her gaze, it looks as if the tools are smeared in some sticky, dark substance, like blood.

(I thought this place wasn’t used anymore…)

Grimacing slightly, Ray steps into the room.

“I always spent my time here.”

Danny smiles as he scratches the pale green surgical table. It looks as if someone has left marks on it.

“…I’m a little scared.” It’s an instinctive feeling, borne of the terrible stench that assails her nose as she looks around the room.

“Are you? There’s no need, Rachel. This is just a normal room. More importantly…would you let me look at your eyes, Rachel?” Smiling as he approaches the trembling girl, Danny grasps her by the chin and tilts her head up. And then he speaks, earnestly, as if reciting poetry –

“Oh, Rachel, your eyes truly are beautiful…but they’re so full of fear… Almost like normal eyes… I’m so sad. I want to see your real, lovely eyes… I wonder if they’ll return to that exquisite stillness, like that blue moon, once you wake up from this nightmare…?”

(Nightmare…? Normal eyes…?)

Ray doesn’t really understand what Danny is talking about.

“Listen, Rachel…I’ve always wanted to live with those eyes of yours.” Danny’s expression almost looks as if he’s about to burst into tears as he gently traces the flesh around the girl’s eyes.

“Doctor…?”

(Why is he sad that my eyes are “normal”…?)

She doesn’t understand… And I feel like he’s acting differently than before…

She’s suddenly bombarded by a thick, oppressive unease. Instinctively, she takes several steps away from the man.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve always been alone, so I’ve picked up this habit of talking to myself. It’s strange, I know.” Speaking rather offhandedly, he picks up a cup from among the various tools and splashes in some pure black coffee from the coffee maker. He takes a sip before he speaks again, his ring finger tracing his lips contemplatively. “Speaking of which…it seems I’ve forgotten something in the back room.”

“You forgot something…?” The girl stares blankly at the man’s retreating figure, unsure of what to make of his sudden statement.

“But it’s really dark in there…and my eye isn’t good, so I’m sure I won’t be able to find it… Do you think you could get it for me, Rachel?”

“What is it…?”

“You don’t remember?” He smiles softly.

“…I don’t.” Ray shakes her head.

“I see…I’ll give you a hint.”

“My eye is alexandrite.”

With his gaze downcast, the man recites those words as if they might be a spell, playfully holding his index finger against his mouth.

▲▽

(What did he forget…?)

He said something about alexandrite…is he talking about a jewel?

Encroached by a growing anxiety thanks to the ineffectual hint, Ray continues down the short hallway in the surgery room.

She finds herself in a small, dimly lit room, similar to a shed. The orderliness with which it appears to be organised is almost odd. The only source of light in the room is a small blue light bulb flickering in the ceiling.

It would appear that this room is supplied by water; she can hear water droplets trickling from a facet somewhere in the room, falling in even intervals. The room smells faintly of rust.

(I wonder if that coffee was made from this water…)

The tall steel shelves are lined with clear jars, all filled with various specimens. One especially large one is filled with some sort of liquid, and contains a countless number of small round objects bobbing up and down.

(These are…eyes…)

“They’re…all blue…”

Unthinkingly, she takes several steps back from that ghastly sight, and stumbles over a large white box. With a loud crash, she tumbles to the ground along with the box – and from it spill a vast number of fake eyes. Red, green, blue – the three colours roll about the floor chaotically.

“…Rachel, have you found my eye?”

Her heart jumps. She hears Danny’s voice sounding out behind her.

“Doctor…what are these…?”

Despite understanding that these are fake eyes, Ray wants confirmation. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that Danny’s forgotten item might be an eye. Because, after all, as the doctor had peered at her above the rims of his glasses in the darkness – she had clearly seen herself reflected in those eyes.

“Those are eyes. Say, Rachel, which one do you think is mine?”

(His eye…?)

Still completely bewildered, the girl looks among the scattered eyeballs, and finally points at a blue one, the same colour as her own eyes.

“I…want pretty eyes. If I had eyes like yours…I’d be overjoyed.”

(That’s what the doctor said…)

“Hahah, Rachel, I’m happy. You mean the blue one, right? I really do adore blue eyes. You have them, too. But…I don’t need that blue one. It’s nothing but a poor imitation…compared to your eyes. The only blue eyes I need are yours.”

For a single instant, he glares at the eye Ray has pointed out, then curves his mouth as he looks toward Ray’s. It isn’t – a real smile. After all…Ray’s eyes as they are in that moment aren’t the ones he desires. Danny knows better than anyone else what Ray’s eyes truly look like.

“Come, Rachel. Would you look at me with those lovely eyes of yours? What sort of face did I make back then? Try to remember our private meetings…the ones outside the counselling room.”

(Outside the counselling room…?)

But Ray cannot remember anything about herself prior to coming here. The only thing she can recall are her counselling sessions with Danny – but even those memories are faint and indistinct.

“…I don’t remember meeting you outside the hospital.”

“…I see. You still can’t remember everything about me.” With an exaggeratedly keen expression, the man continues – “Oh, I see. I remember. My eye is in that drawer. Could you open it? It’s dark, I can’t see very well.” All at once, he’s gently smiling again, pointing toward a small drawer amongst the shelves.

“Okay…”

For some reason feeling as if she mustn’t disobey him, she approaches the drawer as prompted and opens it. Inside is a single artificial eye. Ray picks it up – and nearly drops it.

(…! This eye…has two irises…)

A red and a green eye seem to glare at Ray from within the glittering white eyeball.

“Rachel, that’s my eye. You still can’t remember…even if you look at that?” Quietly creeping closer to the girl, Danny whispers in her ear.

“…No.” Fearfully, the girl twists her neck to peer at the man over her shoulder.

“You’re…still trapped in that dream. Would you give me that eye now, Rachel? I guess I’m not really myself without it. For you, and for myself, I need to put it in.”

(In order to regain your memories…)

Smiling sweetly, Danny holds out his hand.

(For him and for me…?)

Her eyebrows furrow at his words – but she still extends her hand to give him the eye.

“Thank you, Rachel. I’ll put this on now, so…would you wait a bit in the other room?”

Having received the artificial eye, Danny brushes his bangs aside and slowly pulls his right eye out of its socket.

(He…doesn’t have…an eye…)

The empty darkness gaping at her from the man’s skull looks like nothing more than a black hole.

“I won’t forgive you if you run away.” That darkness seems to glower at her.

▲▽

Returning to the operating room, Ray recalls each and every one of Danny’s strange actions around her.

(It’s odd…)

I can’t remember anything, but…the doctor who acted as my counsellour didn’t behave like that… I’m certain of it.

(Is it okay to just wait here like this…?)

I’m kind of scared…

She wants to leave immediately. Filled with a growing unease, she pushes on the door. But it seems to be locked.

(…Did he do this?)

Danny is the only one on this floor… He used to be the only one on this floor. That patient died…after he came…

I have to run! I have to get away from here…!

“I have to…!”

Her voice trickles out – and someone gently rests a hand on her shoulder. That soft touch seems to say, I won’t let you run. And then the grip tightens.

“Rachel, where were you going…?”

Danny whispers against her ear.

“…Doc…tor…”

(What should I – )

Her entire body trembles.

“I just said you can’t run away, right? This is…my floor.”

“…Your floor…?”

“Ah, yes. So if you run away to some other floor…I won’t be able to do anything to you myself.”

“On this floor is someone befitting of it.

“This individual is not permitted to leave their own floor.

“If you do not wish to be killed by this person, you must progress to the next floor.”

Ray recalls those words. Those are definitely the rules Danny spoke of.

(…He – isn’t a sacrifice…)

So that means…?

He’s going…to kill me.

The instant she realises this, she begins to scream.

“…No, doctor…! Let me go!”

If she’s killed, she won’t be able to go home anymore. And she doesn’t want to die yet.

But Danny ignores her cries, and pulls roughly upon her dainty wrist. He hauls her onto the operating table.

“You know, Rachel, I…wished to gaze at your living eyes forever. But, I have to do this. After all…you no longer have my ideal eyes…” Pinning her to the table with his hands, he speaks as if about to weep.

“So, Rachel…give me your eyes.”

That eye, split into two, looks down at her in contempt.

(Give him my eyes…? No…I’m scared!)

I want to go home…!

Those grotesque eyes stare down at her as she struggles wildly – and Ray loses consciousness.

▲▽

She has a tiny dream.

In the dream, she sits on the living room sofa, listening to her favourite music box. She sews her dolls as if in a trancelike state. The exact instant the music box stops, the dolls are complete. And they are quite a bit larger than herself.

(Ah, good. They’re done…)

The moment she squeezes them tightly to her chest, she regains consciousness.

(A dream…)

Realising she has returned to the real world, she timidly opens her eyes. Her dainty arms and legs have been restrained against the operating table. She can’t move.

“…Ah, Rachel. You’ve awakened.” Danny’s bicoloured eye seems to glare at her blue ones.

(Rachel…how can you look at me like that? Like you’re nothing more than a frail little girl…)

Your eyes really have become just plain blue eyes. Rachel, I’m so sad…

“Come on, can you really not remember why you’re here? Or why you’ve ended up like this…? If you do, you’ll be able to reclaim yourself. Take back those wonderful eyes of yours and live with me, Rachel…!”

He grips her hand tightly, his expression like that of one in prayer. It’s like he’s desperately waiting for her to come back to life.

“…” Looking at him, for a single instant, Ray feels like she might already be dead. She feels as if she’s become nothing more than a doll, like the one she was sewing in the dream.

“…It won’t work, huh.” Grimacing, Danny bites at one of his fingers in frustration.

(…When I woke up, I was here… I don’t know why… I want to go home.)

“Please, Doctor, let me go. I want to go back to my mom and dad…!” Ray gazes at Danny with earnest eyes, like those of a regular girl.

“…Rachel, I can’t do that. Certainly, your eyes are ordinary now…but they are far, far more beautiful than anyone else’s I have ever seen…” He gently touches her cheek.

“You can meet your mother and father very soon…” His words have a hint of laughter behind them.

“…How?”

“Right after I kill you.”

“…If I die, I won’t be able to meet them…”

“That’s not true. Because your mother and father…are waiting for you in hell.”

That ringing sound reverberates against her eardrums.

“Come, Rachel, look at me…”

Ring. Almost as if in response to Danny’s words, that sound resonates once again. It’s louder this time.

Suddenly, she remembers that full moon.

(That moon…)

…It was a blue moon.

An unnaturally blue full moon…

“Rachel…?”

Yes…that night…a blue full moon floated outside the sky in the window, as if she had been looking at a completely different world.

(…I…)

“…”

The sound rings out again, and Ray’s long eyelashes gently flutter against her cheeks as she slowly blinks. And, with eyes dull, as if she’s seen the end of the world – with eyes just like from before she lost her memories, she gazes at Danny.

“…Doctor Danny.” Despite her the wavering in her voice, her tone is clear as she calls his name. The girlish insecurity that had coloured her voice previously is no more. It’s a voice devoid of emotion, a voice that conveys she has recalled her memories, completely lacking in falsehood – and, at the same time, reclaimed her true self.

“Ahh…Rachel! You remembered me?! Ahh…your eyes…your eyes are so beautiful!” With a face full of ecstasy, the man gazes at her blue eyes that have shed all vestiges of normality.

(Yes – these are the eyes I wanted…eyes that have neither despair nor hope, just beautiful eyes…)

“…Doctor, I…shouldn’t be alive…” She looks at him with emotionless eyes as she speaks quietly.

I…remembered everything. About the counselling sessions I had with the doctor everyday…about mother and father…the tragedy that happened on the night of that full blue moon…and about the book I read beneath the moonlight…I remember everything.

(What lovely eyes…!)

Danny quivers in delight as he practically devours the sight of her eyes submerging beneath the weight of her hopelessness.

“That’s not true at all! I’ll take these off now. And then, live with me forever, Rachel!” Breathing roughly, the doctor hurriedly unfastens the restraints. He cries out as if to shout his emotions with his entire body –

“Oh…I’m so happy!”

▲▽

A man in a dark hooded sweatshirt strides down the hallway, a hand wrapped tightly n bandages grasping a large scythe that glints in the light. Zack is on a floor very different from his own, B6 – the hallway gleams immaculately in the meagre illumination.

(Damnit…where did she go?)

He doesn’t understand why. But through some sort of impulse, Zack has followed after Ray all the way to B5. He doesn’t usually follow a sacrifice to a different floor, even if they escape him. But right now, letting that girl go leaves his stomach whirling in dissatisfaction.

(I’m definitely gonna kill her.)

With a small tch, he grips his scythe tighter.

And it’s then that he hears Danny’s voice – the owner of this floor – resounding from the other side of the wall.

Oh…I’m so happy!

(…Happy, he said?)

The instant he hears that thrilled tone, the man is overcome by a boiling vexation. It might be the only emotion he’s ever felt since childhood.

(…Fucking bullshit.)

Fuelled by that terrible irritation, he thrusts his blade into the door of the operating room, slicing it open. It’s destroyed in the blink of an eye. Danny whirls around. His expression turns grim as he sees Zack standing there in the doorway. His teeth gleam through his bandages as he sneers out a laugh.

“Hyahahahahah!”

Zack’s insane laughter resonates in the tense atmosphere of the room. There’s not really anything particularly funny occurring. It’s just that he simply doesn’t like people who are enveloped in happiness.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, the girl finally reacts to that laughter.

(It’s that man…)

She immediately realises it’s the murderer she met on B6 – the master of that floor.

Zack doesn’t hesitate – he simply obeys his instincts to stride into the room, and immediately slices Danny’s belly. The girl, whose eyes only reflect despair, doesn’t react at all like when that small bird had been killed. Flecks of blood splatter in her vision, like in her restored memories.

“Y-you…”

Why.

(I was finally…finally about to make Rachel’s eyes my own…! I can’t…I can’t die like this…!)

His vision rapidly begins to pale and blur at the edges due to the immense pain he feels. And from that line between death and life, he looks up at Zack.

“Hey now, Danny…ya sounded so happy just now, I couldn’t help but just cut ya open!” Watching Danny’s consciousness slowly fade and seeing the despair clouding his expression causes the man to laugh contentedly.

“…” He wants to say something back, but he can’t. His hazy eyes begin to close as his surroundings fade away completely. For an instant, he sees Ray’s blue eyes floating in his vision – those eyes that have lost all emotion. As if they had become his.

(What lovely eyes…)

Beckoned by that fantasy, his eyes finally shut as he falls into a deep sleep.

The instant Danny stops moving, Zack appears to lose interest, his expression cooling. He abruptly turns toward the table.

“…Hey, I found ya in a hell of a mess, didn’t I?” He grins happily at the girl sprawled on the table.

“C’mon! If ya wanna live, run for it! Run, struggle! Cling to hope! And then I’ll slice ya open!” Zack’s loud voice, filled with a bizarre excitement, echoes throughout the room as he lifts that enormous, grim reaper-like scythe up.

But Ray doesn’t hear the man’s words at all. She is at the utter bottom of despair. Her head is filled with the memories of what happened that day of the full blue moon.

“…Ah?” Having been completely and utterly ignored by Ray, the man utters a sound of disapproval.

(…What’s going on?)

Ray, lying on the table with an unsettling vacantness upon her face, seems like a completely different person from the girl he met earlier.

“Hey, how come yer makin’ that boring face? Ya don’t want t’ live, not even when I’m pointin’ this blade at ya?” Zack asks her. Her eyes are those of one who isn’t looking anywhere, eyes that don’t reflect anything – it’s like she’s already dead.

“…”

I don’t.

She reflexively wants to say this, but her voice won’t come out.

“Hah…how boring. I’m a grown-ass man. I don’t like cuttin’ up dolls.” She looks like a dead fish lying on a cutting board, waiting to be diced up. Sighing, he lifts his scythe away from her. For some reason, he’s unable to want to end the life of someone who has no attachment to the world of the living, even if they lie at death’s door.

(Should I go back…)

Beep beep beep.

Just as he makes the decision to leave, a speaker somewhere in the room crackles to life. And, like before, a church bell chime rings out.

Betrayer alert.

The master of B6 has attacked the master of B5.

This is a violation of the rules.

The betrayer has become a sacrifice like Rachel.

According to that broadcast, Zack has just become a sacrifice.

“…Damn, they’re not fuckin’ around. Guess I should run.”

(…But where’s the exit?)

With a slightly foolish expression, he leaves the room without casting a second glance at the doll-like girl on the operating table. He doesn’t really have a reason to want to live, but that absolutely doesn’t mean he’s going to just let himself get killed.

(A sacrifice…)

Left alone in the operating room, Ray stares at the ceiling, quietly thinking to herself.

That’s right…I shouldn’t be alive…

After Zack leaves, she forces herself to stand up.

On the floor is Danny’s grotesque, bloodstained, still-warm body, splayed on the ground.

(Doctor…can’t see anymore.)

With sad, faded eyes, Ray stares expressionlessly down at the man. He looks as if he might only be sleeping. She pokes his cheek as if he were nothing more than a toy.

(I wonder if he’s dead…)

“…”

His body doesn’t even twitch.

Suddenly, she catches a glimpse of the cardkey inside the pocket of Danny’s once-white coat, now dyed red.

(I…might be able to use this on the other doors…)

Without hesitation, she thrusts her hand into his pocket and fishes out the card, dropping it into her own pocket.

▲▽

…I’ve woken up from that happy dream.

That’s the only thing she clearly understands in this world as she unsteadily totters out into the hallway, leaving Danny behind. She walks down the hallway, overwhelmed with the despair brought by her reawakened memories.

As she walks, she passes by the door to the special patient’s room, and recalls how Danny had stopped her from brushing aside the dust covering the writing on the wall.

(I wonder what it said…)

Curious, she pauses in front of the room, and lifts a hand to push the door open. But the room is locked. She doesn’t doubt for a second that Danny was the one who had locked it. So – the card she’d taken from him should work.

Ray pushes the cardkey into the door’s slot. With a clunk, the door opens, as she had suspected it would.

(So I guess this key works on all the doors on this floor…)

Confirming this to herself, the girl pushes the door open and slips the key into her pocket.

(…Let’s take care of that dust…)

Brushing aside most of the dirt reveals insane, heartrending words carved into the wall, stained red.

Help me, help me, I’m scared, I’m so scared!

There were three of us, but I’m the only one here.

They’re coming to kill me, they’re coming to kill me. Out of the three of us, I’m the only one who’s going to be killed.

They’re coming to kill me as if it were only natural.

Who allowed them to do this?

Help me, help me, God…!

(I knew it. The patient was killed by that doctor…)

“…God.”

Whispering that final word in a strangely meek tone, the girl leaves the room.

▲▽

Feeling as if she’s been trapped in a nightmare of some sort, Ray once again advances down the hallway.

She notices countless glimmering fragments of – something spilled all over the floor. It’s that glass wall – it’s been utterly shattered into tiny pieces. She quickly comes to the conclusion that this must be the work of the man who had killed Danny – the man called Zack.

That man cut through the glass, just like that…just like he killed doctor Danny…in just an instant, he left this world.

(God? …Oh, God, would you forgive me if I were to be killed…?)

“…”

I want…to be killed…by that man…

Spurred by her instincts, Ray runs over the fragments of glass toward Zack.

“…It won’t open! Even if I hit it, it won’t break… Damnit, what should I do…”

She sees Zack struggling to open those unmoving doors. There’s probably an elevator behind them.

“…What are you doing?” She calls out to him with renewed willpower, the knowledge of what she will ask him to do bringing her a little bit of hope.

“Hah? …What are ya doin’, waltzin’ up to me like that?” Reflexively turning upon hearing her voice, the man speaks threateningly, glaring at the girl. But Ray no longer feels afraid of him.

“…Um…I have a favour to ask.”

Taking a deep breath, Ray looks up at his face, covered in filthy bandages, and sees his eyes peering out at her like slits from between the layers of linen. Fixing her gaze upon that pretty golden eye, she speaks:

“…Please…kill me.”

Zack’s eyes go wide, and, for an instant as he stares at her, he’s utterly fascinated. With the expression she wears right now, he would have never thought her to be a thirteen-year-old girl.

(…She asked me…to kill her?)

I’m gonna be sick…!

The moment he comprehends Ray’s desire, he vomits everything he had eaten that day – or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he expelled all that food with the intention of ridding himself the strange shiver that welled up within him.

“…Ueghh!”

No one had ever requested something from him like that before. No one had ever desired anything from him before. And from the bottom of his heart, he truly doesn’t understand why a girl he just barely met would ask him such an insane thing without even any forewarning.

“Shit! Don’t ask me for creepy stuff like that! I don’t have time t’ screw around with weirdoes with fucked up faces like yours!” The man shouts at her, wiping the puke staining the bandages near his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie in order to suppress the hellish disgust he feels.

“…So you won’t?” Her expression twists into earnestness as she looks at him, avoiding turning her gaze to the mess on the floor. She can’t understand why Zack is so repulsed by her wish. After all, he had dispatched of Danny in the blink of an eye. It should be easy to kill her.

“Whether I will or won’t ain’t the problem! What’s a kid like you doin’ here, anyway?!”

“…I was here before I realised it.”

It’s not a lie. She remembers far too well what occurred before she came here. But she still doesn’t know why she’s here.

“Hah? Ya don’t remember anything before ya got here?”

“…I don’t.” She answers after a small pause. Certainly, she could answer that she remembers, or that she doesn’t remember. But it’s definitely better to say she doesn’t.

“Well, guess it doesn’t matter. If ya got time to say creepy shit, do something about this door!” Kicking the doors leading to the elevator, the man raises his voice yet again.

“That should open with this cardkey.” Ray retrieves the key she took from Danny and holds it underneath the card reader. The patient’s room and the operating room had both opened with this card…so she’s certain that this door should open as well.

With a sharp sound, the doors slide open, as Ray suspected. And the elevator to B4 reveals itself to the two of them.

“…Hahah!”

The moment he sees the elevator, Zack smiles gleefully. It’s as if his irritation seconds before had been nothing more than a lie.

“Come to think of it, ya got here all by yerself, right?” he asks, looking at Ray, his expression akin to a child who has just come up with a fantastic idea.

“Yeah.”

“Ya see, I’m kinda dumb. So…help me get outta here together.”

“Together…?”

Stooping over to match her height, Zack gazes deep into her eyes. They seem to convey that she’s surprised about something.

“Oh, right. Ya said ya wanted me t’ kill ya.”

“…I did.” She responds with a serious expression.

“Killin’ ya’s easy, but I ain’t feelin’ up t’ it when ya got such a damn boring face. So when we get outside, you’ll be able t’ show me a better face, won’t ya?” Looking into her blank face, Zack laughs like a mischievous child as he makes his offer.

“So, when we get outta here together…I’ll kill you.”

She hears a bell ringing, somewhere. It might be nothing more than an auditory hallucination. But that sound has been the clearest thing she has ever heard thus far.

“…Really?” She looks up at Zack with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah. But make sure t’ behave. And don’t run around all happy like. …Whenever I see someone lookin’ too happy, I…just get the urge to kill ‘em.”

“…Okay.”

(…I definitely can’t make a happy expression.)

Thinking this, Ray nods her head.

“Well, seein’ yer dead eyes, I guess I don’t have t’ worry. Let’s get outta this place.”

“Yeah.”

For just a moment, as the two exchange their vows, they stare at one another. Then they advance into the elevator.

“When we get outta here together…I’ll kill you.”

As the elevator begins to move, those words reverberate through Ray’s head over and over. Those words are like a dazzling beacon shining within this colourless world of despair and sadness.

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i-write-shakespeare-not-disney · 7 years

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Hii could you so b3 for lams? Thank you I love your writing very much!

I FUCKING PROMISED MYSELF NOT TO MAKE THIS MORE THAN THREE PAGES AND I FAILED BECAUSE IT WAS ALMOST 3xs THAT AHAHAHAHA

The Lost Poet

The night was calm and the only sounds Alex could hear werethe crickets outside and the gentle hum of the car engine. He didn’t want toget out of the car. He knew he should. He had Phillip waiting for him inside.God knows that boy doesn’t listen to the babysitter when he tells him to go tobed. And still, he couldn’t bring himself to open the door.

“I had fun,” John finally said. Alex looked at him andsmiling, feeling his cheeks turn the color of his hair. His curly-haired datebit his lip and turned in his seat. “I know you said you’re not a first-datekind of guy. But this is our third. So… can I-”

Before he could finish, Alex leaned forward and cupped hisface, pulling him into a kiss he’d been dying to give him. He never thoughthe’d date again. He didn’t think he’d have the time or the initiative. Ithadn’t worked out once. He was married to his work as Eliza had put it.

And then John Laurens came along, finding his son when he’drun off into the aisles. With a single look at him, Alex was a goner. Both oftheir eyes were blue. But John’s eyes were deeper. Like an ocean. They werebright and changed colors in the light. They were so alive. They took Alex’sbreath away completely. And the freckles that dusted his face. It looked likesomeone had taken a paintbrush and splattered his face with it. He was acomplete work of art.

Kissing him felt like unlocking a completely new part ofhimself. It felt real and whole and perfect. His lips were soft. He didn’t openhis mouth too wide, he didn’t try to shove his tongue into his mouth, he didn’ttry to control the kiss. It was gentle, slow, and oh so wonderful.

He pulled away and bit his lip as he rested his foreheadagainst John’s. “I’m looking forward to date four,” he whispered.

“Me too,” he answered, pecking his lips lightly. “You shouldgo. Babysitter will be getting nervous.” Alex chuckled and nodded. “Call me,”he called after him.

Alex took a breath and walked to his door, unlocking it andwalking in. The babysitter was sitting on the couch, scrolling through hisphone. “Hey. Where’s Phillip?”

“I sent him to bed a while ago. I heard the television, butI figured since it’s a weekend, I didn’t have to pry him away.” Alex smiled andtook out his wallet to pay him. “So… third date. Will there be a fourth?”

“Ah,” he chuckled. “Yes, hopefully,” he answered.

“What’s she look like? She’s this big mystery. You knowPhillip tried drawing her. Wondering what she looked like.” Alex swallowed andfurrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly as he handed over the money.“Okay. Uh, thank you. Have a good night.”

“You too,” he called after him. He walked down the hall andopened the door to Phillip’s room where he was sitting up in bed, staring atthe door expectantly. “You’re supposed to be asleep, young man.”

“You weren’t home,” he protested. “When do I see her? Is shegoing to be my new mom?”

Alex frowned and sat beside him, laying him down and tuckinghim in. “No one is going to be your new mom,” he said softly. “Mommy is youronly one. And no matter who I go out with they won’t replace Mommy. And nomatter who Mommy goes out with, they’re not replacing me. Right?” Phillipnodded, but Alex doubted he understood. “Go to sleep,” he murmured, leaningforward to kiss his forehead.

His son smiled up at him and Alex felt his heart swell andburst. God, he loved his kid. He loved him so much and even though he and Elizaweren’t together, he wanted him to have them both. He wanted to give him theworld. He wanted everything to be perfect for him.

As he turned off the light and started to leave, Phillip’svoice cut through the darkness. “Papa, you didn’t say when I get to meet her.”

Alex hesitated and sighed. “Not yet,” he answered. “Sleep.”He shut the door before his seven-year old could ask more questions.

***

The next week, Alex and John settled on their fourth date.John would be off work, Alex would be able to have a little wiggle room in hisown work and cases, and Phillip would be at a sleep over. The day couldn’t comequickly enough. Despite talking on the phone and messaging each other, Alexwasn’t satisfied. He wanted to see JohnLaurens. He wanted to be able to reach out, touch him, be sure he was there.

He wanted to kiss him again.

But the day they were supposed to go, the Eacker’s calledand said their son had come down with a fever. When Alex called his usualbabysitter, he was disappointed to hear he wasn’t available. Then again, howcould he expect a teenager to sacrifice his Saturday night at the last minute?

With no one to watch after Phillip, Alex knew he couldn’t goon his date. No matter how badly he wanted to see John again, he wouldn’t leavehis son with anyone else.

“Phillip,” he called. His son walked in wearing his NinjaTurtle pajamas. “George got sick, so you can’t sleep over tonight.”

Surprisingly, Phillip looked relieved. “Oh good, he’s meanand stupid.” He turned away and hopped onto the couch, fumbling with the remoteto watch television before grabbing a journal he liked to doodle in.

Alex scoffed and shook his head with a smile. Phillip wassomething else.

Then the worst part: telling John. He took a breath andcalled him, pacing in the kitchen, keeping an eye on Phillip. Part of him hopedJohn wouldn’t answer. But of course, he did. “John, hi,” he breathed. “Um, somethings came up with the people I usually have watching Phillip. I can’t gotoday. Can we maybe reschedule?”

“Is everything okay there?”

“Yes, of course. It’s just, the other kid got sick and thebabysitter isn’t available, so… I can’t leave him.”

There was a slight pause on the other end. And then, “Well,what if I went over there? Would that be okay?”

Alex caught his breath and glanced at Phillip where he wasbent over a journal, scribbling furiously with his tongue poking out. “And…meet Phillip?” he questioned.

“If that’s okay,” he answered gently. “It’s up to you,Alexander. But I’d be more than happy.”

He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said. “Uh…Phillip… he doesn’t… I haven’t… told… him….”

“That I’m a guy?” he finished lightly. Alex could almosthear the smile in his voice. “That’s okay. It’s understandable. So should wejust reschedule?”

Alex looked over at Phillip who had suddenly been captivatedby the screen, a chewed pencil between his teeth. “No,” he answered. “No, I… Iwant to see you. I just have to figure out how to explain this to him. I’llsend the address.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised. Alex bit his lip and tooka shaky breath as he walked over to where Phillip was kneeling to write againstthe table.

“What are you watching?” he asked.

“Descendants,” he answered. Alex raised an eyebrow ascolorfully dressed people danced and sang on the screen. “Wanna watch movieswith me?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Let’s get some popcorn.” Phillip stoodup and followed after him, insisting on being the one to climb a chair and putthe popcorn in the microwave. While it popped, Alex got a couple of sodas andsaw Phillip’s eyes brighten. “Yes, you get soda, but only one.”

“Yes!” hescreeched, pumping a fist in the air. Alex laughed and ruffled his hair. It wasEliza’s brown, wavy with the ends curled. As they sat down to watch the rest ofthe movie, there was a knock on the door. Phillip frowned and looked up at hisfather. “Who is it?” he whispered.

Alex gulped and went to answer the door. John was standingon the mat with a smile and nervous blush. “Hello, John Laurens,” Alex saidwith a fond smile.

“Alexander,” he greeted with that sparkle Alex so loved tosee in his eyes. His eyes fell to the small child at his legs, peeking curiouslyaround him. “Hello there,” he greeted. He knelt down and smiled. “You must bePhillip.”

“Phillip, this is John. He’s….”

“I’m a friend,” John offered, smiling reassuringly at Alex.

Phillip furrowed his eyebrows and his eyes brightened withrecognition. “You’re the man who found me in the store! I didn’t know you werefriends with Papa.”

John smiled and nodded. “Yep, that’s me. I’m glad youremember me.”

“Come on in,” Alex said ushering him in. “Do you wantanything to drink?”

“A coke is fine,” he answered as he sat on the couch. Alexnodded and went into the kitchen. Meanwhile, John was glancing at Phillip whowas poking at his teeth after a handful of popcorn, eyes flitting from thetelevision to him. He noticed a paper on the table and pointed to it. “What’sthat?”

“Just writing,” he answered.

“You like to write?” Phillip nodded. “Like stories?”

He shook his head. “Poems. Like Shel Silver-something. And JackFrost.”

He smiled to himself. Shel Silverstein and Robert Frost. “Well,you sure are your dad’s son,” he said softly. “Can I read it?” Philliphesitated then handed the paper to him. He scurried back to his popcorn, eatingnervously.

The poem talked about a city. The cars and the sounds, thepeople he saw every day. With the repeated verse, “In the city, in the city,”every four lines. It was good for a seven-year old. It was observant. IT wassurprising. But of course, with someone like Alexander as his father, it madesense Phillip would have some of his brain and skill.

He was smiling and when he glanced up, he saw Phillip’s eyesdart away from him. “This is really, really good,” he said sincerely. “How manypoems have you written?”

Immediately, the seven-year old clambered over to him. “Ihave a folder. I used to have a journal, but I always ripped the pages. They’renot good sometimes.”

“Buddy, this is better than anything I could write. I’m ahorrible poet.”

Phillip’s eyes lit up. “You think I’m a poet?” He pulledhimself to his knees, very nearly sitting on John. “Like a real, for real poet?”

John chuckled and nodded. “Of course,” he answered. “Andwhen you grow up, I bet you’ll have a book of poems published.” Phillip smiledso widely, John may as well have told him he won a million dollars to spend atChuck E. Cheese’s.

“You wanna see my toys?” he asked. He hopped off the couchand pulled on his arm until John was following him to a room. He turned and sawAlexander standing at the kitchen with a look of shock and a soda can in hishand.

He followed behind them, staying at the door while John waspulled to the floor. “Look, I have these cars,” Phillip said, tugging out afire truck filled with small cars. “I like to line them up in a super longline. And with colors. This one is my favorite. I want one like this when Igrow up.” He held up a shiny red convertible with door that swung open. “Butthis one is my most fastest,” he continued, holding up a blue impala. “Wannarace? Or do you wanna look at my books?”

Alex leaned against the doorframe, smiling to himself asJohn grabbed a car and leaned forward, preparing to race. The two of them beganto race their cars along the floor. John followed suit as Phillip made his carjump onto the drawer and dresser.

“Whoa, hey wait a minute,” John protested. “You’re blockingme!” Phillip giggled mischievously and continued to race his car, positioninghis arm so John’s would be able to pass. “That’s not fair!” John laughed,abandoning his car and lifting Phillip up as he laughed uncontrollably. Johnbegan to tickle him, causing him to shriek and kick as he laughed.

Alex’s smile was so wide, his cheeks hurt. “I wasn’tblocking! You’re just a bad driver,” he gasped between laughter. John finallyrelented and sat back with him in his lap.

“I am an awesome driver,” he said. He looked up and met Alex’seyes, his cheeks flushed from the laughter. “Right?”

“I’m going to have to side with my kid here,” Alex saidteasingly. John groaned and smiled at Phillip. “Your soda,” he said, handing itover. John took it as Alex sat down on the floor with them. “We still doingmovie night, bud?” he asked his son.

“Yeah. Can we watch Avengers?” Alex nodded and Phillip scrambledto his cabinet to grab the movie. “I want to sit with him,” he said, pointingto John. Alex couldn’t fight his smile.

“Okay,” he answered. They left the room and Alex put on themovie while Phillip sat on John’s lap with a bowl of popcorn on his own. Alexturned off the light and sat beside John. The arm that wasn’t holding ontoPhillip was laying at his side. And as the movie began, his hand began to pressagainst Alex’s, making him bite his lip before interlocking their hands.

With Phillip distracted, Alex wasn’t worried about beingclose to John. When the movie was almost over, Phillip’s head lolled and restedagainst John’s chest. By the time the movie was over, Phillip had completelyknocked out, complete with an open mouth and light snores. John leaned into Alexand smirked. “Is this how you look when you sleep?”

“What? No,” he scoffed. John hummed and shook his headteasingly. “Hold on, let me get him to bed.” He stood up and extended his arms,but John shook his head.

“I got him.” He stood, carrying Phillip like a sleepingmonkey to his room. Alex pulled back his bedsheets and John laid him down.

Alex tucked him in and started to leave, when he woke up. “Papa?”Alex stopped and waited. “Will your friend come back? I like him. He’s fun andnice.”

The sleepy mumbles made Alex’s heart swell and he smiled athim. “Yes, I think so,” he answered. “Go to sleep, son.”

“G’night, Papa.”

“Goodnight, Phillip.” He kissed his forehead then started toleave the room, taking John’s hand on the way out. He smiled at him and took arelieved breath. “Well, he likes you,” he said proudly.

“That’s good to hear. He’s a great kid, Alexander. Smart.And absolutely adorable.” Alex smiled and led John back to the couch. “Can Iask you something?” He hummed and began to play with his fingers. “I know youhaven’t told him about the dates. But… I guess I’m wondering if you haven’ttold him because… you don’t know if we’ll work out or… if it’s because I’m aguy. I mean… have you ever dated a guy before?”

Alex frowned and shifted. “I think it’s both. I don’t know.Before, I didn’t really have time to think about dating. I just wanted tofinish school, go to college. Make my life different than most foster kids andorphans that remain in the system. Then I met Eliza and… everyone sort ofexpected us to be together. And I did love her. But I also feel like I wasn’tcompletely in that relationship. Not because she’s a woman, but… because I didn’ttry. I cheated on her. I hurt her. And although it hurt when she left, I alsoknew that it meant I could start over.” He sighed and looked at John in theeyes. “I didn’t think I’d bother falling for someone again. Then you come intomy life and… now you’re meeting Phillip.” He leaned in closer and gulpednervously.

“John Laurens, I like you a lot. And it’s kind of scary if I’mhonest. But I don’t doubt what I feel just because you’re a guy. Trust me. Iwant to try this out. I want to….” He broke off, not really knowing what to askmuch less how to ask.

But then, John leaned in and kissed him, removing his handfrom Alex’s so he could cup his face. “Me too,” he whispered.

---

The next morning, Alex was drinking a coffee at his table,waiting for Phillip to come asking for food. He was still giddy and excitedover the previous night. Four dates weren’t a lot to go off, but then again,that’s what official dating was for, right? Now it was just a matter of talkingto Phillip about the situation.

A few moments later, Phillip shuffled into the kitchen,yawning widely. “I’m gonna get Coco Puffs,” he announced. Alex nodded andwatched him as he climbed onto the counter for a bowl and tugged the milkgallon to the table with two hands.

Once he’d gotten his bowl of cereal and sat down to eat,Alex cleared his throat and took a breath. “So,” he began. “What did you thinkof John?”

Phillip looked up and tilted his head. “I like him. He’ssuper nice. He liked my poem!”

“Yeah?” he asked with a smile. He nodded and kept eating. “Ilike him too,” he said hesitantly. “A lot. And… I was wondering if you would beokay with having him come over more.” Phillip opened his mouth to answer, butAlex stopped him. “Hold on, son,” he said. He took a breath and tried to put itin the simplest terms. “He wouldn’t just be my friend. He’d be my boyfriend.Are you okay with that?”

Phillip looked confused. “Boyfriend? You can do that?”

He nodded and bit his lip. “Some people do. There’s somepeople who don’t like it, and they can be mean about it. But yes, he can be myboyfriend. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. Except for you,Phillip. If you don’t want me to, then-”

“Ohh!” heexclaimed suddenly. Alex’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s why you said Iwasn’t getting another mommy, right? Because I’m getting another daddy? When doyou get married?”

His eyebrows went up and his mouth open as he stared at hisson. Eventually, he began to laugh nervously. “Oh, no Phillip,” he explained. “It’snot… we’re not getting married. Right now, I just want to know if it’s okaywith you for him to be my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” he said, deflating. “Well, okay. I like him. I wanthim to come over more and play with me. Oh, and he can go to open house! Andthe school carnival!” Alex smiled and thanked whatever holy deity had blessedhim with such a perfect, wonderful son. If he failed at everything else, hedidn’t care. So long as he was a good enough father.

“I still think you should get married,” he mumbled. Alexchuckled and shook his head.

*** 2 years later because I’m weak ***

“Papa, my bow tie is too tight,” Phillip whined.

“You’re just not used to it, son,” he said with a smile. “Where’sthe pillow? Remember you have to take care of that.” Phillip groaned and turnedaway, heading to another room.

As he walked by, he saw his mommy standing with aunt Angieand Peggy. “Sweetheart, where’s your father?” she asked when she saw him.

“Getting ready over there,” he answered. “I have to find thepillow.”

“Come here, let me fix your hair,” she said reaching out.

Phillip threw his hands up to cover his hair as he ducked. “No!Momma stop!” he whined. “I have to go.” She put a hand on her hip, but hecontinued to the other room. “Daddy?” he called. He found him sitting on achair looking through his phone. “Daddy, my bowtie is too tight, and Papa won’tlet me fix it, and Momma says my hair needs to be fixed, and I can’t find thepillow.”

John smiled stood from the chair, kneeling in front of him. “Igot you, little man,” he said with a smile. He loosened the bowtie and fixed theshirt so it wasn’t to noticeable. Then he fixed his hair so it wouldn’t looklike a cowlick or a tangled mess. “And the pillow is with Theo’s flower basket.It’s okay.” Phillip nodded and bit on the inside of his cheek. “What’s Papa looklike?”

“Fancy,” he said. “So, after today, you’ll be my daddy forreal, right? I mean, you are already because you go to my soccer games and myspelling bees and my open house and you take me to school and buy me books andfood, but like for real, for real?”

John smiled and fixed his collar. “For real, for real,” heanswered. Phillip smiled and wrapped his arms around him.

“I love you,” he said. “I have to find the pillow now. I’llstay with Theo.” He turned away and rushed to find the flower girl.

Half an hour later, Alex was standing behind a door, waitingto walk out and see his fiancé. He was anxious. It was strange to have hisex-wife there, despite being on good terms. She got along well with John. AndPhillip loved him. John often teased Alex saying he was sure Phillip loved himmore than he did.

Finally, he was given the okay to open the door. His eyesimmediately found John across the room and the blue in them seemed to intensifythe second he saw him. Barely able to keep from running, they met in the centerand smiled at each other. John was dressed in blue and Alex in gray. There wasno doubt in his mind that this was what he wanted.

John was the only one who could calm him down when he wasoverwhelmed with work. He was always there for him, talking sense into him whenhis temper made him reckless. He cared for Phillip like he was his own. He wasperfect. He was everything Alex never knew he needed.

And Alex couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was asthey both walked down the aisle, hand in hand, all through the ceremony untilthe last “I do.”

Later, at the ceremony, there were a few slow love songsplaying softly while food was served and people congratulated the newlyweds.Then, Eliza’s voice echoed through the room. “Ah, there we go,” she breathed. “Okay.Alex, John… congratulations. As your friends and as your family, we couldn’t behappier for you. However, this wasn’t meant to be my speech. There’s a littlesurprise that was supposed to come after dinner, but we can’t wait. Your sonhas something he’d like to say. And just so you know, he’s been practicing forthis just about every day since you got engaged.” She smiled and looked atPhillip who was standing and fidgeting nervously beside her with a paper in hishands. “Phillip? Take it away.”

She handed him the microphone and Phillip shuffled, glancingaround as people looked at him. “Um, okay,” he said. “I wrote this for my papaand my new dad.” He cleared his throat and looked at his paper. “My name isPhillip, and I am a poet. I wrote this poem just to show it. And I just turnednine, now I have a mom and two dads to call all mine.” Alex chuckled and smiledwidely at him. “I remember Papa being sad one day after another, then Daddyfound me in the store and everything got better. Now Papa smiles every day, andI wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Applause erupted, and John and Alex stood clapping andsmiling proudly. “Bravo!” Alex called. He hurried to walk around the table andPhillip hopped off the stage to run towards him. Alex caught him in his armsand wrapped his arms around him tightly. “I love you so much,” he said, hisvoice thick with emotion.

“I love you too, Papa,” he said.

“That was amazing,” he said with a smile. He picked him upand John came up beside them, pulling Phillip into his own hug.

“You really will be a famous poet one day, Phillip,” he toldhim. “Thank you so much.”

Phillip smiled cheekily and hugged them simultaneously. “I toldyou you’d get married.”

#lams #hamilton x laurens #laurens x hamilton #phillip #phillip hamilton #fanfic #one shot #fluff #yes I made references #fight me #THEY DESERVED TO BE HAPPY #Anonymous

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ask-a-robot-pilot · 7 years

Photo

(Chapter 1: The man that walked amongst machines.)

He was covered a forest camouflage hood and cape. In his bag pack there was his B3 Wingman and mastiff and additional ammo for them. Styx was sane but he claims he can hear a voice in his head guide him whenever he needed help. That voice only referred to itself as CP and it would assist styx no matter the action and long as it was not out of it’s capability. On his hip Styx also wore a jump kit. His memory loss took away his wall running skills and limited him to only jumping and double jumping with it as he found he could do. However, this hermit’s life was about to be changed forever this faithful day.

When he walked out of the alleyway he saw a group of civilian shot and killed by a spectre group. They eventually saw him and went into position to target him next, but before they could even fire the first bullet. The whistle of 3 titans falling from the sky above could be heard. One of them was headed on a crash course onto the spectre group. The first one to land was Meat Man. He had started blaring All-star by Smash Mouth the second he landed and didn’t even bother with deploying a shield. He just hit the ground, crushing several spectres before grabbing them, ripping apart and throwing them. Once he finished, he yelled “STAY OUT OF MY SWAMP.” His hatch opened and a pilot with the grappling hook pilot armour jumped out. The mech closed its hatch and did a special handshake and double fist bump with his pilot before looking over at Styx. John looked over his shoulder at him and gestured him over.

Styx’s first action was admiring the titan, such a marvel of engineering. He eventually snapped out of the trance and took out his Mastiff shotgun and B3 wingman revolver out of his bag and holstered them on his back and waist respectively before throwing the bag to the side. Styx then sprinted towards John before stopping at arm length’s distance from him.

Styx: “yesss…sir?”

“Can you shoot, run, and think?” He simply said as he turned to him, his head was shaved but he had a nicely waxed moustache.

“Yes sir!” Styx exclaimed. Styx was a simulacrum a consciousness, either artificial or from a human in a robotic body. Styx’s interface had a stim ability integrated in, allowing him to speed up his actions and reflexes once activated.

“You’re going to get your metal plated ass on top that beefy ass motherfucker over there. You can’t link to him, but you can help assist him by riding on him. Help evacuate any civilians you can and link up with a Northstar Prime with cat paint. To get on top of that Legion Prime without him stomping you like a bug, just yell ‘Ocean Man, take me by the hand, lead me to the land, that you understand’ and he’ll let you on.” He said before hopping back into the Ion Prime. “I’ll tell you my name when you survive this.”

“Understood sir!” Styx said with a soldiers confidence. Styx proceeded to ocean man and loudly sang the magic phrase and as expected ocean man let Styx rodeo him. Styx crouched before engaging his jump kit as the same time he executed the high jump before grabbing onto the titan’s top with finesse and ease. Styx felt like he had done this before but didn’t remember when, his past was a jumble like the static on a television or background radiation in space. Styx then proceed to ask, “so when do we go?”

“We hold position and fight our way up. Get as many evacuated as possible.” The Legion Prime said as he gutted a Ronin that had been cutting apart civilians with the Ronin’s own sword. “The name is Ocean Man. And if you need me, I’ll take you by the hand and lead you to the land that I understand.” “Points noted” Styx said as he hung on while the legion proceed. “It has been 7 days since our previous combat scenario, your combat effectiveness has increased by 10% pilot.” CP’s voice ringed inside Styx’s head.

“CP i need you to tell me how to call of this imc invasion, we can’t continuously keep on evacuating civilians or killing enemies.” Styx pleaded. “I have intercepted incoming imc comms signals. Most of the infantry down here are taking control from a pilot named Justin Barber of the rank captain. Eliminating him may do mighty fine.”

“Alright then CP, give us his nav points.” Ocean man received the nav points from CP but was confused before CP introduced himself as a friendly. “Got it, LETS KILL DA HOE.” Ocean Man said as he began fighting his way towards Justin Barber.

“S-H-I-T” Styx exclaimed as a bullet scraped the side of his head. It was fired from a spectre using the dmr longbow. That impact somehow racked a part of his pain sensors, that overloaded him with memories. That pain he felt just now he felt just now, the same injury on his first mission as a pilot and as a simulacrum. Each memory recovered lead to more memories, Styx recalled his whole life up to now in a span of mere seconds. The militia and his adopted sister and daughter, his teammates, everything. Styx was reawakened. “I’ll TEACH YOU JUSTICE!” Styx roared as he fired his b3 wingman at the spectre, destroying him immediately with a headshot that tore through it’s central motherboard.

In the distance Justin Barber’s Titan could be seen ripping apart a militia Titan before a loud railgun shot blew a chunk out the Titan and sent it fling into a building. A Northstar Prime with cats painted on the front be could be seen chasing after Justin Barber. “Purge Man’s doing is job as always.” “HOLY SHIT!” Styx gasped in awe. He had seen great snipers in his time but purge man’s shot takes the cake and eats it.

However, Justin barber was not done, his silhouette charged out from the smoke the debris caused and proceed to knock purge man down into a submission hold. “Never say never” Justin smirked before engaging his tone’s sonic scream right in front of purge man’s face. “AAAAAAAAAA” the tone screamed as it’s vibrations destroyed most of purge man’s electronics on his surface. Purge man collapsed onto the ground after Justin let him go, he was still alive, his data core was undamaged but serious damage had been done to his surface electronics.

Purge Man fizzled and stood up and shook. “Next you’re going to say ‘WHAT? YOU AND YOUR PILOT SHOULD HAVE DIED!’” “WHAT? YOU AND YOUR PILOT SHOULD HAVE DIED!” Justin barber gasped. “Oh no this is a trap” Justin realised just before ocean man shot 2 power shots at Justin and his tone, one took out his tone’s speaker system disabling his screams and the other was a head straight for his face. The shots sent Justin falling down and crushing his own squad of spectres damaging his tone’s propulsion systems disabling his front and back dashes.

Purge Man flew over and jammed his gun into Justin Barbers titan, blowing a hole into the safe containment of the Titan’s core, causing its reactor become unstable before pulling the gun out just as Meat Man jumped in, the Ion Prime plunged his fist through the cockpit and grabbed Barber and throwing him to the side before firing his laser straight through Barber’s Titan.

Barber’s sonic titan was destroyed. As he landed Styx had already appeared in front of him using his stim. “Who do you work for?” Styx questioned barber. “Ge..general pol…po” Justin answered in fear. “Reason for invading this peaceful city?” Styx questioned smirking. “To..to abduct special civilians for his experiments.” Justin spoke while almost crying like a baby.

“People like them deserved to be punished, that includes you.” Styx chuckled before kicking Justin into a almost settling cement mixture. “AHHH!” Justin yelled as the cement started to harden around him due to Styx activating the concrete settling machine the pool of concrete was in. After a few seconds the cement had fully hardened and Justin was embedded in it like a beautiful carving by an artist.

“Heh, serves him right. Abducting innocents like some kind of alien.” Styx sneered. “A-A-A-aSsHOLe..” Purge Man said, his electronics were still glitching due to the blow from earlier. “That’s going to hurt in the morning.” The Titan said before going to a power saving mode and falling. Ocean Man picked up Purge man and put him on his back.

Meat Man’s eye looked over to Purge Man. “Damn, he needs some milk!”

John then could be heard over the coms. “Not the time, Meat Man.” CP’s voice can then be heard in their comms.

“A better phrase would be “dam he needs some batteries!”“ Styx chuckled, he knew CP was fond of jokes as well. Styx then walked to john before asking. "So what’s your name, mate?”

“John.” The pilot said, looking at Styx. “That’s a manly name, mine’s Styx.” Styx looked around at the rag tag group. “There should be a ship to come pick us up now right?” He puzzled.

“Evac is in 15 minutes. Be patient.” John said before going over to play Rock Paper Scissors with Meat Man. “I owe you a favour today, had it not been you that came and rescued angel city, those imc scum might have abducted all of them.” Styx thanked john before confessing. “I also have to thank you for restoring my memory, i was shot here and presumed dead but i only lost my memories your actions brought them back. I have to thank you for that.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just doing it because it’s what my brothers would have wanted.” This was half true. “Yep, this is what any brother or sister would have wanted.” Styx huffed as he recalled Alizeh his adopted daughter and Lalah his adopted sister.

“Ocean Man and Purge Man were their Titans. They were separated from their Titans and publicly executed.” “By imc i guess? Always those scum.” Styx growled. “Yes. I was told their Titans would be assigned to new pilots, but I demanded they be synced with me.” “Must be alot of weight on your shoulders linking up to 3 titans like that.” Styx replied awestruck before walking to meat man and discussing memes while the evac came.

“Yo dawg, i heard you like robots so we put a robot inside your robot, so you can beep boop while you beep boop.” Styx chirped.

“WOW.” Exclaimed meat man. “Have you ever heard of that Szechuan sauce McDonalds released in 1998 back when humanity was still stuck in the home system?” Styx questioned. “What….?”

“The one that’s so sweet and spicy it ascends your soul to cloud 9 as you eat.” Styx preached. “That honestly sounds horrible.” “Whelp everyone has their own tastes, tell me about any memes you like the most.” Styx spoke.

“You reposted in the wrong neighbourhood’s pretty good.” “Ah yes so versatile, you could fit into any genre. You know what play that song for me. I have got some moves to bust.” Styx exclaimed. Meat Man began to blare it on his speakers.

“This is what I’m talking about!” Styx cheered as he proceed to perform a dance from a comic book he once read as a kid. John laughed softly.

Eventually evac came and the 2 hopped on board. “You know what? My old friends in the militia told me to build tech and save lives. Angel city seems to need the angels now more than ever…and that’s why i want to join the Angel City Elite.” “You need to say that to the man in charge, not me. It’s not my position to do decide.” “Alright” Styx muttered as the two ships took of. One with the pilots and the other with the titans.

After they meet up with barker, he was genuinely surprised at why a ex militia would have wanted to join the elites but after listening to his reasons barker allowed him a temporary role in the elites before assigning him the most suitable position.

“HA, now I’m an angel city elite” Styx exclaimed gleefully as he left barkers office with a angel city elite badge in his hand that he later pinned onto his vest. John sighed and leaned against the wall, lighting a cigar.

Styx’s video chat suddenly lighted up as Alizeh appeared on the screen. “Thank god you are okay dad, I’ve missed you. But not is not the time for a reunion, big sis lalah has been captured by the imc!” Alizeh cried out. Styx worryingly questioned “Where is she now? Is she okay?”. “She’s being experimented on the moon Astatania which is just in the same solar system as angel city. Please save her.” Alizeh pleaded.

Styx replied with a warrior’s valour. “I will!” but just as the video chat was disconnected.

“Please help me rescue my sister!” Styx fell to the ground pleading john.

“Sure. Why not? It’ll help.” He said putting on his helmet and gesturing for his three Titans to follow him.

“Thank you john, i could not ask for a better friend” Styx said as he stood up.

Elsewhere, In the slums of a city, a lone spectre, wearing a long coat and hugging itself tightly travels through. Passing by alleys and buildings and undesirables, only to come up to a seemingly abandoned warehouse. It bangs on the door with its metal fist three times, jiggles the handle, then bangs on the door the same three times. The door opens and it is lead inside.

“Here again, huh? Let me guess. High priority target in need of a skilled multimech user.”

They move to a barely lit table, the man who spoke sits on one side, his forearms and hands in the light. Long, seemingly slender in the clothes he wears. The hands encased by leather gloves. The spectre lays down a device, and a voice speaks from it.

“Of a sort.”

“Do you have the case?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Give it now, and you already know my terms.”

“Of course.”

The hands, that were once clasped together now rest on the table, as the spectre pulls a case out of its coat and opens it.

“Good… Now where do you need me?”

Meanwhile on planet Astatania, A roar is heard over the prison as a 40 meter long assault ship lands down 'Urban Symphony’ painted across the hull guards stare in awe of the titanic gun ship that they don’t notice the hatch open and Revan step out helmet in hand “Alright ladies stop staring” he smirks as his titan steps out from behind him “Let the real men do their job”.

*TO BE CONTINUED”

——————————————- This chapter is written by @ask-a-robot-pilot , @sweatpants-gramps-the-kensei

( @s-sokuma and @ask-the-pilot-squad tagged cause you showed intrest durring the production of the chapter.)

#titanfall 2 #writing #roleplay

8 notes · View notes

todaybharatnews · 5 years

Link

via Today Bharat This year, Samsung clearly wants to get as many sales for each new budget or mid-range phone in a short amount of time before moving on and whipping up a new budget or mid-ranger just a few months down the line. Among the first devices that strategy has produced is the Galaxy A50s,nbsp;which was made official in late August, six months after the Galaxy A50. What Samsung is doing is simple: Taking features from the higher-end A series phones already launched this year and putting them on the cheaper devices. The A50s, for example, gets the 48MP primary rear camera and 32MP front cameranbsp;from the Galaxy A70nbsp;while almost everything else remains the same as before. The Exynos 9611 chipset inside the A50s is simply a higher-clocked Exynos 9610, and you get a new rear panel design and newer software out of the box. The Galaxy A50s is one of the first lsquo;srsquo; upgrade Samsung officially launched for its 2019 Galaxy A series phones. Thankfully, the Galaxy A50nbsp;was a pretty solid phone, so the A50s was an easy recipe for Samsung. How does it stand up to scrutiny? Thatrsquo;s something only our full review will tell you, but I do have a few early impressions of the device to share after spending a day with a review unit sent over by Samsung India. The first thing I noticed was the updated rear panel design. The Galaxy A50 had a gradient finish that blew up in a stunning rainbow-ish pattern when the sun hit it, and Samsung has added prism-like lines to it to differentiate the A50s. Itrsquo;s all still very beautiful, and I personally prefer this understated effect over the Aura Glow Galaxy Note 10, which just shines too much no matter how much light is falling on it and also makes fingerprints very easy to spot. The Galaxy A50s has the same overall dimensions as the Galaxy A50 and the same Infinity-U Super AMOLED display. The screen-to-body ratio is pretty high, but the rather wide chin below the display stands out a bit too much now that Irsquo;ve used the Galaxy Note 10 (review) for the last few weeks. But hey, you get a headphone jack here,nbsp;unlike the Galaxy Note 10 or the Galaxy M40, so maybe you wonrsquo;t mind the asymmetrical bezels all that much. Now, letrsquo;s talk about the software, the area in which I think the A50s stands out the most because of the fact that it gets One UI 1.5 from the Galaxy Note 10 along with some of the new features, like a Link to Windows shortcut in the quick toggles for firing up Microsoftrsquo;s Your Phone app. Therersquo;s Game Booster, which is an updated version of Game Launcher and tells you how much battery life you can expect while gaming. Therersquo;s also NFC-based Samsung Pay. nbsp; More importantly, the A50s has Edge screen and Edge lighting functionality, which has been reserved for Samsungrsquo;s flagship phones until now. Well, that or it arrived on one of the earlier mid-rangers Samsung launched in 2019 and I just didnrsquo;t notice.nbsp;Not all the Edge screen panels seem to be available, though. The lack of thenbsp;Smart selectnbsp;panel, which allows you to snip selective parts and make GIFs of on-screen content, is most conspicuous here asnbsp;Smart selectnbsp;can be incredibly useful, but perhaps Samsung will add those through an update later on. Hopefully, Samsung will also bring over the built-in screen recordernbsp;that you get on the Note 10 and Note 10+nbsp;to the A50s ndash; itrsquo;s not available on the device out of the box. On the imaging front, the A50s has a couple of new features, like shot suggestions that help you take better pictures by telling you where to point the camera, introduced on the Galaxy S10 earlier this year. Therersquo;s the built-in QR code scanner as well, along with stuff like Super Slow-mo recording and AR Emoji. When it comes to image quality, Irsquo;m assuming the A50s will perform just like the Galaxy A70, but I wonrsquo;t be able to give you a verdict on that right now. Performance on the phone seems to be very similar to the A50. And thatrsquo;s not exactly a good thing as far as generally navigating through the user interface is concerned. There seems to be some hesitation in the phonersquo;s response to taps on the screen. I mean, things are smooth and menus and apps open quickly, but the response isnrsquo;t as instantaneous as I would like. That, I think, is down to the Exynos 9611 chipset. The Snapdragon-powered Galaxy M40 and A70 do not have the same issue, and so I continue to stick to the belief that Samsungrsquo;snbsp;Exynos chips remain inferior to Qualcommrsquo;s Snapdragon SoCs on mid-range phones. However, gaming performance should be great on the A50s, going by how the Galaxy A50 ran games pretty well. Overall, the Galaxy A50s seems like a nice package. In India, it costs Rs. 22,999 (~$320) for the 4GB+128GB configuration and Rs. 24,999 (~$350) for the 6GB+128GB configuration, with the latter being placed right between the Galaxy A50s and Galaxy A70. Whether it offers enough to get a recommendation over those two already impressive phones is a question Irsquo;ll answer in our full review. GALAXY A50S SM-A507F GENERAL INFORMATION Model name Galaxy A50s Model Number SM-A507F Model type Phone Color Prism Crush Black, Prism Crush White, Prism Crush Green, Prism Crush Violet Announced 2019, August Released 2019, September PHYSICAL SPECIFICATIONS Dimensions 158.5 x 74.7 x 7.7mm Weight 169g OPERATING SYSTEM Operating System Android 9.0 (Pie) NETWORK/BEARER SIM Dual WiFi Only No SIM card size Nano-SIM (4FF) Network 2G, 3G, 4G/LTE 2G GSM GSM850, GSM900, DCS1800, PCS1900 3G UMTS B1 (2100), B2 (1900), B5 (850), B8 (900) 4G LTE 4G FDD LTE: B1(2100), B3(1800), B5(850), B7(2600), B8(900), B20(800) 4G TDD LTE: B38(2600), B40(2300), B41(2500) DISPLAY Technology (Main Display) Super AMOLED Size (Main Display) 6.4"(162.1mm) Resolution (Main Display) FHD +2340 x 1080 Colour Depth (Main Display) 16M Pixel Density ~402 PPI S Pen Support No PROCESSOR Type Exynos 9610 Clock Speed Quad -Core 2.3GHz amp; Quad-Core 1.7GHz Cores 8 Cores (Octa-Core) GPU Mali-G72 MP3 MEMORY RAM Size (GB) 4GB, 6GB ROM Size (GB) 64GB, 128GB SSD No eMMC No External Memory Support Up to 512GB SENSORS Sensors Accelerometer, Optical Fingerprint Sensor, Gyro Sensor, Geomagnetic Sensor, Hall Sensor, Light Sensor, Proximity Sensor Additional features Bixby, Samsung Pay (NFC) AUDIO AND VIDEO Video Recording Resolution FHD (1920 x 1080) @30fps Video Playing Format MP4, M4V, 3GP, 3G2, WMV, ASF, AVI, FLV, MKV, WEBM Video Playing Resolution UHD 4K (3840 x 2160) @120fps Audio Playing Format MP3, M4A, 3GA, AAC, OGG, OGA, WAV, WMA, AMR, AWB, FLAC, MID, MIDI, XMF, MXMF, IMY, RTTTL, RTX, OTA CAMERA Main Camera Triple Front Camera Single Main Camera - Resolution 48 MP, CMOS amp; 5MP, CMOS Depth amp; 8MP, CMOS Ultrawide Rotating Camera No Front Camera - Resolution 32 MP, CMOS Main Camera - Flash Yes Front Camera - Flash No Main Camera - Auto Focus Yes Front Camera - Auto Focus No CONNECTIVITY ANT+ No USB Version Type C Location Technology GPS, GLONASS Headphone Socket 3.5mm Stereo MHL No Wi-Fi 802.11 a/b/g/n/ac 2.4G+5GHz, VHT80 Wi-Fi Direct Yes DLNA Support No NFC No Bluetooth Version Version 5.0 Bluetooth Profiles A2DP, AVRCP, DI, HFP, HID, HOGP, HSP, MAP, OPP, PAN, PBAP PC Sync. Samsung Smart Switch BATTERY Standard Battery Capacity 4.000mAh Removable No Fast charging Yes Super Fast charging No GALAXY A50S NEWS 1 PHONESamsung Galaxy A50s hands-on impressionsBy Abhijeet M.|6 hours ago 4 PHONESamsung launches the Galaxy A50s and A30s in IndiaBy Naresh|1 day ago 6 PHONEGalaxy A50s set to launch in India on September 11By Naresh|3 days ago 8 PHONEGalaxy A50s, Galaxy A30s official with upgraded cameras and designBy Abhijeet M.|3 weeks ago nbsp;

#IFTTT #Today Bharat

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regents-hidden-artblog · 5 years

Text

Mending Bridges

For the third time, I checked to make sure everything was in place.

Three seats? Check.

Table and chessboard? Check.

Icebox full of drinks? Check.

Snacks? Check.

Everything seemed to be there, so all that was left was to anxiously pace back and forth to await my guests. And for two minutes, I did. Then, the sound of an electric flash and the excited chatter of Dogana from inside the house told me they had arrived.

I slumped down into my chair beside the table before they had reached the back door, and I lazily waved at them as they slid the door open.

"not wearing your eyepatch, Regent?" Alastair asked, politely shutting the door behind him as he followed after our mutual matesprit.

"I'm not wearing my crown, either." I said back, "We're here to play a game, not hold a summit."

The corner of his mouth crept upward, but it settled back quickly as he took his seat across from me. "fair point."

He folded one leg up over his knee, sitting back as he watched me unpack the chess set. The pieces and board were, as expected, black and white, but the pieces were embellished with gold and violet trim to match the theming of Prospit and Derse.

"I am curious though," he began, as Dogana started rummaging through the cooler, "why do you still sometimes wear it? I've heard people offer several reasons why you would, but it would be interesting to know for sure."

"What've you heard?" I asked, looking up occasionally as I brought the pieces up in handfuls.

"some say you do it to look more imposing, others attribute it to a fond familiarity with only having half your sight." He began picking out the white pieces, setting them up in rank on his side of the board. "some have said it's to give you an advantage in fights, hiding the biggest tell for your powers, and others still claim you do it to mimic the appearance of an old god from Earthen myth."

I started setting up my own pieces, mulling over the supposed reasons in my head. I slowed down after I had finished the rank of pawns, and as I set down my king, I asked, "Would you laugh if I said all of them were true?"

He chuckled, almost - an amused huff, but still an answer. "somehow, knowing you, I had figured they would be."

When I had finished setting up my side of the board, he looked at me with a curious expression on his face. "tell me about the god you try to resemble."

"Well, what d'you want to know about him?"

"anything you can."

Dogana had sat down, holding a water bottle in one hand and a bag of potato chips in the other. Expecting an explanation, she pulled her chair closer to the table and crossed her legs, staring at me eagerly.

I reached down into the cooler, and pulled up a bottle of root beer. I twisted the cap off, took a swig, and nodded to Alastair to start the match.

Pawn B2 to B4.

"His name was Odin," I began, "and he was the ruler of the Aesir. He was a god of wisdom, and was storied to have gone to great lengths to learn the future."

Knight B8 to C6.

"great lengths?" Alastair asked, though he already figured the answer.

Pawn B4 to B5.

"He asked the Volva - the shaman - to foretell the events of the end-times. In exchange for the knowledge of Ragnarok..."

Knight C6 to E5.

"She demanded his eye."

"interesting..."

Pawn F2 to F4.

"Oh fuck me..." I groaned, moving my knight again.

Knight E5 to G6.

"so, what did the Volva tell him?"

Pawn D2 to D3.

"She told him, 'Asgard will be besieged by the fire-giants of Muspelheim. Their leader, Surtr, will kill the summer-god Freyr. Thor and the world-serpent, Jormungandr, will be each other's ends, and the wolf Fenrir will devour you before it is slain.'."

Pawn D7 to D6.

"'And the world of men will be reborn after a great flood.'"

Knight G1 to H3.

"I don't suppose you also gave your eye to see your end." He said dryly.

"That's just it." I said, in a voice nearly as concerned as it was nonchalant, "I didn't."

Bishop C8 to E6.

I took another swig from my root beer, trying to figure out what to do next. It was going to become obvious soon that I was setting up to castle, and I was certain Alastair would play around it.

Knight H3 to G5.

"anything else about Odin?" he asked, "Rose tells me you're more like him than you let on."

Bishop E6 to D5.

"Hmm...Well, he was as much a god of battle as he was a god of knowledge."

Knight G5 claims Pawn F7.

"Fuck." I took another drink. Dogana watched with uninformed curiosity.

King E8 claims Knight F7.

"can't castle now."

"I know. Asshole."

Bishop C1 to E3.

"is that all?"

Knight G6 claims Pawn F4.

"I mean, he had an army of warrior souls who fought day in and day out." I reached over to Dogana, who held out the bag of chips for me to take a few. Alastair raised an eyebrow - whether it was for my move or my statement, I couldn't tell.

Bishop E3 claims Knight F4.

"sounds familiar enough."

"I should start calling everyone my 'einherjar', shouldn't I?"

Pawn H7 to H6.

"I mean, I keep everyone in fighting form," I took another lazy swig, watching Alastair fall for the bait. "And I host feasts often for everyone."

Bishop F4 claims Pawn H6.

It wasn't so much a bait to him as it was the best of two bad options.

Knight G8 claims Bishop H6.

Dogana cocked her head to the side. She was smarter than she made herself out to be, but I still couldn't help but wonder if she was trying to unravel our personal mindgames as much as she was unraveling the rules of movement.

Pawn H2 to H3.

The two of us stopped talking to focus on our chess game.

Knight H6 to F5.

Every turn took a little less than a minute as we concentrated on each move.

Pawn E2 to E4.

The redblood shuffled in her seat, displeased with the quiet that overcame us.

Knight F5 to D4.

Alastair glanced over to her before considering his next move. "Regent, may I have a water bottle, please?" He asked. I obliged, pulling a bottle from the cooler and handing it over to him. "thank you."

"No problem."

Pawn C2 to C3.

In four turns or less, Alastair would have my other knight off the field. He smiled - because he saw that I knew.

Knight D4 claims Pawn B5.

Pawn A2 to A3.

Knight B5 claims Pawn C3.

Knight B1 claims Knight C3.

"and here you thought yourself so clever with that knight," he said, leaning back with a casual grin. He was all too pleased with himself, although that wasn't anything new to me. "only to have it guided along to its end."

Bishop D5 to B3.

Dogana, for her part, was excited as ever to see us both fighting in such a controlled manner. To me, this was unusual, as normally she preferred fights with enormous amounts of bloodshed.

Queen D1 claims Bishop B3. King F7 in check.

"that bishop was under threat of capture for five turns, and you give him to my queen? check." the Prince mocked.

"Says the guy who sacrificed a knight to move my king once." I snapped back.

"I accomplished more with that loss than you did this one."

I thought longer than usual about what I would do next. Ultimately, I chose a simple solution.

King F7 to E8.

"I'm glad I can make you think, Regent."

Knight C3 to B5.

I gave no response.

Pawn C7 to C6.

"with that in mind," he began, "I believe we should cut the small-talk. there's something else I'm curious about. check."

Knight B5 claims Pawn D6. King E8 in check.

"And that is...?" I asked, barely looking up from the board.

Queen D8 claims Knight D6.

Bishop F1 to E2.

"why do you hate me?"

Dogana gave him an encouraging look, while I spent more time on my next move than I had with my king moments earlier. I was trying to work out what I'd do next, as well as trying to reason out an answer to his question.

After a lengthy silence - broken only for a moment by me taking a sip of my drink - I made a move.

Pawn G7 to G6.

"Because...We've always hated each other, I guess."

"are you truly that simple?" He looked at me, his expression simple, and devoid of antagonism or pity. He didn't understand the answer.

Bishop E2 to G4.

"Well, why do /you/ hate /me/?"

Rook H8 to H6.

"I used to hate you because I had thought you were arrogant, self-assured, and ignorant." he said, taking a drink. "you named yourself 'king', and you had practically made a game of it. there was no council of royalty to crown you, and your exploits in Sburb aside, you were effectively a nobody."

Pawn H3 to H4.

"you were a cocky scholar playing king, and everybody played with you." He took another drink, staring me dead in the eyes. "that is why I hated you."

Pawn A7 to A5.

"And you don't anymore?"

Queen B3 to A4.

"time tempered the fires of envy, and after learning that self-made kings were common on Earth, I started seeing past the arrogance of it to find the similarities to Elysian rule."

Pawn B7 to B6.

"so in a word, no. I don't hate you anymore."

Rook A1 to B1.

"so I ask you again: are you truly that simple?"

"I guess I am." I answered.

Rook A8 to B8.

Alastair sighed. Dogana made an uncertain look at him that was halfway between pleading and apologizing. Her drink was empty, and she had already picked up another bag of chips, and I had only now noticed that my bottle was empty, too.

Rook A1 claims Pawn B6.

"And ^y^ou don't ^w^anna ma^y^be put that hate aside and be friends?" the troll finally piped in.

Rook B8 claims Rook B6.

"I've never really seen the need to." I said, shifting to sit cross-legged in my seat.

Queen A4 claims Pawn A5.

Rook B6 to B1. King E1 in check.

"I suppose that would be my fault." Alastair said, hesitantly moving his king out of harm's way. "I had been your sworn enemy for so long that my antagonism may well have simply stuck."

King E1 to F2.

"I don't blame you, Regent. after ages since playing the game, I was still a pompous, arrogant ass."

Rook B1 claims Rook H1.

"it was only after I had met you, and Dogana, and Pelena that my attitude started to change."

King F2 to F3.

"I want to do what I can to earn your respect and become your ally, not your adversary." Alastair held an honest look to his face, but even while I considered his words, I kept most of my attention on the game.

Rook H6 claims Pawn H4.

"and I suppose to do that I may have to take a page out of Victor's book."

Queen A5 to A7.

"I'm not /that/ simple, Al."

Rook H1 to G1.

We were quickly approaching the end-game, both of us setting up to place the other's king in check.

"and that is exactly why I'm confident it will work."

Queen A7 to A8. King E8 in check.

I wondered what Alastair could've meant. Surely, he didn't think that by beating me in chess, we'd just bury the hatchet like that, did he?

King E8 to F7.

Dogana practically beamed in anticipation for whatever plan Alastair had in mind.

Pawn G2 to G3.

I was starting to doubt it pertained to the chess match.

Rook H4 claims Bishop G4.

Queen D6 to F4. King F3 in check.

King F3 to E2.

Queen F4 claims pawn G3.

King E2 to D2.

Rook G1 to C1.

King D2 claims Rook C1.

Alastair's queen wasn't a threat to my king, regardless of whether or not my own queen threatened it. But he had just let mine become a threat.

Queen G3 to G2.

"I think this may be it." He said, staring at the board with no small sense of satisfaction.

King C1 to B1.

Rook G4 to H4.

King B1 to A1.

Rook H4 to H1. Checkmate.

The Prince took a large drink of water, and then held out his arm to me.

"you win, Regent. that was a good game."

I took his hand, and gave it a firm shake.

"Likewise," I said, as I began to start packing the pieces back up in their box. "I was wondering if you thought you'd psyche me out with your queen."

"you are a simple man. it was worth the attempt."

"So, I don't assume that was your little plan to earn my respect, was it?"

"no." He said simply. He took up the black king piece, and was looking over it while I put away the rest.

"Then what is it?"

Dogana was nearly ready to jump from her seat in excitement. Alastair moved around the table, and placed the piece he held in its place in the box, and then stood straight, looking at me.

"Regent, I would like to ask if you would help me earn your respect."

I stared at him blankly for a moment, which dragged on into a minute. Then two.

"...Really." I asked.

"you have a stone in your hand, Regent. the only reasonable way I could get it is to ask for it."

The whole situation had me dumbfounded enough that I actually looked at my hands, and a flash of embarrassment took my face when I realized it was a metaphor. Hastily, I closed the box and began carrying it into the house.

"You're kidding."

"no, I'm not."

"That is, hands down, the dumbest, most hopeful thing I've heard out of your mouth, Al." I turned to look at him as I opened the door, making no effort to suppress my smile. "We'll talk details later tonight, yeah?"

He smiled back, and Dogana was already bounding out of her seat to hug him. "yeah," he answered, regaining his balance. "where and when?"

"Ohh, I dunno. Eleven o'clock, over pesterchum?"

"understood."

With that, we had decided to call it a day. Tomorrow, Alastair and I would begin working to put our past differences behind us, and become closer allies for the future.

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healthandfitnessrecipes-blog · 6 years

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Take The Flavor of Green Tea to the Next Level With Jasmine Tea

https://healthandfitnessrecipes.com/?p=7001

Tea is one of the most widely enjoyed beverages around the world. In the United States, it can be found in almost 80 percent of households, and in 2017, Americans consumed over 84 billion servings of tea, or 3.8 billion gallons.1 Green tea is one of the most popular types, known for its health benefits and flavor. If your taste buds are looking for a new way to enjoy this beneficial beverage, then jasmine tea may be the answer for you.

What Is Jasmine Tea?

Jasmine tea is green tea scented with jasmine flowers, though the base tea can also use black, white or oolong tea leaves, though this is less common. High-quality jasmine tea is usually scented using fresh jasmine flowers, while affordable options are flavored with jasmine oils or jasmine extract. The end result produces a clean and fragrant smell, with a sweet flavor.2

Aside from using different teas to create varying flavors of jasmine tea, manufacturers use different grades of the same tea plant. For example, some jasmine teas are made with a large ratio of flower buds to tea leaves, while some are made with larger leaves and fewer buds.3 Jasmine tea is traditionally made by storing green tea until jasmine flowers are ready to harvest, and then scented over several days. Two methods are generally employed to create the final product:4

Fresh jasmine flowers are placed on a tray below a woven tray of tea leaves in a warm room. Over the course of several days, the flowers are replaced to give the tea an ethereal, light aroma and flavor. This method is more laborious and more expensive.

Leftover, wilted jasmine flowers are used to scent green tea leaves, resulting in a cheaper price when packaged and sold.

Potential Benefits of Jasmine Tea You Should Know

Jasmine tea is a modified form of green tea that is scented with jasmine flowers, meaning you will still get the same benefits of regular green tea, only with a different flavor. Green tea happens to be one of the healthiest beverages you can drink, with studies suggesting that it may help:

Improve brain function: The caffeine found in green tea may help boost reaction time, memory, mood, as well as lower anxiety.5

Promote healthy weight: Drinking green tea may help you lose weight, as it has been shown to boost metabolism6,7 as well as fat-burning.8

Reduce risk of cancer: Green tea contains powerful antioxidants that may help reduce your chances of developing cancer. In one study, researchers noted that women who drank the most green tea had a 20 to 30 percent lower risk of developing breast cancer.9

In another study, men who drank green tea had a 48 percent lower risk of developing prostate cancer, the most common type of cancer among this gender group.10

Promote brain health: Aside from helping improve brain performance, green tea may help keep your brain healthy as you age. Multiple studies indicate that catechins in green tea have neuroprotective properties that may help reduce the risk of Parkinson's and Alzheimer's disease.11,12,13

Eliminate microbes: Several studies indicate that catechins have innate antimicrobial effects that may help kill various bacteria and viruses responsible for various diseases.14,15,16,17

Drinking green tea may also help promote oral health by reducing inflammation and limiting the growth of bacteria associated with periodontal diseases.18

Manage diabetes: Data compiled from a meta-analysis of 17 studies suggest that green tea consumption may significantly help reduce fasting glucose and hemoglobin concentrations.19

Nutrition Facts and Caffeine Content of Jasmine Tea

Since jasmine tea is made by combining jasmine blossoms with green tea, the final product still has caffeine, albeit at a lower amount, typically between 14 to 60 milligrams per cup.20 In addition, jasmine tea contains trace amounts of vitamin B1, B2, B3, B5 and B6, as well as vitamin C. A single-cup serving also provides the following nutritional information:21

Jasmine Tea Nutrition Facts

Serving Size: 1 cup (237g) Amt. Per Serving % Daily Value* Calories 2.4kcal 0% Total Fat 0 g 0% Saturated Fat 0 g 0% Trans Fat 0 g 0% Cholesterol 0g Sodium 2.4mg 0% Total Carbs 0g 0% Dietary Fiber 0 g 0% Sugars 0 g Protein 0.5g 1% Vitamin A 0% Calcium 1% Vitamin C 0% Iron 0%

*Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet. Your daily values may be higher or lower depending on your calorie

How to Make and Store Your Own Jasmine Tea

Making your own jasmine tea starts with homegrown plants, specifically the Camellia sinensis plant and the jasmine flower. Follow this procedure to create high-quality jasmine:22

1. Start propagating jasmine seeds by soaking them for 24 hours before planting.

2. Fill six-pack cells with potting soil, then soak it completely as well.

3. Allow the water to drain before planting, then plant one seed in each cell.

4. Cover each cell with plastic and place them under direct sunlight.23

5. While growing throughout the spring and summer, the plant will need full sunlight. During winter, sunlight is still required, but exposure doesn't have to be direct.

For the tea plant, make sure that you have well-draining and sandy soil with a bit of acidity, and then follow these steps:

1. Germinate seeds by soaking them for 24 to 48 hours, then place them in a warm, sunny place to dry.24

2. Water regularly but the roots should not become soaked.25

3. Allow the soil to drain and let the top few inches dry before watering again.26

Tea plants take around three years to reach full maturity, so growing them will require lots of patience.27 But all that hard work will pay off as you'll be able to grow your own homemade jasmine tea free from pesticides and other dangerous chemicals.

How to Make Homemade Jasmine Tea

Once your tea plant matures, follow this procedure to specifically create jasmine tea:28

Procedure:

1. Pluck the youngest leaves and leaf buds.

2. Blot the leaves dry, and then place them in the shade for a few hours.

3. Steam the leaves on your stove for one minute.

4. Spread the leaves on a baking sheet and dry in the oven at 250 degrees Fahrenheit for 20 minutes.

5. Store the dried leaves in an airtight container.

6. For a different flavor, you can roast the leaves in a skillet for two minutes instead of steaming them.

Once you have your own jasmine and tea plants, follow this procedure to make your own jasmine tea:29

How to Make Jasmine Tea

Ingredients:

• Green tea leaves

• Fresh jasmine flowers

Procedure:

1. Place a layer of tea leaves in the bottom of a jar with a large opening. Then, place a layer of fresh jasmine flowers over them. Repeat as your jasmine blossoms, if desired.

2. Place a can or a small weight on top of the jasmine and tea leaves, then cover the jar tightly.

3. Allow the flowers to scent the tea for at least 24 hours or up to several weeks.

4. To prepare the tea, pour a heaping teaspoon into 8 to 10 ounces of hot filtered water that had just been removed from the heat.

5. Steep for five to seven minutes, then strain and serve.

Possible Side Effects of Jasmine Tea

Jasmine tea is generally safe to drink, but drinking too much of it can increase anxiety, as well as cause restlessness, sleeping problems and increased urination. This is due to the effects of having too much caffeine in your body.30 As such, jasmine tea should be consumed in moderation. In addition, too much green tea can cause stomach irritation. Since jasmine tea is a variation of green tea, the same effect may happen if you don't monitor your consumption.31

As an alternative, you may consider purchasing high-quality decaffeinated tea. According to SFGate, decaffeination through the use of carbon dioxide helps preserve more beneficial compounds compared to other decaffeination methods.32 No matter what option you choose, I still strongly recommend consulting a doctor before drinking jasmine tea, particularly if you're taking medication for a specific health problem, as the caffeine may interfere with the drug's effects and negatively impact your health.

Pregnant women should strictly avoid jasmine tea because the caffeine can negatively affect your baby's health. In light of this, you should also avoid coffee and other caffeinated drinks if you are pregnant. Consider adjusting your diet to address the root of your fatigue instead of relying on caffeine during this delicate period.

Explore New Flavors and Give Jasmine Tea a Try

If you feel like drinking green tea is getting mundane, but you still would like to gain its health benefits, then jasmine tea may be a viable alternative for you. Not only are you still getting the catechins and other antioxidants found in green tea, you'll be able to experience some brand new flavors. Plus, growing your own tea leaves and jasmine flowers ensures that your stock is always fresh and devoid of toxins.

Frequently Asked Questions About Jasmine Tea

Q: What is jasmine tea good for?

A: As indicated by the numerous studies mentioned above, drinking jasmine tea may provide a wealth of health benefits such as weight management, reduced risk of cancer, improved brain function and antimicrobial properties.

Q: Where does jasmine tea come from?

A: Jasmine tea is originally produced in the Fujian Province in China, as well as in Taiwan.33

Note: When buying tea of any kind, make sure that it's organic and grown in a pristine environment. The Camellia sinensis plant in particular is very efficient in absorbing lead, fluoride and other heavy metals and pesticides from the soil, which can then be taken up into the leaves. To avoid ingesting these dangerous toxins, a clean growing environment is essential, so that you can be sure you're ingesting only pure, high-quality tea.

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battybat-boss · 6 years

Text

Take The Flavor of Green Tea to the Next Level With Jasmine Tea

What Is Jasmine Tea?

Leftover, wilted jasmine flowers are used to scent green tea leaves, resulting in a cheaper price when packaged and sold.

Potential Benefits of Jasmine Tea You Should Know

Improve brain function: The caffeine found in green tea may help boost reaction time, memory, mood, as well as lower anxiety.5

Promote healthy weight: Drinking green tea may help you lose weight, as it has been shown to boost metabolism6,7 as well as fat-burning.8

In another study, men who drank green tea had a 48 percent lower risk of developing prostate cancer, the most common type of cancer among this gender group.10

Eliminate microbes: Several studies indicate that catechins have innate antimicrobial effects that may help kill various bacteria and viruses responsible for various diseases.14,15,16,17

Drinking green tea may also help promote oral health by reducing inflammation and limiting the growth of bacteria associated with periodontal diseases.18

Manage diabetes: Data compiled from a meta-analysis of 17 studies suggest that green tea consumption may significantly help reduce fasting glucose and hemoglobin concentrations.19

Nutrition Facts and Caffeine Content of Jasmine Tea

Jasmine Tea Nutrition Facts

Serving Size: 1 cup (237g) Amt. Per Serving % Daily Value* Calories 2.4kcal 0% Total Fat 0 g 0% Saturated Fat 0 g 0% Trans Fat 0 g 0% Cholesterol 0g Sodium 2.4g 0% Total Carbs 0g 0% Dietary Fiber 0 g 0% Sugars 0 g Protein 0.5g 1% Vitamin A 0% Calcium 1% Vitamin C 0% Iron 0%