#charging him up like a solar panel for five years
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hey you guys seem to like my atla wips and im currently ignoring my lecture notes on exponential and logarithmic functions so here's another one for you:
i have an au that surrounds an Object - currently it's a necklace bc i think the 'overpowered magical necklace' trope fucks astronomically - that has the power to enhance any bending by tenfold. it's the equivalent of comet-powered bending except you can have it All The Time bc it's a necklace. traditionally, it was handed down through the avatars just bc it's so powerful that in the wrong hands it could become very dangerous (👀) so obvs it goes to the peaceful symbol of balance. it's very draining and most benders can only use it once IN THEIR ENTIRE LIFE because that's how fucking overpowered this necklace is, so it's more of a keepsake that the avatars have. THIS IS WHY AZULON GETS OZAI TO MARRY URSA. her grandfather is roku and since aang wasn't on the scene, the necklace stayed in ursa's family and they were charged with protecting it. azulon then took the necklace for his own gain. he didn't actually use it for years bc it's one of those 'knowing you can only use it once actually just makes you hoard it and never use it at all' things but he became OBSESSED with it and ozai was nervous of confronting him for a very long time but he wants that necklace. eventually, when zuko is 11 (aka the canon timeline for this), ozai makes a deal with ursa. now when i say her family were charged with protecting the necklace, i mean it becomes their whole thing. ursa was raised to believe this necklace came before her own life and it's one of the reasons she stays with ozai, bc she refuses to stray from it. ozai says to her that if she kills azulon and takes the necklace, then ozai will let her hold onto it as long as she remembers that it's HIS. she agrees bc at that point she's just desperate to get it back and she's very worn down by ozai at this point also, so she does as she's told, but instead of going straight to ozai, she hesitates, and goes to zuko instead. she gives HIM the necklace, tells him she's sorry, tells him to run. he doesnt understand what's going on but ursa is a mess (she's pretty hysterical and not making sound decisions hence her going 'hey im gonna give the most powerful object in the world to my eleven-year-old child who very easily could have stayed out of this') and eventually zuko runs with the necklace. to buy him some time, ursa confronts ozai and says that she's destroyed the necklace and thrown the remains in the fire. ozai is enraged and kills ursa. zuko sees this all happen and realise just how much danger he's in, and leaves.
he's 11 with absolutely nothing to keep him alive aside a hastily packed dagger and some money that he immediately has to spend on buying clothes that aren't immediately recognisable as imperial fire nation clothing. he goes to the earth kingdom, hungry and desperate and scared, and notices a stall selling food. he goes to steal, but he meets another boy trying to steal at the same time and they almost get caught. the other boy is very much 'fuck you i was here first this is MY town i know all the hot digs when it comes to stealing' and zuko's like 'my brother in christ NO ONE ASKED'. they're the same age and they're both angry, and they HATE each other at first. the other boy can tell zuko is fire nation and tries to kill him, but zuko already has quite a bit of training under his belt so it's not a fair fight. they both leave bruised and with their tail between their legs, but it starts a rivalry because they both keep coming to the same food stall. in the end, an unlikely friendship starts when zuko extends an olive branch by stealing from the stall and giving half of what he stole to the boy. they're both way too hungry to refuse. there's a comradery to it. it's a VERY slow-to-build friendship bc the other boy is soooo against being friends with a fire nationer, but zuko is still just so scared and alone and he just lost EVERYTHING and watched his mother die at his father's hands, so he's stubborn with it and keeps persisting in his growly, abrasive way. in the end, the other boy caves, and they start to talk. zuko finds out his name is jet, and that he very recently just lost his family to firebenders (it's very brutal bc while i dont think jet NEEDS a tragic backstory to hate firebenders so much i also think he must have seen something really awful to make him as extreme as he is). zuko is honest with jet and tells him he got kicked out of the fire nation, that his dad was a dick and killed his mum, and jet is like 'oh you're a victim of the fire nation too'. it takes a little longer for zuko to reveal exactly who he is, and jet is naturally furious and betrayed. they fight (like PROPERLY) and dont speak for a long time bc jet actually kicks zuko out of town and zuko's like 'fair enough' and goes, but at that point they're already kinda reliant on each other bc they're literally CHILDREN who witnessed horrific trauma and have no one else in the entire world, so jet comes after zuko. in this au, jet isn't as much of a jerk and he would never hurt normal civilians, and that's zuko's influence on him and what he learnt from this firebender who's actually good, but on the other end of that, jet's influence on zuko in this au is that zuko is a lot more brutal and sarky. he's kind of a bitch actually <3. jet teaches him how to steal. zuko teaches him how to fight. they become SUPER fucking close and start the freedom fighters together. it's very much steddie parenting the kids in stranger things like they're literally like an old married couple together (bc jet and zuko's friendship is based around just pure insulting each other) and act very much as the Adults despite only being teenagers at this point.
by the time canon catches up with us and the gaang arrive, jet knows all about zuko, from his royalty to his bending to the necklace. he's sworn to protect him. now, in this au the gaang actually catch wind of this necklace, and monk gyatsu spent a lot of time teaching aang about it bc he was meant to be the next inheritor of it. aang is VERY aware of how powerful it is and almost everyone knows the story now of how the lost fire nation prince stole it from his grandfather in the night, killing his mother when she caught him, powerhungry and cruel. sokka and katara are both very much WE CANT LET THIS NECKLACE STAY IN THE HANDS OF SOME CRAZY FIRE NATION PRINCE WTF WE HAVE TO FIND HIM so that's actually part of their whole mission. cut to them meeting the freedom fighters. sokka and zuko IMMEDIATELY hit it off bc what is an atla wip without zukka, and sokka's actually having a whale of a time bc he's finally with guys his age and zuko teaches him swordfighting and jet isn't murderous in this so things are actually Good, but then one day when zukka are sparring, zuko's living it up in some slutty low cut top and sokka SEES THE NECKLACE (bc zuko never takes it off, this is relevant). now normally it wouldnt be a big deal but sokka's a genius AND very cynical AND already hunting this necklace down, so he starts questioning when zuko left home - bc he's clearly fire nation - and all that and realises the timeline is exactly right. there's a whole betrayal there and zukka argue AND THEN THE GAANG TAKE ZUKO PRISONER EXCEPT IT'S A REALLY ODD SITUATION BC THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS ARE READY TO GO TO WAR FOR HIM RN AND THE GAANG ARE READY FOR A FIGHT BUT ZUKO KNOWS THAT THE AVATAR IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE THE NECKLACE ANYWAY AND HE'S ALSO KNOWN FOR A LONG TIME THAT HE CANT RUN FROM THIS FOREVER, SO HE JUST STOPS EVERYONE FROM SCRAPPING LIKE 'IT'S OKAY I'LL GO'. so he's a prisoner but he's also?? willing?? basically everyone thinks he's a prisoner except zuko who knows he could leave at any time if he put his mind to it. jet is reluctant bc those two have the STRANGEST relationship like they are more than besties it's not romantic but it's very much 'we have silent conversations based purely on the twitch of your eye or a nod of your head we are telepathic at this point' and they've not been separated since they were kids and had that fight, but it's for the good of the world so it happens.
so there we go! we get zuko travelling with the gaang from jet's episode onwards! except he's a 'prisoner' and zukka already have a pre-existing relationship before zuko became their prisoner so it's SUPER awkward for them and also because zuko has worn this necklace non-stop for five years his bending is now FUCKED (rainbow fire but also zuko is insanely powerful with very poor control) and it's just a whole canon rewrite on all that basis /\/\ it's so fun <3
#i think that jetko friendship is important actually#let them commit crimes together#so yeah zuko doesnt do much firebending these days so the necklace has just been sitting there#charging him up like a solar panel for five years#the kid is FUCKED when he starts bending again it's literally a mess#and jet reunites with us later with the freedom fighters ofc <3#he DOES NOT DIE#i think#ooooooo maybe actually#no#atla
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What Mom was Up To
When Brian was two he was taken to stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s while his parents took a long backpacking trip. His father picked him up alone. His mother had moved out while he was gone. Brian and his dad would visit her every weekend and spend the night though. She lived in a small house in the country with no wires attached to it. Sometimes his dad would do some heavy work and sometimes they’d just play games or go swimming. His mother sometimes worked picking strawberries. This made her tired, but she had learned a lot of Spanish doing that.
“Why do you live here? Why don’t you live at our house?” he asked when he was five.
“You’ll understand when you’re older, little dragon,” she said.
She’d cook them dinner, which was carnitas tacos with mole sauce and Chile Rellenos. She said that she talked about food a lot with the other people who picked strawberries with her. She had a little garden with tomatoes, different kinds of peppers, and avocados. He'd bit a hot pepper once and it felt like fire.
His dad didn't like her picking strawberries. He was afraid she'd hurt her back bending over like that.
"I like to socialize and it's something that's real I can do away from wires,” his mom said. Brian wanted attention. He understood that his parents needed to talk to each other, but he wanted to say something. He looked up at the light, a chandelier with bulbs that were made to look like the kind with wire filaments people used a long time ago.
“How does the light work with no wires and no solar panels?” Brian asked. He knew his mom's refrigerator and stove worked from propane, so he didn't ask about them. Both his parents looked at him.
“There’s a battery in the garage,” his mother said.
“How does it get charged?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older. It’s actually important,” his mother said.
While they were driving back, Brian asked his dad if his mom had left because they were too messy.
“You’re making me feel guilty. I’ve got so many tubes and electrodoodads, but the last time that I restored an amp was three years ago. I’ve worried that my hoarding would affect you, but that’s not the reason,” his dad said.
When Brian was ten, his friend Joe started to complain about feminists. How they wanted special privileges from being female but didn't respect the dangerous things like being soldiers that men did.
“I bet your mom left because she’s a feminist and didn’t want to do housework and cooking,” Joe said.
Brian didn’t think that was right. He wished his mom would stay and take care of him, but she did like cooking.
During dinner, he asked his dad again why she left.
“It wasn’t that she left. It was me. I didn’t want to follow her. The kind of life she was comfortable with wasn’t one I wanted to live. I like fridges and washing machines and computers and she needs to be away from those things.”
The next day at school there was something called field day where they were supposed to be outside and do exercises. Brian looked over and saw the special ed teacher and teacher’s aide leading their students to the short bus. A fire engine and ambulance drove by. One of the special ed kids started screaming and hit his head on the ground. The teacher picked him up and held him tightly. The aide took a thin fleece blanket out of her backpack and wrapped the boy up like one of Brian’s mom’s soft tacos. After a while, the kid stopped screaming though he still made weird noises.
“What’s a matter with him? Is he gonna be okay?” Brian asked the teacher.
“Yes, he’ll be okay. With some autistic people like Eddy, it’s like their brains are tuned differently. Things that would just bother neurotypical people a little, like those sirens, actually hurt them. He’ll get better in time.”
Something hit Brian from behind. He turned. Joe had thrown a ball at him. Brian picked it up and went after Joe.
When Brian was thirteen and bored he when through the closet that his mother had used when she still lived at home. He found a box with some framed printouts of photos in it. One was of his mother with some guy that was not his father. They were both in bathing suits and stood on a beach. He wondered if he should tell his father. He took the printout out of its frame. There was writing on the back, “Cabo San Lucas 2015.” He relaxed, his parents had gotten married in 2018. It was weird to see his mom with someone else but she was allowed.
“Whatcha doing in there, messing with your mother’s stuff?” his father called.
“I’ll put everything back,” Brian said. He put the printout back in the frame. When he put it back in the box he touched something. By the light of his phone, he saw a miniature blue and green shield with a red lightning bolt across it. Reverently, he replaced it in the box.
“Did you know Mom was seeing an army special forces guy?” he asked his dad over pizza that night.
“Yes, I did.” His father seemed to have difficulty getting the words out.
“Sorry,” Brian said. Did his Mom still see him on the weekdays? Was that why she wanted to live apart from them. If that was so, why did his dad accept that from her?
“He’s dead. I just wish she didn’t have Lasker’s syndrome and could live like a normal person. He should have been more careful, she got it from him. You have it too, vertical transmission. I’m glad you asked, we should have told you sooner. We just wanted you to live like a normal teenager for as long as it was possible.”
“I am normal.”
“It hasn’t kicked in yet.”
“Did he die from it? Does it make technology dangerous for people?”
“No. He died in an accident. Technology doesn’t kill them, it's just stressful. When she was here her head hurt all the time. She didn’t realize why until we took that hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. She felt better than she had in years. That’s why she never came home after that.”
“So one day, I’ll wake up and be like her.”
“Maybe. You could have it better than she does or you could have it worse. Most of them aren’t badly off the way she is or they wouldn’t give it to soldiers.”
“They give it to soldiers? It sounds like a psychological issue.”
“Oh, it’s more than that. The battery in her garage, she charges it by thinking about it.”
“Dad, I went to physics camp. That’s not possible, it violates the first law of thermodynamics.”
“Good, so you know how strange things are. When I heard about Lasker’s syndrome it was like the earth dropped out from under me.”
“You’re not joking?”
“I ain’t.”
Brian did his homework and then drew. Pretty girls with bows and swords. Some had pointy elven ears. He wasn’t that good but he’d gotten a few bucks from members of the D&D club in exchange for character sketches. That wasn’t his thing though, he was more into basketball than that kind of nerdy stuff.
It was bizarre that his mom was fooling his dad like that. He must really love her not see that she absolutely had to be dicking with him. Lasker’s syndrome, his ass, his dad was a cuckold who couldn’t see what was right in front of his eyes. He wished he could blow the whole thing open, pull the bandaid off the skin. However, would that be truly right? His parents had lived like that for eleven years. His dad was being wronged and he wanted justice to be served but it might not be better in the end.
The weekend came. Brian climbed into the car. He had a plan. He’d get his mom alone and make her confess what she was doing. His dad might not have justice, that could come later, but Brian himself would have closure. It would hurt. No doubt his mom would cry and the guilt about causing that would sting like getting acid on a cut, but he had to do it.
They parked in front of his mom’s small house and she came out with cookies. Brian ate two and then suggested that they go down to the seashore together. His mom loved finding different kinds of invertebrates in the tide pools. She’d taken biology in college, a bit of education she was completely wasting. As Brian hoped, his father, who found sea anemones creepy, declined to come.
They passed by a rock. It held two warring colonies of sea anemones with a clear line between them. As the tide was out the anemones had withdrawn their flower-like tentacles inside themselves and looked like flaccid dark green members growing from the rock.
His mother ignored them and ranged over the rocks with a look of intense concentration. She paused at a large, reddish-gray lump and made a small grunt as she lifted it off the pitted rock. The underside with yellow-orange and fleshy. As she held it, it curled, concealing a bit of the orange part
“What’s that?” Brian asked.
“It’s a gumboot chiton. They're mollusks though they don't look it,” his mother said.
"You love that stuff. Do you love my dad too or are you using him so you can live here and see other people when he's not around?" Brian was surprised at how easy the words had been to say. His mom put the chiton down. A muscle in her cheek twitched.
"You don't know what you are talking about, my cub, my egg. Many men wouldn't have wanted to be with me at all. He knows what I became and still loves me. You think you are big enough to be his protector? You don't have your fire yet."
The dragon metaphors insulted him, he was a teenager, not a little boy. He felt like he was pushing against something that wouldn't budge. And then something did. Painful and bright, a light enveloped him. He fell onto the jagged rock.
His mother knelt beside him, her hands over his right arm and leg. There were spots before his eyes.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have provoked you. I could tell you were getting close, but I ignored it because you upset me. That was so wrong," she said.
"What happened?" he asked. He knew he had done something to himself. How? Would it happen again?
"You shocked yourself but you'll be okay. You didn't break anything. Your nerves seem normal, so you probably didn't clot the blood in your veins. We're lucky. That's not the worst it gets. I'll help you stand."
He tried to speak as his mother pulled him upright, but became distracted by the chiton that lay between them uncurling its body and flattening it against the rock. Inside it, he saw, felt, heard, something faint. He rubbed his eyes. That was useless, he wasn’t seeing with his eyes. The same thing was inside his hands and hidden in the crevices of the rocks. It was very weak but fascinating in its rhythms.
“Close your eyes and put your hands in front of them,” she said.
He saw a flash of light through his closed lids as an arc, summoned by his mother from nothing, crackled over the beach. The electricity felt hard and sharp like a knife made of steel. He copied her, enthralled.
“You are my son,” she said. There was nothing he could think of to reply.
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I pulled a seven-kilometer network cable and made a live broadcast across no man’s land
This seven-kilometer optical cable HE Tuber crossing the no-man's land has since given signals to the top of the mountain, connecting the lonely mountain with the lively world outside.
Li Tianyu's hometown is Fusong Town, Baishan City, Jilin. It was a remote agricultural town. Our fathers left their hometowns and came here to make a living. They made a living by logging for many years. In his generation, the small town gradually withered due to forestry protection. Young people left their hometown and went out to work one after another. He also became a member of the wandering army.
The income during the wandering days was not high and unstable, and it was tiring and hard. At the end of 2017, he and his wife ended their wandering life and stayed in their hometown to start a business. After that, they made a living by being emcees, hosts, taking charge of commercial activities and doing small businesses, but they did not last long.
Because he heard that his distant relatives in other places could make money by doing live broadcasts, he decided to give it a try. However, in a remote town, live broadcasting is not a very serious profession in the eyes of most people. Li Tianyu did not dare to tell others that he was doing live broadcasting, not even to his parents.
The live broadcast has become a lonely journey. Initially he broadcast it at home, putting a wallpaper on the wall and decorating it slightly. But then it was very boring to broadcast it like this, and it was not interesting for others to watch. Although he insisted on broadcasting for 4 hours every day, no one interacted or talked to him after 4 hours.
"If you want to sell eggs, you stay in the hen's nest. If you want to sell duck eggs, you stay in the duck's nest." He heard such a sentence by chance and was deeply touched. In order to let customers see the source of the product with their own eyes, he moved the live broadcast room to a planting base on the mountain and started outdoor live broadcast.
But live streaming in the mountains is like living in the wilderness, long and lonely. There is no heating equipment on the mountain, so you just have to wear thick clothes. He lives in a makeshift cabin on the mountain, which leaks both wind and rain. It relies on a solar panel and two batteries for power. There was a pot on the mountain, so he gathered some firewood and used the water seeping from the mountain to make something more convenient to eat.
There are many dangers on the mountain, including wild boars and relatively poisonous hornets. Once he was stung, became allergic, and his hands and feet began to swell. It was indeed not very good, so he hurried down the mountain and received intravenous drips at the village health center for three days.
In addition to the harsh natural environment, he also has to face the disapproval of his fellow villagers and the doubts of netizens in the live broadcast room. People didn't know about naturally grown ginseng and questioned the price. He dug up ginseng while popularizing science and showed different pictures to netizens to increase their sense of participation. He also created a novel "blind participation" gameplay, allowing netizens to guess the price before digging. "Fans will never lose money, and if they guess wrong, they will get the bottom of the bargain." He gradually gained the trust of netizens in the live broadcast room.
Fans wanted to see Ganoderma lucidum, so he live broadcasted Ganoderma lucidum harvesting and built a glass house at the Ganoderma lucidum base.
In this way, the couple has been broadcasting for five years, and they are not willing to stop during the Spring Festival. Just like a cactus, relying on their tenacious vitality, they took root in the mountains and gained fans from all over the world. The seven-kilometer network cable is like the roots of a cactus, helping them to sink their roots deep into the mountains and grow with resilience.
A network cable and a mobile phone, one end is connected to the lonely depths of the mountain, and the other end is connected to the bustling world outside.
Online, a total of 70 million people have watched his live broadcast, which is very lively.
Li Tianyu's team has also become more lively than before. It has grown from a small team of a husband and wife to a large team of about 10 employees. The "logistics center" has expanded into a three-story building.
His hometown also became lively. He went to the mountains, forests, and villages, and used one month's sales to buy 2,000 kilograms of hazelnut mushrooms from the villagers. It took him more than a week to sell them all under pressure. Soybeans, millet and other local products from the folks are the most popular products in his live broadcast room. Over the years, he has sold more than 8 million yuan in agricultural products, and in 2021, he became the most popular farmer anchor.
The wind of the Internet has blown into remote towns. Under Li Tianyu's leadership, there are now more than 200 e-commerce practitioners in Fusong Town, and he has also trained hundreds of people to become anchors.
He said: "The live broadcast has changed the fate of our family and the fate of the entire Changbai Mountain."
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The world of toys in the midst of an ecological shift
In order to continue to please children and parents alike, the toy industry is redoubling its efforts to reduce its environmental impact over the entire lifespan of its products.
In the windows, life-size dolls and teddy bears collide amid the illuminations. Christmas is quickly approaching and the toy stores are always full. But this end-of-year holiday magic comes at a cost. According to Ademe[1], nearly 100,000 tonnes of games and toys are thrown in the trash each year. In February 2020, the Agec law[2], relating to the fight against waste and the circular economy, took the problem head on through the establishment of a toy sector. Since January 1, 2022, the sector has been encouraged to reduce these tons of waste through the collection of used toys, reuse and even repair.
Farmers, teachers, pirates or explorers: since the 1970s, these little plastic characters have been transmitted from generation to generation. “I can no longer count the number of grandparents who come to tell me they keep these toys for their grandchildren,” laughs Bruno Bérard, general director of Playmobil[3]. These figurines stay in people's hearts for a very long time. » For him, there is no doubt, this emotional dimension is the first criterion of an ecological toy that lasts over time.[4]
Reuse, a priority
But not all toys follow the same destiny as our Playmobils. According to Ecomaison[5], the organisation approved by the French Government to take charge of the collection, reuse and recycling of toys, “half of the toys ends up in household waste, around 45% is collected in public recycling centres and less than 5% is reused”. In 2023, the priority was to optimise the reuse of toys, via donation or resale. Five thousand collection points have been set up across the country from associations, recycling centres or stores themselves. The objective is now to triple reuse by 2027.
However, many brands did not wait for the Agec law to roll up their sleeves. “We weren't starting from scratch,” says Jean Kimpe, general delegate of the Federation of shops specialising in toys and children's products (FCJPE)[6]. Above all, the law made it possible to coordinate and develop pre-existing initiatives. » In 2011, Oxybul[7] launched IDTroc[8], collection points to collect used toys from customers. “The criteria of sustainability and responsibility have been part of our brand DNA from the beginning,” says Anne Fauveau, product director of Oxybul Eveil et Jeux. Our toys are as scalable as possible in order to last over time. » The brand assumes that it places itself outside fashion trends, preferring timeless designs and colour charts in order to offer durable toys.
In spring 2021, King Toy[9] followed the movement by launching its King Okaz brands. There are now around ten of them throughout France. Toys are returned in exchange for a voucher valid in all of the brand's stores. “We see that we are responding to a real demand,” assures Coralie Gueydon, CSR manager of the group. Unlike platforms like Vinted[10], we provide a guarantee of quality. Not only is the item guaranteed to be repurchased, but they are then cleaned, repaired and checked before being put back into circulation. »
But if the brands promise more qualitative and safer reuse than that allowed by second-hand platforms, the latter currently benefit from a certain notoriety. “We have just inserted ourselves into a behaviour where, originally, specialist brands did not necessarily have their place,” recognises Coralie Gueydon. At the moment, our stores operate largely through word of mouth. » The brand also offers a repair service whereas Playmobil currently offers 20,000 spare parts in order to make their products last longer.
The big challenge of recycling
Between solar panels and characters on bicycles, the ecological farm proposed by Playmobil does not hesitate to play with the codes of a more sustainable society. Above all, like the Wiltopia collection launched in 2022, the product is made with more than 80% recycled or biosourced materials. Most come from recycled refrigerators. “Three additional ranges will be des
igned in this way in 2024,” indicates Bruno Bérard, who recalls that the German group’s objective is to be climate neutral in 2027.
Generally speaking, toys made from recycled plastic materials are still struggling to find a place under the sun. Often less solid and dull, they remain difficult to reuse to make new toys. Lego quickly noticed this. “So far, we have tested more than 300 alternative materials for our famous brick,” explains Sylvain Bouchès, Lego France marketing director. Some have been successful, such as bio-PE, and we are proud to have been able to develop this first alternative. Other materials showed their potential, but did not meet our requirements for quality, safety and durability, or help reduce our carbon footprint. That's the whole difficulty. » Last September, the brand announced that it was abandoning the use of recycled PET because it would have resulted in greater carbon emissions over the lifespan of the product. [11]
“When we use recycled material, the range of colours that we can produce is not as rich as when we use raw material coming directly from petroleum products,” recognizes Bruno Bérard. There are technical challenges to resolve. We can't imagine tomorrow that a fire truck will be pastel red. » For a product to be recyclable, it must ideally be as simple and single-material as possible. However, toys are generally made of a multitude of materials in order to promote the sensory awakening of little ones.
All this research takes time. The majority of producers agree that the organisation of recycling sectors in France still has a lot of progress to make. “This is all the more complicated to implement as safety standards are very demanding regarding toys intended for children, particularly at the European level,” adds Coralie Gueydon.
So should we say goodbye to plastic? Not necessarily, tempers Anne Fauveau who regrets a lack of information on the subject. “Disposable plastic is not good,” she explains. But durable plastic that is passed down from generation to generation, which is ten times stronger than wood, is not necessarily bad for the environment. » Oxybul has thus adopted the habit of favoring wood only when it can replace the virtues of plastic. “There is no ideal solution,” says Anne Fauveau. For example, biosourced plastic is interesting because it does not use petroleum but it is sometimes manufactured in South America to the detriment of local populations. Ecodesign is undoubtedly what is most complicated today. »[12]
Design differently
While tests to recycle plastic are increasing, others are looking for alternative materials. In 2018, Lego launched the first elements made from sugar cane waste in our play boxes to make elements such as leaves, trees and accessories.
“If we started by making botanical elements from this plastic of plant origin, we have since expanded its use to more than 200 pieces, almost half of our products,” explains Sylvain Bouchès. The treehouse thus includes 180 plastic elements of plant origin. Today, more than 50% of the brand's products contain elements made from biosourced materials.
In terms of eco-design, Oxybul has been doing well for many years. Every month, all the brand's teams participate in a meeting on this issue. The brand multiplies alternatives through the use of FSC-certified wood (by the Forest Stewardship Council)[13], water-based paint and even recycled polyester. This year, she co-created with the Thai brand Plan Toys[14] a range of wooden toys suitable for children aged 12 months and over. “This is one of the first suppliers to have implemented self-managed forests,” explains Anne Fauveau. He works in particular with hevea wood, the rubber tree, which is a plant that grows back very quickly. This avoids deforestation problems. »
The brand also wanted to be a pioneer in terms of reducing its packaging. As early as 2017, the teams decided to readjust them to the size of the products. “At the time, this did not necessarily go in the direction of commerce,” recognises Anne Fauveau. Suppliers generally prefer to have large boxes in order to be clearly visible on the shelves. Initially, this even caused a drop in sales on certain products, which required us to contact the customer to explain our approach. » Now, 80% of the brand's packaging no longer has plastic, replaced by materials such as cardboard and paper. These are intended to be reused, serving as storage boxes for children's toys.
Since then, the idea has caught on. “Ecodesign doesn’t just involve products,” insists Sylvain Bouchès. Today, 93% of Lego packaging is made from cardboard or paper-based material. Single-use plastic bags are gradually being replaced by recyclable paper bags certified by the Forest Stewardship Council. Started in August, the global deployment of new boxes for the mystery minifigures should allow the group to save around 30 tonnes of single-use plastic per year.
And the work of designers and engineers is far from simple. “The paper must be able to withstand transport but also the manufacturing process in all our factories,” explains Sylvain Bouchès. However, this material is more sensitive than plastic to variations in humidity and temperature. The development of these alternative means of production and packaging involves an in-depth transformation of our processes. » Nearly 70 different papers and formats had to be tested. “This requires a lot of research and innovation,” confirms Anne Fauveau. It is important that we can share best practices between brands and be good competitors on this issue, because the solutions will tend to be found by the big players. »
More local… and transparent products
While nearly 90% of toys are imported, local products are back at the top of the bill. “Since the confinements of 2020, the place of manufacturing of toys has become a leading theme for customers,” observes Coralie Gueydon. There has been a very significant new attraction for Made in France. »
In the toy landscape, the Ecoiffier company[15] has been established in France since 1945. At Playmobil, almost all of the products are produced in Europe. “From the beginning of the company, it was a strategic approach, in order to control our manufacturing but also economic, to reduce costs,” explains Bruno Bérard. Recently, the seven Maltese production sites were grouped together in order to avoid travel between different areas. “This factory operates in daylight, which allows us to consume less electricity,” explains the general director. The heat released by the machines is recovered to provide heating when necessary, and the site has a water collector. » For the company, local production goes hand in hand with saving resources.
Faced with this demand for transparency and sustainability, King Toy recently launched the Toy Score in order to guide consumers in their choice. “Today, the toy market is not mature in terms of eco-responsibility,” explains Coralie Gueydon. But even if we are starting from very far away, it seemed important to us to promote the initiatives put in place in the sector. » Using the NutriScore[16] rating system, now well known to the general public, the Toy Score applies a rating system between 0 and 5. It is based on three criteria: the place of manufacture, the efforts made at the level of packaging and materials that make up the toy. Assisted by Ecomaison, the brand has chosen to promote products made from FSC wood and recycled materials.
Since October 26, the Toy Score has been in place in all King Toy stores as well as on their website. It was notably applied to all the toys in the Christmas catalogue. Out of 1,600 products, around 450 have a rating greater than or equal to 2 out of 5. Bioviva[17], known for its board games based on nature, thus obtains the maximum rating. The brand is closely followed by Smoby[18] which manufactures its toys in France from easily recyclable plastic. “By 2025, the objective is that 50% of our toys present real eco-design characteristics and that the criteria are raised,” indicates the CSR manager.
Because the Toy Score also aims to encourage the industry to redouble its efforts to provide more eco-responsible toys. “Many suppliers come to ask us how they can improve,” says Coralie Gueydon. Others allow us to rethink our criteria. The indicator is intended to be scalable thanks to both suppliers and customers. »
Raise consumer awareness
Will Christmas 2023 therefore be placed under the sign of eco-responsibility? Not necessarily, moderate the brands. “We don’t expect consumption habits to really change at Christmas,” admits Coralie Gueydon. It is generally children who choose toys from the catalog, and the eco-responsibility criterion is then not taken into account. »
For the holidays, buying second hand can also remain a hindrance even if brands observe that this reluctance tends to relax in society. “There remains a lot of education to be done, whether on the realities of Made in France or recycled products,” observes Anne Fauveau. And consumers are not necessarily ready to pay more for an eco-designed product. » While the period of inflation weighs on individual baskets, Oxybul has made the bet of not passing on the cost of its research on these sales prices.
“The Agec law has revolutionized many things at the industry level,” assures Coralie Gueydon. This made distributors and suppliers alike aware that we must now think beyond the life of the toy. » Lego is also preparing to triple its spending on sustainable development initiatives to reach $1.4 billion spread over four years until 2025. “Each year, we receive hundreds of letters from children who share their ideas on how we could progress, says Sylvain Bouchès. Having a positive impact on society and the planet, playing a role in building a sustainable future is a major challenge for the group. »
At the same time, Playmobil assures that it wants to pursue an approach of social responsibility. The company still belongs to a private foundation, created by its now deceased founder, which works for the development and protection of children. In addition to offering products that illustrate a more eco-responsible society, the brand also takes into account issues of representativeness and diversity. Equipped with a green roof, the school of the famous figurines is also designed to facilitate access for students with reduced mobility. “We are not lesson givers,” insists Bruno Bérard. But we can help raise children's awareness of important points for our future. And the best way to do that is through the toy. »
The Joyful Discount saves toys from the dumpster
It is one alternative among others to make the world of toys more sustainable. In August 2020, La Remission Enjouée[19] was born in Villeneuve-d'Ascq, in the North. Led by Christelle Cousin, a former specialist educator, the structure offers the collection, repair and then resale of toys in its shop. It currently employs 13 people in integration between 18 and 62 years old. “We work with people of foreign origin as well as with people at the end of their careers, the long-term unemployed or people who have been impacted by the Covid crisis,” says Christelle Cousin. In addition to participating in an ecological approach, employees gain skills and social contact.
The plus of La Remission Enjouée? “This is a real local service,” assures its director. There is an emotional side to toys. People don't want to put it in the trash and like to discuss the history of the object when they come to drop it off. » The structure, which currently depends a lot on subsidies to exist, hopes to develop in the coming years. Next step: online sales.
Source
Charlotte Meyer, Le monde du jouet en plein virage écologique, in : Les Echos, 18-12-2023
[1] The Agence de la transition écologique. (ADEME, Agency for ecological transition) is a public agency under the joint authority of the Ministry for an Ecological Transition and the Ministry for Higher Education, Research and Innovation. At ADEME - The French Agency for Ecological Transition’s role is to mobilise citizens, economic actors and territories towards a fairer, more harmonious, low carbon and resource-efficient society. At every level, their expertise and forecasting capacities serve to guide and inform public policies. https://www.ademe.fr/en/about-ademe
[2] The French law on the fight against waste and the circular economy (Agec) sets a collection rate target for recycling plastic beverage bottles of 77% in 2025 and 90% in 2029. Ambitious targets with regard to the rate collection, which is around 59%. This means that 41% of the 315,000 tonnes of plastic bottles consumed per year end up in the household waste bin (therefore incinerated or buried) or in wild dumps.. https://www.lesechos.fr/idees-debats/editos-analyses/economie-circulaire-la-solution-de-la-consigne-plastique-1946930
[3] Playmobil is a German line of toys produced by the Brandstätter Group (Geobra Brandstätter GmbH & Co KG), headquartered in Zirndorf, Germany. The signature Playmobil toy is a 7.5 cm (3.0 in) tall (1:24 scale) human figure with a smiling face. A wide range of accessories, buildings and vehicles, as well as many sorts of animals, are also part of the Playmobil line..
[4] Read also: https://www.tumblr.com/earaercircular/690821468349775872/coolrec-and-playmobil-turn-old-refrigerators-into?source=share
[5] Created in 2011 – then under the name Eco-mobilier – by 24 French furniture distributors and manufacturers, Ecomaison is now made up of 68 shareholders from the furniture, bedding, DIY, garden and toy sectors. and building. All these actions are made possible thanks to eco-participation, a contribution which applies when purchasing a new product. The amounts paid to Ecomaison finance all services and solutions for reuse, collection, transport, recycling and innovation. Our ambition: to achieve zero waste! https://ecomaison.com/
[6] A historic player in commerce, the fédération des commerces spécialistes des jouets et des produits de l’enfant (FCJPE) (federation of shops specializing in toys and children's products) brings together the stores preferred by young and old, whether independent, branch chains, franchise networks or cooperative groups. From the creation of quality toys to their availability in our stores, the toy sector brings together all the players who allow our children to find what they are looking for. This is why the FCJPE is engaged in constant dialogue with its partners, in order to always better serve our customers.
[7] Oxybul éveil et jeux, formerly Fnac Éveil et jeux (between 2004 and 2011), is a French distribution brand specializing in edutainment games and toys. Éveil et jeux was born in 2004 from the merger of the two subsidiaries of the “youth division” of Fnac: Éveil & jeux created in 1989 by Margaret Milan and Fnac Junior created in 1997. In September 2010, FNAC sold the company to Ïd group. The brand has been operated by the Okaidi company since July 2016.
[8] https://www.idtroc.com/
[9] Specialist in the distribution of games and toys for more than 30 years, King Jouet (King Toy) offers you more than 20,000 toy references. Building games, board games, dolls, stuffed animals, vehicles, circuits or radio-controlled toys, you will definitely find the toy that will please him. More than 240 stores in France, as well as in Switzerland, are waiting for you to find the gift of your dreams or receive it at home by placing an order on www.king-jouet.com. Subsidiaries: Maxi Toys, Poly S.L.U., Teddy Toys, Société Gueydon SAS, Maxitoys International SA. Umbrella organization: Giochi Preziosi https://www.king-jouet.com/fr-lu/
[10] Read also: https://www.tumblr.com/earaercircular/651509379878813696/second-hand-economy-much-bigger-than-expected?source=share
[11] Read also: https://www.tumblr.com/earaercircular/658880330018766848/the-obstacle-course-to-green-lego-blocks?source=share
[12] Read also: https://www.tumblr.com/earaercircular/722715633728569344/europe-is-putting-an-end-to-the-throwaway-culture?source=share
[13] The Forest Stewardship Council A. C. (FSC) is an international non-profit, multistakeholder organization established in 1993 that promotes responsible management of the world's forests via timber certification. It is an example of a market-based certification program used as a transnational environmental policy.
[14] Plan Toys is a toy brand that strives for sustainable playing fun. All the toys that Plan Toys makes are only made from strong, sustainable materials and are produced in an ecologically friendly way. Plan Toys' quality material ensures that children can enjoy the toys for years to come. So, contribute to a sustainable world in a playful way with Plan Toys! https://www.babycompany.be/merken/plan-toys
[15] Since October 2017, Écoiffier products have been labeled “Origine France Garantie”. It is a brand whose principle of obtaining is simple: you must meet two mandatory criteria:
– at least 50% of the unit cost price is French.
– the product takes on its essential characteristics in France
A locally based company, aware of environmental and social issues, Cadeaux Écoiffier offers a complete range of simple toys, without electronics, meeting the primary needs of children at low prices and in a short supply chain. https://ecoiffier.fr/ecoiffier-une-marque-francaise/
[16] The Nutri-Score, also known as the 5-Colour Nutrition label or 5-CNL, is a five-colour nutrition label and nutritional rating system, and an attempt to simplify the nutritional rating system demonstrating the overall nutritional value of food products. It assigns products a rating letter from A (best) to E (worst), with associated colors from green to red. This system was selected by the French government in March 2017 to be displayed on food products after it was compared against several labels proposed by industry or retailers
[17] https://www.bioviva.com/en/mission
[18] Smoby is the largest toy manufacturer in France based in Lavans-lès-Saint-Claude, in the Jura. Buying a toy on our e-store means buying a toy directly from the manufacturer. A solid, robust toy, like our slides or houses, resulting from quality know-how acquired over several decades and respecting European toy standards. https://www.smoby.com/smoby_fr/home/
[19] Christelle Cousin and Pauline Vandenbussche have created an integration workshop in Haute-Borne, where games and toys are cleaned, renovated or completed, to experience a second life. From four, the workforce will increase to twelve before the summer. The workshop has only been operating since January 18, but it’s already off to a strong start. https://www.lavoixdunord.fr/929774/article/2021-02-04/villeneuve-d-ascq-avec-la-remise-enjouee-des-jouets-pour-pas-cher-des-emplois Created in August 2020, the association La Stratégie enjouée collects second-hand toys, which it renovates and resells at low prices in its shop in Villeneuve d'Ascq. A good initiative especially during this period that the Region close to your daily life shares with you. https://www.hautsdefrance.fr/economie-circulaire-pour-les-jouets-aussi/
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Camp: A Corbyn OneShot
"Don't forget to call, text, video chat, send pictures, all of it," Mom said. "I love you, have fun, make friends, and learn new things." She kissed my cheek and waved goodbye as she pulled out of the NASA parking lot.
I looked up, and ran right into a boy my age. He was also looking up. He extended his hand to help me get up.
"Hi, sorry, I'm Corbyn, Corbyn Besson." He said.
"Hi, I-I'm (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." I replied.
At that moment we both knew that we were going to be best friends.
"Alright future astronauts, space enthusiasts, and rocket scientists, welcome to the National Aeronautics and Space Administration or as most of you know it, NASA. In your time here you will learn how to build a rocket, spacewalk, correctly put on a spacesuit, and we'll start your muscle training. I hope you've worked up your appetites because it's time for lunch." Mr. Richman finished and then held up an aluminum foil pouch.
"Don't worry kids, he's joking. You're lunch is this way." Miss Lauren stated.
"I was looking forward to the astronaut food!" Corbyn said smiling at me.
"Me too," I answered.
Corbyn and I partnered up for all the activities that year and promised to meet up again there next summer. Turns out I wouldn't need to wait that long to see him again.
"Welcome home (Y/N)," Mom said, pulling into the driveway of our new home in Fairfax, Virginia. "School starts tomorrow so go get your clothes unpacked and then we can go shopping for supplies."
An hour later we were at walmart and I had color coded space themed everything. When I got to school, I saw him. Corbyn was hugging his mom goodbye. I ran up to him and poked him. When he turned around, he hugged me too.
"Mom, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), she's my friend from space camp." He said, introducing me.
"Hi Mrs. Besson," I replied shyly.
"Hello to you as well (Y/N), you two have fun at school." She said before driving away.
"So (Y/N) who's your teacher," he asked?
"Mr. Patternsen," I replied. "Who's yours?"
"Mr. Patternsen." He answered. We high fived before walking into the building.
-5 Years Later-
Corbyn and I are now Sophomores in high school, and currently brainstorming ideas on what to build for our robotics class project.
"Any ideas?" I ask him.
"Zero, I'll go make the popcorn." He answered.
I fall back onto Corbyn's bed and stare at his ceiling hoping to figure out what to build. My mind wanders way back all those years to our first space camp. The first memory that pops into my head was when we built our pvc pipe model of the ISS.
"CORBYN!" I yell sprinting down his stairs and into the kitchen. "THE ISS!" I shout while jumping up and down. He dropped the unopened bag of popcorn and kissed me.
[Now is probably the best time to mention that I had a massive crush on my best friend.]
"Sorry," he said quickly pulling away. "I still have our initial sketches from camp that year." He finished and dumped the popcorn into the bowl before heading back upstairs.
"Corbyn, I," I started.
"(Y/N), please don't," Corbyn said.
"Please don't what?" I stated. "Corbyn, I like you, and I think I might even love you, and not in the brother I never had kind of way." I finished.
"I love you too (Y/N)," He replied smiling. "Aha, found them."
He pulled out the folder containing our sketches and sat back down next to me. I plucked the folder out of his hands and stood up flipping through the pages. I sat down at his desk and pulled out my sketchbook. I made a quick copy and then tossed my mini notepad at Corbyn. After catching it, he walked over and stood behind me.
"What if we added reflective panels?" He asked.
"We could code it to wireless charge local devices and it could recharge itself with solar energy." I suggested. "I'm going to need a bigger piece of paper."
When all was said and done we were building the ISS with detachable modules, solar powering the battery, adding a functional docking station, and installing a simulation system with real problems and solutions.
"What do you think?" I asked him after creating a simplified 3D Model for us to present in class the next day.
"We could sell this to NASA!" He responded. "For you know, like training purposes." We both started laughing.
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-`Deity Of Light´- K.D X F!Reader
The threat of rain meant one thing, you were not coming over today.
Kaminari looked up to the clouds covering the sun and frowned. His day off hadn’t gone over like he planned.
First off, his favorite bakery had run out of the croissants he had craved all week, and he had to drink his coffee with a raisin cookie, then when he went home and was ready to cook, his apartment filed with smoke as his pizza was burnt to a crisp. Around noon, when was the time you came around to say hi to your favorite mortal and play Mortal Kombat, the sky turned dark, and the wind picked up.
‘This day can’t go worse.’
As that thought appeared in his head, his whole world was engulfed in darkness. Just what he needed... A blackout. If he was planning to distract himself from your absence with video games or one of those dumb movies he liked, now it was out the window.
It was dumb, really. He still had a hard time believing he knew a real deity. You were such a cool person to hang out with and the fact that you found his plain and Mortal self amusing was surreal.
Almost an entire year had passed since he met you on a sunny day where he was patrolling. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the sounds of sirens and screams of the civilians that were terrified of the villain with a snake like quirk. The heroes were struggling to keep him at bay, it’s monstrous size and flexibility difficult’d things. Kaminari had been injured while attempting to stop him, the villain’s fangs grazed his arm and it left him unable to move from the neck down. He was sure he was going to die under the huge scaly body, and almost all of the heros were in the same position as him.
Kaminari tasted the metallic taste of pure horror in his tongue and as he saw the impending doom of the end of the snake’s tail coming down to crush his body, but then the sky opened up, and in a halo of gold a figure came down, speeding at an alarming rate toward the ground.. Kaminari could only open his eyes in horror, believing that, whoever it was, they there was no chance of them surviving the impact.
At the last second, the figure stopped, hovering a few inches off the ground, above Kaminari, protecting him. You wore a sheer gown that seemed to be made of pure light, feet bare and not a speck of dirt could be seen on your body. With your hair appearing to flow as if it was under water, a crown made of two branches laurel rested on your temples, framing your face.
You were ethereal, and he felt his brain lag, with a similar effect from when he overused his quirk.
With a hand up to the sky you let a blast of blinding light that burned a hole in the snake’s body, preventing it from colliding on both of you. A spray of green blood sprayed, and you threw herself on top of his body, shielding him from the impact.
A sizzling sound came from everywhere the fluid met, and he realized it was acid. And you just had taken a shit ton of it on your back. Wincing, you got up and blasted another attack, aiming to the head this time, while maintaining the protective stance in front of his sprawled body. From that perspective, Kaminari could admire your bare back, where iridescent scars, that sparkled under the sun covered almost the entire surface He was surprised to find them and instead of being disturbing, they had a heroic feel to them. thick trails of smoke rose through the air, emanating from the scorched tears on her skin and golden liquid cascaded down your back, pooling the iridescent fabric of your gown and sticking it to her form.
A deafening squeal of pain reverberated in the air, and the snake’s upper body slithered in agony. Your light had met the snake’s eyes, and you smirked, skin literally glowing from within. But as soon as the corner of your lips went up, they came down, because the snake’s fauces barreled towards both. Grunting, your arms pushed him away, and his heart clenched when you were swallowed whole.
Everything felt lost, the ray of hope that appeared when you hurt the beast, extinguished like a cigarette under someone’s boot.
The screeching sound that the snake released seemed delighted and as its bifid tongue ran through its lips, almost as if it could still taste you on them, Kaminari noticed something bulging, and expanding the skin in the mid drift of the monster.
The surrounding air seemed to heat up, oscillating in waves that disturbed the sight, the image of the snake wobbling, as if it was a reflection of itself in one of those silly mirrors they usually had in fairs.
The commotion stirred something in him, but the monster was oblivious to it all, too focused on its joy and apparent victory to notice or even feel that something was off. At least until a blinding ray of pure white pierced its skin.
The smell of burning flesh and the humming sound of the surge of power rose the hairs on Kaminari’s arms and his stomach dropped at the sight of green blood oozing out and dissolving the pavement below, craters being formed. The wails of the thing grew in volume before it came crushing down, it’s long body twitching for a few seconds until going completely still. Kaminari held his breath, expecting the reptile to lounge at someone, but the only thing that assaulted him was the solemn silence that followed after a shocking event. Even the humming of a fly’s wings could be heard.
His body was still deemed useless, and no matter how much he wished to go in there and rip your body from the beast entrains with his bare hands, he was stuck as a bystander, observing in the sidelines as those heros that could still move took the reins of the situation.
The hushed voices of the pros were not enough to drown the groaning that preceded your emerging from the pile of charred meet.
Fabric torn and body painted golden, there you stood tall and proud, stretching your shoulders like you had just finished a workout.
“Fucking Phyton, and his resolve to make my life even more complicated...” He saw you sigh while trying to wipe the stream of gold out of her eyes. Even battered and torn, you were the most beautiful creature he had laid his eyes upon. “Oh, shit... Here, let me help you ChargeBolt sir.”
Squatting down next to him with the grace of a ballerina,yourr fingers rested on top of his forehead, and a sudden feeling of calmness numbed his mind. With a warm flutter in his chest, he wondered if you were in reality an angel of death, and if what he was feeling was that story he always heard from those who had experienced a close to death experience. Because all he could see was light.
It took a few seconds of his lethargic brain processing to realize. It wasn’t a light what he was seeing per se; it was your body, shining like the sun, but in a way that his eyes didn’t burn while looking directly at it. Images of him laying beneath the sunlight at the beach flashed in his mind, and if he closed his eyes for a second, he had a similar sensation right in that moment.
Then, as if he was a solar panel and you were the very sun charging him up, a wave of energy he never experienced drummed beneath his skin.
Opening his eyes, your face was the first thing that he saw, hair cascading around your head as you leaned over him, and his fingers twitched for him to caress the strands and confirm if they were as soft as they seemed.
Then it dawned on him.
His body no long felt disconnected from his brain, In fact, he felt every single thing, including the goosebumps that invaded his skin everywhere your eyes met.
Tentatively, he sat up, afraid to fall right on his back and make a bigger fool out of himself. After confirming he felt good, even better than before hell broke loose, he opened his mouth.
“Just how many quirks do you have!?” His sentence came out louder than he intended, and he wanted to sew his mouth shut when you flinched back a little, but the serene smile you sent his way eased his nerves
“Wouldn’t you like to know...” You teased, with crinkles by your eyes.
“Seriously, how did you do all that?” he stood up, and towered above your frame “Anyone else could’ve died...”
“Oh! That reminds me...” Interrupting him, and turning around, you willed a scepter out of nowhere and tapped it in the ground with force.
The floor shook and for a second he feared another threat was around the corner. A crack on the floor appeared beneath what was the remains of the villain, and just like that, what once was a frightening monster, now was disappearing to the center of the earth.
Kaminari’s heart stopped for a second as he saw you lean dangerously over the edge of the abyss, and he rushed to grab your arm just in case a breeze blew past and threw you off balance. A zap coursed through his skin once he made contact, and he wondered if that’s what it felt like to be electrified by his quirk.
“Thanks Uncle Dis!” you called out
The ground melded back together in a second and there was no evidence let of it ever being torn.
Kaminari tried to keep his cool, and after living in a world where everything was possible because of the diversity of existing quirks, he thought nothing could ever disturb him anymore. But after only five minutes of knowing you, that was rendered false.
“Okay... Now I would like to have an explanation sunshine.... Who exactly are you?”
“You just said it cutie...” Winking at him and outstretching your hand, you flashed him the brightest smile he ever saw. “I’m Delian, or Smintheus, or Loxias, or Pythan, or Apollo or any of the names you people had given me through the years, but now I mostly go by (Y/n), deity of the Sun, Nice to meet you”
Kaminari Cringed at the memory of what happened next and tried to think of something else to ease the embarrassment that came after your introduction.
Snapping out of his remisicing Kaminari walked outside, sitting in the porche and he noticed the sunflowers you planted on his frontyard seemed to be lacking a bit of water.
He never understood why you had done that, if he had to guess he would’ve said your favorite plant would’ve been a bay tree, since it was the plant most associated with you and all that, but when you brought the four sprouts on your hands a few months prior, excitement making your skin flow and your body to flutter off the ground, he contained his teasing, too entranced by your beauty to say anything to sour your mood.
“Denki my dude! Look what I got for you straight from the underworld!” Your smile lighted up his whole house, literally. And Kaminari felt a blush rise to his cheeks over how pretty you looked.
Now those tiny sprouts grew and got up to his waist, their yellow petals were an unnatural bright yellow, courtesy of Persephone herself. He was ashamed to admit how much he liked those sunflowers, even as much as he liked you.
He was known for having a fascination with pretty girls, but you just went ahead and ruined him forever. Everyone he saw paled in comparison, and it wasn’t fair for the rest of the world. You were literally a Deity. Your beauty was something no mortal could achieve.
And whenever he tried to flirt, you always said something along the lines of
“Nah, you should see Aphrodite, your brain would fry instantly”
The forced easy laugh that usually followed was enough of a proof to know that, no matter how extraordinary you could be, you were still insecure.
On one of your sleepovers, when the sun was down and you were weaker, you shared your secrets with him. How every relationship you tried to maintain failed, every god, demigod, nymph and human abandoning you. You were aware of the Myths humans told about you, but since they said you were Male, he started doubting every tale that circulated with your name.
“I wish you would’ve been around on the golden era... The old olympic games would’ve been your shit, naked wrestling, bodies slick with olive oil...”
“Wow, Sunshine. If you so desperately want to see me naked all you had to do was ask.” Kaminari joked, expecting one of your quick comebacks, but seeing your cheeks glow golden, in the way the deity of light blushed, he felt a flutter on his chest. A small ray of hope.
“Don’t be dumb, Denki. All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t have been as lonely if I had you then.” You rolled your eyes, portraying annoyance, but he knew it was only to mask your embarrassment.
Almost without him noticing, he fell for you, hard. As hard as the Python did under your unwavering power. And the realization filed him with equal amounts of dread and joy.
In love with a goddess, who would’ve thought, huh?
Never in his wildest dreams he saw himself feeling as strongly for someone as he did for you. Yes, the ocassional crushes were there, but they always seemed to have fade into nothing just like an ice cube on a hot summer day.
Kaminari couldn’t even look at the sky without thinking about you. Even when the clouds were thick and the thunders made the glass of his window rattle, whenever he looked above, he imagined you there, looking down at him and winking, as a way of encouraging him in his everyday tasks that seemed so mundane. The life of a pro hero is far from dull, but it still paled compared to a literal deity.
Kaminari sat outside, growling at the dark sky that killed his chance at seeing you. He felt the cold breeze caressed his face and violently rock his sunflowers. They were sad looking at that moment, almost a perfect reflection of how he was feeling on the inside, crestfallen and slumping down, facing the dirt, with no sun to make them happy.
He sighed and rested his head on his bents knees, trying to focus on anything instead of the empty feeling on his chest. He hated being so attached to you, but every time he thought of your face, so close that he could feel the air out of your lungs tickle his nose, the same thought invaded him.
How could he not be?
You were warm and shiny in every sense of the word, Your heart was as gold as your blood and you never showed anything but care and -he hoped- love. Maybe not in the way he wanted it, because hell, the need to hold your hand just because he could, and kiss your lips to see your cheeks shine is all he ever dreamt of ever since he met you, but how would it work?
You were a Goddes, a supernatural being. Immortal.
You saw millions of humans come and go, and the wicked fantasy of you being in love from someone of your past, and never looking at him ever again always woke him up with a startle in the middle of the night, sheets drenched in sweat and heart thrumming in his ribcage.
Another Thunder boomed, this time closer, so close in fact that Kaminari felt the static buzzing on his skin, making him sit straight because of the jumpscare.
His eyes laid on the sky and he scowled once again, the rain clouds were closer and so thick that swallowed any remains of sunbeams, turning everything a somber shade of gray, dulling the colors of everything, including his sunflowers, that now were facing straight at him.
Wait...
Since when the sunflowers were like that? There was no sun for them to seek for. He was disturbed by this, but still, he couldn’t ponder on it much.
The heavyweight of a pair of hands on his shoulders, accompanied by a hushed “boo” on his ear, tore a high-pitched shriek out of Kaminari’s insides.
The sweet sound of your laugh followed right after, the beginning drowned by his terrified outburst, but the end infiltrated his ears and flowed like honey through his body.
“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” He asked, glancing upwards to the somber dark sheet covering the sky. You were smiling so bright it almost hurt his eyes, but one look over your body later he noticed the charred ends of your dress and the frizz sticking your hair up in all weird directions, leaving you as a bad Simba wannabe. “What happened to you?” Concern laced his voice, and he saw your smile falter. Doubt misting your eyes as your posture visibly tensed.
“Well, it’s actually a funny story...” You laughed shakily, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, going the extra mile to wave a hand, but he didn’t miss the way your fingers shook or the tense lines at the side of your mouth. “Let’s say the pissy prick I call father is against me spending so much time with mortals, and we had a bit of an... arterncate, you could say.” You were a bundle of nerves, and even the usual crown you sported was hanging crooked on your head.
Kaminari felt a cold hand clasping his heart at the implications of that that meant. Your encounters needed to stop, you were there to say goodbye and disappear from his life. He masked his pain with a soft smile and took a step closer, hands going to fix the mess on top of your head.
“It’s okay... I never thought the all mighty Apollo, Phyton, Loxias Del-Delos was it?...” He stopped, brows furrowed as he tried to remember the first time you spoke to him. word by word.
“Delian...” You corrected, eyes soft and tension melting off your face, a small twitch in the corner of your mouth made it look like you were almost smiling.
“Right, Delian, or (Y/N), Or Sunshine... Would want to spend her time playing Mortal Kombat with a loser like me...” His smile was still there, but the corners twitched down for a second, letting you see the insecurity that laied beyond his cool facade
Seeing him like that left you stunned. Eyes shimmering with an emotion he couldn’t quite read, and when his fingers finished arranging your hair the way it usually was, he rested his palms on your shoulders, squeezing a little just to remember that you were still there for a little.
Your fingers enveloped his wrist and the both of you just stood there, lost in the sad atmosphere as the wind picked up around you, and the lights flashed dangerously in the sky. Kaminari felt his chest constrict with the words he so desperately wanted to throw out there, but your fight with your dad sealed his lips.
Now there was no point in trying anything beyond the months of fun and jokes you shared.
“Thank you for teaching me how to use Kotal Kahn, Bakugou is so pissed about how I suddenly got so good at it... Sorry I couldn’t do the same about Raiden.”
“Why is this suddenly sounding like a goodbye?” You asked, with your throat tight and tears glimmering in your eyelashes, like little diamonds suspended forever in there.
“You shouldn’t anger your father Sunshine...” He said, grasping a lock of hair that was flying in front of your face, victim of the merciless wind. His knuckles brushed your cheekbone as he placed the stubborn silky strand behind your ear. You held your breath upon contact.
Your fingers enveloped his, keeping them trapped in between your cheek and your hand, with a grip that would be almost painful if he weren’t used to your unearthly strength.
He watched you crumble underneath his fingers, eyes flashing raw pain behind them.
Then, just like when you had healed him months back, he saw resolve and vigor replace that sad expression, brows furrowing and fire dancing behind your eyes, and it was all unleashed by his gentle hands cradling your face.
“No...” You whispered, leaning back away from him, but still holding on to his wrist like he was a lifeline in the middle of a turbulent sea.
“(Y/N)... I think...”
“No Denki!” She circled around him and stood in the middle of his front yard, looking straight up at the storm above and with cheeks glowing from anger. “You what to know what I think?” She turned to him, pointing an accusatory finger up the sky.
The warning of a flood of lightning made him take a step forwards to warn you, but a zap charred the earth missing his feet by only a few inches. His quirk was electric and a normal lightning couldn harm him, but he wasn’t sure those rules applied with the fucking god of lightning, Zeus.
“I’m tired of feeing like there’s something wrong with me, because there’s not...” The sky rumbled and a flash of blue descended, deathly close to her figure.
Kaminari searched everywhere to find a solution in this situation. Certainly a fight between two gods on his porch wasn’t ideal.
Your scoff brought his attention back to you and he saw your arms flying around, a halo of golden unclasping your body, your emotions breaking your control over your power.
“No, dad, certainly what happened with that demigod years back wasn’t my fault. Eros was just a dick and you know it... Why don’t you make the same scandal when Aphrodite comes down here and mingles with mortals?” Another set of lights burned through the sky and you laughed incredulously. ”Now you worry about the blood not mixing with mortals? Yes, hi... Do you remember Hercules, You Demigod Son!? Stop behaving like a child!”
Kaminari sucked a breath in after your insult towards the god, and rightfully so, because half a heartbeat later, a lightning bigger than he ever thought possible coursed through the sky and impacted with your body. He saw your silouette through the blinding light, and for a moment he feared the worst. He never felt a power like this, every hair in his body raising and a wave of nausea destabilizing him.
“Pretty fucking mature dad, really...” You were still alive, and as he leaned on his knees hunched over and panting another wave of emotion hit him through the chest. Even with smoke flowing up like black tendrils around you from your gown and grime staining your cheeks, it only seemed to enhance the way you shone. “I don’t care, and you shouldn’t either, no one else does! Uncle Dis even said he liked him, and that is saying something... Just please dad. I never asked for anything, just this once. Let me choose who I love...” Your voice was so brittle and frail he believed he had imagined it.
And then he realized... You said it, the word he wanted so desperately to shout on your face but to afraid of the consequences. You loved him... You, Apollo, Loxian, Delos, or whatever, you loved him, and even if you didn’t said it to him, the implication was as clear as day.
Kaminari forgot about everything else. The threat of being reduced to ashes a, the rage of your father above, the way his insecurities had kept him from showering you in affection like he longed to, all of that faded to the back of his mind, the only thing clear was you. You standing in front of him, only a few feet apart.
You, that loved him.
He was by your side, and almost in a daze his fingers found yours, holding them in a gentle yet firm hold. The warmth of your skin soothed his locked joints, and he took a breath in. Opting not to say anything, but let his actions speak for himself.
You looked up at him and beamed, drawing strength out of nowhere just by his sole presence. Both looked up at the sky, that turned a murderous shade of purple, just like the bruising he might have in his body if he survived turning into Zeus shooting toy.
“Father, this is not something I’m backing out of, and since the Olympians came into an agreement of not snooping their noses into other’s business, I’m staying here with Denki as long as I please.” You turned to him, hesitation written all over your face, and a flimsy peak of that ugly insecurity you had showed itself in your eyes. “If you want, of course...?”
It came out more of a question than a statement, as if you were subconsciously begging for reassurance.
He leaned in, his lips grazing the skin of your forehead, soft as a feather, but it left a burning sensation on his mouth. Your cheeks were shining bright, but a dumbstruck smile was plastered on your face.
“That is final, father. I took your opinion into consideration because I respect you, but if you try to do something funny, I won’t hesitate to ask Uncles Dis and Sai to interfere.” The sky grumbled one last time, and Kaminari Imagined it had to be reflection of Zeus own grumble of defeat.
If he admired you before when you took down Python, now he was awestruck at your strength and determination.
You deflated like a balloon and sat down on the grass, where blackened grass stained the skin of your legs. Letting a small incredulous laugh, you looked up at him, eyes open and so full of emotion. The tension that once constricted your whole body was now gone, and your whole body seemed to glow.
“I can’t believe that actually worked...” You muttered, wiping a hand across your forehead but never dropping the smile.
Kaminari sat down next to you and circled your shoulders with his arm.
“So... You just wanted your daddy dear to let you choose who to love?” Teasing you wasn’t the most sensible thing to do after the rollercoaster of emotions you two rode nearly a minute before, but it was his way of dealing with stress. Whatever the reason may be, it was worth if he could get to see your flustered face.
“Yeah, I’ve been feeling some kind f way towards this Ground Zero dude... It may be worth the shot” You teased right back, and in it felt like nothing ever changed between the both of you- even after the biggest confession- everything felt natural, no nerves burning inside other than the usual warm flutter on his chest when he saw your face.
He pondered on saying those three little words, but feeling how relaxed you were, with your face tucked in between his shoulder and neck, breath fanning over his jaw, he resolved against it.
The sense of knowing both of you were on the same page was enough for now.
Groaning, you got up, and extended your hand towards him, pulling him up and letting your touch linger a heartbeat longer than necessary.
“Man, I’m beat...” You stretched your back, smiling when a ‘pop’ filled the air. “Can we pretty please play MKX? I need to beat Raiden’s ass right now?
“I always thought you were crazy good at it, but turns out you were just motivated by imagining Raiden as your dad, weren’t you?”
There was no need to respond. The humor shining in the side glance you gave him and your crooked smile said it all.
As you passed by the sunflowers, he saw them turn around, facing you no matter how fast you were going. He stopped in his tracks and observed how they bent in an impossible angle trying to face you.
When you realized he wasn’t following behind, you sent a look behind your back.
“What’s wrong Denki?” You asked walking back up at him, the yellow petals following around like a shadow.
“Can you walk back to the door? I want to see something...” He said, fascinated by the reaction you had over them.
Confused, you did as he said, taking slow strides, trying to figure out what was he on to now, until you followed Kaminari’s gaze and noticed it too. Exited, you ran, twirled and crouched, trying to see if in deed they were turning to you. You giggled like a kid opening a present and turn to him.
“I didn’t know they were always looking at me...” You whispered in awe, caressing the yellow petals fondly. Your eyes gleamed under the sun’s light. The clouds long forgotten on the horizon, letting the rays finally warm up his skin. Your crown was lopped again, but it gave you an air of mischief instead of nerves, and Kaminari prayed his mouth was closed and not gaping like a fish. You never failed to knock the air out of his lungs.
“They’re not the only ones that do...”
#kaminari denki x reader#kaminari x reader#kaminari denki#denki kaminari#denki#kaminari#bnha x reader#mha x reader#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#Kaminari denki Mythology au#denki x reader#femalle reader
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In a very unexpected moment tonight, I found myself writing something. Yes, some actual fiction. Umm, wow. It’s not particularly-polished, I certainly wouldn’t call it “good”, but nonetheless, here is a thing.
This is a ghost from an old, 2015-era writing project of mine. You probably will have seen bits of it before. This would be the opening portion of the novel, if the novel was still in any way a possibility. The two main characters meet and compare notes on themselves and the confusing mess of the world they live in.
(A passing content note: their world is recovering in some ways and has been worse inside both Tai and Corazon’s lifetimes, but it is not a happy place, and some very bad things have happened. So a measure of reader discretion is advised.)
(Also, yes, the ending is quite abrupt - it’s 2 AM so I should probably consider calling it a night.)
Anyway, have about ~3500 words of fiction...
‘We have arrived at the Corazon residence,’ the car said.
Lieutenant Tai Zhang looked up from her phone. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Lock the doors while I’m out, but don’t drive off. I should only be a few minutes.’
The car said, ‘For insurance purposes I’m instructed to remind you that I have an anti-carjacking protocol-’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Tai sighed. ‘If one of the locals tries to put you up on bricks, you’ll zap them with a stun charge and zoom off. And howl for the police. Who may even turn up, who knows. And Dr Corazon and I will have to walk back to the Fleet base. I get it, I get it. Now let me get on with my job.’
The car took the hint and shut up. It wasn’t a full Tech Mind, of course – no way could the Navy afford their contracting rates – but its social simulation unit wasn’t entirely stupid either. The door unfolded upwards. Hot, damp January air flooded in, along with the smells of the city. Vegetation, oil, a hint of sewage and a whiff of something rotten. Actually, compared to the New Dockside area, this wasn’t so bad.
Tai climbed out of the car; the door hissed down behind her. She took a look around herself. She was stood on a cracked and pitted curbside. Amazingly, it looked like pre-Contact concrete. There was certainly no sign that it had experienced any recent maintenance. To judge from the fractured blocks, some of which lay out of place, it may well not have had any repairs since the early 2040s.
‘At least there is a pavement around here,’ Tai muttered. New London had a lot of dirt tracks; the first tsunami had sunk a good chunk of the old city and the quakes had done for a lot of what survived. Rock One, after all, had come down right in the middle of the North Sea. Whilst it had been the smallest of the two impactors, nonetheless it had been big enough. It was fair to say that coastal and near-coastal Europe had had a bad day.
Just as the car had promised, Corazon’s house was right in front of her. Tai was interested to note that it was a treehouse, clearly post-Contact. All bulbous and round, big fat leaves hanging over its top. Windows and a door had been incorporated into the bioengineered wood. The house-tree seemed fully grown, and from the lichen on the bark, it had to be at least a few years old. As she looked around, Tai saw that most of the neighbouring dwellings were also treehouses, though confusingly, there was a surviving pre-Contact apartment block on the corner of the street. The brickwork and the old-style PVC windows looked incredibly out of place, the building equivalent of a fly stuck in amber.
Tai fingered the collar of her uniform jacket. She felt uncomfortably-hot. A glance at her phone revealed that the air temperature was hovering around twenty-five degrees Celsius – not exceptionally hot for the time of year, but certainly enough to be unpleasant. No point wasting any time, then. She needed to go and collect their guest.
Tai opened the little picket-fence gate in front of the house and started down the path. Next to her, an array of solar panels was tracking the Sun. Corazon’s garden also had a backup wind turbine, parked on the opposite side of the path. Apparently the academic didn’t trust the municipal grid. Honestly, Tai couldn’t blame him, though on the other hand it did seem a bit excessive. After all, this was the 2060s, not the ‘50s. Even a chaotic urban mess like New London averaged about six hours’ reliable electricity per day.
Tai reached the door. She lifted her hand and knocked smartly on it, rapping three times. It was an Academy instinct, repeatedly burnt into her brain by the Fleet’s officer candidate school. You always knocked three times and waited before entering, unless of course you really liked doing lots of push-ups. This January morning was, in Tai’s opinion, far too hot for push-ups.
She heard some clattering from inside the house. ‘Wait, wait, I’m on my way!’ a muffled voice said. It was male, with an accent she couldn’t quite place.
The door opened. Tai blinked. ‘Uh,’ she said.
The man looked at her, seeming a bit confused. Then recognition flickered across his face. ‘Oh of course!’ he said. ‘You’re from the Fleet, aren’t you. They said they’d be sending a car, though I did wonder if it would actually turn up.’
Tai managed to recover her surprise. She hadn’t realised that her passenger-to-be was old. From his grey hair and wrinkled face, he couldn’t be under fifty. With a slight shiver, Tai realised what that meant – he’d been born, and had grown up, beforehand. Before all of it happened.
‘Dr Carlos Corazon, I assume?’ she said. He nodded. ‘Lovely to meet you. I’m Lieutenant Tai Zhang, and I’ve been tasked with bringing you to the shuttle-dock. We’ll be going up to the Relentless together, for the shakedown flight.’
Corazon blinked. ‘They’re farming out their officers on taxi duty? The Navy really must be a bit strained.’
Oh great, Corazon was one of those people who thought the Navy was a waste of time. It was certainly a common opinion throughout AU-Earth. Certainly it wasn’t entirely wrong. Even the most powerful human-built warship wouldn’t do much damage to even a small Spiral Fleet cruiser. Still, Tai felt this criticism missed the point somewhat. Even if the AU-E Fleet was mostly an exercise in public relations, it was still important to show that the AU-E had something to offer to the wider Concordium.
Also, Corazon had another point, though she doubted he realised it. Tai had no sooner arrived at the ship then she’d found herself immediately ordered off it again, to go and collect some random civilian. She supposed it reflected the last-minute chaos going on within the ship’s complement as it got ready for its first ever flight as an actual ship of the line. A lot of the ship’s officers hadn’t even arrived until yesterday; Tai wasn’t even the latest assignee to make their way to their birth. They were due to undock in less than twenty-four hours; this was not the best use of her time. Tai should be down in Engineering, meeting with her department, getting to know the crew’s names and faces and getting their shift-schedules and duty rosters finalised.
Instead she was here, stood on a doormat somewhere out in New London’s half-resurrected urban carcass.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘the sooner we’re under way, the better.’
The Relentless was the Fleet’s newest warship; its maiden voyage would also be carrying a complement of notaries. Some of them were journalists, some of them were various apparatchiks linked to the current federal coalition government, and a few were people of note from wider society. Dr Corazon was apparently somewhat known within the astronomical community, presumably hence his invitation.
‘Cool,’ Corazon said. ‘Just let me grab my bag…’
He turned around and disappeared back into the house. Tai fought the urge to roll her eyes at his disorganisation. A few moments later, the academic reappeared, clutching a carry-bag. To Tai’s eyes it didn’t look like he had remotely enough changes of clothes – but, she decided that was his problem and not hers.
‘This way,’ she said, gesturing him toward the car.
He closed the door of the house behind him, locking then double-locking it. ‘Just let me arm the security system,’ he said, pulling out his phone. Tai waited patiently as Corazon fiddled with the keys. Something beeped and he looked satisfied. His phone disappeared back into a pocket. This at least was an urge Tai could understand.
‘Lots of crime around here?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘Some. Barnet’s not too bad. There are worse boroughs, it’s actually fairly good around here. Most people on this street have formal jobs, you know?’
‘That might attract the gangs,’ Tai noted. ‘Rich neighbourhood and all that.’
Corazon shrugged. ‘My security system is a licensed Tech Mind unit. Non-sentient, of course, but advanced enough to handle itself.’
‘That and a treehouse,’ Tai observed. ‘Those are triffid products. You clearly like your aliens.’
They started walking toward the car. Corazon said, ‘Might as well get used to it. They’re here to stay, you know. I probably know that better than most.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ Tai said, ‘how old are you?’
Corazon rolled his eyes. ‘I knew that question was coming. I get that a lot. Apparently I’m the first old man some of our undergraduates have ever seen.’
That was unlikely in practise – even today, about twenty percent of the AU-E’s population had been born before 2040 – but it wasn’t entirely-impossible either. People in the mid-to-late 2040s and the ‘50s had produced a lot of kids, and that was probably just as well given how few of them there had been left. The New Baby Boom was showing signs of cooling down, though honestly, that was probably not a bad thing either. The planet wasn’t in a great state, and overshooting its carrying capacity was probably a bad idea.
‘You didn’t answer the question,’ Tai said.
Corazon looked irritated. ‘No, I suppose I didn’t, did I? All right, if you insist, I’m sixty-three. I was born in 2004.’
Tai blinked. ‘Shit,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ Corazon agreed. There wasn’t any need to elaborate on that one.
An awkward silence descended as they approached the car. Tai sent the all-clear to the security system. The doors were folding up and quite suddenly, it began to get dark. Tai felt confused – she couldn’t see any clouds and the forecast for the day had been for clear weather.
‘Oh,’ Corazon said. ‘Of course. Right on cue!’ He pointed up at the sky.
Tai glanced quickly upwards. A big bite was eating the side of the Sun. Corazon said, ‘Parasol Two. Bang on time.’
Oh, of course. Tai had completely forgotten about the parasol-satellite’s scheduled appointment with the Sun.
‘Let’s get in the car,’ Tai said. Even though this was a relatively upscale neighbourhood, she didn’t really want to be stood around on the pavement during the parasol-eclipse. There was such a thing as asking for trouble.
Corazon needed no urging. Moments later they were both safely ensconced in the car. Outside, smoothly and without fuss, an artificial night was falling over the city. Lights flickered on inside buildings, stars bloomed across the now-nightfallen heavens and a few of the streetlights even turned on. The rest were either broken or missing their bulbs.
‘Car,’ Tai said, ‘take us to the Fleet’s dockside complex, please.’
‘Acknowledged,’ the vehicle’s electronic voice said.
The electric engine gently purred to life and the headlights came on. The car pulled out from the curb and began its journey through the city.
‘It will rain later, I expect,’ Corazon remarked. ‘Once the Parasol moves over, I mean. The drop in air temperature can drive condensation in the clouds.’
The forecast hadn’t mentioned that, but Tai supposed it wouldn’t be surprising if it was wrong.
‘Do you find the eclipses weird?’ Tai asked. She realised, just a moment too late, that the question was probably too personal and probably too judgemental. Her passenger certainly thought so. Even in the internal lights of the car, his face darkened.
‘Young lady,’ Corazon snapped, ‘I find everything about this world weird. This is nothing like the place I thought I’d grow old in. It’s the same planet, but a different universe. Though I’m sure that won’t make much sense to you. From the looks of you I’m guessing you’re a post-Contact child.’
He was, Tai thought, rather patronising. She wondered if it was deliberate. No, she didn’t think so. It was just how he was. Perhaps this had been normal behaviour, perfectly average for the world prior to June the Eighth, 2040.
‘I was born in 2042,’ Tai said. ‘I never knew my parents. They got Lung Rot and died not long after I was born.’
The academic didn’t appear to have heard her. He was still staring upwards at the sky.
‘No,’ Corazon said, ‘at least the eclipses make sense. Giant mirror-satellites in orbit, blocking out some sunlight, keeping the temperatures down. Stopping a damaged atmosphere from frying the planet. People did have ideas like that, you know, before. The Contact War made it worse, but climate change existed before 2040. Hell, I vaguely remember hearing about it back in the 2000s!’
Tai boggled. ‘You remember back then?’
‘A bit. I was six in 2010, remember? I do recall the family being very upset about something around ‘08, though I didn’t really understand it.’
‘What could it have been?’ Tai asked. ‘There weren’t any problems then!’
‘There was a planet-wide economic collapse,’ Corazon said. ‘Though nothing like as bad as what happened in the Forties – or the Twenties, for that matter. Anyway it hardly matters now. It was something we did to ourselves, without any external help.’ He looked at the sky, and shuddered. A haunted expression flooded across his face. ‘You know, not like that.’
The artificial night had filled the sky with stars. Some of them were moving – spacecraft, on their journeys to and from any number of destinations. A lot of them were concentrated in the direction of the Moon, though there was no surprise there. The Moon was the main reason the Spiral Concordium bothered with Sol and its planets, after all. It was indirectly the source of all this trouble.
But Corazon wasn’t looking at any of that. His eyes were locked on something else, lower down in the sky. It was pitted and cratered, a rough spheroid, greyish in colour. It was currently in crescent phase, hanging low in the sky and close to the artifically-occluded Sun. But there was no mistaking it.
‘Rock Three,’ Corazon said. ‘That fucker. The one that would have ended us.’
It was harmless now, of course. The 3008th Division of the Spiral Fleet had seen to that, stabilising it onto a safe-if-low orbit around the Earth. But the engineers of the New And Bountiful Prosperity Combine had done their work correctly – had Rock Three impacted, it would have been sufficient to end the Earth’s biosphere, and hide all the evidence of New Prosperity’s crimes forever. The Moon would have been theirs, along with all its reserves of precious Lovecraftium, and the uninhabitable neighbouring planet would have been passed off as a tragic cosmic accident.
‘Three hundred miles wide,’ Corazon said. ‘They actually towed it in all the way from the Kuiper Disc. It wasn’t even in our records before they tossed it at us. Not even a tsunami-making rock. An ocean-boiling rock.’
Rock Three was now a de facto second moon and a permanent fixture in the Earth’s skies, but it was also something that had very nearly been the tombstone for an entire planet. For all the horror they had inflicted, for all the hundreds of millions of people they’d killed, Rocks One and Two had merely been the opening salvos.
‘And of course they tossed in Lung Rot,’ Tai said. ‘As a nice little fuck-you parting-shot.’
‘Yeah, had that.’ Corazon looked grim, then he shrugged. ‘Wasn’t fun. It was like doing Covid all over again. Just joyous. Gotta love hacking up fungal slime out of your own alveoli all day.’
He shuddered. It was a whole-body convulsion.
The Contact War and the two Rocks had been bad, but it was Lung Rot that had done the real, lasting damage. During the early Forties, people had been dying fast enough that the survival of the species had seemed in question for a time, though in practise the Spiral Concordium would never have allowed that. Even if it required raising a cloned population somewhere else, in some carefully-sterilised biodome on some other planet, the Concordium would not have allowed an actual extinction-event. The whole point of the galactic union, for all of its many flaws, was preventing exactly that sort of horror. The Contact War itself should never have happened, of course, but once the Concordium had belatedly become aware of what New Prosperity was doing, they had moved to shut it down. New Prosperity no longer existed; the entire organisation had been declared traitors and anyone who survived the Battle of Earth had been mercilessly hunted down. If there were any former Prosperity scions left out there somewhere, they knew better by now then to advertise their survival.
Lung Rot had been a vicious punch in the face, a final little parting-present from New Prosperity, the spores air-dropped into multiple locations across the Earth even as the Combine’s forces crumbled under the Spiral assault. No-one was really sure why they’d done it. It had gained them nothing; if Rock Three had left any questions unanswered, then Lung Rot surely had removed any doubt about the Combine’s intentions. Their fall had been absolute, from one of the oldest, wealthiest and most-celebrated organisations in the Milky Way to one of the most-despised collections of traitors who had ever lived.
Suddenly, Tai had to talk. The urge was abrupt, dominating, complete. It was probably also a bad idea, but you didn’t always get the choice with these things. The words were flowing from her mouth, and like it or not, they weren’t going to just magically turn off.
‘My earliest actual memory is when they sprayed the camps,’ Tai said. ‘I was in one of the refugee ones, just another orphaned toddler. I had a cough by then, of course. Everyone did. There was space in our tent – a lot of people had been taken out. New people weren’t coming in, not anymore. I didn’t really know what it meant then, of course. But then one day people were – excited? It was weird. I’d never seen them like that. There was suddenly not any crying. People were hugging each other and smiling. I remember they pulled me out of the tent. People were coming out of the tents, everywhere. There was an actual crowd. Cheering, even! It was some triffids that came through. They were pulling a spray-tank. They sprayed all of us – one of them even shoved the nozzle in my mouth!’
‘And the retroviral agent re-wrote your lungs,’ Corazon noted. ‘So they now secrete a natural fungicide, keeping the Lung Rot mycelium at subclinical levels. Yeah, something similar happened to me. Kind of crazy, one of the happiest days of my life, you know? The day in 2045, when the aliens came to genetically-engineer all of us.’ He shook his head. ‘Flying saucers spraying the cities with bio-agents, and people dancing in the streets below! Would’ve been unimaginable just ten years before.’
This chatter was, of course, a normal thing. Tai had had lots of conversations like this. It was quite an average event for people to compare their traumas – virtually everyone living in the AU-Earth had some emotional burden that they were carrying around with them. It was true that social conditions were improving – things were merely “bad” now, rather then the “borderline-apocalyptic” of twenty years previously – but an important part of getting to know someone was trying to gently figure out where their personal sore spots and pain-points lay. Triggering someone into a flashback episode was generally considered to be a social faux pas, especially if it was done deliberately. There were also practical concerns too. It was difficult for a workplace to function if half its staff were either lying on the floor sobbing or had been driven to flee the building by their own inner demons.
Corazon sighed, shrugged and opened his bag. Tai read that as his cue to dismiss this topic. He’d said his piece. And so, she supposed, had she. He knew not to mention the camps, she knew not to mention Lung Rot. They’d told each other what they needed to know, and now it was time to move smoothly onwards.
To Tai’s surprise, he pulled out a pair of knitting needles and a ball of wool. Moments later, a pair of half-finished socks emerged. ‘I am glad someone decided to save the sheep,’ he remarked. ‘We lost so many of the others.’
Lung Rot had been aimed at humans, of course, but the mycelium was at home in any warm, enclosed, moist, dark space. There had been extinctions all throughout Class Mammalia. A whole host of species now only existed as captive populations in carefully-maintained bio-domes, and they were the lucky ones. Someone had cared enough to try to rescue them, during the end of the world.
And the less said about that, the better.
‘You like knitting?’ Tai asked.
Corazon nodded. ‘Actually I make sixty percent of my income from it. My lectureship is nice, but academia is more like a hobby with an office.’ He started up on the socks, the needles twisting and twirling through a series of moves that Tai’s eyes struggled to follow.
‘You sell socks?’ Tai asked. It didn’t surprise her that Corazon had a side-hustle – the AU-Earth’s budgetary situation was tight, and that was very visible in public sector salaries. It was just as well that Tai’s role as an officer came with government-subsidised housing, because there was no way she could afford anything minimally-pleasant on the private market.
‘No, scarves, usually,’ Corazon said. ‘They’re mostly bought by ash lizards. I got into it almost by accident, when I went to Nine Shadows And Six Rivers back in ’52. Took my needles and stuff with me, made a scarf on the ship out. It was just something to do, you know? But when we arrived I gave it to one of our liaison team, as a gift – and they loved it. Before I knew it I had a waiting-list of gender-bending alien lizards, who all wanted individual knitted scarves.’ He snorted. ‘I got to live the high life out on Nine Shadows, while the rest of the exchange group had to slum it, down on the cheap floors of the arcology.’
‘Oh of course,’ Tai said. ‘They like decoration, don’t they?’
‘They don’t go in for clothes in quite the way we do – heat retention messes up their metabolisms something chronic. But they do go in for decoration. Necklaces, wrist-sheathes, sashes. Scarves. Natural materials are particularly-prized.’ He shrugged. ‘Who would have known that knitted goods would be a key export from this planet?’
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A rogue storm had her presumed dead and stranded on the red planet. Left on her own, astronaut Aelin Galathynius has four years to make it to the next drop-site, some two thousand miles. Armed with her smarts and dwindling supplies, Aelin attempts to survive on an inhospitable planet, when the nearest help is only millions of miles away.
masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter
+*+*+*+*+*+*
“It just can’t be. Have you double checked?”
Weylan Darrow’s disapproving face stared at Nox through the computer screen, Asterin sitting next to him with a blank expression.
“Yes, sir. Everyone in SatCon and the RPL checked them,” he replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “See, the images show both the rovers moving and the solar panels being cleaned. Modifications have been made to—”
“Modifications? What modifications?”
Sartaq Dalavtchai, the director of the Rocket Propulsion Lab, held up an image, “Galathynius took the battery off the second rover and attached it to the first, to double its power…”
Asterin spoke, finishing his sentence, “She’s trying to travel to the Mistward crater for The Crone.”
“Exactly, Asterin, or that’s what we believe is happening.”
“But the rover will only be able to travel a total of one-hundred kilometres and Mistward is… two-thousand at least. Not to mention, she’ll need to use the heater during the nights.”
Sartaq nodded, “You’re correct. Which is why we believe she is planning to attach the solar panels and…” he and Nox shared a look; they wouldn’t be happy to find out what she’d dug up.
“And?” Weylan prompted, wariness in his eyes. “And what?”
“Sir, she dug up the RTG.”
Asterin’s otherworldly eyes – the truest black flecked with brilliant gold – widened, “The plutonium battery?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She sat back in her chair, thinking aloud, “Well, it would be able to fully power the rover without needing to be charged.” As well as powering a nuclear bomb, but Asterin kept that to herself.
+*+*+*+*+*+*
“She’s what?” Manon barked, glaring through the computer at Nox, as if he had grossly offended her. “Who even is this, where’s the director of SatCon?”
Asterin calmed her cousin, “Stop being a dick, Manon, this is Nox Owens, he’s a satellite planner and the one who found out Aelin’s still alive.” She addressed Nox next with a cheeky grin, “Don’t worry about her, she hasn’t drunk the blood of a virgin for a while, she’s a little grouchy.”
Nox laughed, still terrified of the glaring woman, and Weylan shook his head from the opposite side of the table as Manon, as if thinking, Why did I hire so many witches?
“Please, continue, Nox,” Gavriel said, “where’s Aelin going?”
“Well, we’re not sure, sir. We believe she’s testing out her modifications on the rovers. She drives for thirteen hours, stops, and returns. We think the stops are to charge the batteries.”
Weylan frowned, he seemed to do that a lot. “But you said that she attached the solar cells to the top. Why would she need to re-charge and what about the RTG?”
Sartaq waved to introduce himself, “I can answer that. The solar cells are extremely delicate and the rover is designed to cross all sorts of rough terrain so she can’t have the solar cells out all the time because the risk of breaking them is higher. As for the generator,” he paused, rubbing his fingers over his jaw, “it’s good for spacecrafts but if it ruptures around humans… no more humans. Which is why she isn’t completely relying on it. And why we buried it, with a flag so we would know not to touch it.”
The Orynth team all nodded thoughtfully and Weylan asked, “Sartaq, what’s the fastest you can get a food probe ready?”
“Hmm,” the gears in his mind circled and he narrowed his eyes, “with the planetary positioning… nine months. We’ll need six months to build it in the first place—”
“Three months. Get it done.” Weylan held up his hand when Sartaq startled, looking to protest, “You’re going to say it can’t be done and I’ll give some speech about the immeasurable capabilities of the RPL team and you’ll say something like the overtime alone will be a nightmare.”
“The overtime alone will be a nightmare,” the harried rocket scientist mumbled, looking behind the camera at the rest of his team who were all shaking their heads and holding up a sign that read FUCK NO!!!
“Get it started, I’ll find you the money.”
Manon breathed out, trying to keep her anger in check, “It’s time to tell the crew.”
“Manon,” her boss started, his voice conveying his emotions on the topic they’d already discussed many, many times. “We’ve talked about this.”
“No, you talked about this. But I’m the crew director, I decide what’s best for the crew. They deserve to know,” she pressed, balling her hands into fists, her iron nails flashing for a second.
Gavriel shook his head, “I agree with Weylan, Manon. They need to concentrate on getting home safe.”
“Fuck all of you,” spat Manon, murder in her eyes. “Fuck all of you.”
“When we have a rescue plan, we’ll tell them. Until then, it’s useless. Sartaq has three months to get it done, be patient.”
“We’ll do our best,” Sartaq said, his face pale.
Manon turned her gaze on him, cocking her head to the side, “Aelin dies if you don’t.”
+*+*+*+*+*+*
Rowan couldn’t sleep.
Hadn’t been able to in the month following Aelin’s death.
He wanted more time. Not a lot, just five minutes, just enough to tell her he loved her with all that he was and would ever be.
There had always been some unspoken thing between them, it was impossible to stay away.
They’d loathed each other at the start.
Oh, she drove him crazy.
She seemed to know everything about everything and beat him to the first spot in their classes in the space program, utterly ruthless. At least, when Elide beat the two of them, she was tactful and humble, but Aelin…
She knew just how smart she was and refused to downplay it. Despite loathing her, it was always something he subconsciously admired of her.
She was a wildfire, unapologetic with her quest to get what she wanted, accepting nothing but the best of herself.
With her corn-silk hair and electric blue eyes, it was easy to peg her as a princess – a brat, only here on Daddy’s money.
Gods, he was an ass. It wasn’t until she had fled the dorms, crying after he’d insulted her by calling her a dumb blonde, looking for her Mrs. degree, and told her that she didn’t deserve to be here like the rest of them, and the verbal beating he’d received from Elide (arguably the most terrifying experience of his life – especially when Nesryn was forced to physically restrain the five-foot woman) that he’d realized how badly he’d fucked up.
Even Lorcan gave him a disgusted look and slapped him upside the head before Rowan chased after her and begged for forgiveness.
After… they weren’t friends but they weren’t at each other’s throats all the time either.
Everything had changed the night she’d stumbled into his room, high after smoking with Elide and Nesryn – a birthday tradition he was told – and he fell. Harder than he’d thought possible, irrevocably and irretrievably in love with her.
Rowan kept his eyes at the kitchen table, picking at his fingernails, refusing to look up as Fenrys and Lorcan sat down.
They stayed silent and for that, he was grateful. There were no words to say and so they sat, quiet until Rowan was ready.
+*+*+*+*+*+*
Gavriel was absolutely exhausted.
It had been a long day, after flying to Perranth from Orynth and meeting with Nox, who he was currently sitting next to as they watched the satellites.
He could feel his eyes drooping shut. Slapping his cheek, a couple times, and draining the rest of his coffee, he sat up and tapped the screen, “Why is there a jump here?”
“Oh, because of how the orbits line up, there’s a thirteen-minute gap every thirty hours,” Nox explained, pushing his glasses onto the top of his head and rubbing his eyes.
“Where is she going,” Gavriel wondered, tracking the movement of the rover through every frame, “there’s out there except for…” he sat up straight, his tawny eyes wide. “I need a map.” With that, he was gone, making his way out of Satellite Control as Nox scrambled to his feet and hurried after him, not sure what was happening.
They sped-walked down a hallway until the cat-like man stopped abruptly and took down a framed image of the Anascaul crater, where the hab was located, and took a marker from his pocket as someone said, “Hey, man, you can’t just do that—”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Nox,” he addressed the younger man next to him, Nox’s mind still reeling, “what are the hab’s coordinates?”
He rattled them off and Gavriel marked them on the glass protecting the picture, drawing another mark halfway across the picture, in the opposite direction of the Mistward crater. He nodded to himself, “Alright. I know where she’s going. Where’s Sartaq?”
+*+*+*+*+*+*
Nox still had absolutely no idea what was happening as he trailed after Gavriel and Sartaq through the lab. The dark-haired man said to Gavriel, “I got everyone who was here in ’03, which is when the probe went silent. I’d like to point out that it lasted three times longer—”
“Of course, Sartaq. No one is criticizing the RPL’s work, you’ve done an amazing job.” He shook hands with the three scientists, Malakai Scéalaí, Brulo Vojnik, and Philippa Bisset. “So, I’ll just get right to it. What’s the likelihood of Aelin getting it working again?”
Philippa answered him, “It’s hard to say, really. When we lost contact, we lost a data bank, so we were never able to figure out how it lasted as long as it did and why it stopped working.” She indicated the covered machinery behind him, “We have the replica all ready for you.”
Gavriel turned around and they pulled the tarp off to reveal the original Farnor probe – The Lord of The North.
+*+*+*+*+*+*
Aelin had been sitting outside the hab for an hour. She was so ready to just give up, but every time she thought about throwing a fit and stomping inside, Lorcan’s face appeared and his voice filled her head, insulting her and threatening her with gross bodily harm if she went the ‘pussy-ass-bitch’ route and gave up. Aelin had to stop herself from answering to him, not ready to be that kind of crazy.
She stared at the probe, praying for it to move to point to either one of the signs she’d written and stabbed in the earth after travelling to dig up another TNSB relic.
There were three signs in total, the closest one reading Yes, the middle one: Messages written here. Are you receiving? And the third: No, which was a little redundant because if they didn’t receive, they wouldn’t be able to point to any of the signs, let alone No.
The sun was setting and Aelin could feel herself nodding off, drained after her day and the emotional toll. Gods, I just want to go home, she prayed, take me home, please. She hadn’t let herself cry and it seemed she had put it off too much to control when her eyes grew wet and soon enough, tears were rolling down her cheeks.
A whirring noise interrupted her and she opened her eyes, her heart in her throat as the camera spun to… the left. Yes, they were receiving.
Aelin almost didn’t believe it and stood on surprisingly strong legs before taking one step and then another, but when the probe stayed on the ‘yes’ sign, she threw her arms up and roared of her victory to the high heavens, her voice breaking as the tears came faster and faster.
+*+*+*+*+*+*
“So, here’s the thing,” Aelin addressed the camera once again, eating oatmeal for dinner, and potatoes. She’d always loved oatmeal, loved to load it up with brown sugar and cream aplenty, to the confusion of every person she’d ever met. “We have to have serious astrophysical engineering conversations with a still frame camera that has a thirty-two-minute round trip communication time. Luckily,” she ate a bite, talking with her mouth full, “the camera does spin three-sixty so I can use an alphabet.”
She stood and walked her empty bowl over to the sink, scraping it clean, “It just can’t be ours because with twenty-six characters plus a question card gives me a twelve-degree arc, which is too narrow, we’d never know what it’s pointing at. Which means,” she spun, pointing her spoon at the camera, “hexadecimals to the rescue!”
She elaborated as she dragged Nesryn’s box into the frame, “Only sixteen characters gives me enough room and I’m hoping the geeks at RPL can send me some code so that the rover’s computer can communicate with TNSB. Fingers crossed.”
Sitting down, she held up a TSCII – Terrasen Standard Code for Information Interchange – table, “I figured one of you had to have an old TSCII table lying around and, ladies and gents, I give you super nerd: Nesryn Faliq. Mala above, Nes, you’re such a computer geek.”
The code had been developed from telegraph code and eventually formatted for the very first telephones and then evolving to computers. It used the decimal numbers – 0,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 – and six extra symbols, which were transmitted in binary code to be converted by computers.
+*+*+*+*+*+*
It had been three days since the probe first made contact with TNSB and Aelin had been right, the folks at RPL sent her instructions on how to hack the rover’s computer and with just a smidgen of code, they could now communicate by using the Lord of The North’s broadcasting system.
She’d told them what was happening and what had happened during the storm, reinforcing that it was not the crew’s fault.
Text appeared on the screen.
TNSB: Aelin, this is Gavriel Aryeh
TNSB: We’ve been watching you on the satellites for a while now, amazing job modifying the rovers and growing crops, we’re all rooting for you
LTN: I should hope you all want me to survive, Aelin replied, laughing to herself. Giddiness had taken over every emotion since they’d made contact.
TNSB: RPL is putting together a supply mission to keep you fed until The Crone
LTN: Glad to hear it, really excited about not dying
LTN: How’d the crew take it when they found out I was alive?
+*+*+*+*+*+*
an: well that was a fun place to end on! till next time lovies and as always, let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list!
@mythicaitt @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @that-other-pineapple @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @faerie-queen-fireheart @chemicha @rowaelin-cressworth @mynewdreamwasyou @candid-confetti @bat-wing-rhys @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @feyrethedarklady @booklover41802 @rowaelinforeverworld @jamesxdaisy @julemmaes @hellas-himself
#supernova#supernova chapter four#the martian au#rowaelin#rowan x aelin#rowan whitethorn#aelin ashryver galathynius#elorcan#elide x lorcan#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#fenhemia#fenrys x nehemia#fenrys moonbeam#nehemia ytger#neslys#nesryn x lysandra#nesryn faliq#lysandra ennar#evangeline#weylan darrow#gavriel#manon blackbeak#asterin blackbeak#sartaq#nox owens#isa writes#nalgenewhore
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Curiosity
For FabFiveFeb2021 (John).
Thank-you so much to everyone who’s left me such nice comments on my little prompt fics this past week. It gave me the motivation to finally finish this FabFiveFeb fic (on the 1st of March 🤦♀️).
A fluffy John and Alan fic. Set 3 years before TAG. Using the prompt ‘A curiosity’. Thank-you @gumnut-logic for organising the challenge!
“Scott come on, I’m too busy this week.”
“You’re busy every week John” Scott rolled his eyes on the hologram, making John pout pathetically. “Stop putting this off. Besides, you’d be able to test out the coding on your sample collector things while you’re there.”
John narrowed his eyes, he did need to do that, but he could do it on Earth or the moon even. There was no need to go to Mars.
“What if there’s a rescue?”
“We can handle it John, a day off isn’t going to kill you.”
John scoffed. “You’re one to talk, Scott.”
“Alan misses you, just do this for him, please John.”
John narrowed his eyes. He knew what Scott was doing. Scott knew he knew as well. Didn’t mean it wasn’t effective.
“Fine.”
So that’s where he found himself now. With Alan. On Mars.
His little brother was having the best day of his life, bouncing around pointing out the different types of soil and rocks. John smiled to himself at the enthusiasm. Alan was going to make a great astronaut someday.
The journey over had been really nice. John had fielded all of Alan’s questions about Thunderbird 3 and space travel. It reminded him of when they were kids and John would help Alan with his homework. He’d even given Alan the chance to pilot which wasn’t all that thrilling when they were already on course but his brother had seemed happy enough.
Despite his reluctance, this was nice.
“Do you think we’ll see any Aliens John?”
John laughed. The transition from describing soil types to the degree of a college PHD student to asking in all seriousness about Aliens was the perfect description of his youngest brother’s personality.
“Not likely Alan.” John chuckled.
The pout added to the humour.
“Do you think dad ever saw any Aliens while he was here?” Alan queried innocently, eyes wide as he waited for an answer.
John swallowed painfully and tried not to put a damper on Alan’s mood. “He never mentioned it if he did.”
“Can we go see dad’s plaque?”
John had been before, with their dad. The footprint in the soil surrounded by a podium. He’d teased the man about it then, thinking it was rather cheesy. Not so much now.
“Unfortunately no, they’re building the new mars colonies around it so it’s closed off at the moment.” John explained. He was glad, the lone footprint would have brought up unwanted feelings this time around. “That mission is set to launch in 2061. It’ll be the first-time humans have set up permanent residence on Mars.”
“Wow” Alan admired in awe. Distraction successful. “They would need a lot of oxygen for that, or maybe one of those prototypes for oxygen conversion has been approved! And obviously they would need some sort of sustainable way to grow food…”
John let Alan trail off on his rant. The kid was going to ace his Mars paper that was for sure.
He still had to test out his sample collection drones. It was his latest project. When he had been at university it had been extremely difficult to gather consistent interplanetary data for his research. The data was out there but it was either impossible to navigate or hidden behind a paywall. He still liaised with a lot of universities and knew it was still a problem. So, he’d decided to create an open-source, easy-to-navigate database for students and researchers around the world.
He could use the data that was already available but like he said none of it was consistent so he and Brains had designed some deep-space drones that could collect all the data they needed.
They were programmed to test gravity, air quality, rock types, temperature and a host of other categories. The engineering behind these tiny drones was insane. John never could’ve done it alone, Brains truly was remarkable. His dad sure knew how to spot talent.
He placed the little drone down before activating it on his tablet.
“Hey Alan, come check this out!”
Alan bounced over excitedly as the rotor blades retracted from the drone and it rose into the air.
“Cool! Can I fly it?”
“There are no controls, it’s fully automated!” John explained as he passed the tablet to his younger brother. “The readings are already coming in, these tiny little bots can produce so much data – it’s going to revolutionise research and academia in the future.”
“Where’s it going now?”
The drone had begun to quickly move away from them before it dropped down into the earth, out of sight.
John took the tablet back. “Hmm looks like it’s found a deep crater, it’s trying to gather below surface data.”
The tablet made a shrill beeping noise. “Hmm looks like it’s found something unusual down there, we can’t get a clear reading.”
They walked over to peer over the edge of the large crater. It spanned at least five meters wide and it was too dark to see how deep.
John grinned at his little brother as he flicked on his helmet torch. “Want to take a look?”
Alan gaped at him, looking into the dark hole before his face broke into a huge grin. “Yes!”
John chuckled. “Okay, come on, let’s get the grappling gear.”
*
He and Alan dropped into the crater that was dimly lit through their suit torches. It was incredibly dusty, their torches reflected off the particles floating in the air. There was a tunnel that led further under the surface. They didn’t have enough light to see more than a few meters in front of them.
“You’re sure about the aliens, right John?” Alan questioned unsurely beside him.
“Yes Alan” John rolled his eyes as he shone his light towards the ceiling of the tunnel. “It the structural integrity I’m more worried about.”
Alan whipped his head up to check as well.
“It’s not too far in, just tread lightly and try not to make any loud noises.” John reasoned.
The drone chose that moment to zoom out of the dark tunnel at them, and Alan yelped in alarm as it almost hit his head.
John rolled his eyes facepalming his helmet as a new dust cloud erupted. “Yeah, loud noises like that.”
Alan smiled sheepishly and whispered. “Sorry.”
John cocked his head towards the tunnel. “C’mon.”
They quickly came across the source of the anomaly. There was something partially buried in the red-tinged soil.
“No way…” John gasped as they got closer. “Do you know what that is Alan?”
“Uhhh” Alan focused his torch on it as he inched closer. “A rover?”
“It’s the NASA Curiosity rover!” John explained, brushing off some of the dust that had settled there. “It went missing in 2040 and was never recovered.”
“It looks like a bit of a relic.” Alan commented.
“Oh it is.” John said with a smile. “It was launched in 2011. It still holds the record for the longest operating rover on mars.”
“Oh cool.” Alan said airily.
John chuckled. He could tell his little brother wasn’t impressed. The rover was a dinosaur by their standards but he knew it had been revolutionary at the time.
He couldn’t wait to tell his Grandma. He still remembered her telling him the story of the Curiosity landing. How it had been broadcast live on the television. How Jeff, who’d still been a young child, had sat on her lap bouncing excitedly. The Tracy’s had always had their heart’s in space travel.
“Come on.” John prompted. “We’re gonna tow this thing out of here.”
“Do we have to?” Alan whined. “It’s massive.”
“Yep. Let’s grab the tow cables from Three.” John instructed. “NASA are going to be over the moon.”
“You can’t really ever be over the moon, John.” Alan called over his shoulder.
“I know Alan.”
*
It turned out Curiosity had fallen into the crater and lost power when it got trapped without the sun. When John and Alan pulled it from the crater, it miraculously began to charge through the solar panels again.
And that’s how, in 2057, Curiosity was returned to the world.
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Rebel Z Chapter 3
Invader Zim fanfic
While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.
Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?
People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall
If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.
[-]
Tak activated her Vortian disguise before she even entered the solar system. When dealing with the Meekrob, an Irken could never be too careful, especially after Tenn’s disappearance. Word around the stars was that her life signal suddenly went out one day. No one knew what happened. Apparently, the Tallest hadn’t received ant worrying reports. Her last transmission was a routine observation update. She wasn’t making any risky plans and she didn’t have a near-discovery. She was there one minute and gone the next. Soon afterward, the Meekrob put out a warning declaring that any Irken caught within their planet’s range would be killed on sight. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was responsible for her disappearance.
It was a shame, really. Tak was a few levels ahead of Tenn in training, but she heard good things. Any invader assigned to Meekrob must be talented. They were, after all, Irk’s most formidable enemies. Safe to assume they had done her in. It was a tragedy that someone so young and bright had been cut down in her prime, but life as an invader was fraught with peril, at least so long as the enemy was intelligent.
Finally, they approached the planet Refirencee and, after going through a check point, she docked her ship in a public hanger. Before exiting her ship, she looked at MiMi. An information retrieval unit would be especially advantageous on this mission, but the engineering was too obviously Irken. “MiMi, cat disguise.” MiMi saluted and her holo-cloaking devise activated. Tak looked her over an nodded her approval. They were lucky an Urth cat looked so similar to a Vortian jelicle.
Satisfied with their cover, they hopped out of their ship and headed for the transport bay. There, they found a digital sign displayed the departure times for bullet trains which took the planet’s patrons to different sections of the massive data base. The trains were broken down by planet and the one for the Irken information section left in only a few minutes.
As they waited for their train, Tak noticed a few patrons looking at her. She tried to keep her eyes on the track before her and ignored their stares as she felt a light pounding in her chest.
One of the patrons approached her. “Um, excuse me,” he said, eyes turning to MiMi.
Tak shot him a glare. “What?”
“I’m not sure they allow pets.”
“She’s an emotional support jelicle,” Tak said. A spark flashed across her eyes and the patron’s face went blank for a second.
“Right,” he answered, almost robotically. “Sorry I bothered you.”
The train arrived and Tak and MiMi boarded. They took a seat and the train took off at break-neck speed. They arrived at the Irken section in a matter of minutes. She stepped off the train to find her self in a large, domed building, surrounded by towers of data cartridges. Sorting droids buzzed about, arranging cartridges to their rightful places. In the center of it all, a librarian sat at a large, circular information desk.
“Excuse me,” Tak said, approaching the desk. “Where can I find information on the cyber age?” It would be a good start. The invention of the PAK kicked off the era.
“That will be section 8792,” the librarian answered. “I’ll call you a browsing cart.”
The librarian pushed a button and a cart zipped up to the desk. It was just a flat, hovering rectangle with a handrail and a control board at the front. Tak and MiMi hopped on and she entered the section number into the control panel.
“By the way,” Tak said, turning to the librarian, “forget I was here.” The spark flashed across her eyes again and the Librarian’s face went blank. Tak hit the start button and her cart zipped off. She arrived at her destination within seconds.
“MiMi, find a data console about PAK invention,” Tak ordered as they stepped off the cart. MiMi saluted and slinked through the aisles. While she waited, Tak sat down at a computer desk. In a few minutes, MiMi returned with a data console marked “Irken Cyber Age Vol. 1”. Tak took and plug it into the computer. She scrolled through the text, skimming over most of it. The information mainly consisted of things any smeet would know. After the control brains were built, they gave the scientists the idea to build the PAKs. These PAKs efficiently distributed Irken knowledge and ushered in a glorious new age of blah, blah, blah…
Yes, every Irken alive knew their basic history. But what about the PAKs themselves? How were they built? How did they work? Tak was beginning to wonder if this was a waste of time. After all, the key to PAK mechanics was Irk’s most guarded secret. She shouldn’t expect to find that information here. In fact, she should be glad that knowledge hadn’t fallen into enemy hands.
She continued to scroll and a picture caught her eye. It showed the five engineers in charge of the PAK project. The face of one particular engineer kept glitching in and out. He was decently tall. Not tall enough to be considered for the upper echelons of tallness, but a good height none the less. His round, purple eyes caught hers and she studied his uneasy grin. The names of each engineer were listed in the caption and one name, Krislotch, glitched in time with the face. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone wanted her to pay attention to this guy.
Was it even Krislotch himself? Very well, you have my attention. Now what do you want. She scrolled down a bit further and noticed individual letters glitching as well. A message perhaps? Hidden in the page? What are you trying to tell me, Krislotch?
“MiMi, my tablet.”
MiMi reached into her head and took out a small, metal canister. Tak unfolded it into tablet mode and took out a stylus. She wrote down each letter in order.
A COMPLETE HISTORY OF IRKEN INDUSTRY VOL 13. CHAP 78.
Now this was interesting. It seemed Krislotch left her a little crumb trail. Where it led, she could only guess, but she simply had to follow. She ordered MiMi to find the volume mentioned. When the SIR unit returned, she plugged it into the computer and jumped straight to the designated chapter. Reading through it, she found it was about a factory disaster which resulted in a great number of deaths. Apparently, some worker named Mia, somehow, caused a back up of materials at her station. The machine couldn’t put out new materials, overheated, and caught fire. For some reason, the sprinkler system was disabled, and the fire only spread. Fifty-seven workers, including Mia, died in the accident.
As Tak read the page, she spotted two full sentences glitching. The first gave the number of those dead and the other showed the date. She wasn’t sure why the number of dead was important, but even a smeet a few minutes old knew the significance of the date. This disaster took place exactly 0.1 cycles before Installation Day, the day all Irkens were given their PAKs.
More letters glitched. Put together, they led to a console called “The Irken Cyber Age: a Complete History vol. 1.” They also directed her to a page which, once she read it, confirmed her suspicions. Krislotch did, in fact, want her to know the disaster occurred 0.1 cycles before Installation day. But apart from that, what was the connection?
Yet again, more letter glitched. She’d picked up the trail. Glitching letters led her to a console of Irken History, itself with more glitching letters leading her to the next clue. As she read on, a clear pattern began to emerge. Since the introduction of the PAKs, every major historical event was preceded by a deadly disaster by exactly 0.1 cycles. The historical events mainly revolved around Irken galactic conquest: military campaigns, invasion launches, and the like. The disasters varied widely, but they all had a few things in common. They were all caused by an Irken who then died in the disaster, and they all left fifty-seven dead. Even the names of the Irkens who caused them were similar: Mia, Mib, Mic, Mid, Mie…
The trail stopped before reaching more recent events. The final set of glitching letters gave her the title “An Observatory Study of the Final Days of Ecore,” as well as the coordinates to the console’s location, which rested in a completely different part of Refirencee. She’d waste no time getting there, but something nagged at her.
There must be some current events which fell into the pattern, she thought. Things I would remember. Operation Impending Doom was the obvious answer. It was the most recent invasion launch, but she couldn’t think of any major disasters that preceded it. Then again, the launch date had to be delayed due to… Wait… Was that it? How many died that day? And how long after did Impending Doom II launch? She had to check to be sure.
“MiMi, find information on the original Operation Impending Doom.”
MiMi swept off and quickly returned with a new data console. A quick look confirmed her suspicions. Fifty-seven dead in a rampage caused by disgraced Invader Zim. Impending Doom II launched exactly 0.1 cycles later. It was a close fit, but it wasn’t’ perfect. Zim was alive, for one thing, while the other disaster causers died. Another was the name. It didn’t fit the pattern, unless…
Tak slapped her palm to her forehead. Was the idiot such a complete incompetent that he got his own assigned name wrong?
Surely more answers would be found in the next console.
She and MiMi rode the cart to the closest train station and took the next train to a section called Dead Planets. Once there, they took another cart to the location designated by the glitching letters. As they approached, they found they weren’t looking for a data console at all. The coordinates Tak punched into the cart took them to a section deep in the library. The shelves surrounding them held actual, physical books. Judging by the layers of dust, they were the first lifeforms to enter these aisles in a long time.
They made it to the correct shelf and Tak ordered MiMi to locate the book. The robot found it in matter of seconds and brought it to her. Tak brushed off the cover and opened the book. A small, plastic square fell out and landed on the floor with a clack. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was a data storage device not used in ages. This was old technology, ancient even, but whatever was on it must be important. She pocketed it and sat down on the floor to read. As the book wasn’t in Irken, she couldn’t read it without assistance. She tapped the implant on the side of her head and a universal translator monocle popped out, covering her eye. She began to read.
A Note to the Reader
When I began this journey, I had no intention of chronicling the final days of Ecore. It began as an anthropological study to discern what made this once-thriving civilization drop out of contact with the greater solar system. I set up a hidden shelter on the outskirts of Ecorien society and observed from the outside. My discoveries explain, not only the degradation of Ecorien culture, but the death of the planet itself.
Tak poured through the book, wondering what this weak, primitive culture possibly had to do with Irk. The anthropologist wrote about the Ecorien’s devotion to, what he called, “the Many-Eyed God.” Apparently, this new theology was a sharp deviation from known Ecorien culture. In the past, the Ecoriens revered their planet’s natural resources and energy. This new god was completely unheard of.
He also went on to describe the people’s changed appearance. They looked thin and sickly, and aged rapidly. They’d go to their god for supposed cures, but they didn’t seem to do any good. The people never got better from what plagued them, no matter how devotedly they followed their god.
The most fascinating part was a barbaric ritual referred to as a “blood toll.” When the Ecoriens asked their god for a large favor, such as a bountiful harvest or a cure for a plague, the god would order a blood toll. They brought fifty-seven young, healthy Ecoriens before their god and slaughtered them.
Fifty-seven… Fifty-seven Irkens… Fifty-seven Ecoriens… Was this what Krislotch wanted me to see? She read on.
Soon, she reached the final days of Ecore. An uprising broke out among the younger generations of Ecoriens. The blood toll sacrificed many of them and the elders asked the Many-Eyed God for more and more favors as the species grew weaker. The youths fought back against the elders, refusing to be sacrificed. However, the history of blood tolls had greatly reduced their numbers. Relatively few were young enough to be prime candidates for sacrifice, but old enough to fight. The elders overpowered them. The Many-Eyed God ordered the mass slaughter of the younger generations, promising to restore youth and health to the elders.
Youths died by the thousands, from young adults, to children, to infants. At the end of the bloodbath, the Many-Eyed God detached itself from the planet’s core. It drifted into space, leaving the Ecoriens with nothing but the blood on their hands. With the younger generations wiped out, they were doomed to extinction.
Tak turned the page in horrified awe. The last days of this planet were truly a massacre. The Ecoriens, tricked by this god, turned on their own. Their own god used them, sucked them dry, and abandoned them when they had nothing left to give. This wasn’t just the death of a planet. This was the murder of one.
What this massacre had to do with Irk and PAKs, she still couldn’t say, but the number fifty-seven stuck out in her mind. Fifty-seven died in the Irken disasters. Fifty-seven slaughtered in the Ecorien blood tolls. The connection was obvious, but what it meant escaped her. The Irkens had no gods, not for a few millennia at least. They thrived on science, technology, and conquest. It was said, even before the cyber age, that the Irkens bowed to no laws, but made their own. Nothing calling itself a god could gain this kind of influence on Irk.
But when she turned the page, her vail of denial evaporated. She dropped the book in shock. MiMi swept up to her and peered over Tak’s shoulder. The book lay open on the floor, displaying a two-page spread of images of the Many-Eyed God. Some were sketches. Some were photos taken at a distance. All displayed the same familiar entity. She’d looked into these eyes. This “god” encoded her as an elite trainee. She begged this “god” for the opportunity to prove her worth. This “god” denied her and banished her to Dirt, a husk of wasted potential.
The Control Brain and the Many-Eyed God were one and the same.
She stared down at the book as the truth stared back at her. This thing, whatever it was, had wormed its way into Irken society. It controlled them, fed off them. They even had their own blood toll of sorts. In the end, the Ecoriens withered away to nothing. They were sucked dry and left to rot. It was only a matter of time before the same happened to Irk. This thing, the Control Brain, has to be stopped.
The number 10:00 appeared in the corner of her vision and began ticking down. 9:59… 9:58… “My life clock!” How? Why? Her PAK was still attached. It shouldn’t… Wait, the Control Brain. Her PAK emitted a constant stream of information to the Control Brain and she just had a rebellious thought. There was no time to waste.
“MiMi,” she commanded. Almost as an afterthought, she realized her holo-disguise had gone out. “Take me to the ship. Top speed.”
MiMi stretched out her arms, wrapping them around Tak, and propulsion jets burst from her feet. She flew them out of the library, across the planet, and to the parking bay at such a speed, the world became a nauseating blur. By the time they arrived back at the ship, she had less than 8:00 minutes to save herself.
She plugged her PAK into the ship. “Computer, life-supports error check, immediately.”
After a few seconds of scanning, her computer answered. “Life support systems completely shut down.”
Her insides dropped. “Search for the cause.”
A few more seconds of scanning passed. “Systems shut down after a command initiated by the Control Brain remote feedback program.”
It was as she suspected. “Suggested solutions?”
“Remove feedback chip and manually restart system.”
She felt her guts twist and her body broke into a sweat. Remove feedback chip? Every Irken alive knew it was treason to disconnect from the Control Brain. She’d be an outlaw, a traitor. Returning to Irken-controlled space would be a death sentence for her. But I’m going to die right now if I don’t.
She had no choice. If even thinking about saving her planet from this… this… parasite made her a traitor, then traitor she was. She pulled the plug from her PAK and removed it from her back. She had only a few minutes before her organic brain turned to mush.
She opened a compartment of tools and then opened a panel on her PAK. With a set of tweezers, she located the feedback chip and, with a tug, marked herself traitor. Using a shocking fork, she restarted the life support systems. She turned around, the PAK reattached, and her life clock disappeared. Already, she could feel her body reinvigorating, but the weight of what she’d just done fell heavy on her.
Right now, the Armada was receiving an automated notification that Tak, the deserter janitor, had gone traitor. Orders would be issued for her capture or killing. Every Irken in the military would know her face. She could never go back.
And she couldn’t linger here. She and MiMi made quite the scene with their exit. People would come after them. Anyone who managed to get a look as they flew past could clearly see she was Irken. They had to get far, far away from Irk and far, far away from here.
She powered up the engines and flew the ship out of the parking bay, still unsure of where to go. Anywhere in Irken-controlled space was out and word that an Irken was spotted on a Meekrobian-protected planet would soon spread. She had to go somewhere remote, a planet uncharted and ignored by most of the known universe, a place the Tallest would never willingly go.
She let out a roaring, agonized groan as her mind landed on the perfect answer. It was both the safest place in the universe to hide and the last place she wanted to be, especially in this state. Still, she had no choice.
“Computer,” she growled, pinching the bridge between her eyes. “Set coordinates to Urth.”
#rebelz#sweetiepiewrites#sweetiepie writes#sweetiepie fanfiction#invader zim#iz#iz fanfiction#invader zim fanfiction#invader tak#zim#tak#rebel zim#rebel leader tak#parasite au#MiMi#gir#dib#gaz#skoodge#irken#control brain
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Not Without You (Canon Divergence Stucky Fix-It-Fic)
Seven:
Filled with enough sugary, savory breakfast foods to feed a family of seven, and the caffeine from the subpar coffee pumping through their veins, the trio left the diner in better spirits than any of them had had in a long time. Especially Steve as he reached into the saddle bag on his bike while the Langs climbed into the van. Slipping the postcard into the old, worn journal, he took a moment to smile at the vintage photo of his one true love.
Tu tutu tu tu
Tu tutu tu tu
Tu tu tutu tu tu tuu
The horn blared the tune of La Cucaracha, startling Steve and causing him to nearly drop the stuffed journal. Snapping it closed, he looked over to the van and found Cassie leaning out of the driver side window as she cheerfully demanded, "Let's get this show on the road, grandpa!"
Chuckling to himself, he shook his head as he safely tucked the journal back into the saddle bag. Checking his phone, he noted the time and acknowledged that there was another handful of missed calls before shoving it back into his pocket. Sliding behind the steering wheel, Steve was ready to get a move on it.
So, that was what they did.
Taking coffee breaks and stopping at rest stops more often than Steve had on the way to San Francisco. Eating at a pizzeria where Cassie ordered a veggie pizza for Steve while she fought her smirk, because, "You're vegetarian, remember?" Or the diner with the interesting sign that caught Cassie's disgust as she read, "JD Coffee Shop: pancakes, steaks, seafood." Or whenever they stopped for bathroom breaks and Steve would look over the map regardless of whether, "Don't you have that memorized yet? Boy, those history books really like to exaggerate your abilities, huh?"
Really, Cassie just spent the whole time mocking him no matter what he did or where they stopped. But unsurprisingly so, he didn't grow annoyed. Not even when he pulled off for the night. Another empty field just outside of St. George, Utah, that earned Steve a well-earned jab about trespassing and how, "Captain America is a criminal? Isn't that just the damndest thing."
Making sure that they were far enough away from the road where they wouldn't be seen, Steve parked. Figuring that they'd leave as soon as they woke up, Steve didn't bother unhooking the popup from the van. Instead, just allowing the camper to expand to three times its size.
Thankful for Stark technology and the solar panels on the roof as he entered the camper to plug in his phone. Idly wondering if fixing the van's cigarette lighter would mess with the machine in the back, and whether the risk would be worth it just so he could charge his phone throughout the day. Especially when his phone instantly started going off with notifications.
"Captain America has a social life, who would've guessed," Cassie stretched her arms above her head, touching the camper's low ceiling.
Even Scott laughed at that. Albeit, a little high pitch and encroaching on hysterical. Cassie and Steve both turned their attention to him at the sound. All humor was sucked out of Cassie as she asked, "Dad?"
Steve set his phone on the counter and questioned, "Are you alright, Scott?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course," Scott rushed as he continued to laugh, causing Cassie and Steve to exchange a look of concern with each other.
Instantly, Cassie pulled out one of the benches while Steve grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge. The pair working together to get Scott to calm down. Perhaps Steve should've been more diligent after Scott popped out of the machine. Feeling especially negligent since he, instead, immediately dragged the Langs onto the road in his selfish attempts to get his lover back.
"Just focus on your breathing, alright?" Steve instructed, while trying to ignore the flurry of memories that simple phrase brought up. He needed to focus. Now wasn't about him, it was about Scott. Inhaling with the brunet, he counted, "One, two, three, four, five," holding it, and then exhaling, "One, two, three, four, five."
Glad that Scott was following Steve's instructions as they continued to breathe together. With a shaky hand, Scott brought the bottle of water to his mouth and managed to get some into his mouth. Even if more of it sloshed over the side of his hand.
"Dad? Are you okay?" Cassie asked, rubbing his back, "Do you need to lay down?"
"I just --" Scott cut himself off. Setting the water down, he brought Cassie close and held her tightly to him as he started over, "Five years ago, I entered the Quantum Realm."
Steve's brows furrowed, but he wasn't going to interrupt. Even if he had no idea what Scott was talking about.
"The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe," Scott explained resting his cheek on the top of Cassie's head. "To get in there, you have to be incredibly small. Hope --" he held his daughter just a bit tighter as he grappled to explain who Hope is… was. "She's my… she was my… She was supposed to pull me out. And then…"
"Thanos," Steve supplied with a clear of his throat.
Scott nodded his confirmation, "Then Thanos happened. And I got stuck in there."
"I'm sorry," Steve lamely attempted to comfort as he reasoned, "That must've been a very long five years."
"But that's just it. It wasn't," Scott moved, allowing Cassie to take up a more casual, comfortable seat beside him. Scott continued, "For me, it was five hours."
"How is that possible?" Cassie asked while Steve questioned, "What are you talking about?"
"The rules of the Quantum Realm aren't like they are up here. Everything is unpredictable," Scott clarified.
Thickly swallowing, Steve turned around to reach for his phone. Knowing that despite him not fully understanding what Scott was talking about, someone else might. Or at least be able to help him better understand. And even if they couldn't, Steve would rather still have them with him.
"Ya got any idea what time it is, Rogers?" That familiar raspy voice answered, thick with sleepiness.
"You're the one sleeping with your phone, Romanoff," Steve teased back. Seeing that Scott and Cassie were huddled together as they quietly discussed what this could mean, and he asked his teammate, "You know anything about Quantum Physics?"
A rustling came from the other side and what sounded like a lamp clicking on as she confirmed, "Only enough to make conversation. Why?"
"Because you're never going to believe who I found in San Francisco," Steve answered.
#not without you#stucky#steve rogers#bucky barnes#steve rogers x bucky barnes#marvel#fanfic#wattpad#ao3#canon divergence#post infinity war#endgame au#nomad steve#angst#hurt/comfort#fix it fic#otp#eventual happy ending
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Headlines
White House slams “corrupt” WHO
(Reuters) The White House pushed back on concerns expressed by the World Health Organization after a U.S. health official said a coronavirus vaccine might be approved without completing full trials. The Washington Post newspaper reported that the administration of President Donald Trump would not join a global effort to develop, manufacture and distribute a coronavirus vaccine because of the involvement of the WHO. About 172 countries are engaging with the WHO’s COVID-19 vaccine plan to ensure equitable access to vaccines, the organization has said. “The United States will continue to engage our international partners to ensure we defeat this virus, but we will not be constrained by multilateral organizations influenced by the corrupt World Health Organization and China,” White House spokesman Judd Deere said in a statement.
Portland protesters target city’s mayor amid rising tensions
(AP) Black Lives Matter protesters in Portland, Oregon, shifted their focus to the city’s mayor, and police declared a riot as people broke windows, vandalized a business and set a small fire inside the upscale apartment building where Mayor Ted Wheeler lives. There were no reports of major damage or injuries.
Charlie Hebdo Republishes Cartoons That Prompted Deadly 2015 Attack
(NYT) The French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo has republished the same cartoons about the Prophet Muhammad and Islam that prompted a deadly attack on the magazine in 2015, an act that will be seen by some as a commitment to free speech and by others as reckless provocation. The publication coincides with the start on Wednesday of the long-awaited terrorism trial of people accused as accomplices in the attack—potentially cathartic for a nation that was deeply scarred by that act of brutality. The magazine posted the cartoons online on Tuesday and they will appear in print on Wednesday. The trial and the reappearance of cartoons that are seen by many as offensive come as France is seeing protests against racism and calls for reflection on the treatment of minorities in its society, past and present.
Air conditioning and electricity
(MIT Technology Review) Energy demand from air conditioning worldwide is projected to triple to 6,200 terawatt-hours by 2050, which is the equivalent of a quarter of the total annual electricity consumption today. This is one reason many are trying to make more efficient air conditioning tech, as the current units have not seen the massive leaps in efficiency seen in other electrical technology like solar panels, batteries, and electric vehicles, and with billions of new air conditioners awaiting purchase in the decades to come, the sooner the better. In Los Angeles alone, rising temperatures could increase peak summertime electricity demand by 51 percent by 2060 under the worst case scenario. India is projected to install 1.1 billion AC units by 2050, which would make air conditioning account for 45 percent of peak electricity demand in the nation compared to 10 percent today.
Pandemic ignites demand for home appliances
(Reuters) The coronavirus pandemic has fanned demand for home appliances—so much so that Samsung Electronics is adding warehouses and bringing popular products to more markets. In particular, consumers have been willing to splurge on products that make their homes cleaner. In Brazil and other emerging economies, households which once relied on maids are now investing in dishwashers and robot vacuum cleaners, while Samsung says its overseas sales of air purifiers jumped more than five times in January-July compared to the same period last year. Big fridges have also climbed in popularity as people cooking more often at home seek more freezer space.
Pope all smiles at first public audience in six months, prays for Lebanon
(Reuters) Pope Francis held his first weekly general audience in public in six months on Wednesday, smiling and chatting with some of the crowd as they pressed forward to greet him. Nearly everyone among the audience of 500 or so wore masks and sat in seats arranged to ensure social distancing. He announced that Friday, Sept. 4 would be a day of prayer and fasting for Lebanon and that he was sending his Secretary of State, Cardinal Pietro Parolin—the number two in the Vatican hierarchy—to Beirut on that day to represent him. “Lebanon cannot be abandoned to itself,” Francis said, asking politicians, religious leaders and the international community to commit themselves with “sincerity and transparency” to reconstruct the country.
Scores detained as students march against Belarus president
(AP) Authorities in Belarus detained scores of university students who took to the streets Tuesday to demand that authoritarian President Alexander Lukashenko resign after an election the opposition has denounced as rigged. Hundreds of students gathered outside universities across the Belarusian capital, Minsk, and then marched across the city center to the Education Ministry, continuing a fourth straight week of mass post-election protests. The demonstrators chanted for Lukashenko to “Go away!” and held banners demanding freedom for political prisoners. Police cordons forced the demonstrators to change their route, and they detained dozens of them, according to the Viasna human rights center. Viasna’s Valiantsin Stefanovich said that some of the detainees were beaten by police.
Turkey stays in the eastern Mediterranean
(Foreign Policy) Turkey has extended a research mission in the eastern Mediterranean, raising the heat again in an ongoing dispute with Greece which has fast become one of the region’s tensest hotspots. The extension of the mission, which had already drawn Greece’s ire, was announced by Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan during a speech in which he also accused the European Union of engaging in “modern-day colonialism” for its involvement in the dispute. Turkey and Greece have overlapping maritime claims in the eastern Mediterranean, where large sources of oil and gas were recently discovered. Both countries have clashed over who has the right to extract resources from the area, and both have held parallel military exercises as a show of force.
In Sydney, the show must go on
(Reuters) Australia’s most-populous state reported the biggest daily jump in coronavirus infections in two weeks on Wednesday but said there were no plans to cancel the New Year fireworks show over Sydney Harbour, as new cases nationally also ticked up. New South Wales state reported 17 new cases, the biggest one-day jump since Aug. 12, while nationally the count rose to 109 cases from 85 a day earlier. Victoria state remained the hardest-hit region with 90 cases, although this was well down from its daily peak of more than 700 in early August at the height of a second wave of infections. NSW Premier Gladys Berejiklian said the state was pushing ahead with plans to host large events such as the New Years Eve fireworks over Sydney Harbour. “I think for a lot of people the fireworks represent hope.”
Refugee camps have avoided the worst of the pandemic. That could be about to change.
(Washington Post) For months, humanitarian organizations warned of a doomsday scenario: the novel coronavirus tearing through overcrowded camps for refugees and internally displaced people, where medical care and clean water are often scarce. At first, these fears did not materialize; the virus found its victims elsewhere. But that has begun to change. Last week, the Gaza Strip, one of the poorest and most densely populated places on Earth, reported its first official cases of community transmission. Within days, tens of patients and one death were confirmed in the blockaded coastal enclave, where clean water, electricity and medical care are in critically short supply. On the Greek island of Lesbos, home to a massive camp for Europe-bound migrants and asylum seekers, cases have been climbing since the island’s capital, Mytilene, recorded its first infection on Aug. 12. Meanwhile, in northeast Syria, al-Hol refugee camp confirmed its first local coronavirus infection on Aug. 27, several weeks after three medical workers there tested positive.
Saudi royal family crackdown
(Foreign Policy) Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman sacked two princes and several military officials as part of a wider investigation into alleged corruption in the defense ministry. But the arrests appear to be part of a wider effort by Prince Mohammad to remove perceived threats to his power. Shortly after becoming crown prince in 2017, Mohammed detained more than 200 princes, officials, and businessmen on charges of corruption, but critics have argued it was an attempt to root out any lingering threats to his rule.
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✧･ﾟ( helios + yang yang + cis male ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !! have you seen ( gabriel wu ) around ? ( he ) have/has been in kaos for ( three weeks ). the ( twenty nine year old ) is a/an ( novelist ) from ( california, usa ). people say they can be ( flighty ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be ( charming ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of ( the first break of sunlight after hours of rain, afternoon naps and a relaxing canoe ride in the middle of a lake ). ･ﾟ✧
hello! the sun is here and so am i! (´,,•ω•,,)♡ my name is kitty and i am so ready to plot my dudes!
alright, let’s get this thing started! here are some basic info that you gotta know before we get some interactions going:
his birth name is guangli, but he doesn’t really use that so if you call him that he’d be all ???? but feel free to give him nicknames like gabe or gabby or literally anything he’s cool with anything
grew up in california, and his parents own a hella successful solar panel company that he’d most probably be in charge of in the future but his parents aren’t pressuring him to get involved yet so he’s just chillin for now
certified new york times best seller! his thriller novel “the five omens” was published when he was twenty four, and its sequel “the crow’s call” was released three years later. he’s got a third novel rumoured to be on the way, and fans are apparently excited for it
he’s just a wanderer my dudes. he travels a lot, going to all sorts of countries to gain inspiration for his novels, so he doesn’t stay in a place for too long. oh, and his instagram feed looks SO GOOD because of that no wonder he’s got nearly 3 million followers (and no, it’s not because he posts shirtless pics and dumb selfies sometimes,,, okay maybe it is but whatever) and has been the face of a few brands
because his main occupation is being a writer and he doesn’t stay at one place for too long, he doesn’t really have a job (seriously feel free to tease him for being jobless he will laugh along with you because it’s true) so! he tends to take on small or odd jobs for the experience that he can incorporate into his writing, or just because he’s bored. boy’s worked as a barista, a salesperson, an office intern, a dog walker, a bodyguard... just small things, you know?
really laid back, just one of the most chill people that you’ve ever met. you wouldn’t take him for a rich person because he sometimes dresses like a tired college student or you might have met him while he’s doing a part time job or maybe you saw him napping on the beach and you’re wondering if he’s a homeless person or,,,, but then you see the rolex on his wrist or he’ll mention that he’s staying at an expensive location and you’re like “whoa hold up”. he’s pretty charismatic and a tad mischievous so he’s easy to get along with, but maybe he can be a bit scary when he’s mad? *eyes emoji* but it takes A LOT to get him properly angry, so he’ll just stay his calm and warm self most of the time.
i don’t know what else to write rip
but okay let’s get to the plots that we could have!
a tour guide, first of all! someone who’s willing to show him all the tourist attractions but also the spots that only the locals know of and appreciate. all the best food places? pls show them to him and feel free to join him for a meal, too! also he takes amazing pictures with his professional camera so hey, the view’s pretty and you’re even prettier, when’s the last time you’ve uploaded a gramworthy pic? this shot might be your next one.
a potential employer? or colleague? people that he can work with because how is this man supposed to pass the time here when he’s got nothing to do? that would get boring real fast. the job wouldn’t be something that’s particularly hard or something that requires him to take up the position for a long time, so something that he can quit easily! bonus points if it’s a job that he hasn’t take up before. he’s up for anything.
a muse!!! someone who captures his curiosity so much that he just. has to write it down on paper. next thing you know, he’s already making a character based on you. is it weird if this character gets killed in the fifteenth chapter? yes? okay then how about the character being the new killer? okay maybe you can be a side character-
a temporary lover? kinda like a summer fling but it’s not really summer. is it spring yet? ya girl has no concept of time i’m sorry lmao but yes. mostly physical with someone who’s not likely to get attached because he’s only here for a short time after all, but it’s fun going out on dates and stuff and hey, on the off chance that you ARE the one, then wouldn’t that be a good thing? he’s not looking for love, but if it comes to him, then he’s not complaining.
a familiar face? dude’s been to many places, traveling all over the world since he graduated college so what if he runs into someone that he’s met before in another country? did they get along well before? were they friends? were they lovers? did they annoy the hell out of each other? maybe he doesn’t even remember them but they remember him. they might be aware that he never stays in one country for longer than a few months, so will they try to have a more meaningful relationship while he’s here or just avoid him altogether?
that’s all that i can think of but of course we can come up with something that’s better suited for our muses! feel free to come up to my inbox like “yo kitty let’s have our characters interact” or “hey dumbass let’s plot” or something like that! srsly i’m not intimidating at all so don’t hesitate to approach me! or, you can like this post and i’ll slide over to your direct messages and we can come up with something :)
#kaos:intro#this is so dumb i'm so dumb i'm sorry#it's like 3 am here and i've been working on this on and off for the past few hours and I CAN FINALLY SLEEP#me: okay maybe i should do proper paragraphs and just. write it nicely. my brain: lmaoooo no#let's hope this shows up on the tag bc my blog is still new :( if not i'll just repost it tomorrow
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Hey-ho here I go again with another gut-wrenching idea
Luther still being on the moon when Vanya causes the apocalypse
Ignoring how the week would change without him, there are so many different routes to take this down and all of them are terrible and I’m a bad human being but here’s a list of some of them:
Let’s just suppose that Luther didn’t get the message about Reginald’s death. Maybe the equipment broke on his end, or his solar panels got dusty and he couldn’t charge things for a while, but either way he doesn’t find out and so just continues his week like he would any other
Perhaps he’s watching the Earth, or fixing some things, or in the middle of another poem inspired by a comet, but the next thing Luther knows there’s this extremely powerful beam of light coming from the Earth and the moon’s cracking under his feet.
Route one: The moon just straight up explodes and Luther’s dead in moments, or left drifting in space untied to anything and dies.
Route two: The moon doesn’t explode, but he watches the huge chunk fall down and obliterate the Earth. Unable to contact anyone and get home, he is forced to ration what food he has but eventually dies (if grief doesn’t get him first)
Route three: He travels back to Earth, and somehow manages to land the rocket, and then is forced to live in the apocalypse for the rest of his life. If we go with the understanding that this apocalypse is the “second one” when Five jumps them all back to their childhood in the Icarus Theatre, then Luther’s alone and doesn’t have Five turn up.
Route four: Like route three, BUT THEN THE COMMISSION TURNS UP. Luther takes the job, and then has to use the briefcase to take him back to his family and try and stop the apocalypse from happening.
Route five: Like route three, only it’s the “first apocalypse” and tiny 13 year old Five is there and he saw the rocket landing and exhausted himself jumping to find it and now Luther has to be the big brother. Maybe they end up in The Commission together, or maybe one of them dies first.
Route six: The International Space Station contacts Luther like “wtf just happened to Earth and also would you like to come onto our space station and not a potentially hazardous moon?” and poor Luther now has to awkwardly squeeze through tiny tunnels with tons of other people as they all panic and realise they’re the last people alive.
Route seven: The apocalypse that happens is the “first one” that Five initially jumps to, meaning that there are two Hargreeves alive and yet they don’t know it because Luther’s still on the moon and can’t get down.
Oh hey look I made 7 routes, neat!
“Fun” extras:
He constantly sends messages to Earth in any way he can in the hopes of contacting someone. He always get silence back.
He believes Reginald was right about the danger the moon posed, not knowing it was Vanya who hit it to begin with, and then gets angry that Reginald never tried to tell his siblings
Survivors guilt is well and truly alive. He was Number One, he was on the moon to protect everyone, but he was in the wrong place the whole time because the threat came from Earth. He has failed them. He let them down.
It’s only at a later date when he’s on Earth that he realises Reginald died a week before the apocalypse happens - Perhaps if he time travels back either with Five or on his own with a briefcase, he tries to get back before Reginald dies, thinking that’s a factor
#hey guys enjoy this#do you hate me?#yeah i image you do#sorry luther#i've too much other stuff to write so i probably won't make this#but you never know#tua#the umbrella academy#luther#luther hargreeves#diego#diego hargreeves#allison#allison hargreeves#klaus#klaus hargreeves#number five#five hargreeves#ben#ben hargreeves#vanya#vanya hargreeves#reginald hargreeves#the handler#my post#luther apocalyptic moon au
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It’s All in Your Head
Contains: Fluff, Angst, Unconventional Relationships, Telepathy, Demons
Fandom: Marvel (comics)
Relationships: Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom
Characters: Stephen Strange, Victor von Doom, Wong, Boris
Word Count: 6103
Out of the blue, Stephen Strange and Victor von Doom find themselves telepathically connected.
No squealing, remember that......
Content warning for canon typical violence, profanity, implied sexual activity, and a single usage of homophobic language by a very bad individual.
Graciously commissioned by @osheets! Wanna do the same? Check my info!
Read here or on AO3!
- - -
The breakthrough comes with rapturous spontaneity. It’s like Victor von Doom has been standing on the shore of a Latverian loch, and in the blink of an eye, the grains of sand have become an orchestra, the surf their masterful conductor, and he the sole audience. He has captured their forms in glass and steel, multiplied ten million fold in the casings of complex machinery, and the entire laboratory sings the path to a bolder, brighter future. In all of his years of experimentation, innovation, desperation, he has never heard this music before. It pours from every screw and bolt, vibrates along every copper wire, thunders out of every piston and valve. The engineers below him, controlling and monitoring the device, are Gods of melody and time. Doom himself has transcended divinity, rising high on sublime notes of praise. He is Emperor, Encapsulated Universe, and his feet do not touch the floor as he glides to the heart of his machine, his veins coursing with silver beauty. Hydrogen atoms dance into the arms of their palladium partners, and their heat is love, love for each other, love for nature, love for him, and it is a primordial force unlocked from decades of ridicule and shame, and he has set it free. Genius. Monarch. Ultimate.
And then it goes. Slowly, a receding tide. It slides from his bones, leaving them aching. He braces himself against a panel, cold sweat sticking to his brow. His heart hammers in his chest, a lone drum holding a marching beat long after the band has departed into the moonless night. The engineers gape at him, oblivious to the miracle that has deafened their ruler.
Doom touches the shielding glass of the operating CMNS reactor, and its vibrations are an idiot hum. He blinks salt from his eyes, breath condensing on the machine.
Four thousand, five hundred and six miles away, a doctor and his best friend leave Madison Square Garden, wearing concert merch, beaming like loons.
- - -
To Stephen, it’s a tsunami.
He’s watching TV. The nightly news. He could tap into the Eye and view the entire world as it turns, but he doesn’t want to. It isn’t very often he feels human, let alone vegetable, so any opportunity to vegetate he takes with gusto. Stretched across his couch, he tugs down the hem of his shirt, leans his head on his hand, and waits to absorb the country’s woes.
He gets a sharp pain on the nape of his neck instead. He swats at the spot, looks at his palm. “Ow.”
Wong looks up from the email he’s writing. “Are you okay?”
Strange frowns, settles back down. “I think there’s a mosquito in here.” They’re talking about the Amazon fires. Stephen’s heart aches for the birds who will drop from the sky, their lungs full of smoke, voices forever silenced.
And then pain rips down his back, like his spine is torn out by an iron hand from his neck to his waist.
He can’t help but yell then, clutching the cushions. A heavy ache lingers in his vertebrae. Gingerly he sits up, breathing hard, eyes clenched shut. Something a bit like petrichor, a bit medicinal, a bit hot fills his nose.
Wong runs to him, but Strange raises a hand. “I’m fine,” he says, though he already braces against the thick lump rising next to his heart. As it crests, it dissipates throughout his body. He forces his eyes open, expecting to see the black trails of tiny spiders beneath his skin. Nothing but unmarked flesh.
“Should I call Doctor Carter?” Wong asks, thumbing toward the antique phone. It’s enchanted to call anywhere, anytime, any-plane.
“No, no.” Stephen leans on his knees, rubbing his temples. The pain is moving, changing. “This isn’t exactly her--”
--forte, he wants to say, but he is cut off by trees. Huge trees. Trees that consume the sky in fractal tangles of evergreen. Primordial, pristine trees, the definition of trees. The little things that crawl beneath and flit between, some carrying light, some with rigid jaws.
It’s a psychic attack. Strange has weathered them before. This one is weird. As he waves for Wong to get the Eye, he endures the spikes of pain that impale his senses to grab a closer look. This entity is lumbering, gigantic in scope yet wet around the edges.
It’s being born, he realizes. It’s waking up.
It hurts, it hurts but he’s curious. He sees New York now, its spires and streets lined up like so much circuitry. He feels the rough brush of concrete, hears the car horn concerto, smells the burn of rubber, and all throughout are rules, parameters, reasons. The thing is learning, feasting on information, and gathering more at an exponential rate. A tidal wave of green descends on the city, picking and plucking at this imaginary world.
And as it eats, thousands and thousands of hungry mouths devouring America, it hates. It hates the excess, the cruelty, the inefficiencies. It roars, barreling down the Sanctum, thousands upon thousands of tons of incomparable loathing.
Wong presses the Eye into Stephen’s hand.
“Pardon my French, dear friend,” Strange says.
The Eye bursts open, and the Sorcerer Supreme throws every ounce of his mystic might at the slavering invader. The living room cascades with dancing whorls of light as he raises his arms, funneling a solar flare, and cries a spell that every New Yorker knows by heart.
“FUCK OFF!”
Utter obliteration. When he opens his eyes, glittering motes trickle from the ceiling. The pain is gone. The TV has gone to commercial.
The phone is ringing.
Wong answers it as Stephen sinks to the couch. He slips the Eye around his neck, and its weight comforts. He thinks he’ll sleep with it tonight.
“It’s for you.”
Strange massages his ear. Vulgarity is embarrassing, but faced with an immaterial infant in the depths of an unholy tantrum doing everything in its power to cram a fork in a magic electrical socket, seemed like a good idea at the time. He takes the phone. “Hello?”
“Doctor! The master -- Victor -- something has happened, I do not know-- I--”
“Boris?” Stephen sits up. “Boris, it’s all right. Slow down. What’s going on?”
Behind the old retainer’s words, a siren wails. “The master--” He hesitates. “His newest Doombot. He turned it on for the first time. All was well, and then it exploded! And now Victor -- he is breathing this flame, this plasma! It burned through his mask! Doctor, what do I do!?”
Strange inhales deep. Counts to three. Lets it go. “He’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? I do not mean to doubt you, but--”
“It will pass. Give him an ice pack and put him somewhere dark and quiet for a few hours.”
“I trust you, doctor, but please, when you can, come and see him. The violence of it, it scares me.”
“I know. It’s fine. Just something he ate.”
Boris thanks him and hangs up.
Stephen wishes the couch would eat him as he heaves a sigh. “Wong,” he asks, “Is it too late to rescind discovering my bisexuality at the ripe age of however old I am now?”
“I don’t know,” Wong replies, “To both parts of your question. I lost count in the five hundreds.”
Strange curses again.
- - -
“So. We have a telepathic link. Any idea how it got there?”
He may as well be speaking to a wall of granite. Doom, arms folded, sneers at him across the table.
Stephen links his fingers together. “I have nothing. It’s rather disconcerting. I don’t believe it’s malevolent, which is always a plus, but it’s unremarkable, which isn’t. So I’d appreciate any insight, Victor. Whatever you’d like to...you know. Get off your chest.”
Doom’s eyes are cold.
“Anything at all. Need to vent? I know you can get heated.”
The table weighs over three hundred pounds, yet Doom flings it at him like a feather. Strange cuts it in half with a bolt of solid light as Crimson Bands constrict around his other arm. They serpentine and splinter into smaller tendrils, their tips unhinging into fanged blooms, and a thought comes to Stephen as the king charges him: he was born in a forest. It’s nature’s fury that fills his head, a cacophony of hellish noise, the wild hunt calling for his spilled blood. Doom’s rage in concentrated, psychic form, howling down their link.
The Daggers of Denak, blades spinning, do an admirable job trimming the vines, their severed heads still snapping, and Strange summons the Winds of Watoomb to push Doom away. The gale staggers him yet he presses forward, arcane runes flashing a ice blue aegis on his gauntlet. Step by step, forcing him back towards the wall.
He lunges. Strange is ready for it. Doom’s arm comes up, Stephen’s arms fan out. Before the king grasps his throat, he calls a pair of razors into his palms. Victor’s grip is suffocating. Strange holds his head between two guillotine blades. An impasse.
Doom’s voice rasps, thin and scorched. “That. Hurt.”
Stephen sips the tiny breaths he can. Something’s pressing into his belly. Sweat beads on his brow. It’s a gun. It’s the stupid gun Doom carries in the stupid pouch on his stupid belt. Why does he even have it? For shooting idiot sorcerers, he thinks. He swallows hard, knows Doom can feel it through the metal. Not so evenly matched as he thought.
And then he notices it. Hiding deep under the screams is a layer of fire. Reaching through the link, he touches it. Color rushes to his cheeks.
“Seriously?” he ekes out, “This is turning you on?”
Doom’s grip loosens. A minuscule amount, enough for Strange to squeeze a few more words. The fire leaps into his psychic palm, eager, aggressive.
“There’s no shame in it. You’re good at what you do, Victor. Very few people can put me in check. Look at you. You’ve pinned me to a wall like a butterfly. That’s impressive. I--”
The king leans closer. Stephen smells ashes on his breath.
“Hoary hosts.”
The gun is holstered. A steel thumb strokes his cheek.
“Reap what you sow,” Doom mutters.
- - -
The aches and bruises will last for days, but the coolness of Doom’s armor against the carpet burn on his back is soothing. He rests a hand in the king’s own. Anything else feels too strenuous. “Was that your first time having telepathic sex? It’s intense, isn’t it?”
Victor takes in the state of the room. Paintings smashed, furniture so much firewood, stone walls fractured and cratered. How much destruction is his? He has no idea. One or the other had to have held back. The castle is still standing, after all.
Neither man speaks. Stephen ventures a glimpse down their link and gets only an image of black curtains. Doom’s already set up defenses. Though some of his own are raised, he lets some satisfaction flow between them. An olive branch.
A quiet, amused huff. “At times, Strange,” Doom says, and already his voice sounds better, “Your physical merits outweigh the strenuous mental exertions you put me through.”
“I never much cared for the medieval aesthetic myself, yet here we are.” He grunts as he looks over his shoulder, thighs twinging. “How drunk were we that night?”
“Doom was sober.”
“Oh no, your golden goblet saw plenty of refills. You were, at the very least, tipsy.”
“You question Doom’s memory?”
Stephen cups his chin, looks deep into dark brown eyes. “I question, my lord, why you claim to remember, with crystal clarity, a night you could have easily decreed never happened at all.”
Nothing comes. No biting remark, no caustic humiliation. Doom only holds his gaze, and under the black curtains flashes something bright, something strong. It lasts for only half a second before the king gets up, using Strange’s shoulder for support. “This link shall be insufferable. Do your part to get rid of it.”
Stephen frowns, annoyed that his legs work. He wonders if Victor left any of his clothing intact. “Right. Ground rules. Stay out of my head, and I won’t make you cough up another star. Deal?”
“Stay out of Doom’s head, and you shall not know pain unending. You have a deal.”
- - -
This lasts for two months.
- - -
On Day 51, a current of malicious satisfaction slithers through Strange’s mind. Gooseflesh rises up his back. The half-chewed wad of pastrami and egg in his mouth goes sour. He spits it out, bracing himself on the dinner table, and without thinking of thinking, he thinks: what have you done now?
The smirk on Doom’s face reminds him of the crocodiles at the Bronx Zoo. The thing Victor is smiling at reminds him of shop class. He can’t begin to make heads or tails of it. Like many of the king’s devices, it could have come off the set of a sci-fi movie. Sleek and chrome, rigged with multicolored wires, pumps, and gauges, a porthole reveals the heart of the machine, a vile purple light. Stephen’s gut tells him that color would eat him alive if it could, tear into his flesh and drip his blood from its teeth. Stephen trusts his gut.
Strange, Doom replies, smile quickly fading into a scowl, We had an agreement.
You broke first. I felt you. My spidey sense tingled.
Victor’s gauntlets ball into fists, and he sends a wave of serrated anger barreling toward the magician. A chained wolf, barking and snarling. An executioner waiting for the condemned to dig his own grave deeper.
Stephen curses. He didn’t mean to think that out loud. Look. Just tell me what it is and I’ll leave you alone.
The black curtains rustle, then lift like a wing. Swimming in the purple light are mathematical equations, coiling around metal rods. It makes perfect sense to Doom, but to Strange it’s a form of gibberish undecipherable by any eldritch tome.
Then he hears it. It’s not coming from the machine. It’s from Doom. Subvocalized lyrics. A silent song. He could recognize the tune anywhere.
He bought its album at the concert.
This is cold fusion.
Stephen snaps back to attention. Cold fusion. Should I be worried?
Victor folds his arms. That I built a safe, eternal form of energy for myself and my people? Yes, Strange, cower and quake. Your country shall never have it so long as I draw breath.
There are many dangerous rebuttals to that he could say. Names he could drop. Yet Doom promised pain unending. Fifty-one days into their connection, Strange has no leads into its inner workings. Finding out if he could make good on his word is a risk Stephen is unwilling to take.
I don’t like this, the sorcerer thinks, but I have to believe you. Don’t misbehave.
His own mental defense is a never-ending subway express train, its doors and windows a veil of golden thorns. Sighing, he sits back down. What’s left of his sandwich has the appeal of wet newspaper.
Doom was right. The link is awful.
- - -
On Day 60, despite the blazing fire in the hearth, Victor’s feet send ripples through a puddle.
He regards it from his antique armchair throne with indifferent curiosity. Through the filters in his mask, he smells the green, pungent scent of foliage rot and seawater. In the puddle itself swim millions of plankton. A frenzy of eating, fucking, dying, and birthing unfolds beneath his alloy soles.
From the corner of his eye, he watches the puddle extend an arm of water across the floor. Sliding under a wall, a line of slithering damp turns the paint a moldy gray. Moisture fans across the entire side of the room in a pattern like falling stars, like skeletal hands trailing through a river. The scent grows stronger as the puddle expands. He rises before it consumes his chair. The leather sinks until it is a speck of mahogany in the brine. Gloom washes over it and it is gone.
Doom folds his arms. A breeze teases the tail of his cloak. Murmuring a quiet word, he puts out the fire with an arc of a finger, and turns around into another world.
It is eternal night. It has no sun, and what few stars can be seen are lucky glimpses through a lush canopy of branches and black, web-like leaves many hundreds of feet above. The grass under him has a sticky grip, but gentle. If grass could want for anything, it would like to give the king safe passage on his journey. He isn’t the sustenance it’s looking for. That comes on the wind, in the form of tiny shards of detritus falling from forest layers high overhead. It shimmers as it tumbles down, the only source of light in this hadal garden.
He doesn’t need to go far. Half-concealed behind a root far taller than he, Doom watches himself and Stephen Strange on the next mound over.
The magician talks with grand gestures, sweeping an arm over trees as dark as ink. Doom remembers himself speaking little, allowing Strange to tell him the highlights of the world. No recorded examples of predation. Negligible changes in evolution for millennia. A slow world. A place of peace.
Stephen steps into the water. Waist deep, he holds out his arm. His garb drips off him, revealing pale skin. He smiles, bare and inviting.
The other Victor undoes his belt.
“And you complain when I get you out of the house.”
Doom peers at the Stephen Strange sitting in lotus position beside him. “You drag me into your affairs with no concern for my well-being or sanity.”
“Please. The times you dig your heels in are cursory, at best. And then we end up doing things like this.”
Across the mound, the other king’s armor sits in a neat pile, and the two doctors stand in each other’s arms, their lips meeting and parting only to inhale.
Victor kneels on the grass. “Even you are capable of stumbling onto a good idea.”
Stephen’s lip curls upward. “I think about this often. This place is beautiful. This memory pleasant. I took effort not to broadcast this to you. My apologies if I disturbed you.”
Doom looks away. “You did not.”
“Oh? Your Royal Highness, we had an agreement.”
“Am I not allowed to reminisce myself?”
“Ssh. Meditate with me.”
He closes his eyes. Strange’s hand creeps into his own, and he lets it stay.
Perhaps he was wrong. The link isn’t so bad.
- - -
Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!
Stephen rolls molasses slow toward awareness. The bedroom is pitch black, swimming in unholy hour of the morning disorientation.
Your wife is in trouble!
He cracks an eye open, shifting in the sheets. “Clea?”
No! Your big green wife! Get up, right now!
Those aren’t his thoughts. It’s a voice he’s never heard before, coming from inside his head. He holds very still and feels something slither over his brain.
He snaps wide awake.
I’m sorry we have to meet like this, the voice says, but we must hurry. The whole world is at stake!
In any other circumstance, Strange would interrogate the voice within an inch of its life, but its fear is genuine. Swinging out of bed, he yanks some pants on, startles the Cloak of Levitation from of its own sleep, and pulls open a portal to Latveria.
Curse me for a novice! the voice squeaks, That can’t be good!
Enormous rends in reality drape over the castle. Shimmering in the air, some bisect the stone in clean, monomolecular cuts. One vomits a steady stream of magma, causing a massive fire in the castle courtyard. Through each of them Stephen sees other dimensions. Another hole fans out from the keep itself and drops a mass of red crystals that crush an entire rampart.
Please! Hurry!
Stephen slams the portal shut, imagines his destination, and wrenches open a new one directly to Doom’s lab. The room is bathed in sunset colors and thick, acrid smoke. At its heart lies the fusion reactor, which is now anything but cold. The purple light pounds waves of energy, reverberating off its containment and magnifying a new tear in the world.
Victor stands in front of the machine. His motions are jerky, abrupt, a marionette controlled by a mob of children. He lifts a twitching hand and the tear throws itself through the castle to join the others outside.
Sister-Brother! the voice cries, Stop!
Doom’s arms drop, strings cut. The voice that comes from his mind is higher than the other.
No, I don’t think so, it says, I think I’m going to continue. You’re more than welcome to burn.
“You’re the link,” Strange says.
Just figured that out now? Sister-Brother asks, Wow, Brother-Sister. You sure drew the short straw. My host is incredible. I’ve mapped every gyri and sulci in here and it’s gorgeous. I’d stay forever if I could. It’s almost a shame he has to die.
Stephen glares, raising his hands, fingers glowing with magic. “As Sorcerer Supreme, I command you to release Doctor Doom!”
The laugh that echoes down the link is nails on a chalkboard. You have no idea what we are.
“You’re playing with fire. You’re threatening the dimensional stability of all of Doomstadt. And when I find you, you’ll have hell to pay.”
This host has already seen hell, Sister-Brother chides, What better place to grow up than in a body demon-touched? Have you considered that I’m doing him a favor? This is how it plays out. This is fate.
Doom turns around without his mask.
A bloodcurdling shriek ricochets across Strange’s mind, his hand thrusts forward with a will not his own, and a thunderbolt connects with the king’s head. Victor flies against a control panel, smashing it with the weight of his impact. Groaning and creaking, the reactor starts to power down, sprinklers in the ceiling damping the flames.
His face, Brother-Sister whispers, Gods, oh gods, what’s wrong with his face...
Stephen contains his screams until he kneels at Doom’s side, hefting his body into his arms. The scent of burning meat fills his nose. He howls for someone, anyone, to help him, royal blood seeping onto his chest.
- - -
He awakens to the beeping of the heart monitor.
Doom feels like mountainsides have taken residence on his eyelids. Slowly sliding them open, he takes inventory. The room is bright, sterile, no windows. He’s propped up in a bed. His hands are bare yet weigh like continents. He looks to his left.
“Hello,” Stephen says.
The sorcerer looks terrible. Ashen skin, reddened eyes, a frown threatening to rip his mouth off. The clothes he wears belong to any servant of the castle. The hands clasped together between his knees shake worse than Doom has ever seen.
“You’re on a morphine drip. You’ve been unconscious for the past twelve hours. You’re in the castle. We set up a makeshift triage room. For a while...” He takes a deep breath, steeling his voice. “We didn’t know if you would make it.”
Doom thinks, and his head is wonderfully quiet.
“Thank every deity you know that your skull is almost as hard as your armor. You’re going to be in a lot of pain for the next few days, but the alternative...I don’t want to think about. And I got rid of the link.” Strange picks up a jar from a nearby stand. “Meet Brother-Sister and Sister-Brother.”
Floating in cerebrospinal fluid are two worms. One is storm cloud gray bracketed by navy blue. The other is dark yellow-green with flecks of red. Flat as ribbons and only an inch long, they give each other a wide berth.
“Pineal parasites,” Stephen continues, “Stuck to the undercarriage of our minds, learning how to be through our eyes. They talked together through us. Saw magic through us. Deciphered grand machines through us. And now they’re ready to go home. That’s what yours was trying to do. They were looking for a place where nothing changes and nothing happens because all who go there are hijacked and killed. Not such a good idea after all, was it?”
Doom blinks.
Putting the worms down, Strange digs his wrists into his eyes. “Victor, I swear to you on everything I am I had no idea. I thought you’d like it. I thought you could forget being so angry, forget the Four if only for an hour, and be happy. Now you--”
He stares at the door, fist to his mouth. Swallowing his heart, he says, “I’m bringing them back. They’re not at fault. They’re just following their life cycle. Despite what they’ve done, they deserve to live.”
Birds that will choke on ashes, he thinks, Countless trees turned to dust. No more. No more death.
“The best doctors in your kingdom are here for you. I’ll be back.”
“Doom will go with you.”
Victor’s voice is quiet but steady. Stephen shakes his head. “No. You’re in no shape to get out of bed, let alone travel dimensions.”
The monarch shuts his eyes. Heavy footsteps pass through the door. A doppelganger in emerald and steel, the Doombot bows its head to its ruler.
“Doom will go with you,” Victor repeats.
Strange blows a ragged breath. By Doom’s creased brow, that wasn’t easy. “Okay. Rest now. Don’t do anything until I return.”
Victor says nothing. Stephen waits until he drifts to sleep, presses a kiss to rough lips, and departs, robot in tow.
- - -
Q-4301 is indistinguishable from the real deal, from its ramrod straight spine to its folded arms, yet there’s no look of wonder in its lenses, no human, if royally restrained, sense of adventure in its copper and silicon heart. It doesn’t care about the bits and pieces of gold falling from the alien canopy, the grass patting its boots. It stares at Strange, emotionless, and that very lack of feeling gnaws at the pit of the sorcerer’s stomach.
They’re on the same black water island mound as before. He can pick out the tree Victor pressed him against from all the rest. Had the microscopic eggs that birthed the parasite twins been attracted to their sex, or had it been sheer luck? He doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know.
In his hand is a candle made from the blood of priests. “Do you have them?” Stephen asks.
Q-4301 lifts a corner of its cloak. Sewn into the cloth is a glass vial. Brother-Sister and Sister-Brother are inside.
Strange nods. “I don’t know if Doom programmed you to feel fear. Either way, let me do the talking. If all goes well, you won’t have to do anything.”
The Doombot says nothing. Taking a deep breath, Stephen snaps a spark between his fingers and lights the candle.
The world goes silent. The wind ceases, and so does the steady fall of golden bits and bobs. The grass curls into tight nubs. The only indication that time has not stopped entirely is the gleam of flame like an undulating eel on the surface of the water. Stephen’s breath is deafening in his own ears.
The voice that speaks is low and obsidian slick. “Well, well, well. Look what the fags dragged in.”
The demon, descending from the trees, blends perfectly into the dark. Its teeth are yellowed and pitted from a diet of rot. It moves on long, soundless talons. Its eyes are cherry red, pupils like mouths.
“Doctor Strange,” the khat murmurs, “You honor me with your presence. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re a cautionary tale among khat-kind, you know. A warning about too much power in frail, mortal meat. Like stuffing a sun into a stomach, it’s only a matter of time till it bursts.”
Stephen purses his lips. “Cut the shit. I have something for you.”
The khat’s grin splits up to its ears. “A gift? Is it your heart? Your humanity? Your soul? Please tell me it’s your soul. I would so like your soul.”
“Come closer and I’ll show you.”
The demon pads on water, leaving no ripples in its path. “Is it the thing beside you?” Nostrils flaring, it sizes up the Doombot. “Not the usual breed of lost lambs you lead to slaughter. What sort of lies did you tell it to follow you? An offer of redemption, perhaps? Anything desperate enough to flaunt about in a green skirt would listen to you.”
“Desperation is for the weak,” Q-4301 snaps.
Strange swallows the ball of curses on his tongue and hopes it doesn’t show. Doombots fall for bait. Exactly like the original.
The khat stops. “Everything has weaknesses. You were once a babe in your mother’s arms, no? Look at your companion. The Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, can barely keep a friend around, let alone alive. No, no, no, there has to be a reason he wants you here.” It lies on all fours, rests its cheek on its fist. “What sort of gift was it again?”
Stephen starts to speak. Q-4301 beats him. “The only gift a demon like you deserves.”
Red eyes narrow in amusement. “Oh, it’s too much for a single khat to bear! Let me call my brothers. We shall find out together.” Rising into a crouch, it takes a deep breath.
There’s still time to salvage the plan. Strange shouts, “Do it!”
Q-4301 lunges into the water, tears the vial from its cloak, and thrusts its arm out. As predicted, the khat opens its toothy jaws and swallows the punch up to the Doombot’s shoulder. Payload delivered, they need to flee.
The portal spell is halfway done when Stephen spots Q-4301 motionless.
For a second, the khat too is still. Then, beaming around the steel in its mouth, it bites, and tears Q-4301′s arm off.
No robot could replicate the spray of blood and scream in agonized terror.
Strange doesn’t realize he’s also screaming. The khat snatches Q-4301′s shoulder and slams it beneath the surface. The water boils in the struggle. Shadows like hellish stalagmites reach for the leaf-choked sky as the sorcerer calls his magic. Black muck splatters the trees, the grass, Stephen’s legs as he gathers flame in his shaking palms.
The blast turns the water to steam as the garden sees more light than it has in billions of years. He looks for a target, finds nothing but the bare riverbed quickly flooding to fill the void.
The khat geysers up behind him, grabs his leg, and wrenches him into the water. The Cloak of Levitation has enough time to flip him face up before a heavy paw pins it down. Eyes stinging, heart hammering, Strange fends off the khat’s snapping jaws with novas in his palms. It takes all his training to anticipate where the teeth will be, vision obscured by plumes of bubbles, and not lose a limb.
Claws curl in his suit and drag him through the brine. His head connects with a tree root and all of reality goes sideways. His breath whooshes free, and sour liquid fills his throat.
The demon hauls him out, shoves him against a tree. Three blurry khats grin in Stephen’s eyes. Dozens of fangs.
“The gift is all three,” it says, “Your heart, humanity, and soul. Why were we ever warned about you? You’re nothing.”
It opens its mouth.
LEAVE HIM ALONE!
Stephen shakes water and blood from his eyes. The khat is frozen save its eyes, which widen in shock. Two voices erupt from its gullet. One, higher-pitched, screeches an incoherent string of profanity.
By the hoary hosts of Hoggoth, the other cries, I demand you let him go!
If he squints, Strange can see two ribbons in the khat’s belly. One yellow-green and red, the other gray and blue.
“What have you done,” the demon barks, “What have you done to me!?”
The claws pry open. Stephen beats a hasty retreat, flying to the unfinished portal. As he works to complete it, something moves at his feet. The grass scuttles bits and pieces of shattered human along pathways only it knows. He reaches down, grabs a fragment, and rage flows through him hot enough to make his skin glow, heat radiating from him in convection circles.
The khat breaks free of the parasites’ control, smashing its head against the tree for good measure. Screaming, it leaps for him. Strange sidesteps into another world -- home -- closes the portal, and waits until his ears stop ringing.
His anger he keeps. He storms through castle halls, eager to strike while the iron is hot.
- - -
Doom must really try this relaxation thing more often. It isn’t bad. Balcony doors open, letting in sunshine and a floral breeze, he reclines in his seat, sips his tea, and listens to the vinyl spinning on the antique phonograph.
I’m coming down, coming down like a monkey, but it’s all right
Like a load on your back that you can’t see, oooh but it’s all right
The song has been in his head for months. It’s nice to hear it in the open. Doom smiles. Stephen has good taste in music.
“Bastard!”
The chair spins around and Doom is confronted by a feral magician. Strange notes the king’s simple garb: no steel in sight, just a cotton shirt and pants. He aims for Victor’s face but his quaking hands botch the throw. It bounces off his chest and lands in his teacup. “You’re not white!”
Doom looks at his tea. The blue eye in the tea looks back. “About time someone noticed,” he deadpans, extracting the orb by its optic nerve and setting it on a napkin.
The chair bucks like a bronco and Victor spills out. Stephen catches him with magic, hangs him in the air. The cup breaks into a thousand pieces and the king’s disappointed frown makes Strange want to throttle him. “Who was in the Doombot?”
“A nuclear engineer working on the CMNS reactor.” Doom sounds bored. “He tweeted about the parasite-induced euphoria I experienced. Called it an episode. Implications of weakness are illegal. Justice -- and the parasites -- were served. Two birds with one stone.”
“You killed a man for a tweet.”
“Whatever creature you encountered in the garden slew him, not I.”
Stephen drops him, relishing Victor’s grunt as a shard of teacup cuts his foot. It’s a slimy pleasure, and his face contracts. “Bastard. There isn’t an ounce of goodness in you.”
The king pulls the porcelain out of his flesh and points the bloodied end of it. “I have my ways just as you have yours. Until you grasp this concept, we shall always be at odds.”
“Be at odds? I saved your life!”
Doom brushes back his hair. Black stitches stretch from one ear across his head to the other. “You scarred me.”
They’re on thin ice. Strange dials back his fury, fists clenched. Monstrous tyrant or not, Victor is recovering from brain surgery. “You had a worm in your head.”
Tossing the shard aside, Doom sinks back in the chair in a position Stephen calls the regal slouch. “The sentence for weakness implications is community service. The engineer served his community. The sentence for injury to the royal person is death.” A scowl darkens his face. “I have half a mind to not let you leave this room alive.”
The sorcerer shuts his eyes.
“However.” Doom thinks, picking his words. “The extraneous circumstances surrounding the crime cannot be ignored. A different punishment is called for. It shall be made at a later time.” He draws a holographic display before him. A tigress pants in her den, lozenges squirming at her belly. “Three cubs were born at the Latverian Zoo this morning.” He looks at Stephen. “I find myself preoccupied with some wildlife conservation of my own.”
The sigh comes from the bottom of his heart. One day Victor will come out and thank him. Today is not that day. It will have to do. Strange rubs his eyes. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Speak.”
“Exile. A break. Another two months, or two years, or two hundred years. I’m not picky. I just don’t want to see you for a while.”
Doom looks back at the panel. “Your suggestion carries weight. So be it. Begone.”
That’s that. Another story concluded. Feeling empty, feeling light, Stephen turns to go.
“Strange.”
Fuck, so close. The sorcerer looks over his shoulder. “What?”
“When next we sojourn, for Doom knows we shall--” Victor’s lip turns up, the smallest hint of a smirk. “--I shall pick our destination.”
#doomstrange#doctor doom#doctor strange#victor von doom#stephen strange#rawbi's writes#commission a small bird
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Awakening, Part 6
After dinner was done, and the dishes had been washed, Skye sat on her bed, flipping through "A World Like Our Own". Four light-years away, Red Dwarf… Rats. Next one.
"What are you doing?" Jane asked, her voice coming from her side of the room.
Skye didn't bother looking up. "This book has a list of nearby solar systems, so I'm trying to figure out if any of them match that place."
Jane laughed. "You're wasting your time. It's magic! You can't use science to figure out magic."
Skye gritted her teeth. "Magic doesn't exist."
"But…"
"I know what happened this afternoon, Jane. That just means that we've found an undiscovered form of science." Skye said, crossing Proxima Centauri off her list, and moving on to the next page.
"Two stars, Blue Giant and a White Dwarf… Maybe? It all depends on…"
"How does this sound?" Jane asked, shattering Skye's concentration. Skye glared at Jane, who was again scribbling in that stupid notebook of hers. "Sabrina Star Rescues the Prophet!"
"And you say I'm wasting my time?" Skye demanded. "You're writing about saving some lunatic who's been dead since before you were born!"
"She wasn't a lunatic, and I'm not wasting my time!" said Jane, looking hurt. "A good writer needs to write what she knows, and I know all about Ania and Juncture!"
"We don't even know where the heck the place is." said Skye, returning to her book. No known planets. Probably not, but I can't be sure. Of course, if it's far away, they wouldn't know if it had planets anyway. Say, I might be able to figure out whether it's in our galaxy! That way I'd at least know whether it's close.
"Hey Jane?" Skye said.
"What?" Jane demanded, still smarting from the earlier insult
"Do you remember seeing the Milky Way from Juncture?"
"The what?" Jane asked, still examining her notebook.
"This." Skye said, holding up a picture.
Jane glanced at the page, then looked back down. "Maybe?" she said. "I didn't spend much time looking outside."
Skye grimaced, but couldn't really argue with that, having also been too distracted to examine the stars.
Skye could go back and check, of course, but Rosalind had said that they couldn't go back until Daddy said it was safe. "In other words, probably never" she muttered to herself.
Skye walked over to the windowsill and climbed out onto the roof. She focused her binoculars, trying to pick out the statue from among the trees. Skye thought that she could see it, but in the darkness, it was hard to make out anything other than a pale blur. Skye wanted to yell in frustration. Ten minutes. Two minutes out, two minutes back, a minute to open the statue, and five minutes to take a look.
Not that it mattered. She'd have to sneak past half her family before she could even make it to the door. Normally, Skye could simply say that she was looking for Asimov, but Rosalind wouldn't buy the story tonight.
"Mrowwwrrr!" A yowl interrupted her mental ranting. A few feet away, Iantha's cat clung to the old oak tree. "Dumb animal" Skye said. She reached out with her arms, offering a landing pad. Asimov gave her a disdainful look, then jumped onto the shingles behind her. The cat licked his paw, then leaped through the window.
"Doesn't know how lucky he is." Skye mumbled. "Nobody ever stops him from going out." She trailed off, looking at the old oak in a new light. Most of those branches ought to be able to support her weight, if she took it slow, and while Rosalind had said that the five of them couldn't go back to Juncture, she hadn't said that Skye couldn't go back on her own.
Her decision made, Skye stepped back, then threw herself across the gap. She wrapped her arms around the trunk, and her feet found purchase against two of the limbs. Skye exhaled and relaxed. Just as she prepared to climb down, there was a sharp crack under her left foot.
Uh oh...
As she walked through the dining room, Rosalind paused at a sudden chill from her chest. She peeked under her shirt, to see the necklace's gemstone faintly glowing. "I forgot I was wearing it." she muttered, carefully fishing out the amulet.
"NO!" Rosalind snaps, turning away from her sister. "Not now, not ever."
"Please, won't you at least consider it?" Claire persists. "Elizabeth worried that-"
"She shouldn't have." Rosalind says, turning away. "I have the girls to look after, and they're family aplenty-
"And when they've grown?" Claire asks. "It'll be a short five years until Rosie's off to college, and Jane and Skye close behind her."
Struggling to answer, Rosalind instead throws open the door, stumbling out of the kitchen and away from Claire. Alarmed, her daughters stumble backwards.
"It's alright girls." Rosalind placates them. "Not a tragedy. More of a comedy, or perhaps a tragicomedy. Come back in."
Her vision flashed, and the image vanished. Disoriented, Rosalind let go of the necklace and grabbed onto a chair to steady herself. Again? That happened last year… that was Daddy, wasn't it? She waited for a moment, but when the sensation failed to come back, Rosalind shook off her confusion and continued into the living room.
"Hey Daddy?" Rosalind asked, walking over to where her father sat reading. "Could I talk to you alone for a moment?"
"Of course, Rosie" he said, standing up. He motioned her into the front room for privacy, and closed the door. "Are you dying from a mysterious illness?"
"Of course not!" Rosalind said.
"Then it's Jane who's dying?" he asked, smiling. "No? It must be Skye then."
"Daddy..."
"Batty? Hound? Me?"
"DADDY!"
Mr. Penderwick chuckled. "Well, if no one's dying, it can't be all that bad. What seems to be the trouble?"
"Well, today when we were in the woods," Rosalind began, but hesitated. Through the window, a large branch bounced onto the driveway. She could have sworn that she could hear a faint yelp.
"Anyway, we were playing soccer in the woods, and Batty accidentally kicked the ball into that old statue of George Washington." Rosalind continued, but her focus remained on the window. That was a pretty big branch, and it didn't look very windy out.
"Did you damage the statue?" her father asked. "If so, I wouldn't worry too much about it. That old thing's been there for decades, and nobody has any idea who put it up in the first place."
"Not...exactly" Rosalind said, but then a shadow slipped down from the tree. It crept down the road, avoiding the glare of the streetlight, then vanished into the gloom of the trees.
"Well, if it would make you feel any better, I can call the park district and ask them to take a look."
"I don't think that'll be necessary." Rosalind said, hurrying out of the room and towards the front door. "Would you excuse me for a second?" Without waiting for an answer, she ran to get her coat.
"Where are you going?" Iantha called from in the living room.
"I think I forgot my backpack in the woods. I'll be back in a moment!" Rosalind said, charging out the door.
As she entered the woods, Rosalind didn't waste time looking around. She made a beeline for the statue, knowing exactly where her sister would be going.
She reached the clearing just as the panel was beginning to slide back. Rosalind reached in and pulled out the book just before it clattered to a halt. She opened the book, knowing exactly what she'd see.
Through the panel, Rosalind saw Skye standing inside the hallway. Skye looked around, then jogged out of the frame.
"So much for Penderwick family honor" Rosalind muttered. She hesitated for a moment, but followed her sister through.
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