#ive been shipping them for fun since the pilot came out and now we find out he has a crush on her!!!

[zexal-bunny20]

She thinks he's a dork but finds him endearing. 🍒🐍

#zexal-bunny20's art #hazbin hotel #sir pentious #hazbin hotel sir pentious #cherri bomb #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #cherrisnake #sir pentious x cherri #omg!!! #ive been shipping them for fun since the pilot came out and now we find out he has a crush on her!!! #sketch this real quick after the new episode #cherrisnake was the first ship i liked from this show #sketch

[gospelofme]

Super Nova

Chapter 2: The Offer

A year after that encounter with Master Tarrek, Sayriel would find herself on a transport leaving the atmosphere of Yavin IV, all of her possessions fit into a backpack. She didn’t have much, so it didn’t take her but minutes to pack.

A grand total of 15 years had passed since that encounter now. A 32 year old Sayriel stood under a stream of hot water, the steam of her shower fogging up the refresher. She had been too tired to shower the night before, so she made a point to get up early and wash up. Dried blood and dirt flowed off her body and swirled down the drain. She had found herself thinking back to that conversation with Master Tarrek. She still had issues with meditation, but it was most likely because she didn’t practice it much anymore. There were some thoughts she didn’t want to confront and areas of her mind that she refused to explore. She briefly wondered if she had made the right decision regarding leaving the sect on Yavin IV. They were pushing you out more and more every day. They wanted you to leave, they were practically showing you to the door. She reminded herself as she turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her now clean body. She bent over the sink and twisted excess water out of her long, dark brown hair.

After finishing her morning routine, Sayriel got dressed and checked her datapad for any messages. She frowned when she noticed one new notification. She didn’t really feel like seeing him today, but he was often associated with credits, which she did feel like accumulating more of. She already had a job she needed to complete today, so his message would need to wait. She dressed in dark grey pants and a white shirt. She paired this with black boots that hugged her mid-calf securely. They had seen better days but they were sturdy and still did their job. The thick soles protected her from broken glass to semi-molten metals. Plus they were fun to kick people with when she needed to. She secured her blaster to the holster on her thigh and her lightsaber was securely hidden in a pocket on her pant leg. After downing some caf for breakfast, and left her small apartment. Corellia was still largely asleep, but some businesses were starting to open up. The sun was just beginning to show itself at the horizon.

She walked in the direction of the landing pads where her ship was parked and hopefully awaiting the shipment of it’s cargo. She passed a few businesses on her way, some still securely locked up and others being set up for the customers that would eventually arrive. She knew a couple of the shop owners, a few of the market vendors, and the guy who ran the shipyard she used, but that was it. She didn’t want to be too known. Besides, she didn’t know how long she’d call Corellia home. Once at the shipyard, she typed in her access code and the gate slide open slowly. She found her ship on pad D4 and sure enough there was a Twi’lek male waiting for her with a stack of crates and a service droid. Sayriel smirked, at least he was on time this morning.

“Is this my shipment of Burra fish?” She inquired once she was closer in range.

“Yup, packed with the industrial ice packs as requested.” The Twi’lek responded. “I just need you to sign for them and I’ll have my droid load them onto your ship.” The vendor gestured to her Allanar N3 freighter, The Revenge. Sayriel took the datapad he held out for her and inspected the manifest and then opened one of the crates. Sure enough the fillets lay neatly wrapped surrounded by plenty of the industrial-grade ice packs. She checked all 10 crates and was pleased with all of them. She signed for the shipment and the Twi’lek’s droid set to work loading them onto her ship.

“So where are all these crates going?” The Twi’lek asked, making small talk. Sayriel hated small talk.

“Somewhere.” She replied with a “that’s all you need to know” smile. The man took the hint and didn’t try to continue the conversation.

Once the crates were securely loaded, Sayriel settled herself into the pilot’s seat and started her ship up. Within moments she was soaring through the atmosphere of Corellia and soon after that she was out among the stars. It was her favorite place to be truthfully. After a few calculations, she jumped to hyperspace and settled in for the two hour journey. She decided to try her hand at meditation again, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing. A quick series of beeps jolted her awake, it was time to drop out of hyperspace. She must’ve fallen asleep during her attempted meditation. Honestly that wouldn’t be the first time that has happened. Nar Shaddaa loomed in her viewport and Sayr piloted her way through the atmosphere to Wormstew Town. She had always wondered how that place got its name, but felt that she didn’t want to truly know the answer.

“This is Nova, I’m in route to Wormstew with your shipment of Burra fillets.” She commed her contact’s frequency. There was a crackle of static and then a reply for her to land on platform C5. She did as instructed and disembarked once she landed. She was met by a human male and a Rodian with a datapad. The Rodian scanned the cargo once it was unloaded and gave a nod to his human counterpart

“Looks like everything is in order,” the man said, lifting the lids on each crate and inspecting the contents. He pulled out of the ice packs and held it between his hands. “The hospital will be most pleased with this generous donation from your benefactor. Now if you come with me, I’ll get your delivery fee sorted.” He added, gesturing for Sayr to follow him to a small building near the platforms. The man tossed the industrial-grade ice pack from hand to hand casually.

Upon entering the small building, which was essentially 4 walls, a ceiling, and a desk, Sayr was greeted by a female Twi’lek. She was dressed in hospital garb, but Sayr could spot the outline of a blaster under her white coat. The man handed the woman the ice pack, who then carefully opened it along one edge. She took a test strip out of her coat pocket and dipped it into the substance that was starting to soften. The test strip emerged blue and the woman smiled.

“The bacta is still viable. This will help immensely. The Hutts have cornered the market on this stuff and are charging much more than we can ever afford.” The woman explained. Sayr found it disgusting how one life form could withhold live-saving equipment or substances from another. Bacta was an essential hospital tool and to charge an insane amount of credits for it just because they can was monstrous. This shipment of about 240 total frozen Bacta packs wasn’t a lot but at least they’ll be able to have some at the hospital here and send some to the smaller clinics they were affiliated with. She felt good participating with these causes, as she felt it helped balance out the unpleasant ones that also found their way into her calendar.

The credit transfer took place and Sayr took her leave of the pair, passing by the crates on their way to the hospital. She noted a male Zabrak leaning against the edge of her ship, she knew who he was. As she got closer she could make out the stupid smile on his stupid face. She had hoped he would’ve waited for her to answer his earlier message, but no. He felt the need to follow her here instead.

“What do you want Varex?” She asked with a weary tone. The Zabrak pushed himself off the side of her ship and scrambled up onto the loading ramp to block her way. Sayr tried to side-step him and he moved to match her. She stopped and gave him a glare.

“I just want 15 minutes of your time. I have an offer that I think you’ll be interested in.” Varex said, he sounded excited but that could just be a ploy to get her to agree.

“And what if I say no?” She countered, trying to side step him. He moved to still block her.

“Then I’ll follow you until you say yes.” He replied, Sayr knew he was serious and gave a weary sigh. She didn’t have any other job lined up right now anyways. She didn’t have to say anything, the look she gave the Zabrak pirate told him she agreed.

“Great!” He jumped off the edge of the landing ramp and back onto the platform. Sayriel made sure her ship was secured tightly and followed the pirate into town.

She followed him to a cantina fittingly dubbed The Wormhole. They walked through the small crowd at the front and settled in a back booth. A waitress came over and gave them both menus and said she’d be back in a bit to take their orders. Sayr folded her arms on the table top in front of her as Varex made himself comfortable in the seat across from her.

“So, it’s been a couple months.” He noted, Sayriel smirked.

“Is this a business proposition or a catching up meeting? Because time started when we walked through that door. You have 12 minutes left.” Sayr responded, sitting back and crossing her arms across her chest. She wasn’t interested in talking about the “old days” or what she had “been up to”. The Zabrak raises his hands in mock surrender and was about to get down to business when the waitress returned. Varex ordered the house-made Ale and Sayr got herself a Sparkling Stardust. Their drinks arrived quickly and Sayr took a sip of the sweet glittery drink. Varex shook his head amusedly.

“What?” Sayriel asked with a raised eyebrow, “a woman like myself can’t enjoy a girly drink?” She added with a teasing smirk.

“It’s just odd to see a woman like you sipping a glittery drink, I’ve seen you do some very unladylike things.” Varex explained, Sayriel shrugged in acknowledgement. The Zabrak then got down to the reason why he had followed her to Nar Shaddaa.

“A collector on Coruscant contacted me with a very intriguing job opportunity. He is a purveyor of ancient artifacts and has heard of some items of a Force-like nature hidden in caches on a few different planets.” Varex began. Sayr narrowed her eyes at the term “Force-like”. She had a feeling she knew why Varex had contacted her.

“What are these items of a Force-like nature?” She asked, eyes still narrowed at Varex. The Zabrak looked around to make sure no one was paying too much attention.

“I can’t say here, but I can tell you that they’re very old and very valuable.” Varex said, leaning forward. Sayriel stayed with her back against her booth seat. She wore an unimpressed expression on her face.

“What are they? Master Yoda’s bedtime slippers?” Sayriel asked sarcastically. Varex gave her a confused look in return.

“I don’t know who that is…but you can’t wear these I don’t think.” Varex replied, Sayriel rolled her eyes and leaned forward.

“So are you asking me because you value my company and think I make a wonderful work partner? Or is it because I have some tricks that will make these things very easy for you to find?” Varex didn’t hesitate with this reply.

“Both, but mainly the second thing.” Sayriel frowned and leaned back in her booth again, Varex quickly adding, “but also the first thing. You are a delight to have on the ship.” Sayriel held his gaze for a couple beats more and then turned her attention to her drink. She did appreciate his honesty and she did find his offer interesting. He drank his ale quickly and waited for her to finish her drink, which didn’t take long. Sparkling Stardust was always served in a small, delicate, wide-rimmed glass. But it was worth it.

“Okay fine, what the kriff. You were right, this sounds interesting.” She answered, Varex smiling in relief. Her joining his crew, even if on a temp basis, would make this mission so much easier. The two left the cantina, Varex paying for Sayriel’s drink on the way out. Varex gave Sayriel the coordinates to the current safe house. They both then parted ways and Sayriel found herself back out in space, surrounded by stars and silence.

Tag list

@jgvfhl @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun

@baby-queen-zen @halzore @escapedthesarlacc

#star wars #star wars fanfics #star wars fanfiction #original grey Jedi character #clone trooper kix #clone medic kix #post order 66 #zabrak #smuggling is fun #smuggler #good intentions #bacta

[littlemonstersau-blog]

The Feels Awaken, Part 2: The Fandom’s Menace

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

PART I - PART II [Interlude]  - PART III (you are here) - PART IV [Interlude]

———————————————————————————————-

Soos, excitedly setting up everything: Dude, I knew exactly what we should watch as soon as Stan said “movie day”. The prequel trilogy of Cosmos Conflicts! I’ve been meaning to show you them since, like, the first time you said you love the first two originals movies, and even more since we all sat down together so you could finally see Return of the Jelived, Bitch! The prequels’re actually, like, seriously three of my all-time favorite movies ever.

Ford, actually smiling: Heh. I would’ve watched them before now— especially now that I know how keen you are to share them with me— except Dipper and Mabel would never let me. They kept saying they loved me too much to let me watch them, if you can believe it.

Soos: Well, I admit they’re not the most popular with fans, yeah, but that’s just ‘cause, like, most people can’t handle this much raw, concentrated awesomeness.

Melody, deadpan on the floor: Uh huh. That’s exactly what it is.

Soos: It’s like really spicy food; some people just don’t have a— whatcha call it?—sophisticated enough palette to appreciate the awesome sauce. Y’know?

Melody, still deadpan: Most just aren’t refined enough. For sure. Yep. That explains it.

Stan, entering TV room: I got drinks for everybody!

Bill, right after him: And I got the popcorn! Let’s jump right in to this glorious madness!

Melody, mildly surprised: You like these movies?

Bill, passing around bowls of popcorn: Absolutely! They’re one of the hottest messes in cinematic history!

Stan, passing around cups of soda: Mel, you sure you don’t want my easy chair? It’s no problem, really.

Melody: Lying flat is the best thing for my back lately. Besides, I can put my feet up in my honeybear’s lap while he rubs them for me.

Soos, genuinely happy at this prospect: Sure can, honeybadger!

Stan, taking his seat: Well, if you’re sure. C’mon, gremlin! [picks up Bill]

Bill, almost giggling: Whoahoho! Careful, I’m gonna spill!

Stan, setting Bill next to him (on opposite side of Ford): There. All comfy, kiddo?

Bill, deciding to settle in like a cat: Alright, yeah, I’m okay with this. Primo seating and everything!

Ford, making himself look straight ahead: Let’s start it.

TV: George Dufasfilms Ltd. and 20th Century Foxups presents … Cosmos Conflicts, Episode 1! The Phantom Nuisance! [fanfare theme song plays, prologue crawls upward]

Ford: Wait, what? “Turmoil has engulfed the galaxy because taxation of trade routes to outlying star systems is in dispute”?! This is about freaking tax policy? And that leads to galactic turmoil?

Stan: Don’t know ‘bout you, but the IRS certainly causes me turmoil. [Soos stops rubbing Melody’s feet long enough to highfive him]

Ford, incredulous: This is a prequel, right? So why is all their tech more advanced? Why are there more and better droids?

Soos: Well, the Trade Union canonically uses droids more than other species. It only makes sense they’d create more advanced—

Bill: Because George Dufas has a robot fetish. That’s seriously why. He uses the entirety of this film like normal people use hardcore porn.

TV: Master, I have a bad feeling about this. TV: Be mindful of the Living Force, my rattail-coiffed padawan.

Ford: Pada-what-now? That’s not a word. Why didn’t they go with “apprentice” or—heck!—“squire”, since they’re Jelived Knights?

Soos: Shhhhh!

TV: Gee thanks, Master, that’s certainly helpful and not at all vague. That advice will definitely help me be a diplomat, even though Jelived like us are more like killer, magic samurai-priest-cops. TV: Indeed, my superfluously-ponybobbed padawan, which is why we have openly worn our iconic bathrobes and lasercutlasses instead of even the most basic of disguises. Letting the Trade Union know the Senate sent trained killers will surely put them at ease.

Melody: Nope, they’ll try to gas you both now. Good thing they kept all that toxic gas in their air vents.

TV: My fellow crafty and greedy Trade Unionist insectoids. First, I raise a glass to our race’s abandon of our native customs and tongue in favor of caricatures of antiasian stereotypes and accents. TV: Hear hear! TV: Second, we have done well in executing our secret Shit master’s evil plan to blockade this world of minor socio-economic importance (for some reason), and to kill those two Jelived. They must surely be dead by now, so let’s send in some droids to kill them further. TV: But, sir, they’ve only been in there for fifteen seconds. TV: OPEN THE DOOR, I SAY! AND SEND IN … FIVE DROIDS! TV: Sir, predictably, they weren’t dead, and destroyed the five droids. Now they are cutting through the door to our command center. TV: IMPOSSIBLE! SEND … TWO MORE DROIDS! NO, THREE!

Ford: Wasn’t the hangar full of battle droids?

Melody: Oh, the whole ship is. They just want the fight to be fair.

Ford: … what. [watches as Trade Union leader makes a call to Queen Imdolledupa] … What. [watches as she tells her council “I won’t condone actions that could lead Planet Baboon to war, even if we have been blockaded for months at this point and they’re clearly planning an invasion”] … What. [watches as invasion lands on opposite side of planet than cities] … WHAT.

Bill, grinning: Don’t worry. It gets worse. Much, much worse. Starting … right … now.

TV: Tank yusa for saving mesa from dose bombad battle droids, yusa Jelived who escaped da main starship by sneaky-sneaky on dat transport! Mesa love you! Mesa follow you forever and ever! TV: Master, I sense that this Jerkjerk creature will bring suffering to millions. May I please cut him down for the good of the Force? TV: No, my practically mulleted padawan. We need him alive, because … reasons. Probably related to merchandising. TV: Mesa take yusa to secret, bubble city of mesa people now!

Ford, through gritted teeth: Who the fffff … fuzz is that annoying frog-lizard-man, and why do I feel a collective unconscious urge to beat him to death with my bare hands?! Why aren’t the Jelived Force Choking him, or at least Mind Tricking him into leaving?

Bill: That is Jerkjerk Kinks, a monument to Dufas’s amphibian fetish and the first reason the Twins wouldn’t let you watch this movie.

Soos, defensively: He’s not that bad! He’s got a good heart!

Melody, sighing: Oh, my sweet, innocent, naïf honeybear …

TV: Boss Gass, even though you dislike the humans who invaded and colonized your planet, and even though you live completely apart from them in your Plasmatlantis, you are symbiotic with them. TV: Mesa tinking yusa no understand what “symbiotic” means. TV: Well, if you won’t help the humans, at least don’t kill Jerkjerk—

Ford, spitting out popcorn: YES, KILL JERKJERK!

TV: —because he owes me a life debt and is now basically my slave. Your gods and laws demand that his life belongs to me. TV: Mesa tinking it racist for yusa to claim to understand oursa laws and culture, white man. And to claim ownership of a sentient being (dat isn’t a droid). But yusa hair so fabulous and mesa so bored wit dis conversation, mesa give yusa Jerkjerk and submarine so yusa go. TV: Excellent. Now, to boat through the planet’s watery core.

Ford: … That is literally impossible. Even if the core was water, the center would be denser than rock because of all the pressure. [watches as ship navigates past giant sea monsters] There would be no light, no life, no nothing down there.

Soos, patiently: Yeah, but it’s fun. That’s what matters.

Stan: I like how they just happen to pop up in the capital city, and how nobody notices them, even though it’s occupied.

Bill: I like how the people of Planet Baboon put up absolutely zero resistance to the Trade Union’s invasion, despite all the forewarning they had since the blockade and from the invasion landing clear on the wrong side of the planet. If only Imdolledupa had been Mayor of Gravity Falls, am I right? Heh heh … heh … What? Too soon?

Ford, grimacing at Bill: Mmm …

Stan, patting him: Gremlin, it’ll prob’ly always be too soon for that.

TV: Master, there’s the Queen. How fortunate we came up next to her, and that the Trade Union decided to march her through the streets instead of simply landing a shuttle outside the palace. TV: Yusa big fortunate dey only escorted by six droids even dough hersa entourage has twenty people! TV: … Master, yet again I beg you to let me kill this irritating— and you’re already gone … and the droids are already dead. TV: Majesty, I am Jelived Master Leam-Nee San. Come with me if you want to Jelive. We’ll escape this planet, take you to the Senate, and tell them how heated this tax policy dispute has gotten here. TV: You arrived at a fortunate time, Jelived, because they were about to make me sign a treaty legalizing their invasion of Baboon.

Melody: ‘cause that’d be totally legit, right? No coercion at all.

Stan, nudging Bill, whispering: Maybe you should’ve forced Mayor Cutebiker to sign a treaty, eh?

Bill: Heh! But you just said—

Ford, grimacing at Stan: Mmm … [watches as they find an unguarded ship and fly straight at blockade instead of around it; ship gets away, but with hyperdrive damage] Okay, why is that Jelived—what’s his name? Yuan-Mac Gragor?— repairing the hyperdrive instead of a pilot? Is that supposed to be standard training for Jelived, or something?

Soos, shrugging: Seems like it’d be pretty easy to pick up to me.

Melody: Well, yeah, it would be for you, honeybear. Mr. Handyman with the magic fingers! Aw, yeah, that’s the spot … Keep rubbing …

TV: We can’t land on Hallowine, it’s controlled by Pitsa-Hutts! They’re gangsters! It wouldn’t be safe for Queen Imdolledupa! TV: I’m sorry, non-Jelived person, I couldn’t hear you over how luxurious my hair is. And I don’t care what you said anyway. Now, I’m off to buy us a hyperdrive. Time and stealth are of the essence, so naturally I’m going to take with me a slow-rolling droid, my frog-lizard-man slave who is so idiotic he will step in every literal and figurative pile of doodoo, and this willful teenage girl. TV: Master Jelived, not to question your wisdom, but— TV: Good. See to it that you never question any Jelived ever again, for we are infallible and will take off your head. Tata for now.

Stan: Why take Jerkjerk? D’you think he was hopin’ to sell him? Or maybe just ditch him?

Ford: Being amphibious, it’s likely the extreme heat and dryness might’ve proved fatal to him. Perhaps the hope was he’d drop dead.

Soos, whimpering softly: Why does everyone hate him? He just wants to help!

Ford, curtly: Because he’s the worst, Soos. He’s just … the worst. [watches shadowy Shit Lord Farth Sidious bitch at Trade Union for letting the Queen get away, then dispatches Farth Maul to fix it; watches heroes wander into a desert town on Hallowine]

TV: How fortunate the first shop we enter has a hyperdrive for sale. Now to use my Mind Trick on the disgusting, pig-butterfly proprietor without once having the least of scruples about how unethical that is. TV: Ha! Mind Tricks won’t work on me, only MONEY! I’m surprised you couldn’t tell from my Yiddish accent and hooked nose, human.

Ford, eyes wide in shock: Did they really just—

Stan, shaking his head: Moses—

Soos, blanching: Oh, yeah … I, uh, k-kinda forgot about him. Sorry, dudes. I guess all the lasercutlass duels and space battles made me forget about the, um, antisemitic stereotypes.

Ford: Not … Not your fault, Soos. We’ll just—

TV: Are you an angel? I know it doesn’t make sense that angels exist as a mythological concept in our galaxy, but you’re really pretty, so … I’m a slave, by the way. So is my mom, though you’d never know it since we dress like everybody else and get to walk around freely. I saved your frog-lizard-man friend thing from a brawl, by the way. My name’s Otherkin Skyjogger. I’m 9, but that doesn’t matter, angel. TV: I’m Padmy Resume. I’ll try to forgive you for saving Jerkjerk. TV: Is your friend with the magnificent hair a Jelived, angel? He has a Jelived weapon. There’s a sandstorm coming, even though the air looks exactly the same as it did a while ago, so you should all come have dinner at my place. My mom won’t mind, even though we have very little money for food, presumably, what with being slaves. TV: Why not? Story’s not going anywhere. I’ll get Leam-Nee San.

Bill, stifling a cackle at the next scene: (My favorite dialogue!)

TV: Queen, this is a holo-transmission from Baboon, even though we have no idea where your ship is because you’re hiding. Anywho, the Trade Union is awful, the death toll is catastrophic, the weather is a little humid. Please contact us; this is not an obvious ploy. Love ya, bye! … Wait, did I just say “love ya” to the Que— TV: I know I’m just a padawan with a pointlessly stupid haircut, but I’m gonna tell your planet’s leadership what to do now. *Ahem*. That was an obvious plot to learn where the Queen is. Don’t reply.

Stan: If I was that security office, I’d bitchslap that uppity teen.

Melody, warningly: Language.

Bill: Sorry, Mel, he meant to say “teenslap that uppity bitch”. [highfives Stan]

Ford: Pffhaha! *ahem* [watches Otherkin take them home and mother is all “Sure, why not? I’ll give room and board to three strangers who’ve taken a not-at-all unsettling interest in my prepubescent son. Now for a dinner chat!”] Wait, what? Did he seriously just say he’s the only human who can rocket-chariot race? But racing is just … racing!

Bill: He just wants to impress the “angel”, so he’s exaggerating. But she believes him even though he’s 9 and obviously has a crush on her ‘cause she’s kind of a Dumasc.

Melody, more warningly: Language.

Soos, reluctantly: Actually, he’s not swearing. It’s an in-canon term for “politician” ‘cause the galactic capital is on Planet Dumascent.

Bill: And it’s very political of her—gets them free room and board. Yep, that Dumasc ain’t no dumbass.

Ford and Stan, cracking up: Pfffhahahaha!

TV: There’s a problem, my should-just-get-a-buzzcut padawan. I found a hyperdrive, but couldn’t Mind Trick the owner to give it to me for racist and plot-related reasons, and it’d be unethical to just steal it (and I just can’t be unethical). Nor could I buy it with a promise of higher repayment next week from Jelived funds. But, fortunately, there’s a rocket-chariot race soon, and if this 9-year-old Force Sensitive I just met wins … we’ll get the money to buy it!

Stan, exasperated: What, does George Dufas also have a fetish for 80s sitcom clichés? Don’t answer that question, Bill.

TV: And I’ll win the kid as a slave—Jelived apprentice, I mean— because I unironically rigged a dice toss with my powers. I had to bet the Queen’s ship, but I’m sure she won’t mind if we don’t tell her. TV: Ah, but you’re going to use Jelived powers to rig the race, right? TV: What?! Never! That would be unethical and spoil the suspense! TV: … Master, I’m concerned your gambling addiction is— TV: What? Khshh! Can’t hear you! Khshh! There’s a sandstorm! Oh, also, I’m transmitting the kid’s blood sample through our radio. TV: That’s not how radios work, Master, but okay … dum di dim … Got the results, and this kid has more midi-chlorians than Yoda.

Ford, suspicious: What … are … those?

Bill, grinning: The second reason the Twins wouldn’t let you see this movie. Heh heh heh …

TV: My 9-year-old son is meant to help you in this dangerous race. It’s destiny, and stuff. That’s why I’m so criminally permissive. Oh, did I mention his conception was immaculate?

Ford, jumping up: WHAT?! JESUS CHRIST!

Bill, grinning: Exactly. Space Jesus Christ.

Ford: Does … Does this mean … midi-chlorians …

TV: Sir, you were talking to my mom about midi-chlorians? TV: Ah, yes, the omnipresent, microscopic organisms that confer the Force randomly upon some individuals, are not at all mystical or magical, and are probably your daddy, O Chosen One of the Jelived.

Ford, apoplectic: WHAT THE FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF—

Soos, whimpering softly: Oh, no! the Angry Words™!

Melody: Don’t you dare, Stanford Pines!

Ford, like a death metal singer: —UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU—

Melody: Don’t! You! Dare!

Ford: —NDAMENTALLY STUPID IDEA IS THIS CRAP?! AND HOW DOES FARTH MAUL KNOW TO CHECK THIS PLANET, BUT THE JELIVED DON’T SENSE HIS DARK PRESENCE?! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS BULLSHI—

Stan, as though his brother wasn’t screaming: Oh, look, Sixer. It’s time for the big rocket-chariot race.

Ford, breathing heavily: If this isn’t the best race ever, I swear … [watches race] Okay, yes, that was genuinely exciting.

Soos, relieved: Hooray!

Ford: Enough that I’m going to overlook the sabotage in front of a stadium of spectators, the fact it didn’t actually impede his winning, the ludicrousy of Otherkin catching up to but not passing his rival, and Java the Pitsa-Hutt being shown sleeping through the race. I mean, really? Why would you suggest your own film is boring?

Melody: To be fair, this is basically space NASCAR, and earth NASCAR is boringer than golf.

Ford, muttering to himself: More boring … Grammar …

TV: Alright, my shamefully beardless padawan, take the hyperdrive and everyone else back to the ship while I make Otherkin say goodbye to his mother forever and ever and ever. TV: About that, Master. Why don’t we just take her with us, too? I mean, slavery’s incontestably morally abhorrent, and we’re Jelived and can screw the consequences of most our actions. TV: What?! Never! TV: Because it’d be unethical to steal someone’s property, Master, even if that property is a sentient being? TV: Well, that, and we already have one major woman character for this whole trilogy. Why would we have more than one woman?

Melody: Grrrr, sexism … Makes me always hope Maul’ll kill him.

TV: Goodbye, son. Jelived, promise you’ll take care of my son? TV: What? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how opulent my hair is. Anyway, tata forever. Come along, Otherkin. TV: I love you, mom! I’ll never forget you!

Stan, looking sideways in surprise: Gremlin, are … are you crying?

Bill, swiping at eyes: W-what, me?! No! Not like goodbyes’re s-sad! I just got, um, some g-glitter dust in my eyes … All Mabel’s fault the stuff is freakin’ everywhere in here …

Stan, putting an arm around him: Heh. Tell me about it, kiddo.

Ford, silently glancing sideways at Bill: (… hmm …)

TV: Excuse me, Yuan-Mac, but isn’t that a Shit Lord attacking your master right outside the ship? Shouldn’t you go help him? TV: I would, but this chair’s just too comfy. If I get up, you know Imdolledupa will steal it (that bitch!). Besides, look, Leam-Nee San got aboard the ship just fine. Oh *sigh* and so did his new slave boy. Guess I should go introduce myself to that homewrecking hussy— er, kid! I meant kid … Hello, Master and filthy slave boy. TV: Ah, my worst-hair-of-the-three-of-us padawan, meet my new younger and cuter padawan, Otherkin Skyjogger. The Chosen One. I’m sure you two will be best friends and as close as brothers. TV: Hi! (I’m daddy’s new favorite. Die jealous about it.) TV: Hi! (I will throw you into a volcano the first chance I get.) TV: I knew you two would hit it off. But I wonder who that person in black with a red lightsaber was who attacked me just now … Well, I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late becoming best friends.

Ford: Does he really not pick up on them hating each other then?

Soos, confused: What’re you talking about? They get really close.

Ford: Pff. Yeah, which is why Farth Vaper strikes him down in the original movie, right?

Stan: Eh, what’s a little strikin’ down between brothers?

Melody: “Space is cold,” Padmy Resume says to the kid. Like, don’t they have temperature controls in their ships?

Bill: Don’t forget, this was “a long time ago”. They hadn’t invented space heaters yet.

Ford: Ha! Haha—er, *ahem* that was … that was clever. [watches them land on Dumascent, a planet-wide city] That … is also impossible. Completely unsustainable. Without trees, how do they breathe?

Bill: They export all their CO and CO2, and import … everything, pretty much. Oxygen, food, water … It’s the reason they named the planet Dumascent; they’re all—

Melody, warningly: Don’t say it.

Bill, silently mouthing at Ford: (… dumbasses.)

Ford: Heh heh … [watches Imdolledupa’s retinue go with Baboon Senator Shiv Saltine while the Jelived threesome goes to the Temple and tests Otherkin]

TV: Esteemed fellow Senators, I haven’t made a big deal about it, because I kinda suck at my job, but Baboon was invaded recently. I now introduce Queen Imdolledupa and Representative Jerkjerk—

Ford, sarcastically: Well, he certainly is qualified.

TV: —who will speak on my planet’s behalf, thereby rendering my presence here as a Senator utterly redundant. Majesty? TV: I— TV: I’M THE SENATOR FROM THE TRADE UNION, BECAUSE IT TOTALLY MAKES SENSE A COMPANY HAS EQUAL REP WITH INHABITED PLANETS, AND I NOW FORMALLY MAKE A MOTION OF “SHUT UP, BITCH”! TV: Motion is seconded. The bitch is hereby required to shut up. TV: … Okay, y’know what? Screw y’all bureaucrats. As queen, I raise my planet’s middle finger at all of you. Now, I’m going back to do what I should’ve done months ago … fight the invaders! TV: Mesa going wid you? TV: Sure, why the space heck not?! We’re out. Peace between worlds!

Melody, raising a fist: You go, girl! Better late than never!

Bill: And the moral of the story is that democracy doesn’t work.

Ford, dubious: Thank you, Farth Cipher. Anyway, if we get lucky, Jerkjerk will die painfully in the coming battle.

Soos, whimpering: He’s just doing his best!

TV: Spoken, the Jelived Council has (meaning a decision, I’ve made with Master Sa-Myul Jaxon, which abide the other masters will, if what’s good for them, they know). Your padawan, Otherkin won’t be. TV: Master Jaxon, for clarity’s sake, could you explain why not? TV: Our code forbids someone as old as he is be trained. For reasons. Our code forbids you having two padawans at once. For reasons. TV: And much fear in him, we sense. Which bad, always is. TV: But, Master Yoda, his midi-chlorians—

Ford, jumping up: RRRAAAAAARRRGHGHGHGHGHGH!

TV: —and he’s the Chosen One prophesied to bring balance—

Ford: WHO EVEN MAKES THESE PROPHECIES?!

TV: —and it’s kind of hypocritical of you to say his fear is bad even as you are all too afraid to let train him be trained. TV: Clutching my pearls, I now am! A scandal, this is! TV: The council forbids you training him, Leam-Nee San. TV: Huh? Sorry, Master Baldy, I couldn’t hear you over how sumptuous my hair is. Oh, and now my middle fingers are up for some reason. Strange … Well, better go train Otherkin. I’ll start by taking him to the soon-to-be Baboon warzone. Tata, bitches.

Bill: I guess we call that Leam-Nee San’s act of … HAIResy!

Ford and Stan: Pffhahaha!

Melody, annoyed: The prophecy (we almost never hear about again) is to bring “balance to the Force”, right? Why do none of them ever consider that might signify strengthening the Dark Side? I mean, Jelived are kinda dominating the galaxy right now, and are always trying to stomp the Shit out of existence.

Ford and Stan and Bill, uncontrollably: Hehehehehehehe!

Soos, plaintively: Why must we always question it, dudes? Why can’t we just enjoy it?

Stan: ‘cause they’re flyin’ back to the planet without any trouble. Look, the blockade is gone. Where the heck did it go?

Bill: They got sucked into a black plot hole. Lots of those in space.

Ford: And they just happen to land in the swamp right where all the frog-lizard-men are hiding?

Bill: Don’t forget George Dufas made good actors act woodenly. See?

TV: Boss Gass, I woodenly beg you to help us. To be our allies. After this, we’ll return lands and first-class citizen status to you, even though your people are slimy and inferior non-humans. TV: Hmm … Wesa live in a bloody swamp. Wesa need all the land wesa can get. Okay, wesa fight wid you, and Jerkjerk is a general.

Ford, sarcastically: Well, he certainly is qualified.

TV: The plan’s for us to sneak into the palace via secret passages that of course it has. While one team seizes the Trade Union leader, 12 pilots will take on the blockade that just barely reappeared. Well, it’s just one ship for some reason now and not a blockade. So, yeah, 12 should be enough. Meanwhile, Boss Gass’s and *snicker* General Jerkjerk’s armies’ll be a cannon fodder distraction. TV: Mesa have no qualms wid taking on a better armed force. TV: Good, because you blinked and we’re in the palace already. TV: Oh, blast. I was going to leave you on the ship, Otherkin, but the Queen scene-transitioned us here too quickly. Okay, listen. I want you to find somewhere safe to hide, alright? TV: Yes, daddy. I mean, Master Leam-Nee San. TV: Uh, daddy—I mean, Master? That Shit from Hallowine is back. Should I have the Queen’s troops gun him down? TV: No, my why-didn’t-you-get-a-haircut-on-Dumascent padawan, we will seductively slip out of our Jelived bathrobes and duel him despite his badass, double-ended lasercutlass. BONZAI!

Ford, excited: Finally, the good stuff! [watches movie cut back to Jerkjerk; his people’s shields stop blasts, but not droids and tanks rolling right through them] … what. [watches Otherkin hide in a ship, activate it on accident, fly it into the heat of a space battle on accident, not get shot down but rather shoot down bunches of droid ships on accident—because the Force and because rocket-chariot racing and because fuck the audience— “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ll try a spin; that’s a good trick.”] … What. [watches Jerkjerk shoot more enemies than all the stormtroopers in the original trilogy combined on accident, explode some on accident] … What. [watches Otherkin crash land inside the Trade Union ship on accident blow up its power core or something on accident, escape on accident] … WHAT.

Soos, unironically: Hooray for Jerkjerk! Hooray for Otherkin!

Ford: Boo for Jerkjerk! Boo for Otherkin! Why aren’t they dying?! [throws handful of popcorn at screen]

Bill, excitedly joining in: Woooooo! Anarchy in the living room!

Ford, ranting: Why are all the droids shutting down?! Why would anyone design battle droids without independent operating systems?! Why isn’t there at least one other battleship with a backup for them?! And where the fffff-funky music is my lasercutlass duel?! [watches Queen’s retinue capture the Trade Union leaders “Your invasion of the planet we invaded is over, immigrant sc … um, I mean, Asian sc … uh, no, that’s much worse … Well, anyway, it’s over, you scum who aren’t white or that token black guy!”]

Stan, blinking in surprise: I don’t remember this movie bein’ so racist the first time I watched it. Was it always like this?

Ford, throwing more popcorn: Get to the Jelived already! [watches legitimately epic duel with great choreography progress from starfighter hangar into some sort of massive power plant] … What is a power plant doing inside the palace?

Soos: Shhhh!

Bill: Well, on Baboon, the palace is the seat … OF POWER!

Ford: Ha! Indeed … Wait, why is there a corridor of laser doors? And who’s turning them on and off? Are they on an automatic timer, or something? That’s a terrible security design.

Stan: Especially since what they’re guarding is just a dead-end room with a gaping, bottomless pit.

Bill: Lady and Gentlemen, I give you … the movie’s plot hole!

Ford and Stan: Pffhahahahaha!

Soos: Guys, c’mon! You’re spoiling the emotional climax!

TV: Da—I mean, Master, I’m stuck behind a laser door! Hold on! TV: Not to worry, I’ve got this well in hand, my less-than—Gah! Oh, look at that … I’ve been impaled … Huh … Down I fall … TV: DAAAAADDDDDDYYYYY!

Ford, surprised: Wow … I actually am moved right now … [watches Yuan-Mac Gragor attack once door opens, get kicked into the pit but catch onto a convenient pipe thing or something]

TV: It’s over, Jelived. I, Farth Maul, have the high ground. TV: What a stupid thing to say, Shit Lord murderer! You will pay!

Ford: But how can Yuan-Mac Gragor possibly defeat him now? [watches him connect with the Force and do a flying backflip while drawing the lightsaber to him … and cutting Maul in half] OH, BULLSHIT!

Melody: STANFORD PINES!

Ford: The whole fight scene was the coolest except for that ending! Maul just stood there with his guard down let himself get killed off like a little bit—um … idiot. A genuinely intimidating villain, gone without a chance to develop, and in the least satisfying of ways!

Bill, casually: It was assisted suicide, really, ‘cause he couldn’t bear to live any longer in a universe where George Dufas is his god.

TV: Daddy! Master! I’m here! Hold on, please! TV: Listen … my first padawan, my first son … you must train him. Otherkin is the Chosen One … will bring balance to the Force … TV: I promise. No matter what. TV: And you must … get rid of that rattail, grow a proper mane … It’s important … for being a badass Jelived who don’t give a crap … TV: I will. The most magnificent mane ever, I swear. TV: Finally … most importantly … make sure to bury me … with winged eyeliner … *death rattle* TV: NOOO! I mean, I’ll do that, yes, of course. But NOOOOOOO!

Soos, tearing up: *sniffle* He was such a good Jelived.

Bill, evilly: I think you mean “Jedied”.

Ford and Stan: Pffhahahaha!

Bill: And don’t you meatbags usually consider owning slaves to be something that disqualifies a person from being good? Like, he had two of ‘em. Speaking of, you think this means Yuan-Mac Gragor inherits Jerkjerk? Is he legally permitted to euthanize him now?

Melody, considering that: I think the life debt is fulfilled now.

Soos, muttering: (You dudes all suck …)

TV: Come to Baboon, I have. Along with Senate soldiers to arrest the Trade Union (now that matters, Senate involvement does not). TV: Thank you, Master Yoda. That means a lot during my grief. TV: Out of pity, promote you to Knight we do. Also, more impressive than our lame, traditional trials killing a Shit, we consider. So … TV: And may I take Otherkin as my padawan? Just so you know, I made a deathbed promise to train him, so I’m going to anyway. TV: Changed their minds for no reason, the other councilors did. Little bitches, I consider them to be … But no reason, I have really to oppose his training. Other than that grave danger, I fear in his training for us all. For foreshadowing purposes, you understand. TV: Aren’t you always saying “fear leads to the Dark Side”? TV: Like your master, you are. Meaning go screw yourself, you can.

Stan: Convenient decision, ain’t it? Oh, time for the funeral.

Bill: I’m always amazed and, to be honest, a little jealous at the caliber of the winged eyeliner they get on Leam-Nee San.

Stan, shaking his head: Can you believe Yoda and Sa-Myul Jaxon are discussing Jelived business during the guy’s funeral? That’s just inconsiderate, is what that is. And why would the Shit follow that rule of two, anyway? I thought they were anti-Jelived.

Soos, dismal but unable to not answer: ‘cause they know treachery’s gonna happen sooner or later. One apprentice means only one person to keep an eye on.

Ford, derisive: Why not? Makes as little sense as everything else. Oh, they’re having a parade now. And … there’s a glowing orb? Why is the Queen giving a glowing orb to Boss Gass?

Bill: For his coffee table. It’ll make a great conversation piece.

Ford: Or would, except he’d then have to tell this awful story. Just awful … But the rest of the trilogy, it has to be better, right? It couldn’t possibly be worse.

Bill, smiling evilly: Heh heh heh … You say that now …

Soos, sulking: … I guess if you wanna watch ‘em, we can.

Melody, picking up on her husband’s dejection: Can we leave the movies with them, honeybear? I’m starting to not feel well.

Soos: Uh, sure thing, honeybadger, if you like. [gets up, helps her up, goes out the door with her] Um, see you dudes tomorrow!

Stan, with a tinge of regret: Y’think maybe we hurt his feelings raggin’ on the movies so much?

Ford, realization dawning: He … He did say they’re three of his favorite movies. Though I fail to understand why or how … All the same, perhaps I was being insensitive … again … [sighs, shrugs] Oh well. He’s not here anymore, so I suppose we can be as unbridled in our ragging as we want. And tomorrow, we’ll make it up to him. Somehow … Shall we put in the next one?

Bill, excitedly: 79 Hecks yeah! Oh, wait, they’re both gone now.

All three together: We can swear for real!

#little monsters au #the feels awaken #bipper #ford #stan #bill cipher #writing #fanfiction #this entire thing man #i have barely watched a star wars movie in my life and this is still so funny to me #submission

[writingandchocolatemilk]

Asylum - Chapter One

Hello, welcome to this venture !

This is a fic co-written by myself and @somebratinamask

There are several chapters planned, but for now there are two written. This is a fic primarily devoted to RusAme, but GerIta is essential to the plot and will come up later.

We hope you enjoy.

On AO3. On FFn.

Chapter One : The Delusions of Alfred F. Jones

Alfred F. Jones was an honest, true, good American, and as such, he did not lie. Well, sometimes he had to lie, but that was always for the greater good, for helping people, so it wasn't the same thing as lying-lying. It was like telling kids about Santa, or the Tooth Fairy, because it was fun and for their own good, and that was why Alfred lied, sometimes, but not today.

No, not today when the concerned nurse frowned down at him and asked him: "Why did you go into the burning building, Alfred? Can you tell me that?"

So, Alfred F. Jones said what he said when it wasn't a Santa situation, which was the truth: "Because I'm a fireman."

The nurse, who had kind eyes even if her mouth was set a little hard, looked at him with soft admiration. "No, Alfred, you're not a fireman. Can you tell me why you ran into the fire?"

Of course Alfred was a fireman, he had wanted to be a fireman since he was, what, seven years old? He had been running into smoky buildings for, what, at least six years now? Something like that, after college, and he just hadn't had time to grab his equipment, but people had been in trouble, and so Alfred did what firemen do and ran into the fire.

He told the nurse this.

And then Matthew burst into the room.

"You're an idiot, Alfred!" Matthew said, voice on the edge of hysterics.

"Calm down, Mattie, I'm f—"

"You're not fine! You almost died from smoke inhalation, Alfred, do you understand me!? You almost died." Matt collapsed in a chair and put his face in his hands. "I can't do this anymore, Alfred, I just can't."

God, his brother was so hysterical sometimes. He always blew things out of proportion and always bitched and moaned about how Alfred wasn't being responsible, but Alfred saw an issue and you know what, Alfred acted, that was more than Matthew could say for himself.

But, of course, it wasn't Alfred's job to tell Matt how timid he was. Alfred struggled to sit up under the wires checking his pulse and the IV lines and the oxygen mask, and leaned over to give Mattie a reassuring squeeze on the knee, and a kind smile, because it was alright.

"Mattie, come on now, I've gotten into scrapes worse than this. I'm a fireman, remember—"

Matthew looked at the nurse, eyes wide. "He does this. He's fine for a few months and then he'll do something fucking stupid like this and—and—he's never done anything like this before. It's just—he'll climb trees to get cats or walk around at night being a vigilante he's never… never…"

The nurse clicked her tongue.

…

In hindsight, Alfred should have lied.

He had nothing against the nurse, he was sure she was perfectly fine in her spare time, but also she was sort of a giant bitch.

…

This new nurse, a woman with a smile that was much warmer than the other nurse, took his blood pressures and asked him if he was on any medication, explained her name was Amy, and that she was going to be showing him around, where the bathrooms were, that he had to keep his wristband on with his name.

The whole place was basically a giant circle, with rooms lining either side—well, not a circle, but a square, but it looped around—and there was only one set of doors out, the one that Alfred came through. He had been buzzed in and then Amy had relocked the doors.

"Hey, Amy," Alfred said, giving her a warm smile, "why are the doors locked?"

Well, apparently not everyone wanted to be here, which was fair. Alfred didn't particularly want to be here either, but he wondered if Amy thought he was one of the unruly ones, because of course he wasn't, even if that bitchy nurse had listened to his hysterical brother, but this was a misunderstanding.

Alfred found that if he was agreeable, even if it was silly, people cut him slack.

Still though. He eyed the locked doors as they passed by. And the nurses' station was locked. He watched the nurses—who didn't wear scrubs, even though they were in the hospital—jingle their keys to enter the sections Alfred was barred from.

Amy returned. "Have you ever taken antipsychotic pills, Alfred?"

"Nah, I'm healthy."

Amy nodded, and then explained that he wasn't a fireman—Jesus, what was it with these people? You'd think they had his autobiography run through an antonym machine—and that these pills would help him have a better grip on his "situation."

Alfred smiled and swallowed them down pleasantly enough.

At least Matthew had brought him an overnight bag.

…

Alfred had never had a roommate before.

Alfred watched his sleeping form intently, chin resting in his hand. The only roommate he had ever had was Mattie, and it was exactly as much fun as was to be expected. Matthew hadn't even let Alfred get a dog—can you believe that? Get a dog, like Matt was his dad or some shit.

"Can I help you?" The roommate was looking at Alfred.

Alfred grinned. "Good, you're up. I'm Alfred F. Jones, and I'm a fireman. I hope we can split this rent evenly between the two of us, and I'm getting a dog, so I hope you're a dog person."

The roommate blinked at him. "Hello, Alfred, it's three in the morning. I would appreciate it if you would stop muttering and let me get some sleep."

Ah, so if that was how the roommate was going to be, that was fine. But of course, they wouldn't let Alfred switch roommates, it was too late or early or something, and this other nurse was much bigger and had an actual uniform on, and he told Alfred to get back to bed in a way Alfred was familiar with, because it was usually how people spoke to him before they punched him.

"Hey, easy, big guy! Alright, alright, I'm going to bed. It's just that this guy over here sucks, and—"

"Back to bed, Jones."

Two out of the three nurses so far were giant dickheads. Alfred was not impressed.

…

"Alfred?"

Alfred stood up and gave a little bow to the circle. "Hello, all! I am Alfred F. Jones, the best damn fireman this side of the Mississippi, which is saying a lot, considering how heavily populated the East Coast is! See these burns? I got them from saving people from a blaze! I had smoke inhalation."

Of course, no one was awake this early in the morning, and the nurses took his blood pressure and talked to him in soothing voices and gave him more pills and no one even asked what it was like being a fucking fireman, which was cool as shit, but whatever, fine.

One jumpy kid gave him a curious look. "Are you really a fireman?"

Alfred jumped on the opportunity this—what was his name? Feli-something? This Feli, then—gave him. Yes, you should have seen the fire. Alfred threw his hands in the air, making a whooshing noise of the timbers being eaten—the heat, Feli, you could have felt it from forty feet away, and it was night, of course, so Alfred's eyes had been drawn to the light like a moth to a flame, the cinders flying into the air so high they could have burned the underside of planes—

Which was a thought, because Alfred had a pilot's license, too—

But the fire, yes, and Alfred had just known there was someone calling for help, trapped under a fallen support beam, so of course Alfred had barged in there, searching frantically through the smoke, his glasses practically melting on his nose.

Feli watched, enraptured, captivated by this story, and Alfred was happy he could make at least one friend in this place.

…

The afternoon brought with it drowsiness. Alfred sat on his bed, looking at the bandages on his hands, rerunning the story he had told that Feli-kid, fixing details he had forgotten, like how this woman was worried about her baby and was yelling for help, that was—

"I haven't introduced myself."

Alfred looked up at the shit roommate. "Oh, now you want to talk?"

"Yes, when it's not the middle of the night, I think you will find me much more amicable. I'm Ivan."

Alfred rolled his eyes.

"So, you're a fireman? I heard that little story you told Feliciano."

Ah, so Ivan had been listening. Well, good. "Yeah, but I had forgotten some stuff. There's a lot to it, you know, there's a lot to saving people."

"And being a pilot?"

That's right, that's where Alfred had received his firefighting training. You just don't show up to a big ass fire without training, so they taught that in the air force, in case the planes ever caught fire on the air force ships, or the field, how to save people. Alfred wasn't lying about that, Alfred didn't lie, like everyone kept saying.

Ivan asked after Alfred's hands, and Alfred had to end up showing him the burns, explaining how it had been from moving fallen timbers, and of course he usually wore gear, but there was no time to act, this lady was screaming for her kid and what was Alfred going to do? What was smoke inhalation to saving a child? A baby, two actually.

Sometimes, you just needed to act.

Ivan gave him a look—probably feeling bad he had been a dick earlier. But by this point, Alfred was tired of talking.

…

Alfred didn't like this doctor.

"Alfred, I'm going to need you to cooperate. The only way you can get better is to work with me here."

The doctor was fucking condescending, that's what. There was nothing wrong with Alfred, this was all a misunderstanding, for fuck's sake Alfred was a pilot, he had saved a family from a fucking fire, he didn't need to be in the hospital, right?

And how were the meds making Alfred feel?

Tired, they were making him tired and sluggish. Alfred had slept all afternoon, and then had been kept in his room by another dickhead nurse who said it was too late to walk, so Alfred was left jiggling his knee all night and wondering where the fuck all his shoelaces had gone, and why hadn't Matthew packed him anything to do.

And look, he had a twitch.

"That's a side effect."

To what?

And then the doctor spouted off the name of the medication which meant dick-all to Alfred, and again, they were antipsychotic meds, but Alfred wasn't doing anything psychotic!

It was like having the same conversation on a loop.

…

"Alfred."

Alfred focused on Matthew. "Please tell me you brought something for me to do. I'm bouncing off the walls here, I'm going fucking crazy."

Matt nodded. "I brought you the stuff you keep hidden under your bed."

The good stuff, how did he know where Alfred kept the good stuff? All the good comics collectors would kill to have—

"Alfred."

"Yeah?"

"Alfred, why do you think you're a pilot?"

"Because how else would I have training for the fire?" Alfred held up his bandaged hands.

Mattie nodded. "So, you're in the military?"

"Yes."

Mattie nodded again. "Okay. How old are you?"

"Do you seriously not know how old I am?"

"Of course I do, I'm your brother. Just humor me and I'll give you comics."

Alfred rolled his eyes. He loved his brother, but look, again with the dad shit, the ultimatums! "I'm twenty-four."

"Okay, and when did you go to the military?"

"I—"

Mattie leaned forward. "No, think about it. It wasn't when you were eighteen, right? Because you went to college for a bit, remember? Until you were twenty-two, right? And then we moved closer to our Dads, right? How were you trained and deployed in two years?"

"People are trained and deployed in two years—"

"No, because you were there for the vow renewals, right?"

Alfred frowned. Yeah, that was right, that shit was boring and long and sappy, and Alfred had nearly torn his skin off keeping still that long, but he had smiled and hugged everyone like his Father had told him to do, good boy.

"Alfred, you're not a pilot, right?"

Right, yeah, of course. Who the fuck had been saying he's a pilot? That's stupid—although, of course, he could see where the confusion could come in, Alfred was very trim and had the calm demeanor of a pilot—but Alfred hadn't had the time to enlist, unfortunately, he was busy at school.

And busy with the volunteer firefighters, of course.

But Alfred kept that to himself and Mattie gave him a box filled with, finally, something interesting.

…

Feli was saying something interesting. "I know it's all in my head, I get that, but it doesn't stop me from hearing things, you know? And then you start to wonder what's real or not, because how can you really know, know, you know? Because sometimes you ignore something and it's real."

…

Ivan tilted his head. "What are you thinking about?"

Alfred picked at the scabs on his hands, irritated with them. They were itchy and he was tired and twitchy and the shit Matthew had brought him had only lasted—only lasted for a few hours, and now Alfred was without things to do, and he was stuck watching boring movies and walking outside for like, two seconds.

So that thing Feli had said the other day was eating at him. Because he had sounded delusional, right? That's what Alfred thought, anyways, because how the fuck do you mishear things that are real? Maybe fake things, but it's like when there's a ringing in your ears, you make a noise in your throat and the fake ringing fades back and you can figure out it was just the blood in your ears.

"Yes, Feliciano has schizophrenic."

Right, exactly, Alfred knew that shit, he was wondering more like, well, what was Alfred doing here? Clearly it was a misunderstanding, but Matthew had been here, and Matt didn't do anything without calling Papa and talking for fucking hours on end, so Alfred's parents knew he was here, but Alfred wasn't a schizo, just—

"You're not delusional?" Ivan asked, raising his eyebrows.

Alfred glared at him. "No, I'm not fucking delusional."

"You take the same pills as Feliciano, don't you?"

Ivan didn't know if they were the same pills.

"I do, actually. Small, yellow, with a line through the middle."

Alfred's mind jumped back to that morning, when meds were being passed out. Yeah, yeah, that sounded about right. That's what his looked like, anyways, and yes, actually, he was sure Feli did take the same ones.

"Same ones Feliciano takes," Ivan insisted.

Well, clearly that was just a mistake, then. All Alfred had to do was go to one of the nurses and tell them they had messed up the medication, just knock on that glass and smile like he did and tell them no, he wasn't a schizophrenic, not like Feli—

"That wouldn't work though, would it?" Ivan asked.

Alfred hesitated at the door. Ivan knew what drugs he and Feli took. "Why wouldn't it?"

Ivan gave a casual shrug and leaned back against his pillows. "I could see them messing up your drugs once, twice, maybe even three times. But you've been here, what, two weeks now? You've talked to the doctor how many times, to your nurse Amy, and they keep giving you the 'wrong' drugs?"

"You're saying it's intentional?"

Ivan gave another little shrug and flipped a page in his book.

No, he couldn't just say that and fuck off. But that didn't make sense, Alfred was in a hospital, why would they give him the wrong medication on purpose? Although, none of the nurses wore any scrubs, and that was just sanitary, wasn't it, wearing scrubs? That had been bugging Alfred, and it was weird how they took his blood pressure, what did that have to do with anything?

And the twitch. Alfred looked at his hand that moved without his permission, and how he had been telling the doctor that he was drowsy. Or maybe they were placebo pills, doctors did that sometimes, too, to test medication. That would explain why they were giving it to Alfred, to test it.

Feli was absolutely no help. He had no idea what medication he was taking, or what it looked like, and he had no idea what his official diagnosis was, he just kept saying something about dopamine, which made no fucking sense. Feli had no idea if any of the nurses were registered, he had no idea what the doctor's last name even was because it was slipping Alfred's mind—

Wait, no it wasn't. What was it that Matthew had been saying the other day? Alfred had gone to college.

Of course Ivan knew what medication Alfred was taking, because Alfred had prescribed it to himself. Ivan must have seen the slip. Relief dropped down Alfred's back like warm water, and he smiled.

…

Ivan leaned close enough to whisper into Alfred's ear without Alfred's coworkers hearing. "I see you're still taking your pills."

Alfred pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked at Ivan through half-lidded eyes. "Of course I'm taking my pills. It would be dumb to waste the prescription. You're wrong, by the way, Feli and I don't take the same meds. I take Flutix and he takes Harbidrole. It's an easy mistake, really, they do look similar, but Harbidrole is used for schizophrenia, while I clearly don't have schizophrenia."

"Ah, so you're a doctor, now."

Yes, of course. Alfred was a little young, sure, but he was in advanced classes, and he was halfway through his residency before this little incident, he was studying—

"And the firefighting?"

What? Oh, yes, well, that was just on a volunteer basis, just to pad his resume so he could get into medical school, which was difficult enough, but Alfred managed it after only a year and a half at undergrad. It—

"So, if you don't mind me asking, why are you in a psych ward, Dr. Jones?"

Part of Alfred's residency, plus Alfred was feeling very stressed with medical school—

"And what is your diagnosis?"

"Like I said," Alfred said primly, "stress, mainly. That's what Flutix is used for. It has to do with dopamine."

"Oh, dopamine, of course. And dopamine has to do with stress, doesn't it, Dr. Jones."

"Yes." Alfred grinned. "Exactly. Very good."

"What are you studying?"

"Psychiatry."

Ivan tilted his head. "Could I ask you a question, Dr. Jones?"

"Of course. You are in a psych ward, of course, and I am studying psychiatry." Dr. Jones was a man of the people after all, and what was a little free consultation among—

"What would you diagnose me with?" Ivan's lips twitched into a small smile. "If you would allow me to pick your brain."

Well, that was an easy one. Ivan was clearly a neurotic, distrustful, prone to conspiracy theories. Dr. Jones didn't know how to concisely put it, but it was clear in the way Ivan distrusted the medication Alfred prescribed himself, and was generally shifty—

"I'm shifty?"

Dr. Jones blinked. "Yeah, you didn't want a roommate, right? Distrustful of someone new."

Ivan's eyes lit up. "Actually, I'm very pleased with the turn of events that led to my new roommate. Thank you, Alfred, this has been enlightening."

Ivan touched Dr. Jones' elbow lightly as he passed.

Dr. Jones watched him walk down the hall. Yeah, that's right, he could diagnose people, because he was a doctor, but he hadn't much time to really get an in-depth look into most patients' brains because he was still so new on the floor, but he had talked to Feli.

Feli glanced up as Dr. Jones approached and smiled, and boy, did Dr. Jones have some great news for Feli. No, Feli, Dr. Jones, Alfred was a doctor, please, stop deflecting, Dr. Jones had some great news for Feli, he didn't have schizophrenia, he had seizures.

Yes, Feli, that's what make sense, doesn't it? It explained the weird hallucinations, why Feli was so absentminded, a mild form of epilepsy, definitely, Feli should definitely let his primary care doctor know as soon as he saw her again—

Yes, of course Dr. Jones was a doctor, he was only a firefighter on a volunteer basis, and even that was pretty rare, no, listen, Feli, Dr. Jones had graduated early from medical school through an advanced program, and was in the middle of his residency and was here to get a feel of where he would be working, and also due to stress.

…

"A doctor? Alfred, does that make sense to you?" the fellow doctor sitting across from Dr. Jones asked.

"That's Dr. Jones to you."

Dr. Jones sat in stubborn silence and the doctor had the audacity to sigh and shuffle papers in front on him, saying they'll try again tomorrow, Alfred.

"That's Dr. Jones."

…

Dr. Jones sat on his bed, exhausted, watching Ivan, who wasn't doing all too terribly much. Now that Dr. Jones thought about it, both Ivan and Mattie did the same boring shit—namely, read a whole bunch. Didn't they get bored? Dr. Jones got bored watching them, and Dr. Jones was so fucking sick of being bored.

"What are you reading?" Alfred asked, nicking the book from Ivan's hands.

"Excuse me, I was reading that."

Yeah, and it was fucking boring. Dr. Jones walked back over to his bed and bent over the book, picking up where Ivan had left off, squinting through the dense, academic writing, trying to follow dates.

"It's a history book," Ivan said from the other side of the room.

Yeah, Dr. Jones could—

"Are you a fan of history?"

No, not really. It was always so dry for Dr. Jones' taste. It was cool when it was wars or explosions or spy missions, but mostly it was a lot of riots or picketing or death or presidents, and while it was interesting to learn, things like that didn't stick in Alfred's head very well, so he was left with a jumble of information and dates that didn't connect.

"I see." Ivan was clearly trying to get his book back with all this talk, but Dr. Jones wasn't—"What does stick in your head, then?"

"Physics." Alfred blinked at his own answer. "Math. Stuff with right and wrong answers."

Ivan watched Alfred flip through the pages of his book.

Alfred looked up. "I like space stuff. I thought it was really cool they could send satellites to different moons based on the gravity and orbit of other planets. I forget the word for it, but there's a way to make a satellite orbit around another body and then have it slingshot where you want it to go. Maybe it was slingshot-ing. Called that."

"So, my history book isn't very interesting to you, is it?"

Alfred snorted. No, of course it wasn't interesting, Dr. Jones only took it to see what was so fascinating—

"I have another book you might like."

If it was anything like the current book in Dr. Jones' possession—

Ivan sat up on his bed and reached underneath to pull out a plastic bin filled with books, enough to give even Matt a rough time of reading them all, which was saying something, and he moved a few stacks around until he found what he was looking for.

He held it out to Alfred. "Here."

Alfred already had a book—

Ivan waved the book in the air. "Come on, take it. You've read through those comics underneath your bed at least ten times, and I guarantee the book you have in your hands currently will put you to sleep faster than Flutix does."

Alfred stood and quickly exchanged books. Ivan didn't say another word, and curled back onto his bed, resuming where Alfred had left the pages.

Dr. Jones wasn't expecting much when he flipped open to a random page, but to his surprise, it was about space stuff. Granted, it was still boring ass history shit, but it went into the Cold War science behind all the space missions, how spies had stolen information.

Occasionally, Alfred would reach a part in the book that referenced something earlier that he hadn't read, so Alfred would need to flip back, but he would end up engrossed with this new part that led into the thing he had been reading later, so he would flip back and forth and back and forth and back and forth until there was nothing left.

And then Alfred started again.

…

Ivan glanced up at Alfred. "I was beginning to think I had lost you in there."

Alfred handed back the book and took a seat by Ivan on the ground because the chairs were too far away and Alfred had something he needed to do. He handed back the book and then handed him #4 of Mightnighter: Out.

Ivan raised an eyebrow and looked pleased. "I don't think I can spend three days reading a comic, but I will certainly do my…" Ivan actually seemed to get a good look at the cover. "There's… a hammer. And a sickle."

Yes, of course there was a hammer and sickle, Ivan was Russian.

"How did you know I was Russian?"

Well, it was easy with his last name and his accent, so slight that nothing but Alfred's trained ears could pick it up.

Alfred jumped up and nodded, because now Ivan could read about something he liked, as well, something he could connect with and take some hours away so he wasn't fidgety, either, something to keep his mind engaged and fingers from trembling even though he had told the doctor he was sick of the tic—

Ivan held the book back out. "You can keep it."

Alfred had snatched the book before he was even aware he had done it, it was just back in his hands. "You can't keep the comic."

"I wasn't planning to."

…

Few things went in the box, stuff that thieves and spies would spend hours pouring over, the smallest detail, the smallest word, the way the color faded into black or the way the plot twisted together from other stories to merge into a perfect issue that only made sense if you read the other ones, eyes red and tired and those who would spend days and days and days pouring over these things, studying, these are things that went in the box, to keep from those who would study instead.

These were precious things.

…

Alfred wondered, faintly whenever he caught himself waking up, why there weren't any windows in his room.

…

"You seem better."

Alfred glanced up from the table to Matthew, an ocean away on pills and the hard plastic-wood tables were made of. "There was nothing wrong with me to begin with." The words the doctor used came out across his tongue: "I get carried away with things."

Mattie let out a breath of air like a deflating balloon. "How are things?"

How were things? That was a question. "I sleep, a lot. And I've walked around that fucking ward enough times to wear a track in the linoleum, but I'm…"

He was what? Alfred could feel it, vaguely, something different, something just on the edge of his consciousness that usually got him going was bound and gagged, like the hum of a TV that was muted, a different sort of noise. It was strange and Alfred was afraid to think about it too much.

"It's good," Matthew said, firmly. "It's a good thing, the doctor said so."

Alfred frowned at this, and something about the phrase scratched at the back of his mind. Mattie told him about his shifts, about how Dad and Papa missed him and sent their love, of course. Alfred had the urge to scratch at his hairline.

"Are they coming to visit?"

Matt sighed again, and Alfred wondered when he had started doing that all the time, like everything Alfred said was the tenth time he had asked the same thing. "No, I don't think so. But I did bring you some things—"

"Why won't they visit?"

Matthew stared at him like a sinking ship. "Because they don't want to. They say it makes them too sad, Alfred, and I'm inclined to agree. What are you doing here!?"

That was a good question, wasn't it?

Matthew let out another fucking sigh. "God, Alfred, what are you doing here?"

"Well, do you have something to say?"

Matthew let out a little laugh. "Do I have something to say—do you think you'll hear it? Or will you just get that deranged look in your eye and start rambling away about some—" Mattie hissed the word: "Bullshit and ruin things again?"

That wasn't fucking fair, Alfred didn't ruin jackshit—

"Yes, you have, and what's worse, you don't even think, you're a million miles away—"

Across a sea— "How the fuck do you know what my doctor said?"

Matthew froze for just a second, in the middle of looking around, of his shoulders slumping. "I didn't, I just know what an improvement looks like."

Alfred stood. "You're fucking lying. You're not my emergency contact, I didn't give you permission to talk to my doctor, it's none of your fucking business about why I'm in here."

Matthew let out a laugh of sharp air. "It's not my business—do you hear yourself? Like I haven't been fucking forced into your business for years—"

"There you go again with that dad bullshit again!"

"What on earth are you—"

"You act like I'm a little kid!" Alfred loomed over Matthew.

Matthew didn't stand, face-to-face with Alfred, nose inches from his own, didn't shove him back, no, Mattie just sank further into his seat. "You are a little kid."

"Leave."

Matthew opened his mouth—

Alfred shoved Matthew, and his brother threw out his arms to stop himself from falling backwards out of the chair. "Alfred what the—"

"Leave and take your fucking party favors with you. They don't make up for the fact you use me to feel better about yourself, that treating me like an idiot makes you feel better because no one gives a shit about you, not Dad, not Papa, and especially not me."

Matt didn't even look up at him. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"No, I'm just usually too nice to tell you the obvious, but I'm sick of your sighing and I'm sick of the shit you bring me and I'm sick of you talking to my doctor and I'm sick of all of this!" Alfred whirled to the blond nurse hovering nearby. "And you can tell my fucking doctor that if I hear he's been talking to my brother, there's not a strong enough lock to keep me from leaving this place."

Now Matthew stood. "You're being—"

"Leave."

…

"You talked to my brother."

The doctor looked impassively back at him over his desk. "Does that bother you?"

"Yes, it fucking bothers me. What about doctor-patient confidentiality, doc? What about you not telling fucking lies to my brother about me?"

Oh, but they weren't lies, Alfred, he was just updating Matthew on Alfred's situation, but there wasn't a fucking situation! For fuck's sake, Alfred shouldn't be in here! And it was god damned illegal to keep him here without his permission.

"Matthew was concerned about your delusions, Alfred."

Delusions, delusions, what fucking delusions, those were misunderstandings, those were idiots, those were the doctor saying things about Alfred that just weren't true, maybe you're fucking delusional!

"Clearly, you're in no position to talk right now, Alfred. We'll try again tomorrow."

…

Alfred didn't care about the fucking penguins, or about their stupid fucking eggs, or about how they were still in fucking Antarctica even though they should have fucking died off hundreds of years ago, thousands, millions, the timescale of evolution.

Alfred felt his eyes flicking from person to person until he reached an awfully large gap he hadn't noticed before, and his eyes landed on Ivan, an island in the tightly packed folding chairs of movie night.

"Look at the chick, Alfred," Feli breathed next to him.

Feli kept saying stupid shit like that, while Ivan got to have three chair-lengths of space around him like an asteroid impact.

…

And one that followed Ivan around like a bubble.

…

In the morning vitals line, Alfred could have sat in a chair between Ivan and the next person.

…

At recreation time, Ivan by the window, reading, people moving around him like water around a smooth stone that licked his finger to turn pages.

…

At meals, a table to himself, a fortress, a minefield.

…

Outdoors, Ivan could have been a hiker, alone, the last one on the Earth, walking through a field with his hands behind his back and a tent he could set up in abandoned cities.

…

A lion gripped a gazelle in his teeth while Alfred neatly stepped over the chairs in front of him and sat down next to Ivan. If Ivan was surprised, if Alfred held more interest than the stupid fucking Savannah, he certainly didn't show it.

"People are afraid of you."

Ivan's eyes held only the screen in front of him and did not turn their attention to Alfred. "I am trying to watch the movie. Your voice is loud and distracting."

"You don't give a shit about the movie."

"Interesting conclusion, because I'm watching it."

Alfred looked between Ivan and the projection. "Who gives a shit about lions?"

"Obviously not you."

Ivan's eyes were still glued to the screen and it was pissing Alfred right the fuck off.

"No one talks to you. All yesterday, no one, just the nurses and I would guess your doctor, but it must get lonely. All you do is read books and watch the shitty documentaries and nod when the nurses ask you to do something, and you don't have visitors that often, and you read fast and no one else reads the things you do so you have no one to talk to about them."

Finally, Ivan turned his eyes "So, Mr. Popular is pitying me? I have some bad news: I'm not going to sit at your lunch table."

"I wasn't inviting you." Alfred grinned at him. "But you are lonely. Or something. You didn't answer my questions, see, you're fucking deflecting and that shit doesn't work anymore. I might twitch like a motherfucker but you're lying, Braginski."

Half of Ivan's face was illuminated by the sunlit world an ocean away, and the other half was not. "And what am I lying about, Jones?"

Alfred stood and a shadow ate the projection. "You would totally sit at my lunch table if I invited you."

…

Ivan did not have any more books. He had boxes and boxes full of shit, but he did not have any more books, and Alfred should know, he had been digging under Ivan's bed nearly all evening, pulling out waste of tree pulp after waste of tree pulp and flipping to a random page only to find it wholly uninteresting.

Ivan had watched him at first, but he had soon picked up one of the books Alfred had tossed irritably away and began reading, trusting Alfred enough to look through his precious information. Not that there was much. Just shit.

"You know," Ivan said, licking a finger, "I could suggest a book to you."

No, that wasn't what Alfred wanted. He didn't want a suggestion, he wanted a book to call to him like a beacon, something influential that would change his world view like people had experienced with the Bible, but less boring than the Bible, because Alfred had tried that one and found it both hard to read and also a waste of paper and honestly, did every single book Ivan own try to use the biggest word possible? Like look, here, extraordinary, couldn't they just use great?

Ivan proceeded to tell him about the merits of more precise words to communicate blah, blah, blah. Alfred watched Ivan's mouth move and watched his eyes continue to read as he lectured and the sound wasn't bad, soft. Alfred looked up at Ivan from his position on the floor, his feet under Ivan's bed, and thought about how few people had seen Ivan from this angle, looking up as Ivan read and talked, surrounded by books. And the sound really was quite lovely and Alfred just rested his head against Ivan's knee.

…

Alfred stared at the doorway, counting the shadows that walked by, counting his heart beat, dividing it by six, multiplied by twelve and a half and then subtracting by seven, fingers twitching, restarting when the shadows walked back in front of the door, boots heavy on the floor.

He had asked to go to the bathroom three times and it was only one in the morning, they were going to tell him to hold it if he didn't stop, they were going to call the nurses if he didn't stop—

"What are you thinking about?"

Alfred looked over to the other side of the room and found a companion in bed, sitting up, eyes bright in the gloom.

"I don't want to sleep." Alfred held up his hand and watched his hand trembled. "It feels like all I've been doing is sleeping and I don't want to do it anymore." Like a fog had settled over him, slowing his movements, the whole world banging on his front door and demanding his attention. And the world was so boring.

"It is boring," Ivan said softly, "isn't it?"

Alfred blinked up at him, suddenly unsure if he had spoken aloud or not. "Why are you here, Ivan?"

Ivan head turned away from the light of the hallway, and if there had been a window in this jailcell, Ivan would have been looking out it and considering the question. As it was, he looked at the cinderblock walls and took longer to respond. "Because I was ordered to be here."

This clicked into place in Alfred's mind. So that was why people were afraid of him, because he wasn't kept here against his will by the hospital, but by someone else, because he didn't take the same pills in the morning and his responses weren't the same in group. Because someone higher had looked at Ivan and decided to make him come here.

"And why are you here, Alfred?"

Why was Alfred here. It was all people seemed to be asking him these days, and Alfred watched the shadow walk across the door and counted his heartbeat and divided and multiplied and subtracted and almost forgot to respond to a question that had been haunting him the past few days. "I'm not like Feli."

"No. No, you are most certainly not like Feliciano. Which begs the question, doesn't it?"

"I think… I think Mattie put me here." Alfred picked at some weird, dry stuff on his hands, wondering where it had come from, why it was there, when things like this started to bug him when they so clearly hadn't before. Had they? "Do you think that medication works?"

"Flutix?"

What the fuck was Flutix? "No, the shit they give me. The same bullshit they give Feli. Do you think it works? Do you think it's working? Do you—"

"I certainly think it does something."

Ivan's figure swam in Alfred's vision and his eyes burned and his head was full of fuzz and he could feel the darkness pulling him down, pulling his eyelids down and his head started to dip even as he jerked up to try and stay awake and even as Ivan stood and walked over to him and it felt so good to slip into that blank space in his head and give in and Ivan looked down at him and

…

Alfred frowned. "Where did you get that?"

Feli looked up. "Hm?"

Alfred pointed at the brownie Feli was holding. "Where did you get that? I didn't get one, and everyone else only gets Jell-O here for dessert. How the fuck did you get a brownie, Feli?"

Feli looked at the brownie in his hand like he was surprised to see it there, the fucker. "Oh, um, I don't know. It was just on my food tray, and I just thought that I could eat it because it was there—"

"Why didn't anyone else get a brownie?" Alfred leaned over and snatched the paper slip that detailed Feli's food order, and yep, the slip had Feli's name on it, so he hadn't taken someone else's tray by accident. "What makes you so special that you get a good dessert?"

Feli was staring at him with wide eyes, frozen, scrambling for an excuse. "I—I don't know, I just eat what they—"

"No, that's bullshit. They have a locked room and you have to ride on an elevator to get up here, they don't make mistakes, there aren't any windows. You didn't just get a brownie by mistake. There's other shit, too, you get more bathroom breaks at night, and I bet you there's other shit I didn't notice, either."

"Alfred," Feli said, voice bordering on yelling, defensive, "I don't know why I got a brownie." His voice wavered and his eyes were glassy and Alfred wasn't buying that shit for a second. "But I'm sure if I just tell—"

"Alfred." Ivan's voice was like a fire extinguisher, cold and calm and dousing, a tone that could get in your lungs and seep into your bloodstream and calm anger. Alfred hadn't even heard him walk over, and he leaned backwards to look at him. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"

Alfred shoved himself away from the table, glaring at Feli as Ivan gently led him away by the small of the back to the corner of the room, where he stood, head tilted as Alfred explained that Feli was fucking shifty as fuck, the brownie was just the final straw, something was off and Alfred didn't know what but Feli definitely had connections, he had a key to this place, a key or could feed notes through the heating vents to the kitchen—

"Alfred, do you really think Feliciano could pull all that off?"

Alfred watched Feli stare at his brownie, eyes wet and breath hitching, the schizo.

"Right, see," Ivan murmured, "it doesn't make sense for Feliciano to be the one orchestrating any grand brownie heist, does it?"

No. No, Alfred supposed not. No, but he was caught up in something, something he had no idea about, right over his head, a mile high. It was just a matter of who, and of course the obvious answer were the people keeping Feli here, and by extension, the people keeping Alfred here, but why, and what did the brownie have to do with it?

Well, it was obviously a reward, even if poor, stupid Feli had no idea it was. But, if there was one thing Feli was, was talkative, he could talk about the color of the tiles or about flowers or other dumb shit, so he was a spy—

"Come on Alfred, you can do better than that." Ivan looked over his shoulder at Feli. "I do wonder the coincidence, though, don't you?"

Okay, start over, Feli wasn't a spy, he was just a bystander. And Feli wasn't going to put two and two together, obviously, so that just…

Alfred bounced on the balls of his feet. "It has to do with me, I bet you. I'm the only guy in this place who's going to notice something like that, the only one who can put this together. It was a message from…"

From someone, and Alfred felt his brow furrow as he dug for answers.

"Feliciano as a means of communication. Yes, Alfred, I like that. Good boy."

…

Alfred couldn't think. He could feel the thoughts scatter away from him like marbles, ones he was constantly tripping over himself trying to capture, marbles covered in butter. Other thoughts kept interrupting on everything, stupid thoughts that made him hesitate and worry about instead.

When the doctor asked about Matthew, Alfred found himself wondering about Matt, where he was, if he missed Alfred, what he was doing with all of Alfred's stuff, how Dad and Papa were, how Matthew was, if he was still mad at Alfred, and Alfred found himself unable to remember Matthew's number when he tried to call, which just sent his mind spiraling more because what if Matthew had died of carbon monoxide poisoning, it was Alfred who had always checked the alarms and changed the batteries, how the apartment was, how Matthew was paying rent without Alfred's contribution and on and on and on and if Matt was mad at Alfred.

When Feli started avoiding him for whatever reason, Alfred's mind got on about that. Why was Feli avoiding him? It hardly seemed fair and Alfred hadn't even done anything besides out the obvious, so now Alfred watched Feli eat alone like a loser and Feli avoided looking at him and he got quiet and it was just such bullshit that Alfred couldn't comprehend it.

And Ivan. Alfred found Ivan plaguing Alfred's train of thought like a bandit. He had been ordered to be here, what could that fascinating thing mean, and did it have to do with the books Ivan read. He had touched Alfred's elbow and his back and had called Alfred a good boy, and he was always there to suggest something that Alfred hadn't even considered, make Alfred's mind reel with the possibilities and he seemed to like doing it, and he caught Ivan looking at him, head tilted and Alfred needed to figure out who was trying to get a message to him.

During movie nights, Alfred pressed his knee against Ivan's and watched Ivan pretend to ignore him.

Alfred changed in front of Ivan after his showers, dripping wet and slick, humming like he wasn't aware he was doing it, and he reveled in the eyes Ivan had for him.

But.

He needed to get his mind back on topic. He couldn't think. And there was something up with the brownie—

"For the love of God, Alfred, stop with the brownie."

-and so Alfred had a plan. Alfred had big tonsils. When he was younger, he would stare at himself in the mirror, examining his eyes and his eyebrows and his hair and his teeth and the thing that dangled from the back of his throat and his tonsils. He had forced Mathew's mouth open (and nearly gotten a finger chomped off for his trouble) to compare, and Alfred's tonsils were much, much bigger.

"I hardly see what this has to do with the brownie, or more importantly, what this has to do with your special message." Ivan was pretending to read, like he did when Alfred told him his plans.

The next morning, waiting for his meds, Alfred pretended to swallow them as the nurse checked his cheeks and tongue and cheeks, but in reality they were resting on his tonsils. If he flexed his throat right, his tonsils stuck out, catching the pills like a net catching litter from his stream of thought.

Alfred waited for the nurse to move off, and then coughed up the pills into palm of his hand grinned at Ivan.

Ivan looked at the pills. "That was disgusting," he said mildly. "But clever."

"Of course it was clever. I'm clever. Now," Alfred said, flicking the pills through the heating vent, "I can think again."

"And what a delight that will be."

Alfred grinned.

…

Ordered to be here.

Alfred watched Ivan's sleeping form as the words ran over and over again in his head. Ordered to be here by who?

Someone stalked by the doorframe and Alfred watched them without his glasses on and in a half-haze of exhaustion and his mind couldn't connect the two pieces because that nurse was familiar, wasn't he, Alfred had seen him before, he knew it, he knew it.

…

It was like Alfred had downed energy drinks, he felt like he was on top of the world, a map spread before him and he could freely wander around it and no Feli, he wasn't hyper today, this was how he always was, it's just that Feli didn't notice things like Alfred did, not that it's a bad thing.

Well, Feli, it was simple really. Remember the brownie, it was apart of something bigger, something Feli hadn't realized before. It was a test, test for Alfred, to check how with it he was, if he was still trusting the pills they gave out—not that he wasn't taking them—but it had to do with the management. Did you ever notice how everything is locked around here, no, probably not, but the only way in and out: locked. The nurse's station: locked. Certain rooms, random rooms, one where Alfred had gotten his blood tested: locked. It didn't make sense because Alfred wasn't a threat to anyone.

It was the doctor. The head doctor, the one who ran everything—no, Feli, he isn't nice—well, if he was nice, that was just a ploy to get people to trust him. Clearly, he wasn't a good guy. That was the only thing that made sense to Alfred, that he was keeping people here against their will. People like Alfred, who shouldn't be here, and Ivan, who was ordered to be here, people like Feli who couldn't do much, even if he wanted to.

"Really?" Ivan asked. "Why would he want to keep people here?"

Well, that was simple, wasn't it? Doctors had egos, everyone knew that, almost as bad as ER nurses, and they liked to flex them. So when doctors like…

"Dr. Väinämöinen."

Right, yes, Dr. V, got some people who were misunderstood, it made him feel like he had a big dick to keep Alfred here, the fucker. But he wasn't completely evil, he just wanted to see if you were smarter than him, if you could solve his puzzles, catch his clues, he would let you go. Shit like the brownie.

"You are obsessed with this brownie."

It's all apart of the puzzle, Ivan.

And it made sense, too, that fucker was condescending as fuck, broke trust constantly, didn't give a fuck about doctor-patient confidentiality, flagrantly threw his weight around by ordering bullshit prescriptions, ignored complaints, and was generally just a giant cock.

…

There was something new in his box, something that shouldn't be there, something sharp. It was a box cutter, at the very bottom, hidden under a broken gyroscope and old thermometer, one Alfred had never seen before in his life, with a fresh, crisp blade, one that fit into his palm like it had been molded to.

…

There was something higher than the doctor, Ivan. The doctor must have a boss, right? Someone who looked into the workings of this whole fucking locked loop and laughed about it. This higher-someone knew about the doctor and knew about Alfred, had seen him in the ER, had picked him for this game. This higher-someone, that's who was—

"Alfred." Ivan's breath was hot against Alfred's neck and his toes were cold against Alfred's legs. "It's too late for this."

"But you believe me." Alfred rolled his head to look at Ivan, searching his face in the gloom. "This person, they're the one who ordered you to be here, right? You're a spy, you're someone who reports back to him, aren't you?" Alfred looked for a confirmation in a movement of Ivan's face.

Ivan reached a hand up and ran a finger along Alfred's jawline.

And there were two sections, one working for the doctor and one working for the higher person—

"The General?"

Yes, the General, some were working for him, some for the doctor, and the one working for the General, they were the one sending messages to Alfred, they were the ones who wanted to get him and Ivan out, Alfred had figured it out, didn't Ivan see, it was so simple, Alfred felt like an idiot for not seeing it soon—

"Do you know all those books I read, Alfred?"

Yes—

"I would burn all those books just to listen to you talk for ten minutes."

"Ten?"

Ivan let out a sigh and bit Alfred gently on the shoulder, then kissed him in the same spot, lightly, Alfred barely felt his lips there, light as a snowflake melting. "Five, even. But it is late, and the guards will change shifts soon."

Ivan stood and retreated to his bed and left Alfred aching after cold toes.

Alfred knew what he had to do.

…

"I want to talk," Alfred said.

The doctor looked at him with interest. "That's what I'm here for, after all."

No, Alfred was going to speak and the doctor was going to listen, and then he was going to decide. Alfred wasn't stupid, he had figured out what was going on around here. It hadn't been easy, but it made sense now, the pills, the wrongful imprisonment—

No, doctor, Alfred was going to speak first.

The wrongful imprisonment, the hints, the little things, the brownie, the gift someone had sent him, Mattie turning his back on Alfred, all these had melded into a perfect picture of what was going on around here.

And, Alfred spoke louder for the microphones no doubt planted around the room, he had figured out what the General was asking him to do. But Alfred was going to give the doctor a choice first, because Alfred was a good guy. Now, the good doctor could either let Alfred go and explain to Matthew that this whole thing was a mistake, could release Ivan and stop playing this demented game—let everyone go who didn't deserve to be here, or the doctor would see exactly what the General had planned for him.

No, answer the question first.

Answer the question.

Alright, fine, if that's how he wanted to do things. And so Alfred stood and showed him the gift the General had sent him.

The doctor stood immediately but his feet got caught up in the chair and he half fell on his desk, papers—Alfred's paper, papers that tracked his progress at the games and notes to the General—slid from the folder to the floor and Alfred had made it around the edge of the desk and the doctor was looking up at him with wide eyes and Alfred raised the gift and Alfred brought the gift down but the doctor had been raising his hands and Alfred's gift came down there instead of—instead of—

And now the doctor was bleeding and yelling and there was so much blood, dripping down his arms and off his elbows and falling to the ground and getting on those white notes and he shied away from Alfred and the doctor's feet finally came free of the chair and he slumped against the wall looking at his ruined palms and another fresh wave of blood seeped down his arms and Alfred suddenly didn't know what the General wanted now and he backed away and he looked around for the cameras and he told the doctor:

"I want to leave now."

The doctor nodded at him. "Alright, Alfred." His voice was small and scared but his face was composed even as he held his hands uselessly in front of him, and Alfred could see he had gotten him in between the thumb and the pointer finger and his thumb hung down at an odd angle that made Alfred's stomach turn.

And then a nurse burst into the room and Alfred was slammed into the ground and he was sorry, he didn't mean to, he got it wrong, he was sorry, he didn't want to hurt anyone he just wanted to go, please let him go home please please please

#aph rusame #rusame #APH America #APH Russia #hetalia fanfic #writing #hetalia fanfiction #asylum #alfred f jones #ivan braginski

[sun-summoning]

the adventures of the alien hunter gura-san and the space sadist (lol)

-

i. break up

sougo told her they shouldn’t split up, but kagura was insistent. you stay on the ship, she ordered, donning her cloak and grabbing her new and improved umbrella. 

had it not been for the toxic gas this particular planet exuded, sougo would have been hunting down their bounty with her. but his human lungs cannot handle it, their fairly sophisticated ship had informed them, and so sougo was confined to the pilot’s chair with a walkie-talkie to keep him company.

sougo brings the device to his face. “i’m bored, china girl.”

there’s a moment before he hears static and the sound of kagura panting. he frowns, realizing she must be running. 

“oi, china girl, you dead?”

he sure hopes she isn’t. he can make it off this planet on his own if he needs to, but the reality is that beyond the bounties they’ve been hunting to build their space travel funds, kagura’s brother was kindly supplying them with most of their weapons and other goods, all courtesy of his new harusame. and if kagura died, sougo would no longer have access to all the cool bazookas the now slightly less barbaric crime syndicate had to offer him. 

that and her dad might kill him.

sighing, sougo presses down on the walkie-talkie once again. “china girl--”

“i’m not dead, you stupid sadist!” she finally replies. “but i will be!”

“oh. well that’s a shame.”

“shut up and turn on the ship’s cannons!”

“hm?”

“the cannons! i need help, yes?!”

doing so would require him to move to the other chair, so sougo slouches in the one he’s in and tries making the sound of static. “what was that, china girl?” he repeats the noise. “you’re breaking up...ajfhjhdgsa...i can’t hear you...”

he hears kagura screaming and snickers under his breath.

“you useless idiot!” the walkie-talkie booms. “i should have left you in your jail cell to rot!”

sougo flinches at that. much to his surprise, she doesn’t often bring up the fact that she saved him from having to cut himself open at the behest of the new government a few months ago.

feeling guilty, he starts the ships engine to do as she requested. the front lights turn on, revealing the sight of kagura running towards the ship with a massive lizard-like monster chasing after her. 

“huh.” he blinks. “well shit.”

kagura yells curses at him, but they come from outside rather than the walkie-talkie. the monster seems to focus on the ship now rather than her, so sougo grins and shoots, resulting in an explosion of guts. 

realizing he forgot to dial down the power of the cannon, sougo cringes. 

“you idiot!” kagura yells from outside. 

sougo stands and looks out the front, finding kagura standing in the front of the lights and covered in a nasty green goo that he can only assume was the monster’s blood, with chunks of its innards sliding off of her too. she begins screaming insults and so sougo points the cannon in her direction.

-

ii. cohabitation

their ship has one bed, which is fine because there’s rarely ever a time when they can both be asleep during travel. even when the ship is on autopilot, it’s only prudent that at least one of them be at the controls. but sometimes they find themselves at rest stop planets, wanting to sleep properly before taking on a more difficult mission because their funds are running low. this leads to them having to share.

first sougo laid down, patiently explaining to kagura that pets either slept at their master’s feet or on the floor. after that, she pulled him by the ankle and threw him into a wall. when he’d slumped down to the ground, she told him he could stay there. after another hour of bickering, they finally agreed to share. there was, after all, space for both of them and their egos included.

“oi, stop hogging the blanket,” sougo mutters. he pulls it away from her, effectively taking the entire thing. when she screeches in frustration, sougo rolls over to wrap himself in it entirely.

“i’m cold!”

“then get another blanket.” 

he knows for a fact there’s at least another one among their supplies, he just refuses to be the one to get it. 

naturally, kagura feels the same way, meaning the two of them will probably spend this night chilly and uncomfortable because they’re both too petty to let the other win. 

he feels her find the edge of his blanket burrito before she pulls it. he rolls over, freeing enough of it that she can get under the blanket as well. it fits well enough over the both of them, sougo can admit, but--

“your skin is touching my skin,” she whines. “it’s gross, yes?”

“you’re gross.”

“no, you’re gross.”

“no, really, you’re gross.” sougo sniffs loudly for show. he turns his head and ends up with her hair in his face considering their proximity. “you still smell like that slime monster from the slime planet.” this isn’t true, of course. she actually smells like shampoo, but sougo isn’t about to tell her that.

kagura pinches him from under the blanket. “well you still smell like that the garbage disposal you fell into when we were on the dog planet!” that particular job had been about a month ago. also, he didn’t fall into it. rather, she’d pushed him in.

they insult each other for a good ten minutes, referencing the various planets they’ve visited in their search to restore sadaharu and build the funds required for that, reminding sougo of just how long they’ve been at this partnership. 

soon they’re both fairly tuckered out and kagura’s head is lolling onto his shoulder. he doesn’t push her away, although he does blow at the locks of hair that are tickling his nose. she mumbles something of a goodnight in combination with a sleep-addled insult, and sougo does the same.

-

iii. future

since they’re in space and since they need a place to restock on supplies, they decide to visit kondo and his new wife on whatever gorilla planet she came from. he’ll be going back to earth shortly as per the agreement their governments set up, but if sougo ever wanted to see kondo, now would be the time. 

sougo doesn’t know why kondo willingly went into this political marriage, but he suspects doing so is the reason the shinsengumi were able to disband rather than all be put to death. aside from himself, of course. thinking about all the times he nearly blew up katsura, sougo figures he had it coming. 

before they leave the planet, kondo places a heavy hand on sougo’s shoulder and tells him that he’s glad he’s safe now. sougo is about to argue that being around a monster like kagura is hardly safe, but kondo soon pulls him into his arms for a hug. sougo doesn’t really care for this sort of contact, but with kondo it’s different. managing to relax, sougo returns the embrace. 

“i’m so happy you two are together,” kondo whispers brokenly. when he pulls back, there are actual tears in his eyes.

sougo frowns. “ah, kondo-san, i don’t think you understand.”

“hush, sougo. i’ve always known how you felt about the china girl.”

"what.”

“toshi and i used to flail whenever you two had a moment.”

“what.”

“okay, fine. i would flail and toshi would tell me to stop. but that’s neither here, nor there!”

“kondo-san--”

“oi, sadist!” his completely platonic alien hunting partner calls. he grunts when she punches his arm in greeting before she turns to kondo. “gorilla, please thank the lady gorilla for all the bananas she gave us!” kagura gives kondo a quick hug before going off to load their supplies on the ship. 

sougo watches her go, and when he turns back to kondo, he is now actually full on crying.

“kondo-san--”

kondo draws him back into his tight embrace, audibly sobbing and wiping his wet face on sougo’s jacket.

“i’m just so happy!” kondo says. “i wish you two all the best on your future together!” 

sougo bites his lip as his eye twitches, not having the heart to tell kondo that this future doesn’t exist. 

but then they leave the gorillas, working seamlessly on their ship to get to the next planet with dragon’s veins for them to investigate. sougo checks the weapons to make sure they’re all working properly while kagura flies the ship because she’s actually really good at it. he sits in the co-pilot’s seat when he’s done, and she glances at him briefly, smiling so softly that he can’t help but grin back.

looking out at the stars, sougo allows himself to consider that a future by her side wouldn’t be so bad. or, at the very least, the next few years for now. 

-

iv. bad pick up line

kagura is not above letting random people flirt with her and offer to buy her a drink or a snack just to get free stuff. they offer pathetic pick up lines and compliments and kagura giggles and grins like she’s watched her dear anego do in the past. and then when she has what she wants, she runs away from her benefactors by stating she has a boyfriend and pointing his way.

he suspects he isn’t actually supposed to hear that last part considering it isn’t true and she’d probably scoff at him if he brought it up. soon she sits in front of him, sipping on a drink that she didn’t pay for, and then tries convincing him to buy her another one.

this time she actually pisses someone off. he’s an alien that sougo’s seen before, looking more or less like a walking hyena. he stomps over to where they’re sitting, seething over being scammed -- which, to be fair, sougo can’t blame him for -- and has the audacity to think this is somehow sougo’s fault.

“you the boyfriend?” the hyena asks with a sneer. he glares at kagura. “you better put a leash on your girl.”

“trust me, i’ve tried,” sougo solemnly explains. “she doesn’t like it though.”

kagura kicks him under the table. “oi!”

the hyena isn’t amused. he smacks the drink out of kagura’s hand, resulting in the glass shattering on the floor and creating a sticky mess. the rest of the pub goes silent and all eyes fall on them.

they can leave, sougo considers, but kagura just ordered their food and they’re pretty damn hungry. he can tell this hyena fucker to just piss off, but words aren’t really all that fun. 

so sougo opts for his favourite option, smiling at kagura’s drink ticket of an idiot and standing up. the movement in itself is enough to have the other man take a step back. sougo assumes he didn’t expect him to actually consider fighting.

with the entire crowd of space traders and hunters and criminals alike watching, sougo is certain that if they start a fight, an all out brawl will overcome this bar. 

“you better watch your back,” the hyena threatens. 

“that sounds like a lot of work,” sougo replies. he grins as his hand falls to the sword at his hip. “so why don’t i just dispose of you now?”

the hyena’s eyes widen at the prospect of a fight, but sougo only gets to savour that sight for a brief moment because soon he’s falling to the ground. where his head was, sougo sees the end of kagura’s purple umbrella. she laughs at her handiwork and her cackles only grow louder when the rest of the hyena’s gang charge at them to fight.

sougo sighs to cover up the fact that he’s actually having a lot of fun. 

“tch, china girl, you’re so annoying.”

-

v. time skip

after two years, the bedroom part of their ship has gone from “sleeping quarters” to “kagura’s closet, but like with a bed.” he doesn’t know how she’s gathered so much stuff, but she’s quick to point out that he’s not any better. 

dragging him to their weapons locker that’s actually a weapon’s room, kagura gestures to the well-organized walls of blades, guns, bazookas, and more. 

sougo frowns. “this isn’t the same thing.”

“this used to be where we kept supplies!”

“these are supplies.”

“they’re just toys and you know it!”

sougo pouts because it wasn’t his fault that kamui had a habit of gracing him with a second of whatever new weapon he had so that the two of them could test them on each other. sougo grins at one particular space sword fondly, remembering how he’d almost cut kamui’s head off with it. 

“and you have a lot of clothes too, yes?” kagura points to a box in the corner labelled as explosives but that they both know are actually full of gear he’s gathered and held on to. after years of living in a uniform, he might’ve gone a bit crazy over all the things the rest of the galaxy had to offer. she removes the top and pulls out the black coat he’d gotten from a shop on rakuyou. 

“like why do you have this jacket?”

“well, first of all, it’s not a jacket,” he points out. “it’s a duster. it’s like a jacket, only it’s longer, thicker, and far more badass.”

“it’s dumb, yes?”

sougo glares at her and stomps back to the bedroom. there he pulls out a cloak of hers that’s riddled with holes and patches and holes with patches only half sewn on. the ends are tattered and frankly, this thing wouldn’t even make a good rag.

“you have three other cloaks, not including all the other similar things you’ve acquired over the past two years.” he gestures to where they all hang. “and yet you wear this piece of shit.”

“because it’s my comfy cloak!”

“and the others?”

“the beige one is for camouflage, the white one is my formal one, and the black one is for when i need to look extra badass!” she yanks her comfy cloak out of his grip, and because he holds it tightly and it’s also so painfully thin at this point, it rips in half. 

kagura screams in anguish, blaming him for this tragedy, and promptly stomping away. he feels smug for a moment, but then hears her rummaging around the weapons room. eyes wide with panic, sougo chases after her.

-

vi. kiss

sougo feels like an intruder when she cries over sadaharu in front of him. her arms are around sadaharu’s neck as she sobs, tears falling from her eyes and snot dripping down her nose. she rubs her face again sadaharu’s fur and he licks her in return. kagura laughs and despite the way her lip trembles over her newly restored dog, she smiles brightly and promises sadaharu she’ll never let him go. 

“thank you,” she breathes. kagura straightens and faces him, while sadaharu settles at their side. “you helped me find a way to save sadaharu and now he’s--” 

a glance to where sadaharu sits has her sniffing again. sougo wants to make fun of her or play it cool because her openly emotional self is making him anxious. he swallows thickly, trying to find an insult, but finds himself rendered silent by the gratitude in her eyes.

“thank you, sougo,” she repeats.

hearing her use his name throws him off even more. she’s said in the past, of course, although it was usually paired with an insult. now she uses it to emphasize her genuine feelings. 

she laughs when sadaharu comes up to him, nudging sougo for a petting. sougo’s always been fond of the yorozuya dog, usually playing with him or sneaking him a treat when his owner’s weren’t looking. but now in front of kagura -- who, after two years of travelling together, no longer tries biting his head off for coming close to her dog -- sougo grins at sadaharu and touches his face. sadaharu leans into his touch and then licks his hand. 

kagura makes a noise of amusement and then sadaharu comes closer to sougo. he suspects the dog is going to try eating his head like he often does with people, so sougo dips his head lower. sadaharu just pushes him forward though, resulting in sougo bumping into kagura and his lips falling over hers.

she squeaks in surprise as sougo sucks in a breath, realizing what just happened.

he draws away, ready to mutter an apology, but kagura’s hands are on his arms. she looks at him with bright eyes and a flush on her cheeks and then she starts to giggle because this is all just so painfully cliche. 

“this happened in a shoujo i read,” she tells him. 

he doesn’t notice the way his own hands settle on his hips. “and it happened in ladies four.” 

“oh, i remember that episode.” kagura nods but his eyes stay trained on her lips. “i think they kissed again after the accidental kiss, yes?”

“are you angling for another one?”

she looks over his shoulder at sadaharu, who barks before shoving sougo once again. 

-

vii. jealousy

as a fugitive, returning to edo is hardly as easy for him as it is for kagura. she often sits in the back with sadaharu, hugging him and talking to him about all the things they’ll do together when they get back to kabukicho. she’s so happy, so wholly and undeniably happy, that sougo feels guilty for resenting her for it. 

after two years of being an alien hunting duo while investigating how to restore sadaharu, sougo can admit that he actually quite likes this life. but, he suspects, a large part of that proably has to do with the fact that he does this with her. 

naturally, she picks up on his darkening mood, something she’s been able to do well before they began their galaxy-wide adventures.

“you’ll stay with us, yes?” she asks slowly. she focuses on the ship’s controls before taking a deep breath and turning her chair to face him. when he doesn’t do the same, she kicks his chair to turn it too. “sadist?”

“hm?”

“you’ll come with sadaharu and me back home, yes?”

sougo isn’t unused to the idea of being a fugitive. he spent plenty of time roaming the country with the shinsengumi to rally up forces and take down nobunobu’s corrupt government. back then, all he wanted was to go back to edo. all he wanted was to take naps in the park, shoot rockets at his superior officer, cause obscene amounts of property damage with the local alien girl. 

but now he doesn’t know what he wants and he finds himself jealous of her for being so sure about what will happen next. 

“we’ll see.”

his response makes her frown. “i won’t let zura execute you,” she promises. “i’m still leader, so he has to listen to what i say, yes?”

sougo shakes his head though, because katsura is no longer the head of an unofficial terrorist faction simply humouring a young girl. but if a moron like him could roam around edo for so long and evade being captured, sougo thinks he could probably do the same.

“i guess you’re right.”

“it’s been a long time since we were back,” she says, turning her chair. sougo faces the front and on a screen using ridiculous amounts of magnification, he sees the blue and green of earth. “i’m excited to go back.”

“me too,” he admits. 

kagura grins at him and after a moment, he realizes he’s grinning too. she looks so cute with way her eyes glitter with excitement, with the stress of saving sadaharu finally off her shoulders. he leans forward, meaning to kiss her one more time, when he hears the telltale ring of their universal phone. 

sougo says he’ll go get it, and when he sees the message that a new job is available, he grins. 

“it’s the alien hunters guild,” he tells her as he settles back in his chair.

“oh?” kagura concentrates on flying as they maneuver through an asteroid belt. “what’s the job?”

“a herd of behemoths on the planet oukoku,” sougo reads. his eyes widen when he sees the reward. “good money, too.”

“how come?”

“i have a feeling the job is being requested by the royal family.” sougo skims through some reading on behemoths and oukoku and comes to the conclusion that this herd is a result of the time some of the co-king’s “pets” escaped into the wilderness the previous year. sougo shows kagura a picture of what a fully grown behemoth looks like in comparison to a human and they both grow excited by the challenge. “want to take it?”

her hands tighten over the ship’s controls as she considers the job. it would probably take them at least a couple of weeks, and oukoku was at least two days travel from earth. she bites her lip, contemplating the people she left behind there and the life she has now.

“that is a lot of money...”

sougo snorts. “enough to buy you a cloak in every possible colour.”

“and to buy you a dozen new bazookas.”

behind them, sadaharu yips. he’s not generally allowed in the control area due to his size, but he squeezes his face into the gap between their chairs and licks sougo and then licks kagura. he barks, excited, and kagura grins at sougo over sadaharu’s head.

“i guess we can fit in one more adventure before returning to earth, yes?”

#fic #okikagu #used the okikagu week 2017 prompts

[dice-and-die]

After the storm (Downpouring Thunder part 5)

Gaz ended the transmission and kicked the ship into overdrive. Shortly after rescue, Tak had passed out from shock, going limp in Gaz’s arms. Gaz had almost panicked, until she heard that Tak was still breathing. Thank fuck, she wasn’t dead. She had dragged her over to the pilot seat, and sat down, pulling the unconscious irken onto her lap. Now it was just a matter of getting home, and getting help. She shot across the solar system at hyperspeed, swearing and cursing that this blasted ship couldn’t go any faster. Tak needed help, and she needed it NOW. Gaz fidgeted uncomfortably, listening to the soft hum of the running engine of the ship, and Tak’s ragged breathing.

Finally after what felt like an eternity served cold, earth came into view, in all it’s blue and green glory. “Come on, we’re almost home. We’re so close.” Gaz held onto Tak as she set the ship to auto pilot it’s way to Zim’s base. It was like midnight by standard earth time, and Gaz felt tired as all hell. She laid back in the pilot seat and sighed, too uneasy and anxious to sleep.

Zim rushed to get a a life support unit in working order, while Skoodge and Dib ran around getting basic equipment like an IV drip, and prepping monitors. Gir watched in the background, interested with what was going on. He liked that Mary and Master were friends now, it was much more fun that way. They didn’t scream and yell and hurt each other no more, and that made Gir happy. Gir’s train of thought trailed off into thinking about playing tennis ball. Tennis balls were tasty. “Gir!” Zim called to the little robot, getting his attention. “Yeeeeesss Master????” Gir asked breezily and with cheer. “Go up to the hangar room and make sure there’s extra room for Tak’s ship!” Zim demanded. Gir’s little face lit up, his warm cyan eyes glowing. “I have no idea what you just said, but I’m happy! Yaaaaayyyy, I get to be useful!” Gir blasted off and crashed into the elevator, speeding upwards at an unnatural speed.

The group of three stopped their work, they’d prepped the best they could, now all they could do was play the waiting game. “Why do you think we needed to do all this?” Skoodge asked curiously. “I bet you anything she found some dying unintelligent animal from another planet.” Zim said from his comfortable spot on Dib’s lap. “Or maybe, she found someone rather than something....” Dib trailed off. He knew how Gaz was feeling. The night Zim had taken shelter from the storm, Dib had gotten up and talked to Gaz that night, doing his best to explain the situation to her. He could feel the envy, sadness, and guilt coming off his sister in waves, as he had told her how bad Zim needed someone, how he was so broken inside, and just needed a friend. He had a pretty good feeling that he knew what was going on, but he stayed silent as Skoodge and Zim began to gently bicker about whether Gaz could be injured or not, or whether Gir was actually being helpful or not, which prompted Skoodge to go and check on the psychotic little robot.

Gaz broke into earth’s atmosphere, holding onto Tak and bracing herself. “God damn, finally.” She growled. She switched auto pilot off and steered it down to Zim’s base, in a slow descent. She spied a new irken, Skoodge. She didn’t know who he was and she didn’t care. She carefully landed the ship down in the hangar, and opened the hatch to the ship. “Hi there. Zim and Dib are down in the medical bay waiting for us! Wait... is that...” Skoodge said with a friendly little wave before trailing off in confusion. “Go tell them I’m coming.” Gaz said gruffly, as she struggled to get up with Tak in her arms.

“Hey, your awfully silent right now.” Zim noted, scooting off Dib’s lap in favor of making eye contact with his friend. “Yeah, I’m just thinking..” He said quietly. The two of them sat in silence, not minding the quiet, enjoying each other’s presence. Skoodge came rushing to the room, ruining the peace. “She’s here!” He panted. “And she has..... *pant* she has... *wheeze*” Skoodge struggled for breath. “Dude just breathe first.” Dib said. “What does she have?” Zim asked in concern. The elevator dinged and opened up again, to reveal Gaz holding Tak’s listless and unconscious form, bridal style. Dib’s face lit up in pride of his sister’s selfless actions, while Zim’s jaw dropped in shock, his eyes wide and his antenna twitching spastically.

“Well don’t just stand there and stare you assholes, let’s get going! She needs help!” Gaz snarled in distress, hopping off the elevator with an excited and curious Gir, trailing behind. “Set her down on the life support bed.” Zim pointed to the aforementioned bed. “Computer scan Tak and give me a bio-readout, what’s her physical state right now?” Zim asked anxiously, pretending not to be affected by the fact that he was in the presence of the irken who, next to the Tallests, hated him the most.

“Physical state of irken Tak, is malnourished, dehydrated, and suffering from sleep deprivation, and darkness fever. Some rest, recourses, UV light exposure would do her good.” The computer droned out in its typically emotionless voice. “That’s all? Huh, well that’s not as bad as I thought.” Zim said. Gaz reluctantly backed out of their way, as Zim rushed over to Tak. He and Skoodge pulled the top half of her uniform off, and then her undershirt. Zim grabbed the iv and glucose drip and inserted it into Tak’s left wrist, while Skoodge, placed Holter monitor pads over the top and sides of Tak’s chest. Four different beeps from the monitor started going off, gentle and soft. Gaz simply watched the two of them work, not taking her eyes off them for a single second. Dib came over and stood next to her. “Hey.” He said quietly. “Hey.” Gaz mumbled even quieter. “You ok?” Dib asked, in concern of his sister. “I will be.” She stated softly.

“I kind of knew you were going out to find her.” Dib said. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t just leave her out there anymore. I knew her ship was tracking her life pod for so long, and I just let it get this bad. It just was like a constant reminder every time I saw the ship. I’d see the blinking tracking light and I knew what it meant, and yet I did nothing. It felt like being stabbed in the gut.” She said, her voice riddled with guilt and despair. “You didn’t do nothing. You went out there and you brought her back. She’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” Dib reassured her. “Yeah but I didn’t act sooner. If I’d have waited any longer she WOULD be dead.” Gaz wiped away a single tiny tear. “Don’t beat yourself up Gaz. You did the best. She’s alive right now. Ok? You saved her. Don’t dwell on regret, just revel in the fact that you did a good job. Because the past is the past, and it doesn’t matter anymore, especially because this a past that doesn’t include Tak dying. Ok?” Gaz considered Dibs advice for a moment and then nodded. “Ok.” She said quietly.

Dib was surprised that his sister felt anything at all. This was the most emotional she’d ever been since she was three and her favorite stuffed pig had been ripped up by a dog. “Hey Gaz. Why don’t we go visit Dad in a couple days? Tell him what’s going on? He’s been pretty extra busy lately.” Dib said. “Yeah. I think he’ll be proud of us.” Gaz nodded and sat down on the floor, still watching Zim and Skoodge stand back, having done all they could for Tak.

“Now what?” Skoodge asked. “Well now we just wait. She should be fine in a couple days.” Zim said, his antenna twitching and flicking forward at every little sound. He looked over at Gaz and Dib. “It’s like two in the morning. Shouldn’t you guys be getting sleep?” He asked, tilting his head curiously. “Sleep is for the weak.” Gaz growled, her typical, venomous, apathy returning to her voice. “Alrighty then, you do you dude.” Skoodge said, trotting over to the elevator. Zim and Dib both shared a look before following Skoodge, leaving Gaz be.

Once they were gone, Gaz got up and pulled a small hover chair over to the life support bed, and stayed up for at least another hour, holding Tak’s hand and waiting for her. Eventually though, she succumbed to sleep, her head resting on both her arms, folded over on the edge of the bed.

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

Dib eventually passed out on Zim’s couch, while Zim and Skoodge stayed up, quietly talking things over at the kitchen table. “So... you overheard my last conversation with the Tallests?” Zim asked softly, avoiding eye contact with Skoodge. “Yeah. I think they feel the same way about me. Tak too I think, because otherwise they would’ve came and rescued her, right?” Skoodge asked. “Yeah.... right....” Zim whispered, his mind caught up in a twisted, frenetic, fit. He was having a flashback of that night, so horrible in all its gut wrenching despair.

“My Tallests I have a very knew and amazing plan to rid this planet of its stinking, awful life forms. See the planet is covered in a substance called water. It’s a hydrogen oxygen combine and this planet is so polluted that this hydrogen oxygen combine burns upon contact with irken skin. To make this planet more hospitable to us, I am going to suck up all the water on earth with a giant vacuum and then-“

“Yeah look that’s real interesting Zim, but we’re kind of busy right now so...” Purple trailed off, giving a stern look of annoyance.

Zim’s antenna quivered anxiously “O-oh! I understand my Tallests but if I could just-“

“Zim! Take the hint and just shut up already!” Red snarled viciously at him before cutting the transmission. Zim was taken aback by this behavior but quickly righted his hunched posture and shut his mouth, his antenna flicking tentatively.

Red’s left eye twitched and he came closer to the screen, staring Zim down intimidatingly until he finally got the hint for once, and shut up. “You look like you have something important to say my Tallest!” Zim’s voice was still full of innocence and joy, joy that he was being payed attention to.

“Why yes.” Red started in an ominously quiet tone of voice. “Yes I do Zim. Now your going to be quiet, and listen very, very, very carefully to what I am about to say. Do you understand?” Red glared Zim down expectantly. Zim nodded, a little dumbstruck by how dramatic his Tallest was being, although Purple was in the background staring at Red questioningly, also unsure of exactly what was going on, though he had somewhat of an idea. It made him slightly uneasy. “Now Zim” Red continued “Now Zim, We’ve put up with you for a long time.” Zim began to feel incredibly anxious, but he kept his posture all the same, denial was forcing his inability to act or speak upon him. Red’s voice suddenly snarled into a crescendo of anger “I AM SO SICK OF YOU.” Both Zim and Purple cringed at his voice. Purple knew now what was going on, and a twisted smile crossed his face, as he hung back to watch and observe.

Zim’s antenna drooped but that was the only sign he was feeling anything at all. Red continued on now, going into a frenzy “WE’VE PUT UP WITH YOU LONG ENOUGH ZIM. I’VE HAD IT UP TO MY ANTENNA WITH YOU, YOU PATHETIC, DANGEROUS, EMOTIONAL, HAYWIRE DEFECTIVE.”

defective?............ The word hit Zim like a cinderblock, it was like being shot in the guts. He shuddered, forcefully holding his emotions in, ever so desperate to prove his Tallests wrong, that he wasn’t a hot emotional mess.

“WE HAVE PANDERED TO YOU FOR TOO LONG. I’M SICK OF IT. YOU ARE WORTHLESS. YOUR EXISTENCE MAKES ME SICK TO MY SQUEEDILYSPOOCH. YOUR MISSION IS A JOKE ZIM. A JOKE. NO ONE LIKES YOU ZIM. IN FACT EVERYONE HATES YOU. YOU ARE AN EXLIE ZIM. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE AN EXILE. DO YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE YOU ARE DEFECTIVE, AND A DETRIMENT TO OUR ENTIRE SOCIETY AS A WHOLE, AND FOR THAT REASON ALONE YOU SHOULD BE KILLED.” Red snarled in a furious rage.

“d-defective...?” Zim whined, beginning to shudder and shake.

“HAH! LOOK AT ‘IM!” Purple sneered. “HE’S CRYING. HE REALLY IS DEFECTIVE.” Purple cackled maniacally.

Zim wiped at the corner of his right eye and looked at the collected tear on his hand, and he reeled back in disgust. He felt he was going to be sick. What was he hearing?! It felt like a lucid nightmare, so unreal and horribly unforgiving. He looked back up at the Tallests, in terror, panic, confusion, and pain.

Zim tried to protest weakly “n-no I-“

“QUIET DAMN YOU.” Red howled in anger. Zim flinched back, forcibly stifling a whimper. Red went quiet again, looking the emotionally ruined irken up and down with disgust. “I will give you one chance Zim” he growled quietly “One chance to live, and I’ll tell you how you can do that.” Zim simply looked on in abject horror. “If you ever show your face to us or any other irken ever again, we will find you and we will ensure that you are killed. A smug and ugly grin curled up Red’s face as he coldly stated “Staying away from us all would be a collective gift to your own kind. Now for all I care, you can go curl up and die somewhere, in fact it would be a pleasant surprise. Now goodbye, and goodbye forever you pathetic defective mess.” Red hissed in a voice seething still, with utter homicidal rage, before cutting the transmission.

Zim had only felt pain that night. He had cried until he was dry and out of tears, and even then, he still continued to whimper, all curled up in the darkest corner of his base. He would sleep, have nightmares, cry some more, and then cry himself to sleep all over again, even when tears wouldn’t come out, he’d still cry. He had disassociated through all his haphazard mental breakdowns, and finally, he had gathered up enough strength to try an make it through a day of skool. He hadn’t shown up in a week, everyone would be curious as to where he’d disappeared to.

Dib was literal the only thing that had kept Zim from falling off the edge. Zim had even contemplated leaving the earth behind and driving the voot into the sun. But it was Dib, who had pulled him out of this suicidal stupor, and it was Dib he had turned to, in his most darkest time of need. If it weren’t for the earth boy then..... no... Zim didn’t want to think about that...

“Hey. Are you ok Zim? Your pulling some weird faces. You’ve just been staring off at nothing and tearing up for like an hour.” Skoodge noted with a hint of concern. Zim snapped back to reality, wiping the small trickle of tears away. “Yeah... I’m fine. I was just thinking is all..” He said quietly. Skoodge nodded in understanding, but didn’t press Zim for further information, respecting his preferred silence. Zim looked over at Dib, still sleeping on the couch, and smiled softly, before staring back off into space, getting lost in his thoughts again.

#invader zim #fan fiction #WildStorm45 writes #wildstorm45 #Downpouring Thunder #zim #dib #gaz #tak #skoodge #gir #the tallests #tallest red #tallest purple #I had to repost this because tumblr was being a shit fuck about it #sorry guys #thanks for your support #thank you for reading my awful writing #I love you nerds #ZaDf #TaGr

[shesdreamingofamonster]

His Queen (IV)

Word Count: 1,515

Genre:  Action, Romance, Mafia AU

Ship:  Reader x Yixing/Lay

Summary: You find out about the events that occurred while you were away, as well as the secret that led to them.

I II III V VI VII VIII Epilogue

“Honey, why do you look so blue, I’m sure he is just busy.” Your mother sat next to you at the table of your vacation home while you meticulously fiddled with your phone. It had been two days since you left. Since Yixing sent you away to safety and promised that he would call you that night. “But he always keeps his promises to me.” Her face made a small frown as she placed a hand on your arm.

“A business trip huh? I could call on a business trip, it only takes a few minutes.” Your father joined you in the dining room, a bottle of soju in hand. He had always been curious when it came to Yixing. Never believing anything that he heard about him. You were his little girl after all, it was only right that he want the best for you. Yixing had told your family that the reason this vacation arose was due to his business trip in Japan which could last for some time and he didn’t want you to mope at home. Of course it was a lie, but you couldn’t tell that to your family. “If that son of a bitch is off doing something he shouldn’t be I swear to God I’ll-“ Your mother sent him a glare from across the table, cutting off whatever he was going to say. Probably that he would kill him if he hurt you. But you knew he wouldn’t. The only reason why he wouldn’t be able to contact you is that something went wrong.

You had called him multiple times, always getting his soft voice on the end saying the same message, telling you to leave your business inquiry and that he will respond as soon as possible. You had also left several voicemails on each of the boys’ phones. Not one person picked up to tell you what was going on. What could possibly have happened? Your head ran through all of the possible scenarios, the worst being that there were casualties. “Please excuse me.” You got up leaving your parents at the table, passing by your siblings who were in the living room paying no attention to you. You hoped that they would grow to at least accept your relationship, not necessarily support it. It seemed that your father may never find it in his heart, always saying the worst things about the man you loved.

You made your way to the patio, making sure to close the door behind you. No one cared enough to follow you anyways. Expecting the same type of message for the hundredth time, you were shocked when Chanyeol’s sweet voice filled the speaker. “Y/N.” It was more of a statement than a greeting. His voice seemed to have an underlying message in it. He sounded very off, this was the voice he used when it came to business meetings, never with you. “Yeol? Thank god! What the hell is going on? Why hasn’t he called? Why is everyone letting me go to voicemail?” There was a long pause before his intake of breath. Your breathing had become shaky, horrified of the possibilities that may have happened. “Can you sit down?” Your stomach dropped and your throat began to close up on itself. This was what people said to prepare you for the worst news imaginable. You moved to the lounger that was to the left of you. “Okay. Yeol?” Your heart was racing in anticipation, his answer seeming to take forever. “Things seemed like they were going to be fine. Nothing out of the ordinary set off anyone’s alarms. But then the gun went off. Out of nowhere.” Tears were welling up in your eyes, “What do you mean the gun went off?!? Chanyeol please tell me!” His muffled sobs were all you heard before shuffling and a new voice met your ears. “Y/N?” Junmyeon’s concern was clear. “Jun! What happened?! Why is Yeol crying?” Baekhyun’s comforting words could be heard in the background, trying to calm the younger boy down. “It is Yixing. There was an incident, no one saw the gun. The wound was life threatening but the doctor was on standby, he was treated as soon as possible. You know his blood condition, which obviously led to more blood loss than it would have for a normal person. He is stable for now, but he hasn’t woken up.” It took you a moment to process his words. Yixing, your Yixing, was laying in a bed unconscious. And you weren’t even there. You were miles away while he was probably so scared. You needed to get to him, to be there with him, even if he didn’t actually know. “Was anyone else hurt?” You needed to know. You could hardly handle the news of him being in this situation, if someone else was too… you couldn’t handle it. “No. We are all fine, it wasn’t us they wanted. They had it all planned. Your kidnapping and sending you back with him. To make him think it was alright. We got some of them, the others who drove away, there is no telling what they will do. The man responsible is dead.” The words were reassuring yet unsettling at the same time. “Send the pilot back. I am leaving. Have him here as soon as possible.” “What?! No, you aren’t safe. They still want you.” Why would they want you? You had nothing to do with it. “What do you mean? What the hell would I be good for?” He sighed before speaking again. “There was something that he didn’t want us to tell you. Made us swear. But now seems as good a time as any….” There was a pause as he gathered his thoughts, “That group doesn’t just dislike us. They want revenge, revenge for things that were out of our control. Yixing had some relations with one of their sisters, he made it clear that it was purely for fun, no feelings involved. Well she didn’t feel the same, and when he denied her, she ended up killing herself. It wasn’t his fault, she agreed to the guidelines he set out before anything happened. In return, they believe the only fair thing would be for Yixing’s life to end as well. According to what I heard, they are going to come back for you too.” You didn’t know how to respond. You knew there were things that Yixing didn’t tell you. Secrets he spared from your ears so they wouldn’t haunt your thoughts at night. But this, a girl who fell hopelessly in love and offed herself because it wasn’t returned, this was something you couldn’t blame him for. If he had just told you, perhaps you could have helped resolve the situation. You never met this woman, but the fact that her rash decision let to him on death’s door made you dislike her even more. You have fallen for people before, people who turned you down harsher than your own imagination could come up with. But to kill yourself because of that, you would never do that. All of those heartbreaks led you to meeting the love of your life. The man who killed people because they threatened to touch you. The man who was paying the price for something he had no control over. And you were willing to risk your life to be by his side again.

“If you won’t call the pilot then I will just arrange my own way to get back. Would you rather I make all of my flights public and my information available for those men to see whenever they please?” You knew he couldn’t refuse. They couldn’t risk your location being traced, or your family’s. “Alright. He can be there within the hour, just tell your family that there was something he needed you to take care of at the home office, information he couldn’t let an underling see.” You agreed and rushed back inside. Your family acting as if you hadn’t disappeared at all. “So it looks like I need to run into the office for Yixing. Important business stuff.” Your father scoffed while your mother looked exasperated. “Now? What about vacation?” You smiled and went over to hug her. “He wants you all to enjoy it, his treat. A way to thank you for letting him have the pleasure of my company.” Your father wasn’t going to let it slide though. “As I recall we didn’t know about him until five months into the relationship. I still don’t know if I like you being with him.” Your mother rolled her eyes, “For God’s sake (Y/Father’s/N)! If he makes our baby happy who cares? He has been kind enough to give us a luxury vacation with her, just back off of him.” With their minds occupied you made your way to your room and started packing up your things. Eager to get to Yixing’s side.

If he couldn’t face the demons that came after him, then you would do it for the both of you.

Next Part

Masterlist

#yixing #zhang yixing #SDOAM His Queen #His Queen #shesdreamingofamonster #fanfic #fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #lay #exo #exo lay #exo yixing #exo m #exo l #lay fanfic #lay fanfiction #yixing fanfic #yixing fanfiction #kpop #original story #exo au #mafia au #exo mafia au #lay mafia #yixing mafia

[nanogame]

What the hell is Phase Paradox and why has nobody heard of it?

I recently came across a very interesting game for the PS2 called Phase Paradox and, to my surprise, the information online about this game is very limited. I was intrigued... How can a game released over 15 years ago for one of the biggest consoles ever, be so unknown? I decided to do a little digging to find more and that’s what I’ll tackle in this post, but before we begin talking about it, a proper introduction to the series is due... Yes, to the series. Phase Paradox is no less than the sequel to the PS1 title, Philosoma. Never heard of it either, right? Don’t worry, I’ll elaborate... and spoil a bit of the first game, so be aware.

Philosoma was the first game developed by Epics Inc, the same Japanese studio who brought us Ape Escape Racing and Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex for the PSP, and a bunch of other titles you might have heard about. It was one of the first games to ever be announced for the original Playstation and it was scheduled to be a release title, however it was only released in mid-1995 in Japan, and in 1996 in the subsequent regions due to complications during development. Despite the prolonged development time, it only received mixed reviews, praising the impressive FMVs and OK-ish gameplay but condemning its dull visuals. These didn’t stop it from receiving an award for Best Shooter of 1995 by Electronic Gaming Monthly magazine.

But what is it? Philosoma plays like any other 2D/3D space shooter (with a lot of resemblances to other shooters like Galaga and Gradius) but places its emphasis on the multiple perspective gameplay, which varies from isometric to top-down/vertical scrolling to full-fledged 3D. The story is pretty simplistic: a recently colonized alien planet named Planet 220, reports a devastating attack by an unknown force and requires assistance. The player assumes the roles of D3, a rookie pilot, as well as his commander Nicolard Michau and has to try to save the planet. In the end of the game (spoiler alert) , the said planet blows up and this is where Phase Paradox picks up.

But before we get into the story and gameplay, let's see how this game came to life. Phase Paradox, as opposed to it’s prequel, was not developed by Epics Inc, but by Sony Interactive Entertainment themselves, whom had published the first game. However, for the roles of lead designer and supervisor, Sony decided to hire Takahiro Matsushima, the creator of the original game. They setup a somewhat big team, which also included Tatsuya Ishiyama as a cinematic director, who would proceed to work on the cutscenes of the very acclaimed SoulCalibur IV. Don’t let me stop you from getting amazed but there are some more names you might recognize.  The character of Renee is voiced by no less than Mary Elizabeth McGlynn (who’s also the voice director in the game), the singer of some of the non-instrumental songs by Akira Tamaoka in Silent Hill. The character of Umma is voiced by Patricia Ja Lee, whom you may know better by Jill Valentine’s mo-cap and voice actress for Resident Evil 5. Steve Kramer, who has worked as an actor and voice actor for countless productions that range from cinema to video games, voices Lance Fuller’s character too... This only shows how big the production for the game must have been and how much Sony was betting on it.

The first announcement for the game was made by Sony in January 2001 but other than the game’s genres, very few details about it were given. They also announced it would be released in two DVD-ROM discs on the 22nd of March of the same year in Japan, but no dates for the other regions were given. The first demo only appeared in Tokyo Game Show Spring 2001 and by then, the game had been postponed to May 24th, the day it was released in Japan (in only one DVD). The first impressions were decent: people were praising the sci-fi atmosphere but were reluctantly talking about the gameplay:

“Three playable characters from different time frames and different places solve mysteries from each character's perspective. Once they all meet at a certain point in the game, the mysteries begin to unfold. As opposed to the theme of humans vs. aliens or zombies in most of the recent action-adventure games in the genre, this game is about human interaction, trust, and deceit...”

Now, this is where things start to get interesting! If you’re confused, because you were expecting details for a shooter, don’t be! Despite being a direct sequel to Philosoma, its genre is completely different. The sequel is not a 2D/3D shooter like its predecessor, but an action-adventure game with a lot of sci-fi and survival horror influences. The player can control three characters across a field map with pre-rendered backgrounds, similarly to the original Resident Evil games, however the action factor is not present. What I mean is, the player doesn’t shoot or solve puzzles. The player simply moves the characters in between cutscenes and is prompted to do binary choices of yes and no by pressing the X or circle buttons. By making the “wrong” choice, the player usually dies and is prompted to try again. This being said, the game can be easily completed by trial and error and this might just justify why most of the reviews I found online, even if scarce, were all condemning this gameplay mechanic. I’m not saying it’s very good but it seems to me that they’re were going for what could’ve been the beginning of tell-tale games like we know them today. The game also has three different endings, one for each playable character, depending on which one you choose to follow during the final phase of the game (you eventually play them all, to finish the game), which I thought was pretty interesting.

In my opinion, there are two things that this game nailed completely. The UI design and the atmosphere. The cover of the game is beautiful, that’s not an argument, but wait until you boot up the game! The main menu is gorgeous and damn satisfying to use. It’s the perfect intro for the game, which in its whole, gave me a vibe of “Blade Runner meets the The Thing”. Maybe because of the futuristic look of the pre-rendered surrounding environments, along with an interesting sound landscape that heavily relies on background noises, using music only when really necessary. The voice acting (done entirely in English with Japanese subtitles) is pretty satisfactory and goes well with the animation and even though it feels a bit cheesy at times, which game doesn’t? The cutscenes are decent, however, I’m really saddened by the fact that they couldn’t get the facial expressions right while the characters are talking, but hey, they tried! 

I got used to the game and to its flaws after the first hour, and got some enjoyment out of the whole experience and that’s why I’m writing this post. Most reviews of the game are bad, but I would still recommend it to anyone interested in survival horror and/or sci-fi, and any PS2 enthusiast. 

It’s an interesting landmark in PS2′s history that went completely unnoticed. But why? Despite the English voice over (which kind of proves Sony was intending to release the game worldwide), the game never got released outside of Japan. That means that if you owned a NTSC-U or PAL console, you’d need to import the game and you’d also need a modchip or an emulator to play it, hence making it hard for a common gamer to find and play the game. That doesn’t explain, however, why the mentions to this game on Japanese websites are nearly non existent... The game does have a small page on the Japanese Wikipedia, but there is no page for it on the English Wikipedia, so I’d say the Japanese are winning on this one!

For those of you who are interested in trying the game, you don’t need to play the first one (I didn’t) to enjoy Phase Paradox and even though all text is in Japanese, that will certainly not be a problem since all voices are in English. My copy of the game cost me a little over 5€ on eBay with shipping included, so if you want to add it to your collection, price will certainly not hold you back either. I’d recommend not watching any videos on it, since they might ruin the experience for you, take your go at it with an open mind and above else, have fun!

#Phase Paradox #PS2 #Playstation #2 #Rare #Ntsc #Pal #Japanese #Survival horror #Playstation 2 #Sci-Fi #Science Fiction #Philosoma #PS1 #One #Playstation One

[sometimestheyresongs]

Left behind

Cassian Andor x reader. But super sad. Really.

I don’t write very often and I’m trying to get back into it, so any and all feedback is very much appreciated.

 There were many memories that kept you going, but most of them were dark. Ruined cities, burning houses, blood everywhere...In a galaxy of chaos, didn’t everyone have more dark memories than joyful ones? But you tried to focus on the good, not the lost good like your mother or your home, but the good memories that gave you something to live for. Most of the time, you dreamed of solemn dark eyes in a boyish face. 

You’d asked yourself many times over the years if you were still in love with him, and you didn’t know. You wondered if you’d ever see him again. You didn’t know. All you knew was he had a burning drive to keep fighting that you could never keep up with.

When your base was blown up, you were out on a mission. You came back to the flaming ruins and knew it was over. The only survivor you found died in your arms. It wasn’t someone you knew well, but she recognized you.

“Take...” she’d struggled to say. “Take...gun. Good shot...Run.” Those were her last words. By the time you had salvaged what supplies you could from the parts of your base that weren’t still in flames, Stormtroopers were already closing in. You darted into the vast network of mountain caves behind the base and waited. During those hours in terrified silence, you waited for troopers to come drag you away. You waited for other survivors to come find you. You waited. Other soldiers coming back from missions approached and left immediately--from the mouth of the cave you watched them turn around, not everyone was stupid enough to stick around like you did. 

That was a rule of the rebellion that nobody liked but everyone agreed was necessary. You see ruins, you leave. Where there are flames, where there is blood, imperial troops are never far behind. Of course, the man who had taught you that had also nearly lost a leg trying to save his commander in battle once. But that was beside the point. 

When you heard the Imperial ships leave about four hours later, you ventured out. The fires had gone out. All that was left of your base was smoking rubble. You took your supply pack and ran back to your ship, which was thankfully intact. As you checked her over for damage, you tried to think of every place you had ever heard your commander mention as a meeting point. You weren’t a career soldier--you’d fallen into the Rebellion when the Empire had taken every other option from you. You didn’t have the connections or the security clearance to know how to find more rebels. 

It was a long couple of weeks before you were able to find another rebel base. You spent a lot of time on outer planets, hanging around the kinds of seedy taverns Imperial soldiers might avoid, hoping to overhear something helpful. When you finally did hear something, it was not what you expected.

“You know what Captain Andor said...”

You whipped around. It wasn’t subtle, but you couldn’t help it. It was two middle-aged men with their faces mostly covered, sitting at the table behind you. You startled them with your sudden movement, and they reached instinctively towards the blasters you knew were under their coats.

“Calm down, I’m sorry I startled you. Did you say Andor?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m trying to find someone.” You weren’t intending to look for Cassian, but if that overlapped with finding a rebel base, who was to stop you? “We lost touch on Jedha.” That wasn’t official Rebellion code, but it was fairly commonplace to identify Rebel sympathizers by dropping Jedha into a conversation. Both men took a deep breath. They looked at each other, then back at you.

“Isn’t Jedha a bit rainy?” one of them asked. That was the second part of the code, to say something wildly out of place.

“Only when the Emperor wills it.” You held your breath for a moment. They both relaxed.

“So you’re looking for Cassian Andor?”

“I’m looking for a place to go, actually, but I heard you mention Cassian--Captain Andor, I guess, and it sounds like you can point me in the right direction.”

The exchange ended with the two rebel pilots buying you a drink and giving you coded coordinates to their base. You thanked them and went on your way, as quickly as possible. They’d been kind enough not to ask too many questions, not that they could in a crowded bar. You weren’t above name-dropping but you didn’t want to talk about how you knew Cassian.

As you got back in your plane and put in the coordinates, you let your mind drift back. All the way back to the fourteen-year-old boy who’d saved you, when troopers stormed a market on your home planet. They’d taken your father away, you’d been separated from your mother in the chaos of the invasion, and you were twelve years old, trying to find a vendor who would feed you in exchange for a few hours’ work...

An old woman had offered you a hot meal and a bed to sleep in if you would mind her vegetable stand--she was too old to stand out in the sun, she said. Stormtroopers charged in, with their frightening faceless white helmets and their identical voices. In minutes, the market was a mess. Flames, screaming, people running, trampling others...

You stood frozen in terror, even as the vegetable cart in front of you went up in flames. You remembered the crowd of screaming people that had filled the streets just a few months ago, how your mother’s hand was ripped from yours and as the crowd swept you away, you heard her screaming your name, getting fainter and fainter...You’d seen people trampled to death that day as well, and now as the same scene unfolded before you, you were rooted to the spot. Out of nowhere, a boy not much older than you grabbed your hand and pulled you into an alley.

“You have to run when hell breaks loose,” he told you. “Don’t you have a mother to get home to?” Your silence told him everything. “Me neither,” he said softly. “Well, you don’t have to stay alive for someone else. Stay alive because you deserve it. Okay? Talk to me, you okay?”

You stayed with this boy for a few months. His name was Cassian, and he had more or less been adopted by a group of Alliance sympathizers. They took you in as well. You and Cassian learned to be spies together, although he was quite a bit farther along than you. And he was distractingly gorgeous. Your little twelve-year-old heart didn’t know what to do with those puppy eyes or that boyish smirk. That setup only lasted about four months. Imperial informants had got wind of the little rebel hothouse, and the sympathizers who lived there split. Three took Cassian, four took you, and you all escaped.

Over the next decade, you and Cassian kept finding each other. He stayed with the Alliance, already an expert intelligence agent by the age of 19. You drifted. Those four soldiers who had first taken you in were always happy to help you, but you weren’t sure you wanted to be a soldier. You spent some time on bases, some time hiding on different planets, you even spent a year working on a transport ship. It seemed safest—in a galaxy of chaos, your best defense was to keep moving. Even if Imperial troops passed through, they were more interested in who had been on your ship than they were in you. But still, one day your dashing soldier with his smirk and his ever-changing face came through.  You followed him back, got sucked into the life of a spy again. In your life, this beautiful boy was the only constant. You hadn’t kept a friend for more than a year since you lost your family, but Cas always found his way back to you. He always seemed happy to see you. He always kept you safe.

After a while, you both began to feel that the universe wanted you to stick together. Cassian asked you to be his backup on spy missions, and you’d have followed him anywhere. When business allowed it, he started taking you out for drinks. One night, on a mission in Coruscant, he took you out dancing. The bar was disgusting and probably full of mercenaries, but for a few hours you were just two young people out having fun, not intelligence agents. You were just you and Cassian with his hands firmly on your waist. Those moments became more and more frequent. Cassian would find you for a quick peck on the cheek before he shipped out somewhere. Over the years, you saw the light in his eyes change from hope to burning anger, but he softened when he saw you. Forbidden visits to each others’ quarters at night, stolen kisses, you couldn’t believe you meant as much to Cas as he did to you but the evidence was all there in front of you.

But of course it didn’t last. You never wanted to be a soldier, you still didn’t want to commit. Cassian was increasingly only a soldier. Your fatal error was the day you asked him to run away with you. You’d both had a close scrape with death, and for you it was the last straw. You begged him to leave it all behind, snapped that he didn’t love you as much as he loved being a soldier. He said you were selfish, too small-minded to see that there was no other life until this war was over. “The Empire will always be there,” he said. “You and I can’t have normal lives, we’ll always be running.” He shipped out the next day, and you were long gone before he came back. You told yourself that you loved a boy with too much fire in his eyes, he needed someone who could match it and that would never be you. You told yourself all the way out to an Outer Rim planet where you planned to hide until the war was over.

You’d only been able to keep that up for about a month. Cassian’s words had haunted you, of course this fight was about more than you getting your life back. You had joined up with another rebel faction, this time committed to the cause. You would never stop hoping to see your boy again but he wasn’t the reason you fought anymore. Then of course, now you found yourself homeless again, and hopefully on your way to him. Back to your Cassian, after two years. 

The base on Yavin IV was half empty when you arrived. You showed as much ID as you had, and explained to three very distracted guards where you came from and why they could trust you. They recognized some of the names you mentioned, and were happy for a new recruit.

“What’s your trade?” one guard asked. “Head downstairs, tell them what you can do, they’ll find something.”

You were registered as a mechanic, but they noted that you had intelligence experience. Something was going on, you could tell, everyone was tense. You were unpacking your things in your new assigned bunk when a call went out for everyone to gather. You followed the throngs of people in the halls, hoping for a glimpse of a familiar face. The two soldiers from the tavern were there, the ones who had directed you here. They had said Captain Andor, you remembered. Cas was doing well for himself.

“Many of you already know why we’re here,” the base leader said. The tone was somber, a mission had gone badly. “The Empire has been building a weapon called the Death Star, a weapon that can destroy entire planets in a matter of minutes. Today we have seen it in action. We can also assume that it is the same weapon responsible for the destruction of Jedha City. It was designed by an Imperial scientist named Galen Erso. Erso was held for years against his will, and he built a flaw into the Death Star. He sent a message to his daughter that if we could find the plans on Scarif, we would be able to destroy this weapon before it can destroy us. Scarif, of course, is one of the most heavily protected Imperial planets in the galaxy. We deemed it a suicide mission.” The woman in the white dress paused to take a deep breath. “Jyn Erso, before the council, insisted that if we did not act now to destroy the Death Star, the Empire would wipe out rebellion in a matter of days. We turned her down. A number of soldiers understood that this was our last chance to continue to exist. They left this morning in a stolen ship. When asked for a call sign, they called themselves Rogue One. We will never know exactly what happened on Scarif today, but we do know this. The plans were captured. We were able to send backup to help them get those plans off the planet. Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan was entrusted with bringing the plans back. Her ship was boarded. We do know that an escape pod left the flagship. We will have to wait to see if the princess was able to salvage the Death Star plans. Right now, I would like to take a moment to honor the Rogue One crew. In defying direct orders, they have saved the entire Alliance…and sacrificed every one of their lives. When we deemed it a suicide mission, we misunderstood them. They did not go to Scarif for adventure. They went to Scarif that the rest of us may fight another day. They gave their lives on Scarif so that hope may live on in this galaxy. I would like to take a moment to honor them.”

Pictures and names began to flash up on the screen, and the woman in the white dress read them aloud. She began with the pilots who had rushed to answer the call for backup. Two dozen, perhaps, had all been lost that day. A small number of pilots had managed to escape and were en route back to the base. Then she began with the crew of Rogue One. It was about twenty soldiers, you noted. A small number for such a large mission, but incredible solidarity for so many to have defied orders. She ended with people whose role warranted special recognition.

“Bodhi Rook, an Imperial defector sent by Galen Erso to deliver his message. Rook was a pilot who suffered greatly to try to do right. We were honored to have him with us for such a short time. Chirrut Imwe and Baze Malbus, as far as we know two civilians from Jedha who joined Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor in their search for Galen Erso.”

You felt your stomach twist. You must have misheard. “And of course, the two we could consider the leaders of this mission. Captain Cassian Andor, one of our best intelligence agents with a long history of service to the Alliance. Captain Andor was fearless and loyal. He was one of few agents whom we allowed to act in the field without explicit orders. Captain Andor could analyze a situation and react on his own far more effectively than he could report back to us and wait for orders. I expected to see him beside me on the council one day. And Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen Erso, gave her life to make sure that her father’s sacrifice was not in vain. She stood here before the council and argued to save us, even as we questioned her loyalty due to her father’s ties. A moment of silence for the Rogue One crew and the fallen pilots in the Scarif mission.”

Everything she said was a blur from the moment you saw Cassian’s face appear on the hologram. His face was blue and blurry, it was not how you expected to see him for the last time. The Erso woman was striking,  even from the fuzzy hologram image you could see that her eyes burned with defiance. You wondered for a moment if Cassian found someone with a fire in her eyes that matched his own, as all the while you felt that the room around you was growing colder. You chastised yourself for reeling with shock—everyone in this room was mourning, they had just found out that their best friends and partners and bunkmates had died. The loss to the Alliance was unimaginable. You stood rooted to the spot, trying to think of a heroic group but only able to think of one. That picture was no good. You ignored the fuzzy blinking image of a hardened, unsmiling man. You closed your eyes tight and you could see clear as day Cassian as you would remember him. Not the growing soldier you’d seen so many times over the years, not even the scruffy-faced nineteen year old who had been so happy to find you again, not even the young man who had spent so many nights sneaking you into his quarters. All you could see, all you would see every time you closed your eyes for the rest of your life, was a smooth-faced fourteen-year-old boy in a dusty alley. His hair was unkempt, mischief danced in his eyes, and he held out his hand to you with a slight smirk as though he knew you would be hopelessly in love with him the rest of your life.

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